under the carpet

just because it happened at school doesn’t mean it wasnt abuse, doesnt mean it wasnt trauma. teachers, students, administration…all of those can cause legitimate trauma.

it’s incredibly easy for people to get off the hook with abuse at school because the punishment system is he said/she said and the administrator’s word is final. its a system built to wipe records and take advantage of underprivileged students. school can be horribly traumatizing for some kids and their experiences should be validated, not continually swept under the carpet.

anonymous asked:

okay I understand how you became a larrie but like with 2016 when we didn't see them togehter at all how are you so confident in them being a couple?

Well that’s just is isn’t it? One thing I have learned from being in this fandom is this: We see what they want us to see. Whatever story they want us to believe in is always right there, on the front pages of the glossy magazines on full display for everyone to read and discuss. Written in bold letters, with accompanying pictures and the main characters introduced with full name, a head to toe outfit presentation and a very creative curriculum vitae to establish the validity of it all. So what I always look for are the things we don’t see. The stories that aren’t told, the topics that are avoided and swept under the carpet. The little details that make me go ‘huh?’. The times Harry and Louis have been mia for days or weeks even, then reappearing on the same day, in the same city or close enough for a nice drive from A to B, the too in-your-face “proofs” of places they have supposedly been in or people they have been with, the way they seem to have been following each other from country to country, and the way they seem to have been going through the same struggles this year, both looking exhausted at the same time (for apparent reasons), both suffering or having good days very much in sync. If you start looking for the things that aren’t mentioned, if you start noticing patterns and ask yourself ‘why are they telling us this?’ you might find yourself not only reading the stories you are given but also the stories you aren’t. In short, the things I don’t see is what’s telling me they are in an established and loving relationship, built on trust, on being there for one another while giving each other freedom to pursue one’s own career and being apart when needed but always knowing there is comfort and love to be found at home. Their home. Or if you will, they’re Home ;) 

All the things we don’t see are what’s telling me they are still going strong.
And if you look close enough, it is actually rather obvious x

listen. sometimes it’s going to be so hard you’re going to come home, cry, and question your entire being. you’re going to let yourself down. it’s going to feel absolutely crushing.

and then time will move it all under the carpet. you’re going to drink some water, get more sleep. you’ll pet a dog and laugh at a dumb joke your friend tell you. these small moments will be your saviour. catch them in the palm of your hands and hold them like the most precious thing you own.

just give it some time, my love. give it a little bit more time.


I love that Robert is going to be there for him and that they’re going to work through this but I just really do not want them to brush this whole thing under the carpet. Please just talk to each other, or someone else and deal with your issues.

anonymous asked:

Genderfluid!!! That's me too... except I am too afraid to come out. I am also pansexual--I just came out as that to close friends. I am in my twenties;;; I told one friend about my being genderfluid and she sort of... pushed it under the carpet.

I know how you feel, oh boy. I’ve once talked about gender issues and my body dysphoria with my stepmom and how I’m not adhering to any ““traditional genders”” but that’s about it… 

I’ve come out (as pan) to my friends and work group and fiancé of course, but none of my family or relatives know haha

Hello studyblrs,

I am here to say that I will always be happy to talk about mental health with any of you. I’m of the belief that mental health should never be swept under the carpet. I hate that it seems to still be taboo to bring the topic up, or the fact that there is still stigma surrounding the topic.

Mental health is more prevalent than people seem to realise, and I think it’s important to note that you really are not alone. Your university/college has resources for you to use. And there are more resources available outside of your campus, though this may not be as readily available depending on your financial status/health care system/etc. (though this can also be said about the university).

Most importantly, and I’ve already said it, you are not alone. There are many students who are battling mental health problems of all kinds, and there really is nothing quite like finding another person who you can at least sympathise with. Details aren’t always necessary, and there are people who will be there for you.

This has been a random PSA, but I just kind of want to get it out there that mental health is not easy, but it’s often treated like an elephant in the room (or whatever the phrase is), and I want to address that especially in this community, which I do think has some unhealthy ways of approaching academics, but also for those who feel alone or unsure about their struggles.

And especially for the younger ones, you would be surprised how many gradblrs especially are aware of these problems within academia. And perhaps I cannot speak for everyone, but I know for me personally, I am readily available to talk about it if you ever have doubts during high school, undergrad, etc. A lot of us has seen some shape or form of mental health, whether personally or through colleagues/friends.

