#tw: marisol

[sevensoulmates]

But in another aspect for the writers to use Tommy that way as a plot device so buck can realize his feelings cause he’s not fully in it seems a bit cruel in a sense you know??

Yes, I totally get you! Like, from a storytelling perspective, it makes sense. Side characters are always a plot device to further the narrative of a main character. But looking at it from a human perspective, it's like, Tommy's a person too, and he doesn't deserve to be treated like nothing but a plot device! The same can be said for all of Buck and Eddie's love interests.

I'm about to say something controversial here, but I really felt for Marisol when she was talking about how men treat her differently when they find out about her almost being a nun. How it either turns them off immediately or it becomes a fetish. I can understand that as someone who can be considered a "late bloomer" romantically and sexually in life. It's one of my deepest fears as I get older that my lack of experience in that aspect will either be something that romantic partners my own age or older will find weird and not want to touch with an 8-foot-pole, or they'll find it arousing specifically because of my lack of experience. So I empathized with Marisol a lot here and I was happy Eddie made the decision to just say he needed some time to adjust instead of just ditching her immediately. I don't think this means they're lasting or endgame by any means, but I'm happy he's at least not making it a deal-breaker.

AND I'm happy that they ARE actually attempting to make Marisol a more fleshed-out character. Because at the end of the day, I don't think it matters how much of a fleshed-out character they make Marisol, Eddie's relationship will never feel completely right to either of them because Eddie's heart will never fully be in it, both because of his sexuality and because of his feelings for Buck.

I want the same for Tommy too. He obviously wants something real for himself, and I feel bad for him that it's obviously not going to be Buck. I can recognize that he's here for a purpose and also hope he finds something great for himself in the future simply on a human-to-human level.

[bucklavaa]

Bisexual. BYEsexual.

[hippolotamus]

another installment of what I'm calling the cleopatra series. this time from Eddie's POV because I got in my Buddie feels. part 1 here 💙

late for the love of my life | 7x06 Coda | 912 words | G

“Hey, how was it?” Marisol wraps her arms around his waist, giving him a peck on the lips. 

Eddie barely suppresses the urge to flinch and turn away. Which is maybe a tad dramatic, except for the way it isn’t. Because the past 24 hours have held more than a few revelations. None of which Eddie is ready to share. 

Despite the layers of clothing between them, his skin tingles and crawls where she touches him. If he didn’t have years of experience being exposed to fluids, substances and people he didn’t want anywhere near him, he thinks he would have wrenched away from her by now. No, he definitely would have. But he’s a professional at hiding his personal reactions, both on and off the job. 

Yes, he’s made progress in therapy, but the instincts to hide himself, to put up walls and masks, are still easily activated. Handy for moments like now, when he can’t escape his girlfriend. Or when he has to smile big for the crowd and pretend the perpetual feelings for his best friend don’t exist when said best friend barrels back into the room all lovestruck and covered in soot from his boyfriend. 

“It was good. Really nice, actually.” That much is true. Because it was. Honestly, the whole hospital room chic was perfectly Maddie and Chim. 

“Nice?” She asks in a teasing tone, squeezing tighter and clinging to his torso like a koala. 

His breathing is acceptably even but the urge to peel her off, to tell her that she should probably go home because his heart rate is skyrocketing, his fingers and toes are tingling, and he’s beginning to feel claustrophobic is anything but. His built in panic mode suspects there isn’t enough Jell-o in the universe to undo this. Again, dramatic, but he thinks he’s within his rights to think so right now. 

“Yeah, I-” He pinches the bridge of his nose, squeezes his eyes shut and inhales as deeply as he can manage. “Y’know, I’m, uh, still feeling a little worse for wear from last night. I should-” He doesn’t even finish the sentence, just points vaguely in the direction of his bedroom. 

Marisol’s relaxed ‘welcome home’ look turns concerned as she furrows her brow and holds the back of her hand to his forehead. “Are you okay? Do you want me to stay? I should probably stay over in case you need–” 

“Really,” he interjects, backing out of her hold, “I’ll be fine. Just need to sleep it off, I think. You should go. Home. To your place.” Smooth, Diaz. “I mean, because I’ll probably be restless, y’know?”

“I can sleep on the cou-”

“No,” he says more forcefully than intended. He should be grateful she wants to stay and take care of him. He should. He is. But not the couch. Not… Buck’s bed. His place. Their place.

