#or maybe the snippets i have

[spacedace]

Does anyone else do the thing where you're kinda writing a summary/outline for a fic but like in the form of it being kind of a mini fic itself from one character's perspective?

Like, I have a kinda angsty super serious chaos fic that I've been poking at off and on for awhile and I realized that I've sorta made a summery of the fic via a short snippet from Constantine's perspective?

Wondering if that's something other peeps do or if it's just me lol

[eggwishing]

I ONCE TRIED TO WASH THAT SCUFFED OLD THING WHILE HE WAS TAKING ONE OF HIS NAPS, BUT WHEN I TOOK IT OFF HE WAS WEARING ANOTHER IDENTICAL ONE UNDERNEATH! AND ANOTHER! I GOT THROUGH TEN MORE LAYERS OF THE SAME THING BEFORE HE WOKE UP. I WAS SO FRUSTRATED! WHERE DID HE EVEN GET THOSE FROM? THEY ALL EVEN HAD THE SAME STAINS!!

[aroaceleovaldez]

i have suddenly become obsessed with a theme that HoO established but never proceeded to extrapolate on, which is:

You are Percy Jackson, and you have been swapped with a boy who was allegedly everyone's favorite person, but they have decided to replace him with you. They just met you. You stand next to his best friend and the people he's known his entire life. In his home. In his cloak. In his place. They stopped looking for him.

You are Jason Grace, and you have just found out you have a long lost sister who completely replaced you in her life with this girl you just met. Your lives and personalities are mirrors. She is you, living the life you were robbed of.

You are Annabeth Chase, and you have just become starkly aware that you have been inhabiting the void left behind by your best friend's long lost brother. You and Luke were just replacements for him. Now you have to look him in the eyes when he has nothing and know you took that life from him.

You are Piper McLean, and you have just found out your relationship is fake and built entirely on the memories of Annabeth Chase. You have been given a boyfriend when hers has been taken away. You have no idea how much of it is real or not but regardless you feel like if your relationship isn't exactly in their image that you have failed.

You are Leo Valdez, and you have just learned that you are the echo of your great-grandfather. You are not your own person. You just exist to be a mirror of him. A doppelganger. An actor and stunt double facing all the danger he never had to but wearing his face. To be there for his best friend decades later simply because he couldn't. You are playing a role. A seventh wheel and a pawn for a goddess who carefully sculpted your entire life for her own purposes.

You are Hazel Levesque, and the only reason you are alive is because your brother couldn't save your his sister. You are a consolation prize. An apology. Your existence here is misplaced in every way but you inhabit it anyways.

You are Frank Zhang, and you are a shapeshifter. Inhabiting your own body feels strange and clumsy when you could be literally anything at any time. You are anything and everything and live your life with the simple certainty of knowing exactly how you will die.

[limboni]

"Children in the woods" 5/5

<- Previous

[flaccid-rats]

pre ANH au where Din and Luke meet on Tatooine, have their summer romance and all that, and when Din inevitably has to leave Luke gives him a japor snippet (“It’s a good luck charm,” Luke says with a smile. “I’ve seen how reckless you get on your bounties.”) and Din thinks it’s a little silly, but he lets Luke put it around his neck anyway.

It is only a few days later that Din hears about the Lars family, about the fire, about how they never found a third body.

And then Din just…never takes that japor snippet off.

For years he wears it, the sound of the japor clinking against the beskar of his mythosaur pendant becoming so familiar to him that he panics when it falls silent. He reaches for his neck when he cannot hear that ringing sound, reaches for the japor, desperate to make sure it’s still there, that he did not lose what he has left of the man he would never really stop loving. Even when Din is dying, when he takes off his mythosaur pendant to give to Cara, when he begs her to take it, to bring this child he knows nothing of to safety, he keeps the japor close to his slowing heart.

And somehow, Din lives.

(“It’s a good luck charm,” Luke says with a smile.)