Noct looked at Prompto’s hands, his scraped knuckles and dirty fingernails, and the wrist-full of bracelets he’d used to hide his secret. “I fell for it,” Noct breathed, and softly punched the Imperial crest woven into the carpet under his knees. “I totally fell for it. And when I realized what he’d made me do I thought–” Noct tried to swallow, but nothing in his throat seemed to work, tangling up everything he’d waited so long to say. “I thought I’d lost you. I thought I’d lost… everything.” Noct closed his eyes and felt the tears leave them, his head heavy under the suffocating weight of his own guilt. “I’ve got no right to ask you to forgive me—no right to ask you for anything. But if you–”

Noct didn’t get any further, his mouth muffled by Prompto’s shoulder, which was suddenly crammed against his face as Prompto hugged him like it was an act of war.

“Shut up,” Prompto gasped, holding Noct so tightly he bruised them both, and neither of them cared. “The fuck are you doing, bowing your head to me. You’re a king. You’re my king.” Prompto sniffed loudly, and buried his face in Noct’s hair. “You came to save me. From a dungeon. I feel like a fucking princess.”

It startled a laugh out of Noct; he wrapped his hands around Prompto’s waist. “I don’t think any game hero threw the Princess off a goddamn train first.”

“Eh,” Prompto said, with a shrug that threw back the curtains around Noct’s heart. “Probably some retro indie crap about exploding thematic stereotypes, you know.” He raked both hands through Noct’s hair, lifting them face-to-face, both of them haggard and tear-streaked, both of them never so glad to see anything more. “You were already forgiven, Noct. You were forgiven before you even did anything.”

Tyrants and Kings (Running Down a Dream): Princess


Freddie: Gets someone else to do the cleaning and acts as if he is doing them a favor for letting them clean his house.

Brian: Cleans for a couple of minutes and then goes to tweet / look at stereo photos of badgers.

Roger: Scuffs all the dirt under the carpet and into various drawers.

John: Cleans the entire house himself while eating cheese on toast and drinking milk and making new bass lines and making more babies and reading 6 books.


This is what happened when I ate some bread. I normally have a fairly flat stomach and even some baby abs and now I’m lying in bed feeling unreasonably uncomfortable. IBS is really tough to deal with, you have to double check everything. I was conscious of the fact I was eating bread today but even though I’ve suffered with IBS for nearly a year now, I wasn’t expecting it to be this bad! I have to check and double check and triple check labels and when I eat out, if I order something with gluten free bread I’m always so frightened the cooks forgot and have given me normal. Ordering hot drinks is the worst and I apologise to all the baristas who have had to deal with me asking 5 times “are you sure it’s soya milk?”

IBS is an awkward topic but just because we sometimes sweep it under the carpet doesn’t make it any less real, and definitely not any less of a struggle. So to all my fellow sufferers out there, I feel you. We can handle this.


REQUESTED: no, but you can request if you like! :D

PROMPT: Spencer and Y/n are dating, and he is on a case. He stands in a pressured bomb and the team only has three hours to stop it. Specter doesn’t east to call Y/n, because he doesn’t want to worry her.

