#if y’all could send me some nice non-sexual asks that would be awesome :’)

[teratophool]

They always ask “how horny?” but never “how’s horny?”…. :(

[mrswhozeewhatsis]

In the hours since I made THIS POST HERE, I have received two anon asks that I will address here. I’ve taken this time to nap, watch Jessica Jones (I really need more self-control or I would have been back here three episodes ago), eat, play with my cats, and -since you brought up the Pond- notify the other Pond admins that the Pond was brought into this. Here are the asks:

First, I have no idea if the second anon is the same as the first. If y’all are not the same person, then I’m sorry if I imply that you are, and vice versa.

Now, to address what was said. (Under the cut.)

The first anon must not have read my entire post. That’s okay. It was long. I babbled a bit. I do that. At no point did I heft a pitchfork or demand the lynching of all things SPN. In fact, I’m pretty sure I said I wasn’t really hefting much of anything, just doing the very, very least I could do to support my friends. I suggested that sending a message to the CW that they done fucked up was not a bad thing. 

(Side note: Yes, I now know that Misha has come out and told us that there was a rogue translator. This means that the CW did not fuck up the way I thought. I made my determination after reading several posts from folks who claimed to be in the know about such things, and based my feelings on those. Now that someone official has made a statement, I will abide by that statement.)

Nor did I say that I hate all things SPN. I talk about issues with the last two episodes, and my very low expectations for a network to allow a certain storyline, and suddenly y’all think I want to burn it to the ground? Is there no middle ground? Did you miss the part where I said they had good bones, it was just the details I thought failed? Maybe I just haven’t expressed my love for this show enough, lately. I’ve been critical, recently. More critical than usual, I’ll grant. I wrote an entire novel about an earlier s15 episode, too. But I still love this show. Loving the show does not mean I don’t see it’s imperfections, though.

“...your response is so gross against everyone who might see Dean as straight as Jensen does.”

Honestly, this statement right here kept me from my nap. This was before Misha came out and said that there was never any reciprocation on Dean’s part. This means, I’ve had to think this through twice, now.

BM (Before Misha): The whole reason why Dean responding in kind to Cas is important, is because it establishes Dean as queer. If this is true, then it’s canon that Dean has, at the very least, romantic feelings for one male-shaped being. I can’t help but be blown away by the hypocrisy of those who have screamed for years, “BUT HE’S CANONICALLY STRAIGHT,” and yet now deny canon because it says he’s queer.

AM (After Misha): Okay, so Dean is now back to being canonically straight. This means, there was no bait and switch. Everything that ticked me off has now not actually happened. Okie dokie. But apparently, I’m gross for saying he was queer when I thought canon stated he was queer? Would this person be as angry if I stated that Jo Harvelle had feelings for Dean? Because that, too, was canon. Maybe someone thinks that me thinking it meant they had to think it, too?

I have NEVER tried to force ANYONE to think ANYTHING about ANYONE’S sexuality. No matter how I may feel, those feelings are my headcanons, and I would NEVER force them on someone else. Ship and let ship. Love and let love. I don’t think I have, but I may have reblogged a post or two about Dean being queer in the past. If I did, I in NO WAY expect the people around me to believe the same things that I do. The idea that you think I’m forcing ANYTHING like that makes me physically sick.

*breathes deeply and pets a kitten* 

 Even in the case where, before Misha’s video, Dean was believed to be canonically queer, the most I would ever say is that he was canonically queer, but think what you like. Now, he’s canonically straight again, so those who want to think he’s queer can go off and keep thinking it, as far as I’m concerned. Personally, I will go back to sitting on the fence, enjoying thinking of Dean as simultaneously all sexualities, because then I can enjoy all the different stories about him on this hellsite and AO3.

