im not the only one who thought this right

Right now I’m really angry about how bad this ons chapter turned out. Why out of all the things it had to be in order to unlock Shinoa’s power, it had to be sexual desire? First off that’s degrading to women, and it makes it seem as though all women in manga HAVE to find a man and have sex with them and I hate that. Second, it’s degrading to Shinoa’s character overall. I was really happy that we got Shinoa, someone who was a leader and sassy and powerful, and now’s she’s being downgraded to a girl who had to have sex to gain power and I’m???? I’m not gonna lie, I think I will drop Ons if they do end up adding in a sex scene to the manga, especially after the creator told the fans that there would NOT be any romance, but how could I forget, he only said that when Mikayuu was brought up at an interview, so of course he would say that. I even have a feeling that he’ll add in a scene in the future where Shinoa somehow finds out and tells everyone, only to have kind and supportive Yuu say “Oh, I’ll help you unlock your power Shinoa cause that’s what family does right?”

To all my followers who follow me because of Yuumikayuu, I’m sorry if I do follow in on my word and leave the fandom if my thoughts do come out to be true.

This might be true, yes. But that’s the point of the story tbh. We can all be selfish and seriously, if you have not yet felt so angry and sad to the point of badly wanting to get back to the people who hurt you and put you through so many horrible and emotionally and mentally destructive things, then wow. But hey i’m not saying you should do it. get revenge?Kill yourself?

I think most people miss another one of the points the story’s trying to make, or reach people with. This is not just about showing how your words and little actions can affect to some people to the point of killing themselves. This is also about people like hannah. Her “revenge” did worse things to the people on the tapes, guilt, fear, regret and soooo much more, and if that’s what her goal was then she succeeded, but that’s not all, her parents were hurting, not knowing why, or where did they go wrong? Now, is this what she wants? Maybe not. The show ended with implying that alex committed suicide, and maybe justin too, and tyler planning something not nice at all, probably school shooting, idk? Is this what she wants? Maybe not too. The show is trying to help suicidal people not only by stopping other people from doing horrible things to a person but also showing those who still has suicide thoughts how they would change everything in a bad way. That they matter and if one person didn’t care, that does not mean there won’t be anyone who’ll ccare. im sure their parents would be soooooo sooo glad if they just sit down and tell them everything. It’s hard but it will be worth it. And right now there are helplines, if telling their parents is out of question because of personal issues and things i dont really know, then helplines would help.

Hannah had been selfish, and so are we. Hannah made bad decisions and so do we. Hannah wanted revenge, and sometimes we want that to.

Maybe for you hannah’s reason is not enough to put her parents thru that much but for hannah its all already too much to handle to the point of not caring about anyone at all. She said it. She doesn’t care about everything aanymore.
Maybe 1 mile run is bearable for you but for some people half a mile is already too much.

anonymous asked:

In chapter 60 we see He Tian for the first time. He's not alone but with some other guy. I wonder who it may be and why we don't see that guy anymore. What do you think?

hi, anon!! this reply comes incredibly late, and im really really sorry about it, i can only hope you’re still around to see this!!

okay, so, just to be clear, you mean these two guys, right??

aah, i remember seeing this theory running around in one of my very brief appearances on tumblr sometimes last month, but if i have to be honest i’ve never given much thought to it. now that i had the time to look better at it, i have to say that the black haired guy does resemble he tian a lot, both physically and personality-wise, so it’s definitely possible for that to be he tian’s first official appearance in the story, and if the fandom is considering this canon now, then count me in, im more than okay with this!!