The team was ready to get the unsub, to arrest the man who was placing bombs all around and killing people. They didn’t suspect he would do this in his own house. It didn’t fit his profile, he shouldn’t have done it, not even with all the panic or common sense in the world. And yet he did. He had placed a practically invisible pressured bomb under carpet in his own house. And Spencer was the one to stand on it. The bomb squat came as fat as possible, they needed a password, and in three hours, or the bomb would explode. JJ and Morgan stayed with Spencer, helping them south the possible password. Spencer couldn’t move, the slightest movement could trigger the bomb. “Do you want to call someone? Someone you want to tell something before we start?” Morgan asked in a serious tone, arms crossed. “No, I don’t want to worry anyone. Let’s get started.” Spencer said. JJ looked very worried and wondered why he didn’t want to call Y/n, his now three year girlfriend. “As you wish. Start with maybe a date?” Y/n knew Spencer didn’t have much time, but today was her birthday, and she expected a call. He always called. She was worried, because forgetting something, rarely happened. As she prepared to go to sleep, she couldn’t not get worried. Laying in her bed, she found out that her mind wouldn’t let her sleep. What if he was hurt? Maybe kidnapped. What if he died? “Please be okay.” She whispered to herself, as if Spencer could hear her. This was something she did often. The telephone rang and full of hope, Y/n shot up. “Hello?” She said hopeful. “Y/n, it’s JJ.” Y/n’s heart dropped a little. “Hey, how are you?” She asked, not wanting to be rude. “Not so great. How fast can you be in Ohio?” There must be something really bad, if the private jet came just to pick up Y/n. Worry flooded over her and all she wanted to do was cry. But maybe everything was fine, maybe it was a birthday surprise. Everything sounded better then her thoughts. Y/n wasn’t even scared when the plane was landing. She even forget her fear. An agent waited for her. “Miss Y/l/n?” He asked. “Yes.” The agent gave a weak smile. “Follow me.” Y/n looked at the black car behind him and got in. “Can you tell me what is wrong?” Y/n asked worried. The agent looked at Y/n in the mirror. “It’s better that you are prepared. Doctor Reid stepped on a pressured bomb. We have now only one and a half hour to find the password or to clip the right wire.” Y/n was shocked, but Spencer was still alive. Fear washed over her body once again and tears brimmed in her eyes. She would be strong. She refused to lose the love of her life. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, suppressing the tears. “JJ, someone said she called you. Agent Anderson is with the girl.” Officer Gretson said. “Oh, let her through, please.” JJ said. “Another help?” Reid said with a smile. “Something like that.” “Spence?” Y/n’s voice slightly shook as her hands trembled. Spence looked up, surprised by the source of the voice. “Y/n? What are you doing here? It isn’t safe!” Spencer said. “I can’t just do nothing.” Y/n stated. “Why didn’t you call me?” Spencer slowly breathed in, Y/n saw some drips of sweat on his forehead. She wanted to grab his hand, kiss his face, touch him. But she couldn’t, and that hurt. “I know you. If you had to, you would run to Ohio.” Spencer said with a slight smile. He was right, of course. Y/n smiled. “We will find an answer. You will live.” Spencer smiled. “I hope soon, my legs hurt.” “Only five minutes.” Agent Gretson said. Y/n was panicking, but Spencer seemed calm. “Y/n, go away. We can’t stop it, so please be safe.” Spencer’s voice was shaking. “No. We have still five minutes.” Spencer wanted to protest, but Y/n wouldn’t listen. “Y/n, you have to go. We are going to cut a wire.” Morgan said. “No. I will stay here.” Spencer looked at her. “You can die. No. Leave.” Spencer said. “Please?” Y/n sighted and wiped saw at a tear. “I love you.” She said. “Give me an air kiss, please.” He blew a kiss. Y/n’s hand grabbed it out of the air and put her hand to her heart before she blew one back. “See you soon.” She whispered. She walked away, but didn’t go outside. She hid and waited until everyone, except his team were left. She ran in the room. “Y/n?” JJ spotted her first. “I can’t leave. If you die, I die.” She said. Spencer had tears in his eyes and wanted to fight his point, but a voice croaked. “We are cutting the yellow wire in three… Two… One…” Everyone hold his breath. Nothing happened. “Clear!” The same voice said. Y/n jumped up and cheered along with the others. She jumped in Spencer’s arms. “You made it. I knew you would!” Spencer hugged her back and buried his face in her neck. “I love you, but don’t you ever do that again!” He said. Y/n cried and nodded. “Yes, of course. If you don’t ever be so stupid to stand on a bomb again!” She said wit a sob. “I want to marry you.” He said when a tear fell on her shoulder. “Really?” She asked. “Yes!” He said when a sob left his mouth. “I want to marry you, too.” She said. He looked up and smiled. Then he kissed her. “ I never want to lose you.” He whispered. “Then don’t leave.” She said with a smile against his lips.

The history of British slavery has been buried. The thousands of British families who grew rich on the slave trade, or from the sale of slave-produced sugar, in the 17th and 18th centuries, brushed those uncomfortable chapters of their dynastic stories under the carpet. Today, across the country, heritage plaques on Georgian townhouses describe former slave traders as “West India merchants”, while slave owners are hidden behind the equally euphemistic term “West India planter”. Thousands of biographies written in celebration of notable 17th and 18th-century Britons have reduced their ownership of human beings to the footnotes, or else expunged such unpleasant details altogether. The Dictionary of National Biography has been especially culpable in this respect. Few acts of collective forgetting have been as thorough and as successful as the erasing of slavery from the Britain’s “island story”.