fourtyforever

[fourtyforever]

Idk I’ve had an idea for maxiel,maybe it’s oddly specific but fuck it

So daniel is feeling overwhelmed because the world is too much for him (my guy irl HIGHLY LIKELY has undiagnosed ADHD) and max is there, they are either in a relationship or not. But the general idea is hurt/comfort

Thanks!! Have a nice day

ooh great idea!! this became balletverse, hope you enjoy!

These days, Max had long-rehearsal-Daniel down to an exact science.

Hours one to three were usually pretty normal. Daniel came into the studio loudly every day, usually just on the late edge of on-time but always a little bit warmed up already. The first time Max had seen him in the middle of his little pre-warmup warmup, his leg up on the roof of his truck as he leaned into the stretch, thigh muscles rippling under tiny shorts, he had practically started drooling.

Daniel was always the best person to be around, but he put extra effort into it during those first few hours especially if they all knew it was going to be a long one. He cracked jokes at Toto if there was a separate men’s class warmup, at Susie if there wasn’t. When Max first moved up to senior company, Daniel would sometimes stand behind him and rub his shoulders when he wasn’t expecting it just to make him laugh.

When the rehearsal started in earnest, Daniel’s home base became his ballet bag against the east-side wall, under the barres—always under the barres, Max noticed. It was the one wall of the studio that didn’t have a mirror on it, so Daniel could rest his back against the wall later when he got to sit down. But like any good dancer, he didn’t sit down in those first few hours. Even when other dancers dropped off, Daniel was on his feet, bouncing from foot to foot to keep warm.

Hour four was when that energy started to wind down, when, if it was a good rehearsal, Daniel was at his peak. His energy lost its chaotic edge, but was still strong. Hour four was when Daniel hit his highest jumps, his most stable turns, his most graceful landings. He got less chatty, but Max didn’t usually mind. He loved watching Daniel, and he loved it when he was proud of himself. He especially loved it when he and Daniel got to dance together, when he got to actually be on the floor and see what Daniel was talking about when he had called him and Max “drift compatible”.

At hour five, most people tended to hit their slump. Lewis would step away to take a sip of his energy smoothie. Lando would park himself sideways against the wall until he was called on to dance, getting his hair all in the ancient dust between the bottom of the mirror and the floor. Even George would begin to sway on his feet a little, his ram-rod straight posture just starting to fail him. Through Max’s observations, he had deduced that this was a critical decision point for Daniel: if he had brought a snack and had gotten a good meal before rehearsal, he would be fine through hour five. If not, he lost steam quickly, his energy going along with his mood in less than an hour.

Today it was a week before the opening night of Peter and the Wolf, and Max couldn’t tell if Daniel had brought a snack with him. His leg bounced as he sat on one of the toadstool props, watching absently as Susie gave corrections to Jessica on the Bluebird’s steps. The storybook ballets weren’t all that serious, but Max had still been proud to be cast as Peter, and pleased to see Daniel cast as the wolf. It had been a month since casting came out, so by then they had fucked enough about it that the dynamic wasn’t so exciting, but Max still just loved every time he got to dance with Daniel.

“I am going to have a protein bar,” he announced, standing just behind Daniel. “I have an extra one for you if you want it.”

Daniel whipped his head around, and smiled when he saw it was Max. “Aw, thanks Maxy. I’ve got nuts in my bag though, so I’m good.”

“When will you eat them?” asked Max.

Daniel shrugged. “When we’re closer to halfway done, probably.”

“It’s eight P.M. already,” Max said, gently. “We’re more than halfway done.”

“Oh!” Daniel shot to his feet, the toadstool clattering a little bit with the abruptness of his movement. “Radical. In that case, I think I’ll join you.”

Max smiled. Truthfully, he was just as glad for the company as he was for Daniel remembering to eat.

Hours six and seven were rough for everyone. Max would usually start to feel it around then. Even perfect George finally sat down on the risers in the front of the studio. The women started walking around like there was glass in their feet, some laying on their backs with their pointe shoes in the air to try to get the swelling to go down. Daniel’s energy wouldn’t falter too badly if he had a snack, but even then it faltered enough. His confidence tended to hit a downward spiral as his jumps got more effortful, as he fell out of more of his turns, as he hit too many hard landings.

He had asked Max one time, kind of joking and kind of not, how Max managed to stay so good even into the late hours of rehearsal. Max didn’t know what to say, other than to try to explain what it was like to have a former ballet master as a father and a personal studio in his garage. He wouldn’t give up the stamina it left him with, but he was also somehow glad that Daniel hadn’t gotten what he got. He knew Daniel was sometimes jealous of him in his darkest moments, just like Max was sometimes jealous of getting to wake up late on off days or have parents who brought him flowers after every show even though he was a boy.

But it didn’t help to dwell on that, Max thought. What they wished they had wasn’t what they actually had, and Daniel was a beautiful dancer just the way he was. Max only wished, as he watched Daniel flinch under the director’s critiques, that he was always able to see it for himself.