as for the other guy, tho, i don’t think he is particularly important. even if the black haired guy was indeed he tian (and im pretty convinced that he was), this happened back in chapters 60 and 61, while he tian’s real main appearance is in chapter 102. it’s true that old xian used to update more often in the past, but still, a lot of time passed between those chapters, and it’s likely that the idea old xian had about he tian and his story changed throughout the weeks. it’s a natural part of the creation process, and most of the times what you came up with at the beginning turns out completely different once it actually comes the time to put it down on the page. he tian’s story was probably very different at first, and it’s possible that this dude was a big part of it (maybe he tian was supposed to go with him at first, who knows), but then, as the characters took life in old xian’s mind, they realised it wasn’t good, or that they simply didn’t like it, and they decided to change it, and thus tianshan was born

of course, we can’t be sure of anything (not even that the black haired guy was indeed he tian) unless old xian confirms it, and it’s probably never gonna happen, so we’ll probably never really know how things were supposed to go and how much they changed from the original idea, but yeah, i don’t think we should particularly worry about this other guy and why he doesn’t appear anymore, he probably was just written off from the story, or was always supposed to be just a background character. if we are going to accept that the black haired dude was he tian, then im simply going to consider this guy a classmate with which he hung out sometimes, with no particular meaning behind it (i did always find it strange that they never seem to interact with their classmates tbh)

…….unless old xian decides to surprise us all and bring the guy back to create some drama in the future, but there are already so many things on their plate, i really don’t think that’s going to happen. if anyone wants to use him to create headcanons or write fanfictions, though, you’re definitely gonna have my support!!

spaceacce  asked:

-leans in- -whispers- Wade is fluent in Japanese German Spanish and more that aren't explicitly stated -creeps away-

Okay, thank you for bringing this up because you’re not the only one who’s had a complaint with it. If you read the tags on said post, you’ll see that I am aware that Wade Wilson is a multi-lingual pansexual man.

I suppose I thought the alliteration was funny, but you’re right, it’s non-cannon and too out of character even for a incorrect quotes blog. I’ll be deleting that post right away. And I’m sorry for the mess-up x :(

anonymous asked:

Im the biggest pacifist but I also kind of get that in the world that we have today it would only uphold a status quo/benefit the people who do not care abt human rights since there are so many weapons and huge armies. Idk I still hate violence tho (unless it's reactonary like black ppl/white ppl, lgbt+ ppl/straight ppl etc)

yeah same!! i agree. i always used to label myself as a pacifist and i always thought that there was never any excuse for violence. but then one day i came across the “pacifism is a way to uphold the status quo” and i was like +??? WHAt noooo but then i thought about it and it makes sense. i still however think war and violence should be the ABSOLUTE last case scenario bc it hurts a lot of people obviously, but unfortunately its necessary sometimes

PTA Sans

Okay so here’s my little token in this amazing sans AU. I’m just going to ignore that pun opportunity.. So imagine for the longest he doesn’t even know the PTA moms’ names he’s only going there so he can be there for Frisk. The first time someone says something rude he just randomly guesses that mom’s name like Helen or something. He never hears them object so he keeps doing it just guessing their names of the top of his head. So somehow he finally does find out the names and they were all correct. Every single one. Right down to Linda who made the shitty lemon bars. He then thinks to himself. “*ohmygod im in white suburban PTA hell”

bleuentourage  asked:

In regards to why I think Taehyung is JK's murderer in bygone boy its just usually it's the friend who murders the friend cuz of jealousy... like the oc said JK is the popular kid and Taehyung's the gentle one... or I just had this thought but maybe Taehyung asked JK to back off OC bc JK avoided OC beforr he died right? Im having so many predictions already and its only the 1st chapter what do u do to me!!!🙈🙈🙈

Ahahaha :’))) those are all good points tho!! but don’t worry, there’s going to be so many more potential suspects being introduced in the story that your opinion might change 👀 or maybe not 👀 eheheh



Stillcantdrawforshiennabutithrewtrashyourwayanyway(ಥ ͜ʖಥ)


Neymar Imagine || Cheating

Something is off. I don’t know what, but something weird is going on. I first noticed it a few weeks ago, when he became a little distant. It wasn’t a big deal at first, because I assumed that the million things he has going on for him were finally starting to have their say. I believed he was tired and that it was going to pass. It was going to be fine. No problem. 

