#carlos musings

[handicappedbuenchico]

Introducing: Dream Demon Verse

To preface, the Dream Demon Verse will also be connected to my Spencer at @/richstupidstoner, as this verse's predecessor was also connected to my own interpretation of Spencer Lewis as well :)

The Dream Demon Verse is the phoenix that rose from the Freddy's Little Helpers Verse's ashes! It's essentially the same CONCEPT-- a canon compliant AU which explores what happened to Carlos, Spencer, and John Doe's souls after their untimely demises via F.reddy K.rueger--however there are a few things that I never fully cemented, and I want to take the time to do that here:

To finally make the distinction as to what ACTUALLY happened to Carlos and Spencer post-canon, Carlos and Spencer's souls share a corporeal form with two of the three dream demons. The reason why Carlos and Spencer essentially got a revive is because after Freddy's defeat at the hands of Maggie, the dream demons emerged from Freddy's body in physical form, instead of the boys' souls being what emerged. The implication being that Carlos, Spencer, and John's souls were used to give the Dream Demons a way to physically manifest themselves through basically merging together.

To describe Carlos and Spencer's "relationship" with the dream demons their souls are merged with would be very akin to Dr.Jekyll and Mr.Hyde almost. Carlos and Spencer are trying to just be their normal selves again with this new chance at life, all while their unwelcome body mates are trying to get them to cause mayhem and suffering in the dream realm because they didn't get the chance to give their power to the next evilest person after Freddy (that's their usual preference, but now they're stuck sharing bodies with two teenage boys because their old deal maker is dead for good LMFAOOOO).

Carlos and Spencer, like Freddy before them, don't have much power outside of the dream realm. Their powers are strongest within the dream realm itself (because they're merged with dream demons, of course). Speaking of their powers within the dream realm, they unfortunately discovered their dream powers AFTER the merge. Carlos has the ability to control all noise surrounding an individual person within the dreamscape, meaning he can make things eardrum shatteringly loud, can-hear-a-pin-drop silent, along with regulating the volume of everyone and everything surrounding someone. Spencer's dream powers were a little tricky to figure out because his literal two characteristics were being a stoner and a gamer nerd...like Spencer would be so fucking OP and borderline canon breaking if I wasn't careful. Then I remembered where his powers would be in full effect, and his predecessor also having a penchant for being extra and OP AS FUCK, so I then said fuck it. Spencer can summon any video game weapon or healing item he wants at will (hey if Freddy had the power to kill and injure people in real life while they were in his dream world then logically speaking someone should be allowed to revive and heal while they're in the dream world! The movies never said someone COULDN'T do that, they just never had any character attempt such a thing). Spencer also has this constant colorful smoky aura that causes anyone near him to get an instant contact high and hallucinate.

Depending on the thread, Carlos and Spencer can be either be struggling to control the literal demons within them (honestly the demons just end up taking control of their bodies for a stretch of time because Carlos and Spencer aren't gonna be able to wrangle the literal demons that are now possessing them on their own) or they can be in some form of control over themselves and the demons within them (ngl they probably made a deal with the dream demons to cause non-lethal harm, in order to satiate their desire for evildoing, in exchange for almost total control of their new bodies and some damn peace).

Due to the canon stating that Carlos and Spencer's existences were erased from reality, and that they are only remembered by exactly THREE people (Maggie, Doc, and Tracy), technically your muse should have no recollection of who Carlos and Spencer are. HOWEVER, I am more than willing to bend this rule for the sake of RP; there are canon reasons for why your muse can remember Carlos and Spencer. For example, your muse can have the ability to control their dreams like Doc canonically can. I always got around this canonical technicality by saying that the closer your muse was to Carlos and Spencer before they died, the easier it is to remember them.

CARLOS AND SPENCER WILL HAVE NO FREDDY ICONOGRAPHY ON THEM. AT ALL. So, that means no red and green sweaters, no fedoras, no razor gloves. Nothing. The dream demons themselves are actually more serpentine in appearance, rather than looking like they were burned in a fire, so Carlos and Spencer will also NOT be looking like third degree burn victims. They'll look just like they did when they died, just with more pale and scaled skin while also having black eyes with blood red pupils. They also will have severe scarring from their original deaths (Do I even need to bring up the absolute ASS WHOOPING Spencer received during his death scene? That's a lot of scars man. Don't even get me started on the scars Carlos would have after having his HEAD explode). They CAN shapeshift into their old selves, as in before their deaths, but that takes a lot of energy to do and maintain for them. They would only really do that in the dream realm probably.

