#This was terrible I am so sorry

[lestappenforever]

Ooh 14!!! For the prompt :)

Ohhhhh, thank you so much. ♥

And I'm sorry, this turned out so fucking stupid and silly.

---

14. “No one’s ever… for you before?” “Never.” ~ Lestappen

It comes up in a completely random conversation that actually has nothing at all to do with the topic.

It's the night following the Japanese Grand Prix 2023, and Charles is sitting in the lounge of the incredibly fancy hotel Ferrari and several of the others teams are staying in for their stint at Suzuka. He's nursing a beer, leaning back into the incredibly soft and comfortable chair he's been occupying for the past hour and a half.

To his right, Carlos, Lando and Oscar are sprawled out on one couch, while Pierre, Esteban, Alex and Checo are occupying a more reasonable amount of space each on the couch to Charles' left.

There's a long, low table between all of them and directly across from Charles, at the other end of said table, Max is sprawled out in a chair identical to Charles' own. He has one leg hanging over one arm of the chair and he's balancing his bottle of beer on the thigh of his other leg, which is stretched out on the floor.

He looks almost obscenely comfortable, Charles thinks to himself, and then immediately pretends like that thought never popped up in his head.

They're talking about the race and their plans for the coming week off before the race in Qatar at the beginning of October, when Lando suddenly looks at Max.

"Hey, your birthday is this coming week, right?" the McLaren driver asks, sitting up a little straighter in his seat.

Max nods as he takes a swig of his beer.

"Saturday," the Dutchman confirms casually, as if it's nothing special.

Given how their birthdays are only 16 days apart, Charles knows very well when Max's birthday is. But, it hadn't registered in his brain that Max's birthday - and his own, he might add - are actually just around the corner.

"Do you have any big plans?" Charles asks, and the rest of their group now has their attention locked on Max, who shrugs.

"Not really. Daniel is trying to convince me to let him host another one of his ridiculous parties, but I'm honestly still traumatized from last year."

There's a collective mutter of agreement at that, as every driver sitting around this table remembers Max's birthday party from last year. There had been an obscene amount of suspicious-looking jello shots that Daniel had been weirdly insistent on serving all night, a broken glass table, and a very angry goose who had chased Lando into the pool and then disappeared off into the night.

To this day, nobody knows — or will admit to knowing — where the goose came from.

(The goose had been found safe and sound the following morning, and returned to its flock.)

Lando visibly shudders, as if the memory still haunts him.

"So, just a simple celebration with breakfast in bed, then?" Oscar suggests.

Something crosses Max's face at that, but only briefly. Max is schooling his expression into something unbothered mere moments later, assuming nobody noticed. "Something like that."

Charles, however, does notice, but he doesn't ask because Lando is already moving on to the next topic that catches his interest, which just so happens to be anime. And Charles decides to nope the fuck out of that conversation before it even starts.

Max seems to have the same idea, pushing himself upright and getting to his feet. "Anyone want something more to drink?" he asks, taking note of the number of raised hands before disappearing in the direction of the bar.

"I'll help," Charles says as he scrambles to get out his chair and half-jogs to catch up with Max.

They stand at the bar, waiting for the bartender to get their drinks ready, Max leaning his forearms on the bar top and drumming his fingers slowly against the mahogany. Charles is standing next to him, with his back towards the bar.

"What's with the breakfast in bed thing?" the Monégasque asks casually.

"What?" Max responds, and Charles can feel those blue eyes on him.

"Back there," Charles says, nodding in the direction of their group. "When Oscar asked about you celebrating at home with breakfast in bed, your face did a thing."

The word is emphasized by a vague hand gesture in the air.

Max raises an eyebrow at him. "My face did a thing?" he echoes, snorting.

Charles rolls his eyes.

"Yes, your face did a thing. Like the mention of it bothered you," Charles tells him, turning his head so he can look at Max. He narrows his eyes at the Dutchman. "You're not one of those psychos who doesn't like getting breakfast served in bed on your birthday, are you?"