As for stepping down from the Pond because I “hate all things SPN,” I will not because I do not. Like I said above, I have some issues with episodes, but I also love other episodes. I love the fandom, even though sometimes it gets a little toxic. I love the cast, the crew, most of the writers, the fan art, the fan fics, and most of all, the fan fic writers. I love reading everyone’s headcanons and stories. I love hearing other people’s interpretations of canon. This is the first show I’ve ever just crawled into and studied like this, and then wanted to go out and talk to other people about. This show has brought me so many friends that I would now do anything for. I’ve learned SO MUCH about how the world works for people who aren’t like me, and it’s all because we all love this show. It hurts that you think that, just because I might disagree with you or the network about something, that I hate you or the show. That WOULD be cancel culture. I don’t work that way.

To the second Anon, I saw Misha’s video and tweets, and they break my heart. I imagine him spending this whole week watching us be upset about something he loves, wanting to make it better for us, but not understanding why we’re upset. And then, today happens, and he has to respond, but he’s feeling so many different things. He’s proud of what he did with Cas. (I feel he should be.) He’s proud of being a part of 15 years of awesome television. It’s his baby. I mean, he shares it with hundreds of other cast and crew, but it’s a thing he made. And now, people who have always loved it, are protesting against it? The thing is, I don’t think anyone is mad at Misha or Cas. People are mad at the network, and possibly the writers, for taking us on a hike up a mountain and leaving us there with a broken camera. Yes, we got to see the view, but there was no little shop where we could buy a souvenir or a snack, no way immortalize the view like we wanted, and now we have to walk home alone without provisions. It was a nice hike, but we didn’t get the payoff we expected.

Seriously, I would love to sit down with Misha and have a long talk about how I loved 18 and everything he did in it, and then the (totally non-ship-related) reasons why 19 and 20 bug me. And then I’d like to hug it out with him. He’s a good hugger, I bet.

Finally, one last point, that has been unmentioned, but I can’t help but wonder if it is fueling some of this. Cas telling Dean that he loves him in a big, gay, romantic way is my definition of the good ship Destiel having sailed. Dean doesn’t have to love Cas back in a big, gay, romantic way for the ship to exist in canon. Becky and Sam is another canon ship, and that shit was definitely not reciprocated. Reciprocation is not necessary for a ship to be considered canon. So, when I say that Destiel is canon, I am NOT saying that Dean is queer.

I think that addresses everything, right? Sorry this post is so long. I’m a wordy bitch. 

[deliverydefresas]

we push and pull like a magnet do

look at me forcing myself to stay on schedule lmao. not even close to proofread but y’all know that already. 

part 1 | part 2 | part 3  

au: famous!simón meets college!ámbar

“It wasn’t a date.”

“It was.”

“It wasn’t.”

“It so was!”

“For the last time, it wasn’t a date!”

“Honey, he invited you for coffee, paid for your food, you both asked personal questions, he gave you a ride home… he freaking met your mom! It screams date. With capital d.”

Ámbar scoffed. “Freaking? What, you stopped cursing now?”

“I’m trying to quit; I almost said ‘fuck’ when my I.L. teacher asked me a question yesterday, he gave me the death glare and I thought for sure the vein in his forehead would pop and cover me in blood.” Emilia paused, “dammit, you’re a bad influence, I was doing so good.”

She raised her brow, “I’m not in charge of what you say, you idiot.”

“But you encourage me to curse, like the wicked witch you are.” She flipped her off, then. Emilia just puckered her lips up, sending her a kiss. “Anyway, your distraction ends now, stop swimming in your river and accept it; you and pinkboi went on a date.”

“My river?”

“Y’know, the Nile? Denial.”

“Hilarious.” She deadpanned.

“I would slay as a comedian.”

Ámbar decided she’d ignore her best friend for the rest of their lunch. It’d been almost three weeks and Emilia still hadn’t dropped the subject. So, what if it sounded like she had a date? Ámbar had very clear that it hadn’t been one, and she was sure Simón knew it too. Besides, she didn’t like him. Sure, they had fun, and sure, he wasn’t nearly as bad as she’d expected; but never, not once, did it cross her mind to see it as anything but an interview.