[kettlefire]

As Good as Good Gets (DP X DC Snippet)

Richard "Dick" Grayson is the golden child. In the eyes of the public, and in the eyes of the league. Dick is a sweet, caring son, a man who went from being a sidekick to being a hero. The pipeline from Robin to Nightwing had many people applauding his dedication to keeping Gotham safe.

No one knew the full story, not truly. No one but Bruce Wayne himself. And maybe a certain butler. Many don't know that Dick only became Robin to stop him from hunting down and killing the man who killed his parents.

No one really knows about the harsh fights and arguments he has had with Bruce. The times when Dick would find himself cut off from the Wayne name for a week or so. No one knows that the first person Dick warmed up to was Alfred. Having been bribed with cookies.

Things weren't always this good, trusting, happy relationship between Bruce and Dick. It had been a rough ride, a complicated one. But that was okay, because it got better.

Dick stopped being so moody and angsty. He grew up, he learned, and he changed. He became an older brother, found people that needed him. Needed him in a way that the citizens of Gotham didn't need him.

His brothers like to call him annoying. A goody two shoes who Bruce trusted more than everyone else. They couldn't fathom how someone like Dick could be so stupid and bubbly at all times.

All times, except when shit hits the fans. Despite the name calling, despite coining Dick as the stupid Wayne. They all knew better. They knew that when it mattered, Dick Grayson always pulled through. He was a force to be reckoned with when needed.

The whole Wayne family was a force to be reckoned with when called for. It didn't have to be under the guise of costumes and vigilante acts. Whether he was Officer Grayson or Nightwing, Dick was a man with his morals and values.

One night on patrol as Officer Grayson, Dick found someone who needed that force. A force willing to protect and care for the innocent. The hurt. The damaged, yet still good.

It started like any other night. A call of shots fired by an empty warehouse. There was no sighting or knowledge of any rouges being there, so Dick took the call. Told the team he'll contact them if it seems more than just a civilian incident.

The warehouse was dark, reeked of copper and oil. It didn't take long for Dick to find the trail. The liquid he found looked like the person had been dragged before walking. There was a clear struggle, even with the mess and emptiness that was the warehouse.

That wasn't Dick's biggest concern. The concern lay in just how much blood there was. Too much for any normal person to lose and still manage to stumble through the warehouse.

It wasn't just blood. It wasn't that much, but Dick could spot the strangeness in the liquid. The mixed in green that had an eerily similar color and glow as a certain pit.

Without thinking, Dick followed the trail. Barely remembering to make contact with his family. Give them an update on what he found. Words telling him to stay put for backup went in one ear and out the other.

Something in Dick's gut was telling him he couldn't wait. He needed to find the source. Whoever was currently bleeding out in this warehouse. He silenced the comm, moving further through the dimly lit building.

Then Dick found it. Or more so, he found him. It was just a boy. A boy that reminded Dick too much of the youngest Wayne. A boy sat against a wall, looking pale and weak.

Red and green coated the front of the boy's shirt, arms wrapped tightly around his middle. An attempt to stem the bleeding. A puddle had already started to form beneath the boy, and Dick moved without thinking once again.

He quickly found himself kneeling beside the boy, hands carefully reaching out. Before Dick even touched him, the boy flinched. Eyelids suddenly opened, wide and terrified blue eyes landed on Dick's.

In just that one look, Dick knew what he had to do. The haunting, terrified, and pained look in the boy's eyes told Dick everything he needed to know. The boy was in danger. Someone had hurt this kid, and it was clear it wasn't the first time.

The boy struggled weakly against Dick's touch, terrified whimpers, and barely coherent pleas spilled from the kid's lips. It had Dick's heart aching, clear as day the poor kid has been through hell and back.

It took a lot of reassurance, gentle touches, and promises of help before the kid let Dick take a look at the bleeding wound. A promise on Dick's soul had been the final thing that earned him any semblance of trust. A strange promise, but Dick was willing to make it.

That concern turned to pure anger the moment Dick managed to pull the sticky shirt away from the wound. The sight of a Y-incision cut perfectly into the skin, stitches tight on the skin, but blood still leaking heavily from the wound.