“Oh.” She takes a step back and he should probably feel worse about the way she looks so dejected. “I, um, I understand. Talk tomorrow?”

“Yeah, talk tomorrow.” 

Tomorrow when I’ve had a chance to reset. When the twin alcohol and love hangovers have hopefully, finally died off. When I’m not seeing an endless mental projection reel of reminders like Or, y’know, you could have mine. Then why are you in hospital jail? Stay with me, Buck. Him choking on blood. You saved him. Abby. His fiancee is Abby. Showoff. My blood on him. Hey, Buck. You think you’re expendable. They’re all dead. I, uh, misunderstood the assignment. Three minutes and seventeen seconds. She sees me. It was a date. 

The front door clicks in the latch and he immediately turns the deadbolt, noting how his pulse drops to a debatably more normal range. He wants to settle on the couch, under the covers in his bed, both and neither all at the same time. In the end he migrates to the kitchen, which really shouldn’t surprise him. 

He runs his fingers over the backs of the chairs, circling around until he’s standing between the table and main counter. Am I one of the things that makes you sad? So now am I allowed to ask how you are? But you do eventually - you process it? 

Eddie turns toward the fridge, drawn to Shannon’s photo. He plucks it from under the magnet, running his thumb over the glossy print. 

“Can never quite get my timing down, can I?” He huffs out a wet chuckle. “God, I wish you were here right now. I could really use someone to talk to.” 

If it wasn’t after midnight he would probably drive himself to the cemetery to sit on the stone bench. To talk to someone that can’t talk back but would nonetheless tell him what an idiot he is. To unfairly water her grave with tears shed because he always thinks he has more time. You might have noticed I almost died. Again. And then I thought, this is it. This is the last day of my life. We’re all going to die alone. That’s what she said to me and Hen. 

Truthfully he’s not sure who he’s thinking of more — Shannon or Buck — as he slides to the floor, still clutching her picture, beginning to sob and shake as the words I love you so much flash like a neon reminder of his poor timing. Does it really matter? Because either way he’s missed his chance. 

But I guess it’s your mess now. 

Part 3 (Buck's POV)

[pigdemonart]

La Luz de Mi Vida

This lovely couple are the parents of the los brujos boys, Marisol and Horacio. They are like the Morticia and Gomez of their little family. Perfectly in love and it’s terrible for everyone else witnessing it.

In the story neither of them seems to be present and its unclear if they’re even alive, but narurally as the main characters’ parents they’re very important! Marisol is the daughter of Dolores, therefore a bruja as well.

Patreon | Ko-Fi

[marisol-larosa]

My fingers curled protectively around the smooth ceramic clutched in my hands. Blood roared in my ears, somehow drowning out the sound of the waves that lapped at my toes. I could feel the wind pick up and tickle my hair across my face, while my skirt wrapped around my calves. I inhaled deeply and closed my eyes, imagining it was her. You’re doing the right thing. She tells me through the ocean breeze. This is what I wanted.

Suddenly, my thoughts are thrusted back to a time I desperately wanted to forget. It started with a little cough, nothing out of the ordinary for her since  chemotherapy had dried her throat. Then, the fever came. So fast; so high. She went from laughing and drinking her tea to cuddling under her blanket and shaking violently. I took her temperature. When I saw one hundred and three, I knew we were in trouble. I called Elliot in a panic and there he was, my mother in his arms as I followed them out of the building. We drove her to Mount Sinai, where my entire world fell apart.

Bacterial pneumonia. Sepsis. Organ failure. Gone. A week of suffering in the intensive care unit and then the light in my life was snuffed out. 

My mother was dreaming of the day she could return to Spain. She was so close. Too close to help me understand how this could happen. Instead of holding her hand on Levera Beach, I was holding her urn.

I felt a touch on my arm and came back to reality. The tide had risen over my ankles and tears trailed down my cheeks. “My girl,” Elliot murmured as his lips pressed to my shoulder. “Your dad and brother are here.”

The three of us shared crushing hugs that almost made me feel whole again. Elliot’s hand on my back and their arms around me pushed together the broken pieces of me, but only for a moment. We still had to let her go.

My dad murmured a Spanish catholic prayer. My brother told her how much he missed her. I thanked her for all of the lifelong lessons, the sacrifices she made, and for trusting me with caring for her during her final months. What a blessing it was.

I love you. I whispered as the wind took her ashes to the ocean, mixing with the salt and sand to become one with its infinity. I lost my breath as a gust whipped around me, almost like a hug. I like to think it was her. I love you too. 