But then it got worse. Neymar became distant to a point where it felt like we were two strangers who happened to live in the same house. Like neighbors. He never told me where he was going or what he was doing anymore, I was hardly ever invited to his usual hangouts with his friends, although they seemed to happen every single weekend, until early in the morning. I tried talking to them, hoping that maybe they knew what was going on. Of course they didn’t. If he was shutting me off, what chances did they have of being let in? I keep thinking of things that could make him act this way. Had something happened? Maybe it was something I did. But what? And if something was really wrong, he would tell me, wouldn’t he?

After a few weeks of having the worst possible scenarios play in my head, I feel like I can’t take it anymore. I am on the verge of exploding. Another ignored call, another lie, just one more drop and I’ll lose my mind.

He’s sleeping next to me. That’s the one thing we have now, the only time we’re actually in the same room. This stupid bed, where he used to hold me for hours at a time and now he can’t get far enough from me.  Since no one seems to be willing to tell me what’s going on, I have to take matters into my own hands. And the only option I have is to go through his phone, which is something I swore to myself I would never do. Desperate times call for desperate measures, I suppose. He’s never going to trust me after this. 

I quietly get up, grab his phone from the bedside table and make my way downstairs, to the couch in the living room. The phone is locked, but I know he’s terrible at remembering passwords, so whatever it is, it must be very easy. 1234? No, he’s not that dumb. A birthday maybe? Davi’s birthday. Bingo. I can’t believe I’m doing this. There is nothing to find. Everything is fine. Please let everything be fine.

Now what?  What could I possibly find on this phone that would explain the last couple of months? His e-mail is full of messages from his manager, both his coaches and a bunch of other work related things. What did I expect, anyways?

Next, I check his texts. Gil, Rafaella, Babe - oh, so this is where he keeps the hundreds of hundreds of texts I send, that never get a reply anymore - Dad, Jo, Y/N. Wait, what? I’m Y/N. But if I’m Y/N, then who - who the fuck is babe? My stomach turns at the thought. No. He probably saved my number twice by accident under different names. Or maybe it’s some dumb joke that his friends played on him and switched up his contact names. But when I start reading the texts in that conversation,  I realize I’m the only one who’s getting played here.

Babe: Hey bby u still coming right?
Neymar: On my way b there in 5
Babe: Whats takin so long?
Babe: Hello?
Babe: Omg is that bitch being annoying af again?!
Babe: Room 36 im waiting

I can’t read any more. I don’t need to, but I’m also physically unable. My hands drop the phone onto the coushion. I can feel the bitter taste of bile in my mouth and I swear I’m about to pass out. Or maybe I already have and this is all some kind of messed up nightmare. I pinch myself. The horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach doesn’t go away.

I don’t know what happens next. I sit there for an indefinite amount of time, in shock. I’m not crying. Not yet, anyway. Then his phone beeps and the next thing I know is I’m in a cab, on my way to nowhere. I try to think of a place I could go, but the only friends I have in Barcelona are Neymar’s friends or teammates and there is no way I could go to any of them. The thought that they could have known all this time and kept it from me makes my skin crawl. I can’t think straight and I don’t understand in the least bit what is happening. Why is this happening? How can this be happening? I’m crying now. I’m full on sobbing in the back of a cab, in the middle of the night. The driver gives me a sympathetic look through the rearview mirror, as he continues to drive with no destination. I stare out the window at the empty streets of what used to be my favorite city, but tonight it seems to have lost its appeal. My whole world has come crumbling down and I can’t shake the feeling that there is no going back.

We were happy. Neymar and I were so in love. I moved here to be with him, I dropped everything and moved halfway across the globe, because we were in love. We had everything. We were so happy. Why is this happening? I ask the cab driver to drop me off at the nearest hotel and I space out completely for the rest of the ride.

