#rrot

[aphelionatseven]

soul searching, or something.

[aphelionatseven]

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.”

Or — Daniel, retirement, a champion, and attempts at finding new beginnings in the forests where's he never felt quite at home.

[aphelionatseven]

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.”

read here | fic playlist

[aphelionatseven]

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

ain't no use in closin' the gate.

space cowboy - kacey musgraves

[aphelionatseven]

south of stillwater.. already crying @ post Singapore

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

His therapist— no, that’s a lie, his pseudo therapist that is one of the greatest champions to ever live, that being Sebastian—once said that when the storm can’t be weathered, when the beat of his heart can’t catch up to his breathing, he lists facts. To ground himself, or whatever nonsense philosophical thing Sebastian came up with when it mattered. Deep sigh. Feel the Sacramento humidity, smell the smoke of a burning hill, hear the distant beeping of the world on the interstate. Okay. Facts. Say them out loud so they mean something.   Daniel clears his throat, stares out at the hazy horizon, “At 392 degrees, tires begin to break down. I am in my body and in this body, my lungs fill then deflate on repeat to keep me alive. I wish they didn’t.” “This isn’t about you. Think positively, remember? That’s what you’re supposed to do,” Imaginary Seb says somewhere off in the recesses of Daniel’s mind.  Remember stepping on the gas when you sit down on an almost broken patio chair. Count the steps it takes to get there and look at the time on your phone that won’t stop blowing up. “It’s 1:15 in the afternoon. I have no job anymore and I can’t reinvent myself to get one. Redwood trees grow on average to 300 feet tall. Christian Horner is a monster. I don’t know what to do.” The vibrating of his phone is starting to sound like the ringing in his ears that’s driving him insane; he turns it off completely. He’s left it all behind now, and it does not matter how much he claws and cries—there is no going back if there’s nothing waiting at the finish line. This is a smattering of applause and there is absolutely no fucking hero in this story.

[aphelionatseven]

last line tag game as tagged by the lovely @wisteriagoesvroom tyy!!

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. 

n iii will tag @harpsichore @gryphon1232 @silverslipstream n anyone else who wants to do thiis !! <3

[aphelionatseven]

i literally have so many feelings that i cant even make it poetic i cant even translate into pretty words how badly this hurts

[aphelionatseven]

needed to find an apartment for rrot seb & lewis to live in in new york for realisms sake and found this absolute Beauty.,.if anyone has a couple million laying around lmk