It didn't take long for Dick to realize why. Despite the perfect surgical care of the wound, a good couple of stitches had broken. Leaving gaping spots for that red and green liquid to pour out of.

The boy was deathly silent, tears streaking down his cheek as wide blue eyes stayed trained on Dick. In that moment, Dick knew he had to help. Had to get the kid to safety, patch him up, and find out what kind of monster would do this.

It didn't matter if the kid was human or not. It didn't matter if the kid had special abilities or not. No one, absolutely no one, deserved to be vivisected.

The kid was shrouded in mystery, but that mystery only seemed to grow and become clearer when Bruce had entered the scene. The boy had tensed, eyes flashing a bright glowing green.

Lazarus pit green.

It set a pit of dread in Dick's gut. His mind brings forward memories of Jason. Jason, after his revival, after his dip in that cursed pit. The same flash that his brother would get if he got too angry. Too emotional.

As much as Dick wanted to focus on finding who did this, if it had any connection to Ra's al Ghul. He couldn't. Not when the kid tried to get up, to pull away as Bruce and the others made their way closer.

Right now, Dick only cared about making sure the boy was okay. Fixing those stitches, getting him a meal, and a warm bed.

He needed to get this kid someplace where he felt safe and secure. Comfortable and protected. Dick wasn't sure why. Maybe it was the promise he had made, but he wasn't letting anyone get to the kid.

That included his family. As strange as it seemed, Dick put himself between the others and the kid. Shooting them all a glare that they had only ever seen a handful of times.

Dick lifted the poor boy up in his arms, cradling the crying child close as he led the way out of the warehouse. Ignoring the questions or confusion coming from Bruce and the others. As Dick walked, feeling the trembling boy clinging to him, he made a rather obvious realization.

Maybe the eldest son really was more like Bruce than he expected. Just a few short moments the the boy, a boy that Dick didn't know his name, and he was ready to pull out adoption papers. To give the boy a safety he so desperately needs.

Give him the chance that Bruce had given him all those years ago.

[wordsofwilderness]

Found this beauty in my writing notes:

[cod-thoughts]

“Thought you’d sleep in for once,” Ghost muttered, leaning down to meet Price’s lips in a lazy kiss. It wasn’t rushed—just a slow, easy press of their mouths, like they had all the time in the world.

“Couldn’t,” Price murmured against him, his hands finding Ghost’s hip. He tugged him closer, their noses brushing together as Ghost kissed him again, deeper this time. Price’s grip tightened, but there was nothing hurried about it, just deliberate and steady, as if he was memorising every detail.

Ghost huffed softly when they pulled apart, the sound low and amused. “You’re insatiable, old man.”

“Damn right,” Price shot back, his thumb tracing slow circles against Ghost’s hip. “You’re the one who came in here lookin’ like that. Can’t be helped.”

Ghost shook his head, but there was no real heat behind it, just the faintest curve of his lips, knowing he wasn't wearing anything special. He leaned in again, his fingers slipping under the collar of Price’s shirt, brushing against bare skin. Their mouths met in another kiss, slower this time, like the kindling of a fire, warmth spreading between them with every touch.

Then it happened. Ghost shifted his weight, leaning into Price a little too much as Price tugged him forward. He stumbled, landing hard in Price’s lap, chair creaking underneath them, his thighs bracketing Price’s hips as the two of them froze for a moment, faces inches apart.

“Fuckin' hell,” Ghost muttered, his hands braced on Price’s shoulders as the faintest flush crept up his neck.

Price, for his part, looked completely unbothered—if anything, the grin spreading across his face was downright wolfish. “Now this,” he said, his hands sliding up to Ghost’s waist, “is a sight I could get used to.”

Ghost narrowed his eyes, his voice low and rough. “You’re enjoying this too much.”

“Can you blame me?” Price replied, his gaze flickering over Ghost—his broad shoulders, the way his muscular thighs framed Price’s hips, the faint pink staining the tops of his cheeks. “Should’ve done this soon as you came in. Hell, I should have you like this all the time.”

“Thought this morning was enough for you,” Ghost shot back, his voice a teasing growl, though the flush on his face deepened.