Which, by the way, had broken records on the Fab & Chic. Jazmín and Delfi hadn’t been happy at first that she’d gone solo and met Simón on her own, or that it’d been her who he gave the exclusive (that she didn’t know it was an exclusive in the first place) about the band nearly splitting up years ago; but the exposure (and money) other media and fans had given the blog in the last two weeks was more than enough to shut their mouths and be appreciative of it. Thanks to it, Jazmín and Delfi had been offered internships on two of the best magazines in the city, and a potential place for a future job to start their careers.

Ámbar, however, got enough money to pay next semester’s scholarship without her mom’s help. Maybe two more if she worked a summer job, and her dad sent her allowance on time; which he most likely would, since he didn’t have to pay two months of his little brother’s school.

She had thought of sending Simón an e-mail to thank him, or maybe even a card; but decided against it since the dude was, well, famous, and probably received thousands of those daily. The chances of him reading it were slim to none, and most likely than not, it’d go to junk-mail.

Plus, Simón really didn’t strike him as someone who read his e-mails.

“- Mrs. Álvarez.” Emilia caught her attention. “Ha! You responded to that! You must be thinking of marrying that dude and picking your children’s names and everything!”

She glared at her. “It was just a coincidence I tuned into your delirious words when you said it.”

“Nah-uh. Tell me, are you marrying in white? Beige? Are you changing your name to his? Will you have a girl or a boy first? It’s totally a girl, isn’t it?”

“We don’t change names here!” Her best friend ignored her, continuing her ranting.

“I can totally see it. A girl, with fake blonde hair, his curls, your face and his dimples; hopefully with his butt because, no offense, but yours is none-existing.”

“Are you sexualizing my hypothetic child?” Again, she was ignored.

“You should name her after me because I’m awesome. Think about it: Emilia Álvarez Smith. Oh, or maybe like that Mean Girls girl. Huh, Regina Álvarez Smith doesn’t sound that nice, forget I said that. What about a stuck up, bitchy girl? I had this classmate in México and she sucked. Her name was M-”

“Stop naming my non-existing daughter!”

“I’m sure pinkboi would love my names, no worries.”

“Then you have kids with him!”

“I have Benny already, and no offense, but he’s hotter than your boy.”  

“You’re an idiot and I hate you a lot right now.”

Emilia smirked. “Now, now, don’t bring out the claws just because you wish your boy was hot like mine.”

Before she could retort with a sarcastic answer like she wanted, her phone vibrated on the table. Seeing Jazmín’s name on the screen threw her off; because she never called unless she needed Ámbar to do something for her and the blog.

“Hello?”

“Can I give your number to Simón?” As usual, the redhead never disappointed with her greetings.

“What?” Emilia arched her brow, silently asking who it was. When she mouthed Jazmín, her friend pretended to gag; she just rolled her eyes at her antics.

Jazmín’s sigh of annoyance was heard through the phone. “He e-mailed the Fab and Chic asking for your number. I’m asking you if I can give it to him since you’d probably kick my ass if I just gave it to him without warning.”

She would. “How are you sure it’s him? Does the guy even use his e-mail?” At this point, the other blonde was gesturing wildly to turn on the speaker. Ámbar just flipped her off.

“I e-mailed his agent and he confirmed it was his personal account.”

What did that guy want, now?

“Fine. But if I’m kidnapped or something it’s on you.”

Jazmín just hung op on her. She had been bitter two weeks ago, and she probably still was. Simón was her celebrity crush, and she was the biggest Rollerband fan she knew of; buttchin trying to contact her specifically must’ve been salt on her wounded pride. Not like she actually cared, but the boy wasn’t some thing, he was someone and Jazmín couldn’t call dibs on him like it was her property.

But, again, she didn’t like him. She just cared for his right to not be objectified.

“Well, goodbye to you too.” She muttered before locking her phone and putting it away on the table.

“What did gingerbread want now?” Emilia asked eagerly.

“Buttchin e-mailed the Fab & Chic and asked for my number. She was just asking if she could give it to him.”