That's all I really have for now! I'm sure if I think of more things to add, I'll just reblog this post.

[handicappedbuenchico]

@petpsycho this is so Loretta core it's not even funny

[oscquinn]

“I’ve never done something like this before” with Carlos sainz??? Maybe reader is total homebody or like doesn’t party but her bf broke up with her because she was too “boring” so she goes on a trip with some “friends” and she runs into a fresh winning smooth operator and so on tee hee

SMOOOOTTTHHH OPERATOORRR

“I’ve never done something like this before” from this subtle smut list. part of my mini writing event, now closed!

carlos sainz x f!reader, rated t. drinking, suggestive but no smut!

you're not sure how you ended up in a london club. not sure how many drinks you've had, and not sure if you want another or want to go home. but a handsome man is buying for you, his fingers clutching your hip a little possessively like he's laying claim over you. making sure no other man tries to make a move, to take you from him.

you're here because of your stupid boyfriend. or, ex-boyfriend now. a manipulative, lying cheater who wasted six months of your time. your friends had dragged you away from home, pooling their money to book an extra room on their trip to london. and of course, they'd convinced you to go out with them.

your friends were dancing, you'd spent some time with them, but you preferred to sit at the bar, resting your feet and chatting with whoever sat near you. that's how you'd met him.

carlos sainz. you've heard of him, a racing driver from your native spain. but you never followed the sport. and you'd never known how gorgeous he is. long, full lashes surround deep brown eyes, the kind that stare at you with something between warmth and need. his nose and jaw are strong, his face striking enough to remain in your memory for a long time to come.

somewhere between deciding on a drink or an uber, he's kissing you. you let it happen, fingers clutching the soft hair at the nape of his neck. he smells like expensive spanish cologne, the kind your grandfather saved for special occasions. it's nostalgic. it's intoxicating.

the nerves you normally face have melted away in his presence. maybe it's carlos, or maybe it's the liquor that's burned your throat all night. but you know yourself, know your tolerance, and know what you want from him.

"i've never done something like this before," you murmur against his ear, fingers brushing over his muscled thigh. "but. do you want to come back to my hotel room?"

carlos grins at you, "no, no. you come back to mine," he counters. "bigger bed, and better room service."

all you can do is nod along, standing and taking his hand as he guides you toward the door.

© oscquinn, 2025. click here for my inbox.

[handicappedbuenchico]

@kurtzbergsiblings

@depictedmorada

[feeferden]

drew chilchuck over that one splatoon gmod carlos image that makes me laugh cry every time i see him

[cak3iscake]

Kith

[fairie-bread]

a few quick n sketchy sincaraz studies i'm too embarrassed to post on main 😵‍💫

[fairylando]

that awkward moment when you don't make it out of SQ2, your seat comes out of its place while you're qualifying, ugly people keep touching you BUT YOU HAVE TO SERVE LIGHLTY BRUSHED BY MELANCHOLY FACE CARD!!!!!!!!

[themuseofaphrodite]

do you get deja vu? ✧ FC43 / CS55 

summary: you are at a masquerade ball in buenos aires, argentina, and you have garnered the attention of a certain argentinian driver. little does he know that a year ago, you were living a mirror image life with a different spanish driver.

trigger warnings: angst, suggestive content, mentions of alcohol, descriptions of depression, cheating

note: phrases and sentences in the spanish language are utilized throughout; keep a translator accessible

word count: 1.9k

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Buenos Aires, Argentina

Parties were the only thing that quieted the whirlwind in your head. Getting drunk, dressing in fancy attire, pretending to be someone you were not, helped fix your fucked-up mind, even if it was just for a handful of hours. Ever since your break up with Carlos Sainz Jr., you had fallen down a rabbit hole of despair and heartbreak, muting your feelings with Bacchian revelries. Nothing else you did helped – you tried meditating, yoga, spin class, journaling…yet nothing gave you peace like parties did.

You nursed the glass of white wine in your hand, sipping it casually as you perused the ballroom, scanning the crowd for someone worthwhile. Another reason why you enjoyed parties is because it was the best hunting ground for a one-night stand. Most people who went to these festivities were looking to find hook-up partners, which is exactly what you needed. 

Everyone’s face was obscured with masks, and you could tell a lot about someone based off of their disguises. Those who wore fanciful designs were vain and egotistical, those who preferred muted designs were insecure. You needed someone showy but not extravagant – and that’s when you found the perfect mark.

He was already staring at you, his piercing olive eyes honed in on you. His light brown hair sloped in gentle waves over his forehead, his muscular build concealed by a tight-fitting tuxedo. Sun-kissed freckles dotted the lower portion of his face.