Price’s eyes darkened, his grin turning into something hungrier. “Not even close.” Wrapping his arms around Ghost’s waist, pulling him down just enough that their bodies pressed together, the solid weight of Ghost against him making Price groan softly. “You’ve no idea how fucking good you look right now.”

Ghost opened his mouth to retort, but Price didn’t give him the chance. He surged up, capturing Ghost’s lips in a kiss that was anything but gentle. It was feral, desperate, all teeth and tongue as if Price couldn’t get enough of him. Ghost let out a low, surprised sound, his hands slipping up Price’s shoulders to his jaw as the kiss deepened.

Price’s hands roamed, one sliding up Ghost’s back to tangle in his hair, the other gripping his thigh, fingers digging into muscle as if to anchor him there. Ghost groaned, the sound muffled against Price’s mouth, his body reacting before his brain could catch up. His hips shifted instinctively, pressing harder against Price, who growled in response.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” Price muttered, his voice rough and breathless as he pulled back just enough to drag his teeth along Ghost’s jaw. His lips found the sensitive spot beneath Ghost’s ear, biting down lightly before soothing the mark with his tongue.

Ghost shivered, his fingers slightly tightening around Price’s jaw. “Thought you could handle it, Captain.”

“Handle you?” Price’s laugh was dark, his lips brushing against Ghost’s throat. “Barely.”

The room felt hotter, the air between them thick with want as their movements grew more frantic. Price’s hands were everywhere—tracing the curve of Ghost’s spine, squeezing his thighs, pulling him impossibly closer. Ghost leaned into it, his breath hitching as Price’s teeth scraped against his collarbone.

“John,” Ghost rasped, his voice strained, his usual composure cracking under the heat of Price’s attention.

“Tell me,” Price said, his voice a low growl as he kissed him again, biting at his lower lip before dragging him impossibly closer. “Tell me what you want, love.”

Ghost didn’t answer with words. Instead, he kissed Price with a desperation that said everything, his body pressing against him as if trying to fuse them together. Price groaned into his mouth, his hands sliding to Ghost’s ass, urging him to roll his hips into a sinful grind.

Whatever playful teasing had been between them was long gone, replaced by something raw and consuming. Snaking a hand into Ghost's hair, Price pulled him back with a gasp and looked up at Ghost, his chest heaving, his brown eyes burning with want as he took in the sight of his lover—flushed, ruffled, and completely his.

[amogus-real-not-clickbait]

part 1 of a little comic / art sequence that i've been working on! :D it's part tribute, part experimenting with brushes n colors and trying new thingz :]

| 1 | 2 | 3 | ... |

and thus continues my endless quest of spreading the carrot fics like a plague! if you've seen my art floating around you probs already figured that this au holds a very special place in my heart, forever and always!!

if you haven't heard of it, it's a fic series by @crowned-ladybug called carrot soup!! it made me wish i could speak colors and i need more people to share my struggle xd

go check it out if you're into sweet voice lore and qpr level gayness and just wanna feel warm and soft and warm (hurt/comfort my beloved) <333 there are some heavier themes cos everyone's traumatized but they're working through it! be sure to check the tags and stay safe! <3

[polkadotjohnson]

David Dastmalchian is READY to Be Mr. 3 in One Piece | The Anime Effect #67

[subwillsolace]

PLEASEEEEEEE IM SO EXCITED FOR NICO FUCKING WILL ON THE PHONE AHAHA

I HAVE AN OUTLINE FOR THAT ONE YOU BEST BELIEVE. im most excited about this one actually.

they’re making out. it’s hot. it’s heavy. they are About to fuck.

and nico gets a call from his dad.

and they’re groaning and nico is like oh my god oh my god motherfucker (literally lol) i hate you. i hate you. but it’s fucking HADES what is he gonna do. not answer. so he looks apologetically at will and answers the call

and of course it’s his dad asking him to come down for “a few short months” to help out and he’s like no??? absolutely not?? you weirdo?? and as he’s arguing will slowly

ever so slowly

starts playing with the button of his jeans.