☁︎  ☁︎  ☁︎  ☁︎  ☁︎  ☁︎  ☁︎  ☁︎  ☁︎  ☁︎  ☁︎  ☁︎  ☁︎  ☁︎

We flew back to Los Angeles the next day. Elliot spent the flight holding me, rubbing my back, kissing my face, throwing every ounce of comfort he could into me and all I felt was… grief. It swallowed everything else. He forced me to take sips of water because thirst had no room in the overwhelming sadness.

I spent days in bed while Elliot worked around the clock to care for me. Soup, electrolytes, baths — he did it all while I moved like the husk of the woman he once knew. 

Elliot didn’t sleep much in those days so when he did, he slept hard. It was the only way I was able to slip out of bed in the middle of the night, pack my bag, and leave. Adding another layer to my despair wasn’t in the cards, but I had to be selfless. I had to let him go.

El —

I cannot feel anything other than this all-consuming misery. I don’t want to subject you to it anymore. You deserve better.

I’m sorry.

M.

I left the note on the table, blocked his number, and disappeared into the night

[watchyourbuck]

I am a newer lurker in the fandom, and I would LOVE to know about what exactly Marisol's actress has done

I’m sure there’s post that explains it way better than I can right now, but basically she posted a transphobic joke on her Instagram stories, then proceeded to do a half assed apology when she was called out (one that had a picture of herself in the background). Also she continuously likes incredibly homophobic comments talking about Buck or Eddie and queerness — there’s actually a specific one going around on a screenshot where timeline shows that she basically already knew about Buck being bisexual.

Those are the things that I’m aware of, so there may be more, but in my books that’s enough to dislike her plenty.

[degrassi-fandom-confessions]

im glad that people are acknowledging that what katie did to drew was in fact rape, but why make it about marisol? she didnt do anything. plenty of white characters remained friends with katie. hold everyone to the same standard.

[threepoint14art]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY DAUGHTER IT IS 1AM AND I HAVE WORK TOMORROW

I AM SO MEAN TO HER IM SORRY

[your-pal-nebula]

TW for mentions of radqu33rs and proship

T3chnically I could b3 consid3r3d a probl3matic alt3r but that's kinda my whole job. I'm the manif3station of A/N's intrusiv3 thoughts (I mostly sp3cialize in viol3nce but I handl3 th3m all) of cours3 I say some crazy shit sometim3s

It's not lik3 I 3v3r plan on coming h3r3 to say any of it becaus3 I absolut3ly do not n33d to b3com3 hated onlin3 as "Nebula's 3vil r@dqu33r pr0sh1p headmat3" or any oth3r kind of probl3matic-n3ss

I would not actually for s3rious consid3r mys3lf part of thos3 groups wh3n I think about it for mor3 than fiv3 s3conds and non3 of it r3fl3cts my actual vi3ws. But saying and thinking all th3 Morally Wrong Stuff is my whole job I'm lit3rally just doing what I am doing what I am suppos3d to do. I'd b3 lying if I said I n3v3r f33l bad about it but it's my whol3 life purpos3

-Knife

[sevensoulmates]

dear GAWD the Eddie/Ana first meeting in Fools is SO CRINGE

But also...I hate her speech about Chris and "not getting back on the horse" in relation to disability

HOWEVER

I feel like what she said also can be applied to Eddie which is hilarious. Eddie comes into the conversation with "get back on the horse" and essentially keep trying. Ana approaches it with "there's value to learning you don't like horses" and it just struck me that that is what Eddie (and Buck too) keep doing with this cycle of new relationships with women that fail and then they try again not really completely accepting or learning why the relationships failed in the first place. Eddie has this mindset of I gotta keep trying, (and it doesn't help that people in his life keep pushing him towards it) but he's also just not seeing that there's value in realizing YOU DON'T LIKE HORSES. Eddie, maybe Ana/Marisol and any other Perfect On Paper Women are the horses here.

Maybe there's value in trying again, but there's also value in eventually learning that you just don't like women (?) or maybe you just don't like these types of forced connection relationships (?) or maybe you don't like these relationships with these women because they're not THE relationship you really want.

She says "sometimes our limitations tell us when to stop, and sometimes they tell us where to look next." Again, in relation to disability? Nah.

But in relation to Eddie and his endless cycle of trying and failing to get back on the horse?