He was everything you needed to take your mind off of Carlos. Or so you thought.

“Buenas noches,” you murmured to him when you stood beside him, your head tilted to the side, scouring for details previously missed. He smelled like caramel and sea salt mixed with expensive cologne, and he carried himself like he was a prince. “¿Cómo ha sido tu noche?”

He craned his neck down to look at you, a smirk curling at his top lip. “Mejor ahora que has venido a charlar.”

“Hm,” you hummed under your breath. “Pensaría que un chico lindo como tú tendría las agallas de hablar con una chica.”

“¿Y quién dijo que no?” he inquired, one eyebrow raised.

“My name is Y/N,” you responded, not caring to stay on the same topic of conversation anymore and switching to English, the language you were more fluent in. Carlos had been the one to teach you Spanish so you could understand what his family was saying when you visited them, but you still felt unsure when speaking it. “And yours is?”

He chuckled. “Franco Colapinto.” A soft accent tilted the edges of his vowels, and it sent a spark of electricity racing through your veins. Just like Carlos. You forced yourself to take your mind off of your ex – thinking about him would not do anything. Carlos had someone better, and soon you would too.

Franco’s name sounded vaguely familiar, but you had far too many drinks to remember exactly why. “Ah. You’ve been looking at me all night. Is there something you’d like to tell me?” you  crooned playfully.

“Yes,” he responded, his tone just as mischievous. “And would you like to tell me something as well? Don’t think I haven’t seen you staring at me, hermosa.”

“You first,” you pressed, taking a sip of your white wine.

“I was thinking how surprising it is that una chica impresionante like you would not have a date to such an event,” Franco mused. “Do you have someone?”

You shook your head, swallowing roughly. “No.”

“Then it would be my pleasure to accompany you, querida.” Franco looped his arm through yours, pulling you close to his body. He was warm, toned muscle, and you suppressed a groan at the contact. “¿Te gustaría encontrar un lugar más...privado?”

A private area…just what you needed. You bobbed your head in agreement, and Franco tugged you towards a small alcove, away from the eyes of partygoers. “Tell me why you’re here,” you pushed. “Do you not have a date?”

“No date. I was hoping that I would stumble upon a beautiful girl like you, though,” Franco flirted casually. The way he had with words alerted you to the fact that he honed his charm like a weapon, and it intrigued you. “Gracias a Dios que mis deseos se hicieron realidad.”

“You’re such a smooth talker,” you teased, tugging gently on his mask and causing him to make a disapproving noise at you. “How many girls have you picked up with those same lines?” You appraised him, scanning his stature from head to toe. “Eres un espectador.”

Franco laughed. “Tú también.”

You stepped forward, encasing his shoulders with your arms. Angling your face up, you kissed him deeply on the lips, a moan escaping your lips at the sensation of how soft he was. It was deceiving, the way he looked – strong, hewn stone, but his lips were like a cloud. Franco immediately intensified the kiss, his tongue battling with yours for dominance, his arms snaking down your waist and pulling you flush against him. “Fuck,” you murmured when you broke apart. “Someone knows how to make out.”

Franco grinned and pecked you on your cheek. “I’ll gladly continue, amor. Just give me the word.”

You kissed him again – this time more fervently, like you were trying to etch him into your memory and erase every flashback you had of Carlos.

Madrid, Spain

Carlos Sainz Jr. sucked in a breath as you spun around the room in your lavish pink ballgown. “Fuck, cariña, you look so good.” You beamed back at him. “We have to go to more parties now. You look absolutely stunning.”

“Yeah?” you cocked your head. “Says the sexiest man alive.”

Carlos laughed, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Te amo mucho, Y/N. I don’t know what I would do without you. You’re perfect.”

You scoffed. “If you say so.”

Carlos clucked his tongue, picking you up and setting you down on the edge of the bed. “I know so, amor.”

“Hm.”

He kissed you, making you topple over onto the bed and screech in surprise. “Trust me, cariña, you drive me crazy.” Carlos crawled on top of you, pinning you down and kissing you again passionately. “My fucking ángel sent from the heavens.”

“Except you know I’m anything but an angel,” you retorted, and he quieted you with another kiss. “Carlos, come on, we’re going to be late.” He huffed angrily but extricated himself from you, brushing invisible specks of dust off of his lapel. 

“Do you have your mask, Y/N?”

You nodded, sitting up from where you were lying and pointing at the shiny rose gold masquerade mask that was resting on the vanity table. “That’s mine.”

“OK. Everything else done?” Carlos inquired, and you nodded once more. “Then come here and vamos.”