and for a hot minute nico doesn’t really notice, absentmindedly putting a hand on will’s wrist

but then will pushes a little farther and it gets like. obvious.

and nico falters and looks over and will has his big doe eyes on, very me? blink blink blink. pushing your buttons? blink blink blink. noooooo.

and nico doesn’t say anything.

his focus is NOT on hades. he could give a fuck what his dad is saying lol. he’s arguing but if you put a gun to his head and asked him to repeat what he said he’s got fuckin nothing.

hes watching will suck him off. and will is doing his damnedest to distract him.

and then there’s a break in the phone call as hades puts nico on hold to handle something. and nico DESCENDS on will’s unsuspecting ass. and will is all smug and pretty because he’s WON he got the attention and they get to fuck

but then hades comes back

mid pounding

and will falters and nico goes ohhhh no. nope. you’re taking it. don’t make a sound.

and will is wide eyed like oh fuck i’m such a fucking idiot. he’s so serious. and nico is POUNDING him and he’s a little breathless but otherwise he’s handling it. will is Seeing Stars. he’s trying so hard to keep his mouth shut. he has to bite down on his shirt like he’s choking back everything and it’s HARD.

he cums like the loud motherfucker he is lol. he has a pillow shoved over his face but you can still Clearly hear his ass. hades doesn’t even need a phone to hear him tbh it’s That Loud.

anyways hades is like what is that and nico is like Nothing there’s always noise at camp finish up. i have things to do. (will. lol.) and so hades reluctantly drops it and nico fucks will til HES (nico) is done and hangs up just before he can turn his attention fully to getting off. it’s one of the hottest things they’ve ever done. and they get a letter from hades later going “do that to me again and i’m going to smite you i mean it” and will is MORTIFIED LMFAO

[whumble-beeee]

You Look So Much Prettier This Way

Poor Stan. What will you do to get out of this predicament, I wonder?

What will you do when fighting back isn't even an option?

Stan sat stunned. He couldn't speak. He couldn't scream for help, he couldn't complain, he couldn't quip, he couldn't stand, he couldn't struggle, hell, he could barely even move.

He wanted to cry.

His face hurt from where they punched him. His neck hurt from where they grabbed him. His entire body hurt from where they'd manhandled him to the ground and pinned him down and tied him up, choking him, punching him if he dared flinch, or god forbid he struggled against their grasp.

And after all that excessive tying, the rope that scratched against his tender skin and pressed in on his ribcage in a suffocating embrace.

They'd gotten out the duct tape. His heart stuttered, eyes wide. He started to scream, he kicked out at them.

Big mistake. As soon as they finished they mortifying ordeal of wrapping his mouth in layer after layer of duct tape, they slammed him down onto his back and hoisted his legs into the air, bent them into the most odd position, and by the time Stan realized that had still more rope, they were already wrapping it around his ankles and his thighs.

Over and over.

He tried to scream. They kicked him. He screamed some more into the duct tape gag. More blows. Tears. It didn't stop. He couldn't even curl in on himself to protect his soft underbelly.

Then they plopped him on the floor.

Surrounded him.

Appraised him, hungry eyes searching over his body.

Stan couldn't hold back the tears anymore.

The one he thought to be the leader stepped foreward.

Knelt in front of him, cupped Stan's cheek in their hand.

Stan could barely even find the strength to jerk away, and when he did, they just grabbed his collar and yanked him back, made him stare right into their ruthless shark-like eyes. And there was absolutely nothing he could do to stop them.

"You look so much prettier this way," they lulled. "I wonder if your friends will agree when they come to find you."

* * * * * * * *

Whumptober 2024 | Day 7 | The Bee's Whumptober Masterlist

Stan is an OC that belongs to The (Un)Official Guide to Hero-Keeping!

Whumptober Taglist: @whumperofworlds | @whumptober-archive | @regular-whump-sfx

(If you wanna be added or subtracted from the taglist, don't be afraid to ask!)

