#rrot

rivers running on through

formally south of stillwater

max verstappen/daniel ricciardo | chapter 01/?

"You need to make peace with not really ever having a place to belong—since you know you belong in the car, on the circuits that you’re supposed to win over. But you don’t get to do that anymore, Daniel. All you are is skin and bone now.”

chapter 002 — rivers running on through

max verstappen/daniel ricciardo , minor lando norris/oscar piastri | chap. 02/?

Oscar's giggling over Lando’s inability to eat without leaving crumbs all over his face like whenever Daniel ate ice cream; it would always end up all around his mouth, no matter how hard he tried. Max would laugh and swear it was endearing, Daniel would blush and it’s only a faint wafting smell of a waffle cone now. In the crinkles by Oscar’s eyes, Max seems himself, young and inexperienced with the butterflies that come with each flower bloomed at every instance of his teammates smile. He can remember clearly being 23, still head over heels in love with— “Shit.” Max breathes out, “What the fuck.”

though we had our day in the sun, when a horse wants to run,

ain't no use in closin' the gate.

laughs manically mwahah i already posted a bit of it ages ago — that was written like. that evening . watching daniel cry in the media pen . i was, and still, am so distraught SO,.,.you get a bit more

Sitting in the hurt seems like the only plausible course of action, but then there’s that passing idea that only forms when the anger turns into puppet strings. He’s staring at the blink line on the search bar, and it’s calling him, begging him to remember that home isn’t here.  “I needed to run for as far as my legs would take me,” imaginary Seb is understanding, calm and if anything he should be a voice of reason, “To anywhere that wouldn’t have ruthlessness waiting for me. You need to make peace with not really ever having a place to belong—since you know you belong in the car, on the circuits that you’re supposed to win over. But you don’t get to do that anymore, Daniel. All you are is skin and bone now.” Daniel can’t will himself to cry, despite the white hot need to do so. He’s staring at the open tab on his screen; it’s a photo of the sprawling expanse of mid-western nothingness, swirls of red desert and endless fields of vibrant green. If he can’t find understanding here, in the hollow walls of a hollow city, then he’d need to heed Sebastian's advice—to run. As far as his legs would take him, until he could make his existence more than just another tale of failure.