You were extremely excited to go with Carlos to your first ever masquerade ball. You’d spent weeks agonizing over what color scheme to choose for your dress so that it would match up with your mask, whereas Carlos had selected a simple black-and-white tuxedo with a stormy gray mask. “I want you to stand out, amor. I don’t care what I wear. I want everyone to be looking at my beautiful girlfriend, not me.”

Forty-five minutes later and you were in the ballroom, your jaw gaping open in awe. A large gilded chandelier hung suspended over the crowd, a thousand candles flickering vividly. The floor was a plush red carpet and the walls were filled with ancient portraits. You could swear that some of them were alive, and that they were staring at you.

Hopefully not judging you…

Carlos signaled a waiter over and ordered a glass of wine for the both of you. “I need to use the restroom,” he told you. “Don’t drink my wine, ¿OK, cariña?”

You nodded and gave him a peck on his cheek, watching him disappear through the crowds. A few moments later, your wine appeared and you took a gulp, tapping your foot impatiently as you waited for Carlos to return.

Minutes ticked by and still Carlos had not come back. Maybe he got caught up talking to someone, you assured yourself. He’s fine. 

But even after the belltower chimed eleven, Carlos was nowhere to be seen. You began a frenzied search for him, asking people frantically if they knew his whereabouts. Everything was a dead end, until…

The familiar tall, bronzed body with his fingers twisted through another woman’s hair, his lips plastered against hers like they were glued together.

Your breath stuttered in shock, tears pricking your eyes like knives.

Without another second wasted, you turned your back on him and fled the scene where your heart was torn into a million pieces.

Buenos Aires, Argentina

“So, what do you do for a living?” you asked Franco a few hours later as the sun was descending into the horizon. You had left the ball an hour previously, finding your way into a small cafe where you two had been chatting and sipping on green tea. 

“Oh, I drive cars,” Franco responded, his eyes lighting up. “I’m a Formula One driver.”

Your heart spasmed in your chest and you fought to remain still. “Really? What team?”

“Williams,” he specified, one shoulder shrugging nonchalantly. 

The same team Carlos was heading to after the end of this year. God liked to play cruel games on you, that was for sure. “Interesting.” You tapped your fingers against the wooden table. “Do you enjoy it?”

Franco bowed his head. “Very much. I wouldn’t be doing it if I didn’t.”

“How long have you been racing?” you inquired.

“In Formula One? Since the start of this season. I was pulled in because a different driver wasn’t doing well. Mejor para mi, supongo.”

At least he didn’t have years of experience like Carlos did. Franco was getting newly acquainted with the lifestyle and demands that was Formula One, which was all the more reason that you should stay away. If Carlos could not resist the temptations, Franco would break in an instant. That much you could tell already from the way that he had effortlessly flirted with you, like it was second nature. “I hope you stay longer.” You gave him a smile, suddenly nauseous and desperate to leave. “But I think that I must say goodnight and go home.”

Franco pouted. “Lo siento. I gave you my number. Stay in contact with me, por favor.”

“I will,” you promised, although you did not have any intentions to do so. The ghosts of Formula One had to remain in the past, and you couldn’t move on if you dated a driver from the same future team as your ex. “Goodnight.” “Buenas noches.”

It was so strange how life was. You had never believed in predestination; you always thought that life was constantly changing. There was no such thing as fate or destiny, but the more you thought about it, it seemed like there was only one road for you to travel down. 

Deja vu was everywhere, and God forbid you if you succumbed to its miseries.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

[handicappedbuenchico]

How Much of A Sinner Are You?

bitCH EXCUSE ME????? WHAT????

Sir what the fuck do you do while I'm not looking???

[vamos-chilli]

i’ve actually never seen this before but 15 year old carlos is such an icon a diva .

[nicolettecallednikki]

Carlos' endless optimism towards Williams is so nice, but have we considered he just doesn't want to prove his dad right? Papa Sainz was like "not Williams, anything but Williams" & now Jr has to battle thru like "no, papa, I love it here, paralo!"

[diioonysus]

apollo + art

[cant-get-enough-btr-forever]

Life goal: Be as calm and collected as Carlos in Big Time Movie.

[hookinhand]

after last ep we can all agree carlos scrolls through pictures he’s taken of his husband when he’s having a hard time at work and can’t talk to him at the moment for whatever reason???? (he’s on shift/a call, they’re in the middle of a ‘thing’, etc)

taking that scene near the end of the ep as confirmation🫡

[mj55]

Mr. Carlos Sainz Jr 😮‍💨