[adventuringblind]

COUGH

Writing a fic that's camboy/femboy Lando who is OUTRAGEOUSLY kinky and just goes with the flow of what feels good X F1 driver Oscar who is autistic and decides BD/SM is going to be his special interest at sixteen (I'm not projecting 🫵🏻 you are) and is well educated in this realm and knows all the technical stuff and stims by practicing knot tying.

Featuring, but is not limited to: Exasperated Logan who makes Oscar and onlyfans account because Mark said he can't risk going out to clubs anymore so Oscar is sad and bored which is how he finds Lando and Logan is tired of hearing about it, Max F indulging Lando in a weird semi toxic way, Lando and Oscar working their way through the grid one threesome at a time, Oscar and his color coded spreadsheet which he sends to anyone who wants to join them because 'if you don't help me with my experiments then you cannot fuck my boyfriend', and Lando living his best life as a the paddock whore and Oscar's pet all happy cause he gets fucked and gets his every need met while being spoiled by the entire damn grid and they would probably die for him if he were to bat his eyelashes and pout.

COUGH

Who said that?

[mythals-whore]

Day 3: The Calling*

(you thought you were so safe from me, but you forgot i was evil)

*venture under the cut at your own risk.

(divider from THIS post, thank you @flowersforthemachines)

"Something wrong?"

Cyri bites at the inside of her cheek and gingerly places the dish on the drying rack. She dries her hands, taking a long moment to herself before she turns to him determinedly, "I have something to show you."

Davrin blinks.

"Alright," he says slowly, reaching for her discarded towel to dry his own hands.

He follows to her desk where Cyri is sliding a key into the hole of her top left desk drawer. The lock clicks and Davrin's frown deepens—he'd never had any reason to check, but he hadn't realized she bothered locking it. Out of the drawer comes a sheaf of papers and a long, thin leather-bound book. She sets these things on her desk with finality before looking at him.

Davrin takes the silent invitation, dread settling heavy in his stomach for a reason he can't quite pinpoint. It's something about her wary eyes, the way her fingers press into the desk until her knuckles turn white.

He searches her impassive face for any hint of what awaits him. When he finally starts rifling through her things, it takes him less than a dozen words to understand. Davrin closes his eyes, breath turning stale in his lungs.

"Dorian's had this research for a long time." she explains, "After Elgar'nan, he and Mae worked to improve it." Davrin can tell from the set of her jaw and the way she seems determined not to look at him she already knows his answer. "It's not a longterm solution, but it's safe. It would give us more time to—"

"Cyri."

She stares determinedly at the research laid out before him, but he catches the wobble in her lip.

"Why not?" she demands, and when she finally looks up, her eyes are burning. "Tell me why you won't even try—"

"It's blood magic, Cyri."

"So?" she demands, and he gapes at her. "Use mine." the plea enters her voice then. Her lip wobbles again, so she presses them together. "I—" her voice breaks with his heart. "Please, don't."

"I don't have a choice, sweetheart," he reaches for her, an attempt to soften the blow. She steps out of his reach and all of the broken pieces of him press into his stomach.

"You do." she insists, "You do have a choice and your choice is to leave."

Frustration and love war within him, but finally he says, "It's not a long-term solution. You said it yourself."

"But it would give us more time."

"Cyri I—" Davrin breaks off with a sigh, running a hand over his face. He reaches for her hands, and this time she doesn't deny him. His hands close over hers, and he sits back into her chair, pulls her until she's standing between his legs. He stares at their entwined hands, thumbs running over her skin. "The song it's…" Roaring in his ears, pressing against his skull. "I'm not sleeping. My head it—I can't think." the first hot tear hits their entwined hands. He doesn't look up, "I've seen what happens to Wardens when they wait too long. They get weak, angry. I can't…I don't want you to see that."

Davrin looks up, to a clenched jaw and silent tears. A muscle in her jaw flicks. It seems difficult for her to meet his eyes as she croaks, "When?"