“Y/N?” A voice softly whispers in my ear, as a hand caresses my back. I keep my eyes closed and pretend to be asleep, but I can’t help the smile that creeps onto my face as he places kisses down my jawline.
“Neymar,” His name escapes my mouth as a moan. “It’s Sunday. You promised you’ll let me sleep in on Sundays.” I plead and finally open my eyes to meet his. He has the goofiest smile on his face and the way he is looking at me makes my brain turn into mush.
“I did let you sleep in.” He is leaning on his elbow, his face only inches away from mine. I bring one of my hands to his cheek and he leans into it. “It’s almost noon. I’ve been waiting here for hours.” He kisses me again. “And I have to tell you something.”
“Can it wait for ten more minutes?” I rub my eyes and yawn.  He chuckles and kisses my cheek. I’ve only moved in with him a few days ago and I’m already starting to miss my lazy Sundays.
“It can’t wait another second.” His smile is now replaced by a serious expression, so I force myself to keep my eyes open and sit up. “I’ve been watching you sleep for a while and I couldn’t stop thinking about how lucky I got with you.”
“So you woke me up to tell me that? It could have waited, babe.” I laugh and punch his shoulder. “Watching people sleep is creepy, by the way.”
“Maybe, but if you love them, it’s romantic.” He is smiling again, but I’m unable to do the same. I keep repeating his words in my head, wondering if I misheard him. “I love you, Y/N.”
“Oh.” Is the only sound I manage to make. Neymar’s smile fades in an instant. I mentally slap myself. “No, no, no.” I violently shake my head, in an attempt to save the situation. “I love you, too.” There, I said it. His face brightens up again. “It’s just - I wasn’t expecting that at all.”
“You’re not just saying that, are you?” He asks, sitting up.
“I am not just saying that.” A big grin is now plastered on my face. “I am definitely not just saying that. I love you, too. I am so in love with you, you have no idea.”

He is suddenly on top of me, his hands on either side of my head, leaving me unable to move as his lips brush against mine. I deepen the kiss and press my hands against his chest, rolling the both of us around, until I’m on top.

“Miss?” The driver’s voice breaks me out of my daydream and it takes a few seconds for me to take in my surroundings. We were so happy that day. Or I was, at least. The cab is now parked in front of a hotel and I wish I could go back to that blissful Sunday morning, as I pay for the ride and get out of the car.

I drag my feet to the reception, carelessly wipping the tears from my face with the back of my hand. I’d be lying if I said I was paying any attention to the receptionist, so I have to check the room number on the keychain as I walk inside the elevator and nearly bump into someone in front of me. I apologize without bothering to lift my gaze from the floor. I don’t need anyone seeing me like this.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” The woman standing next to me bursts into laughter, as the elevator doors close. “Y/N?” I lift my head and my curious gaze is met by a smirk and a superior expression.
“Bruna.” I mumble. Realization hits me like a million knives in my back. Room 36. A hotel. This hotel. It’s her. I’m no longer able to hold back the tears that have been pooling in my eyes and I let out a loud sob.
“Did you come here to give me some kind of lecture?” She laughs in my face again. “Because there’s no point. We both know how this is going to end.” I say nothing and silently pray for her to stop talking. “You’re going to cry all the way back to wherever it is that you came from and Neymar is finally going to come back to me for real.”

There are no words to describe how badly I want to wipe the smile off of her face, but I know beter. I know better than to let her see that everything she says kills me inside. Never in a million years would I have seen this coming. Where did she even come from? I thought she lived in Brazil. I thought they broke up and that was it. Why is she back? Why would he do this? No crying. Not here.

“He is all yours.” I say, once the elevator comes to a stop on my floor. I don’t wait for a reply.

Once I’m alone in my hotel room, I collapse on the king sized bed. Why do I even have a king sized bed? It’s not like there’s anyone to share it with anymore. I lay there, crying, thinking, trying to make sense of the past hour until something starts buzzing and vibrating in the pocket of my jeans. I fish my phone out and turn it off the second I see Neymar’s stupid name and his stupid picture on the screen. I don’t know how, but I manage to fall asleep, fully clothed, on top of the covers. The next thing I know, someone is banging on the door and I jump to my feet, convinced they’re going to break it down.