The gasp that came out from her friend’s mouth should be illegal. The girl actually shrieked, “I told you! I fucking told you so! He liiiiiikes you!”

By now, half the lunch counter was glaring at them. ��Would you shut up?” She hissed, “he doesn’t like me. He’s probably asking because the idiot forgot to ask for his beanie back.”

“Yeah, right. You seriously buy that bullshit? The dude is probably naming your kids right now.”

“What’s with you and thinking people are naming their kids?”

“Benny and I have. We’re naming one Bernardo and the other Esther.”

“Do you want your kids to be bullied?”

“My kids will be bad-asses, if anything they’ll bully.”

Sometimes Ámbar wondered why she was even friends with her.

She was relieved when she got home. Her classes had gone smoothly, and the workload had been reasonable; but Emilia’s teasing had hit a nerve on her that made her unable to turn off the topic in her mind.

She just wanted a shower, ice cream and a nap. Ámbar knew herself enough to accept that trying to do any work in that moment would be pointless and a sure headache.

Her bed was calling her.

And, according to her vibrating bag, so was someone on her phone. It was a blocked number, so she just let it go to voicemail and went to take a shower; if it was anything important they’d leave a message or something.

When she got out, she had ten unread texts.

Hey Ámbar, it’s simón

As in, Simón Álvarez

From the Rollerban

*Rollerband

I asked Jazmín for your # and she gave it to me, she told me she told you?

If you’re not ambar ignore these messages

I’m not actually simón from the rb

If you are tho please text me back

Or call me

Or something?

“He’s such a weirdo.” She muttered to herself, before texting a simple ‘it’s me.’ It only took seconds before he responded.

Can I call you?

No

He called her anyway.

“I told you no, buttchin.”

Simón didn’t seem to mind her greeting, as he sounded more amused that anything. “Then why did you pick up?” She didn’t answer, which only made him chuckle. “Sorry, but I really needed to confirm this was your number. It’s not like I don’t trust Jazmín but…”

“She hates me?”

“… It sounded like that, yes.”

She sighed. “She doesn’t. I think she’s just jealous you didn’t ask for her number.”

“Well, she’s not the one who stole my beanie. I have no reason to call her.”

“I didn’t steal it. You forgot to ask for it and I forgot to return it.”

“Sounds like stealing to me.”  

“Do you want me to mail it to you or something?”

“Or something.”

“Well that surely tells me what you want to.”

He chuckled again. “One of my friends goes to your uni, and they offered to pick it up for me; if that works for you I can tell them to meet you in your faculty.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier for you to come to my house?”

“As much as I liked your mom’s food and having dinner with you, I can’t. The boys and I are actually out of the country right now, that’s why I couldn’t contact you earlier.”

She was surprised when she felt a wave of disappointment course through her body. Did she want to see him again? Well, yes. But she knew she didn’t need to, and she was obviously not going to ask him to wait until he was back in Buenos Aires. Her pride was bigger than that.

“Then sure. Just tell me when and I’ll bring it over.”

“Awesome! Do you have free time tomorrow?”

She nodded, even if he couldn’t see her. “I have a couple minutes before my noon class. If they can meet me at 11:50 in the square, I’ll be waiting by the fountain.”

“11:50, square, fountain; got it. I’ll text them and confirm it later, alright?” She shrugged it off with an ‘okay’. “So, how are you? How were your classes?” Ámbar smiled.

He stalled their goodbye’s for another hour, promising to call her tomorrow after uni to see if everything had gone alright.

She didn’t do any work that afternoon, but she couldn’t bring herself to care that much.

The next morning, she was next to Emilia with the beanie on her hand; waiting for whoever Simón had sent, and just couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

Out of everyone is this world, she really wasn’t expecting to her there.

“Da-amn.” Emilia whispered as Luna walked their way, the brunette’s grin as bright as the sun. Ámbar forced herself to smile back.

Only Simón would send her ex’s actual girlfriend to pick up his stupid hat.