[weishenkun]

go higher : kun

[wisteriagoesvroom]

a couple of people have asked for a carlos POV of in theory and actually. thinking about it. it's pretty funny. imagine being carlos, carlos who gets everything in his life he's ever wanted carlos, carlos who feels he has nothing further to prove to anyone carlos (this is a lie btw), carlos who gets saddled with OSCAR, who barely tolerates him, as an executive assistant.

oscar who shows few emotions. doesn't give a f about seniority. thinks carlos is incredibly arrogant (he's not wrong here but, like recognises like.) oscar who knows carlos can't even do his own expenses without having an emotional support espresso or spending half an hour whining to oscar even though he did it himself years before oscar even joined, etc etc.

and carlos has to. endure it. while oscar blatantly ignores his charm offensive and his attempts at being jovial and his bad bilingual puns and carlos, because everyone usually loves carlos, and he-- he just. he cannot for the life of him figure out why he's also so compelled by this australian dude. doesn't know what to do with himself. just keeps interactions to a transactional minimum and puts up a front like he is soooo curt and uncaring about everything but. the warmth seeps through anyway, a vine that's destined to grow despite his attempts not to let it.

so what, if carlos lies awake in bed with racing thoughts too late at night thinking of revenues and EBITDA and platinum tiers and air miles. so what, if this sometimes bleeds into thoughts regarding his work-life balance or lack thereof, and therefore, oscar's stupid little hair swoop, his frown. his insane excel sheet formulas that even carlos, MBA graduate, takes a second to understand. oscar and his indifference and his scary efficiency and the way he talks a bit too fast when he's tipsy and his ice cold hands.

(at the christmas party with yuki. carlos pretends not to listen but hears every word. why would oscar tell yuki all that, and not him, when he’s tried to ask about oscar's interests before? anyway.)

and then. the christmas gifts happen and carlos thinks he's crossed a line. was the terrarium too far, he wonders. normally people love it when carlos is thoughtful like that. his exes even said so. but no! oscar takes the terrarium, the one carlos made a specific detour for on an airline that he couldn't even get miles on!

and oscar just. stares, and stares at the terrarium. then he gives carlos this...look. and it gets embarrassingly intimate and carlos "really does have to go take his call" even though the client did say it is fine to switch to email because, christmas. yeah. and then he's thinking about it the whole way back to madrid too.

then oscar QUITS on CHRISTMAS DAY (rude) for no explainable reason and carlos is like oh my god is it really ME. how can anybody not like ME ? reddit, AITA???

so carlos mulls on it. carlos wants to atone. just maybe. set things straight. let oscar know that. actually. all feelings aside, he was really an excellent EA and carlos wishes him the best with everything. he maybe sends a text to thank him with those very words. but christmas eve comes and goes, and so does christmas day, and there's no reply at all from oscar. what the hell, carlos thinks. no i can't have him leave and there's so much in my email that i – i didn't even say. he just. needs to let oscar know that he appreciated it.

(he doesn't know what "it" is per se. just that. he feels strongly. so he needs to do something about that.)

soooooo then carlos, who values for family more than anything in the world, spends christmas day just only half paying attention to things going on and thinking jesus, what did i do. and his sisters are like, hermano, please just. get it together and sort this out if you care so much. we'll be fine with mamá and papá and piñón okay there's roast ham for days. and his ma is like: "if you are visiting someone at least pack some dessert. where are your manners". and carlos is like "what". and his mum is like: "did i not teach you anything at all. are you or are you not a sainz". so carlos just takes his tiramisu and his sister's teasing and. he goes. might even try to pull a favour from a client to use a private jet and get there in time.

he flies back to the city in a fit of possible stupidity to try and clarify... his feelings for oscar his professional record and integrity.

and then. oscar is. actually HAPPY he is there.

(carlos knows he's happy, not because oscar's face changes. but because oscar puts his actual plant shears down in order to talk to him. which in oscar-world is a very big deal really. before, oscar always used to look like he wanted to stab carlos with a pen when carlos spoke to him. and if carlos were truly honest with himself, and hindsight being 50/50, well– he'd say that actually, the times oscar looked like he wanted to stab him were actually some of the moments he felt most alive.)

and the rest is... well.

you know how it ends.