“Y/N!” Neymar’s voice is yelling from the hallway. I wonder how long it’s going to take before he gets kicked out for waking everyone up, but he seems to realize the same thing. “Y/N, please open the door.” He says more quietly.

I’m determined to stand my ground, so I walk back to the bed and lay down. The last person I want to see right now is him. I’m sure he has about a million excuses all planned out by now. He has always been good with words. It’s what he does. I should have known. I am not going to give in. I will not open the door. I will not let him in ever again. I start crying again. The knocking hasn’t stopped. I pad to the door, but I stop myself as I’m about to unlock it. I press my back against it and sob into my hands, sliding down to the floor.

“I know you’re there.” Neymar says from outside the door. “I can hear you crying. If you would just -” His voice breaks midsentence. It sounds like he’s crying. 

I wish he would just leave. I wish he hadn’t showed up in the first place. It was easier to be mad at him when I didn’t have to hear his voice. That sad, sad voice. Maybe if I opened the door - no. He has done nothing but lie and cheat for months. No. Another loud sob escapes my lips. My shoulders are shaking against the door, as the crying gets bad again. I cry myself to sleep on the floor to the sound of a hand tapping the door.
When I wake up, everything hurts. Sleeping on a hard wood floor was probably not the best idea. As I sit up and look around the room, the real pain comes back. This has nothing to do with falling asleep on a hotel room fooor, and everything to do with the reson I’m here in the first place. I replay last night’s events in my mind. It’s really hard for me to wrap my head around the fact that this is really happening. The last thing I had ever expected. Neymar cheated on me.

“He cheated on me.” I say, getting up. I keep repeating that horrible sentence all the way back to the bedroom, where I throw myself on the bed.

I don’t know what the next step is for me. What do I do now? Where do I go? The only people I know in this city are his friends. The place I call home is his house. Everything here is, more of less, his. What I have to do next becomes obvious, but I’m not ready to accept it. The whole reason I moved here was to be with him, but since that ship has now sailed, I have no businness being in Barcelona. Going back to my old home in New York seems like the most reasonable option, but the thought breaks my heart even worse. I have to leave. I’m going to be in a different country, on a whole other continent, far away from this place and everyone here. Far away from Neymar and everything we’ve had for the past year. It’s all going to be just some bad memory. I’m crying again.
I geniunely thought this was it for me. I thought he was the one. Hell, I didn’t even believe that the one even existed before I met him, but he made me believe. Damn him for making me believe. We had everything. We were supposed to grow old together. He talked about it all the time, but it’s clear to me now that it was all a game to him. He could have just said so in the beggining. It wouldn’t have been a very pleasant conversation, but it definitely wouldn’t have hurt this bad.
Maybe it wasn’t like that when we first met, though. Maybe it was real, at least for a while. But then again, if it were real, if he actually cared about me, why would he go back to Bruna? He couldn’t have cared less. I’m such an idiot for even considering another possibility.
I hastily gather my belongings and turn on my phone, as I make my way to the door. It’s still early in the morning, which means that I have time to get home - to Neymar’s house, I mean - and pack my things before he gets back from room 36. I’ve been trying to keep my mind away from that particular subject all night, but there’s no point in pretending I don’t know the obvious. It was easier when I didn’t, but there is no going back now. He was with her. He’s been with her God knows how often.  
I open the door and almost step on something, or someone. Neymar is laying on his back right outside my door, sound asleep. He must have been camped out here for hours. His back is going to hurt when he wakes up, just like mine. I laugh at how ridiculous my thoughts are and the silhouette on the foor shifts. Wonderful.