Max barks a surprised laugh, which makes Charles smile, and his heart do a little flutter in his chest.

Which, okay, he kind of thought he'd successfully pushed his feelings for Max far enough down that he could ignore them altogether, but that apparently doesn't apply when Max laughs.

Damn Max Verstappen and his stupid, gorgeous laugh.

The sound dies down quickly, though, and Max's expression shifts into something more sombre. Almost sad.

"I've just never actually had anyone serve me breakfast in bed on my birthday before. Or at any other time, for that matter," he admits, voice a little more quiet than before.

Charles gapes at him. "What? Sure you have."

Max shrugs for what seems like the millionth time that night.

"My exes have all been vocally opposed to any food items in bed," he explains, frowning a little. "And my father never believed birthdays were worth celebrating, because a birthday is not a victory."

It's Charles' turn to frown, then.

"What about your mom?" he asks carefully.

"Like I said, my dad didn't believe birthdays were worth celebrating. He didn't exactly give my mom much of a chance to argue with him," Max explains, as if that's normal. As if that's healthy.

"So, no one's ever served you breakfast in bed on your birthday before?"

"Never."

That should not break Charles' heart the way it does.

Their conversation comes to an end when the bartender puts the last of their drinks on the counter in front of them, and Max grabs half of the bottles.

"Come on, if we don't go back soon, Lando will start a riot," Max tells him, the seriousness of the moment seemingly forgotten.

But Charles hasn't forgotten, even as he picks up the last of the bottles and follows Max back to the others.

---

When Max opens the door at 10:15PM on Friday, September 29th, he doesn't expect to see Charles Leclerc standing on the other side with a bag full of groceries.

And yet, that's exactly the sight that greets him.

"Hi," Charles greets him as he makes his way into Max's apartment without actually waiting for Max to invite him in.

Which, rude.

"Hi?" Max asks him as he shuts the front door and locks it.

When he turns, Charles has already made it into his kitchen.

"What are you doing here?" Max asks as he joins the Monégasque in his kitchen, leaning against the door frame and watching as Charles is already in the process of unloading the groceries onto the kitchen counter.

Eggs, bacon, a wide array of different bread rolls, chocolate, and what looks like the entire baking section of the Carrefour just down the street from Max's building.

"Tomorrow is your birthday, and I am going to make you breakfast in bed," Charles announces, as if that was blatantly obvious.

Max just atares at him.

"And —," Charles continues, turning to Max and holding up a massive bag of flour in one hand, and a box of cream cheese in the other. "— I'm going to make you birthday cupcakes."

Max blinks repeatedly, as if that's going to help him understand the situation. Or make Charles disappear, because Max must be hallucinating this.

Neither of which end up happening.

"But Charles, you can't cook," is the only thing Max can think to say.

Charles would feel hurt, if Max wasn't absolutely right.

"Yeah, well, you've gone 25 years without getting breakfast in bed on your birthday and I'm not about to let that become 26. So you'll just have to shut up and settle," the Monégasque says, grinning widely at Max.

Max continues to stare at him. Charles takes that as his approval because he puts the flour and cream cheese down and starts opening cabinets and drawers to find bowls and utensils and whatever the hell else he needs to make bake cupcakes, making himself right at home.

Max is powerless to do anything but sit at the kitchen table and watch.

And even as he watches Charles almost burn down his kitchen three times in the process and the cupcakes come out burnt to a crisp on top and somehow still liquid on the bottom, Max has never felt more loved.

[cozylittleartblog]

@staff if you [change] the [design] of the fucking [dashboard] i will kill you

edit. i want it on the actual post that i am not actually making a de-th threat against the staff. that's shitty. the caption quotes the fucking costco hot dog meme, which i originally said in the tags. if any staff member sees this please do Not take it personally

[majubengel]

Parents and children~

extra:

[egophiliac]

What do you like about the Diasomnia boys if I may ask?