My man, the universe is once again screaming directly in your face, and pointing you in a different direction, but just keep ignoring it and spinning in circles.

"Maybe not tomorrow. But someday." Hopefully before the show ends.

[explosivess]

who: @canarygcld

where: Lost Horse Saloon

when: dead of night

Marisol’s not going to believe him, the story sounds too innocent. A patron drops a glass, it leaves a deeper cut than expected when Joel cleans it up. The glass slices into his left palm like an angry bite, leaves him needing maybe a stitch or two. She's patched up worse, as a result of worse - which is why this is just stupid enough to sound like a lie. But the patron and the glass are both real... Joel’s just in a mood. It’s his turn on the couch, and that’s got him playing bartender and looking for blood, even if it’s his own. 

He catches a glimpse of familiar dark hair bob through the patrons of his saloon - motions her behind the counter so she can take a look. He holds up his palm as an explanation. “Got it cleaning up some glass.” 

[nurseguillermo]

⚔️ CROSSED SWORDS — a past experience of my muse's TW: Child Abandonment

[fireh0es]

This just in: Edy Ganem is a transphobic POS

[krysmcscience]

Who ordered the post movie latte? It says 'Stinky Bastard Man' on the cup. I'd say Brown ordered it for White, but he's currently preoccupied with Impostor shaming. Any ideas, @crinklytinfoil? Or are you just gonna die laughing cuz I failed to resist my urge? ;)

Fun fact, this is the first time I've drawn Brown with eye shines - I always leave them out to give him a more hollow and lifeless appearance, lol :D

I also made his hair more reddish in accordance with descriptions, it's more auburn now. Auburn Plus, if you will.

And now, for a doodle comic that got way out of hand. I am putting it under a read-more because, uh. Bit of hinky stuff goin' on, cuz my sketches sorta ran away from me along with everything else about it, ahaha...

...yeah O///O;

Anyway.

Green, you are such a pain in the ass to draw, ink, and color :)

I should have been asleep like three hours ago, lmao, I have work tomorrow today. Feel free to submit your own Impostor Shaming moments while I careen headlong into the nearest sleeping surface.

[buckleyirondad]

honestly can't believe that instagram story. I can't believe people actually think like that, it's just ugh.

[manus-juan-asks]

tw: scarring, blood, injury, violence (but not too much of it)

How Juan got his Scar

You may remember that I gave it a scar near his jawline. Now, I will tell you how he got it. Also, mention of the Leader, Marisol (will work on her and her family).

Note: Small text means that someone is talking. Color is indicated to know who is talking. Blue is Juan (He/It), Purple is Marisol (She/Her).

As they were alone, sitting by the lounge, the man worriedly asks about their plan to strike against other trainers.

"Don't you think that is too much, Mari?" as the gym leader feared.

"Nonsense. Besides, we'll be ready by then." she replied.

Marisol was eager to initiate her plan of brainwashing more trainers. She has already succeeded with the likes of Juan. Well, almost succeeded.

"Would you like some more wine, my dear?" she asked.

"No, thank you." it declined.

"Say, could you go and pick up some more ice? We're running out of it."

"Sure." as Juan stood up.

He went to the serving station to gather more ice blocks along with an ice pick. It was sharp but sturdy enough to break the ice into pieces.

"Here."

"Thank you, my dear."

The two of them continued to sip through their wine as the night continues to pass.

"Mari?" as Juan shifted his head to her. "What happens to those trainers that were brainwashed but... were somehow able to regain their memories?"

"Oh, them?" she replied. "They... they get a special treatment."

"S-special... treatment, you say?" as it raised a eyebrow.

"Yes, why don't you try it yourself."

The air began to slowly drop into a cold and unnerving state. Startled, Juan tries to leave the lounge as fast as he could. But to his dismay, the door was locked, forcing him to stay with her longer.

"All trainers who dare to defy Manus..." as she attacks and slashes at Juan's face. "...shall pay with their lives."

He barely dodged her but he was cut. He could feel the drips of blood running down his jawline and onto the floor. He knew she was dangerous, but not as violent as it just saw.

"Do you understand...?" she smirked.

He was speechless. He couldn't even utter a word out of its mouth.

"Then, I'll take it as a yes then." she shrugged. "Very well, you may now rest, my dear."

As she left the room, he was all left alone, thinking to itself.

("W-what did I get myself into...!?)

- fin -

I hope you enjoy reading this! Until next time and happy asking! -Ferje