“Y/N?” He mumbles groggily, rubbing his eyes.
“Good morning.” I step over him. “Goodbye.” He scrambles to his feet and catches up to me when I’m already in front of the elevator doors, pulling me back by my arm.
“Please let me explain. I am so sorry. I never meant for this to happen.” Neymar starts talking so fast, that I can barely keep up. “I never wanted this to - I’m sorry. I know you’re mad, but if you just let me explain -” He seems so desperate to come up with some kind of explanation, some kind of dumb excuse, that he’s stuttering and makes absolutely no sense.
“Do not touch me.” I yank my arm out of his hold. “Stop talking to me. There is nothing to explain. It’s all very clear. Go back to room 36, maybe she cares to listen to whatever you have to say.”

The elevator doors finally open and I step in, hoping this is going to be the end of this pointless conversation, but of course Neymar has to follow me inside. I can tell he still doesn’t know what to say. I guess an entire night of waiting outside my hotel room wasn’t enough to come up with a good enough excuse. The thought that no matter what he says, it’s going to be just that - an excuse, sends me right on the verge of crying again, but I stop the tears before they have a chance to make an appearance.

“I’m not going anywhere.” He sighs. “I’m never going back to her. I know I fucked up and there is no excuse, but it’s over now. I was going to tell you everything last night.”
“Sure.” I laugh. “Before or after meeting her in her room? Do you not hear how ridiculous you sound? I don’t care whether or not you were going to tell me. I don’t give a fuck if it’s over or if you’re going back the second I leave. You slept with her and you lied to me and made me feel like complete crap for so long. You know, I was actually worried about you. I thought you were so tired from working as hard as you do. Poor Neymar. I was right about one thing, though. I just didn’t know what, or who, was getting you that worn out.” I’m yelling now. I must sound very angry judging from the way he backs away from me, but the truth is I’m sad and broken and hurt. Anything but mad. I should be furious, but I don’t have it in me. “I’m going to get my things and leave. Stay away from your house today and stay away from me forever.”

Neymar doesn’t say anything. He stares at me until the elevator doors open and watches me walk away. I should be relieved, but I’m a little disappointed. I don’t know what I expected him to say, because there really isn’t anything that could change or fix the situation, but I expected him to at least try. Once I’m safely outside the hotel, I burst into tears and this time I can’t control myself. It’s going to a long time before I stop.

One year later …

It’s been a year since I’ve been here. It’s been a whole entire year and that horrible day is still my main time reference. Well, it’s not like I’ve been living a particularily exciting life since then, but still. My biggest accomplishment in the past twelve months has been going for a grand total of two consecutive days without thinking of Neymar. In all honesty, I’m pretty sure that’s not right, but I like to pretend it is, because it makes me believe that at some point in time I will be able to just stop thinking about him. Being back in Barcelona isn’t really helping with that. I’ve succesfuly stayed away from this city for the past year, but Gerard’s birthday is this week and since human kind has yet to discover a way to say no to Shakira, here I am.
I knew it was a bad idea when she first asked me to come and I’m still aware of the impending disaster as I park the car in front of their house. I’ve spent all day locked up in my hotel room, trying to talk myself into believing that there’s the slightest chance that I won’t run into Neymar at the party, because otherwise I would’ve been on the first plane back to New York.
About an hour into the party, I’m siting by myself at this little bar in a secluded corner of their enormous backyard. Every single one of Gerard’s teammates has been invited, so I’ve been trying to keep my mingling to a minimum. Better safe than sorry and all that.
I’m mindlessly playing with the little pink and completely useless umbrella in my Martini, thinking about how one of the first conversations I had with Neymar was at one of Shakira and Gerard’s parties, in this same backyard, when someone walks over and sits and the bar stool next to mine. I assume it’s Shakira, since she’s been checking on me every ten minutes, as if I were a child.