I always love hearing about the different reasons people enjoy characters.

I mean, c'mon. he has split custody over Sebek okay

also, Lilia in particular has maybe the best timeskip character development of all time

[horrorhare]

you wear me out

[skullrift]

headspace when i accidentally type “my sustem” instead of system

- 🥀

[chubbychiquita]

🐮💕🐮

[markscherz]

Happy World Frog Day! 🐸

I hate to make this a commercialised holiday, but you may be interested to know that I sell some frog-related merch on RedBubble, including the poster shown above, stickers, and other fun stuff like an awesome froggy shower curtain! I have one at home, and it’s excellent. Profits go towards supporting your local frog scientist.

[dangoulains-devotion]

[telestorm]

we knew ambessa was a terrible mother, we knew she was abusive, but she felt especially cruel to mel in a way that was so devastating. mel is pleading with her at every turn to not go to war—she’ll even leave the city she built and go home if it means war won’t unfold! she was willing to be the weapon her mother desperately sought! but ambessa absolutely refuses to meet her. she slaps her, she calls kino the sweetness in heart but the "kindest" thing she ever says to mel is "you are the wolf" (which she didn’t want to be), and, sure she wasn’t going to kill mel but she definitely had no problem fighting her. mel begs for peace and all her mother does is laugh in her face.

now ambessa is gone and yet she still causes mel harm. mel has no choice but to return to a home she resents. the life she built has been completely upended. she has new powers that she knows very little about, and there’s a mystery surrounding her birth that she has yet to uncover. the one time she actually needs her mother’s guidance, she cannot have it. when does the cruelty end?!

[copia]

endless ghifs 6/? ⛧ source — "So if you meet me, have some courtesy; have some sympathy, and some taste!"

[badn3w]

it's me, i'm people

[screencaps and dialogue taken from the original Sunny pilot. Crazy that the nature of Mac and Dennis' relationship was already coming into question before the show even existed.]

[unriding]

me n moze say good morning to the world !!! ᕙ( •̀ ᗜ •́ )ᕗ

art by @rabbbitseason of course <3

[axoqiii]

toya doodle 😢

[egophiliac]

BIRD SSR????????????

NOOOO I wasted all my keys on Platinum Malleus, HOW CAN THEY DO THIS TO ME

(I do kinda love that this is officially "Raven Jacket" Crowley though) (does this open up the possibility of a selection of future Crowley fashion cards)

[gaybd1]

GORGEOUS art from @harbingersecho for my new fic for @zukkabigbang2024!

-

[Image ID: A close-up painting of Sokka and Zuko sitting on a bench in a park at night. Sokka is holding a smoking cigarette and Zuko is holding a beer. They're looking at each other and smiling. /. End ID]

-

how it feels to have a heartbeat

He lit a cigarette with his fingertip and took a drag, leaning hard against the pillar behind him, sliding down into a squat, glad the sidewalk was mostly empty. He sat like that for a while, lost in thought, just appreciating the silence, until he felt a tap on his shoulder. He twisted around and looked up at the man standing there. “Sorry to bother you. You wouldn’t have a lighter by any chance, would you?” the man said. Zuko stood up, turning to face the man fully. He felt suddenly lightheaded from standing too abruptly and reached out to steady himself against the concrete beside him, managing to reach out a flame-tipped finger with his other hand. “Thanks,” the man said, leaning in slightly to light the tip of his cigarette, eyes locked with Zuko’s the whole time.  Zuko stared dumbly. He’d never seen anyone before who looked quite like this guy. He wouldn’t have taken him as a local, yet his accent told Zuko that he likely was. He had the clearest blue eyes Zuko had ever seen. He could hardly look away. “I, uh…”

Modern meets meet cute meets magical realism in a love letter to Taipei told by Zukka.