“Still here.” I keep my eyes on the umbrella. “I told you I’m going anywhere until the cake is served.”
“Then you’re going to be here for a while, because Dani was in charge of picking up the cake and you know what happens when you put Dani in charge of anything ever.” The voice definitely doesn’t belong to Shakira. It’s been a while since I’ve heard it, but it’s engraved in my brain and I could recognize it anywhere. I lift my gaze and the most beautiful pair of green eyes is looking back at me.

Breathe in. Breathe out. It’s fine. No problem. It feels like my blood has turned into lava and my brain into mush. My heart is about to jump out of my chest and my breathing would have you think I’ve just ran a marathon. I may have managed to fool myself into thinking I no longer cared about him for the past year, but my body is determined to demonstrate the exact opposite tonight.
Neymar’s eyes never leave mine as I examine his face. He has a bit of stubble going on and his hair is styled into a dark brown mohawk, as opposed to the blonde highlights he used to have, but other than that he looks the same as before. I don’t know why, but a wave of relief flows through me, like I’ve been waiting for so long to this face again. Which I have.

“Hi.” I whisper, suddenly aware of how close to him I leaned it.
“Hi.” His lips curl into my favorite smile in the world, so I can’t help the silly grin that appears on my face. “You look beautiful. I’ve been watching you hide from me for a while, but I couldn’t stay away.” He chuckles.
“You stayed away for a year.” My tone comes out more serious than I intended.
“Isn’t that what you wanted? You told me to stay away forever.” He’s not smiling anymore, but he sounds amused. “Didn’t you mean it?”
“I say a lot of things.” I sigh. “I needed time, so thank you for letting me have that. I’m really glad you came over, though. I secretly hoped you would.”
“You knew I would.” There’s that smile again. “I miss you.”
“Neymar - ”
“No, I have to say this. It’s not going to change anything and you’ll never forgive me, but you have to know that I never went back to her. I never even saw Bruna again. I really was going to tell you that night. And I’m still so sorry for putting you through that.” His pleading eyes are locked on mine again and I’m amazed at how the same words he said then have a completely different meaning now.
“I forgave you a long time ago.” I place my hand over his, on the bar. “You knew I would. I wouldn’t be here otherwise. I mean, I love Gerard, but no birthday party is enough to make me fly across the world.”
“So what is?”
“Second chances.”

I have no idea where this came from. I definitely didn’t leave New York with the thought of second chances on my mind. I’ll admit that I hoped to see Neymar while I was here, but from a safe distance. Not with his hand in mine, talking about second chances. The way he looks at me when I say that, though, makes me forget all sense of logic. Maybe this is what I came here for, but I just didn’t know it.
Neymar and I spend the next few hours in that same spot, with our fingers intertwined talking about our lives in the past twelve months. I graciously leave out the part about me locking myself in my studio apartment in New York for a week, so I could cry my eyes out and feel sorry for myself in peace and quiet and I know he has a similar story that he’s not telling me about. It’s like that part of our lives never happened. Like I never left and we’ve been here all this time, together. My hand is still comfortably resting in Neymar’s when he leads me through Gerard and Shakira’s house, to his car and drives us both back home.

“Watching people sleep is creepy.” I whisper, adjusting my eyes to the light in our bedroom. I’m a little confused to be waking up here again after all this time, but it feels so right that I don’t question it for a second. Neymar is lying next to me, carefully watching my every move.
“Maybe, but if you love them it’s romantic.”

anonymous asked:

Lets put bob aside for a bit,, if you heard mikey was cheating on his SO and he hasnt spoken about it yet,, what would u most likely do?? Wouldnt you start talking about that scandal and //might// make a joke or two?? Because bob wasnt the only one who made a "funny" post about it,, BUTTTT bob was the only one who took it way too far,, . So technically we can hate bob for crossing the line, not for making a "funny" post, just like several other people did (right? Correct me If Im wrong Thank u)

You made a great point! I understand where you are coming from and you are right. Bob also did a few other things such as making fun of people for their addictions / mental illnesses and being racist etc. Bob did take it too far and I think this ask was really well thought out!

have a great day xx