Hours eight and nine were the worst, for Max and for everybody but especially for Daniel. Daniel had described it to him a few times, and Max could see it in him now. The lights of the studio that were once inviting became aggravatingly bright, the music became annoying, the criticism became unbearable, and even the familiar feeling of his own body became unwelcome, like a costume that was too tight. It was weighing heavy on Daniel tonight, Max could tell—the way he gritted his teeth as he was told to run the same eight counts again and again and again was evidence enough. He was still smiling but, it looked a bit more like he was baring his teeth.

Director Wolff let them go at 11:30, a full half hour earlier than scheduled. The dancers poured themselves out into the parking lot, stumbling to their cars with half-hearted goodbyes shouted back at the building. Max heaved his worn-out body into the passenger seat of Daniel’s truck, startling just a bit as Daniel slammed the driver-side door shut after climbing in next to him.

It never scared Max, not the way his father slamming the car door after rehearsals used to scare him. Not when Daniel himself flinched at his own sound, not when his head dropped the moment his hands were on the wheel, and especially not when Max reached an arm around him and Daniel leaned into him like a lifeline, like Max was the only thing that could keep him afloat. They stayed like that as their fellow dancers left in the cars around them, enjoying the darkness and quiet and the sound of each other’s breath until the lot around them was empty.

“Fuck,” mumbled Daniel, voice low with exhaustion. “That was a fucking drag.”

At first, Daniel had tried to keep up the act with Max in the car, had tried to muscle his way back to hour-one-Daniel. Max didn’t know how or why it had changed, but he was so glad it did. Instead of forcing himself into a cheeriness that seemed physically painful, he would instead put on a chill playlist and drive them back to their apartment under the lights of the city, and when they got home he would sit in Max’s lap on the couch and let him massage away the hours.

“Yes,” said Max, hand gentle in Daniel’s hair. “That was awful. Let’s go home.”

[fourtyforever]

Idk I’ve had an idea for maxiel,maybe it’s oddly specific but fuck it

So daniel is feeling overwhelmed because the world is too much for him (my guy irl HIGHLY LIKELY has undiagnosed ADHD) and max is there, they are either in a relationship or not. But the general idea is hurt/comfort

Thanks!! Have a nice day

ooh great idea!! this became balletverse, hope you enjoy!

These days, Max had long-rehearsal-Daniel down to an exact science.

Hours one to three were usually pretty normal. Daniel came into the studio loudly every day, usually just on the late edge of on-time but always a little bit warmed up already. The first time Max had seen him in the middle of his little pre-warmup warmup, his leg up on the roof of his truck as he leaned into the stretch, thigh muscles rippling under tiny shorts, he had practically started drooling.

Daniel was always the best person to be around, but he put extra effort into it during those first few hours especially if they all knew it was going to be a long one. He cracked jokes at Toto if there was a separate men’s class warmup, at Susie if there wasn’t. When Max first moved up to senior company, Daniel would sometimes stand behind him and rub his shoulders when he wasn’t expecting it just to make him laugh.

When the rehearsal started in earnest, Daniel’s home base became his ballet bag against the east-side wall, under the barres—always under the barres, Max noticed. It was the one wall of the studio that didn’t have a mirror on it, so Daniel could rest his back against the wall later when he got to sit down. But like any good dancer, he didn’t sit down in those first few hours. Even when other dancers dropped off, Daniel was on his feet, bouncing from foot to foot to keep warm.

Hour four was when that energy started to wind down, when, if it was a good rehearsal, Daniel was at his peak. His energy lost its chaotic edge, but was still strong. Hour four was when Daniel hit his highest jumps, his most stable turns, his most graceful landings. He got less chatty, but Max didn’t usually mind. He loved watching Daniel, and he loved it when he was proud of himself. He especially loved it when he and Daniel got to dance together, when he got to actually be on the floor and see what Daniel was talking about when he had called him and Max “drift compatible”.

At hour five, most people tended to hit their slump. Lewis would step away to take a sip of his energy smoothie. Lando would park himself sideways against the wall until he was called on to dance, getting his hair all in the ancient dust between the bottom of the mirror and the floor. Even George would begin to sway on his feet a little, his ram-rod straight posture just starting to fail him. Through Max’s observations, he had deduced that this was a critical decision point for Daniel: if he had brought a snack and had gotten a good meal before rehearsal, he would be fine through hour five. If not, he lost steam quickly, his energy going along with his mood in less than an hour.

Today it was a week before the opening night of Peter and the Wolf, and Max couldn’t tell if Daniel had brought a snack with him. His leg bounced as he sat on one of the toadstool props, watching absently as Susie gave corrections to Jessica on the Bluebird’s steps. The storybook ballets weren’t all that serious, but Max had still been proud to be cast as Peter, and pleased to see Daniel cast as the wolf. It had been a month since casting came out, so by then they had fucked enough about it that the dynamic wasn’t so exciting, but Max still just loved every time he got to dance with Daniel.

“I am going to have a protein bar,” he announced, standing just behind Daniel. “I have an extra one for you if you want it.”

Daniel whipped his head around, and smiled when he saw it was Max. “Aw, thanks Maxy. I’ve got nuts in my bag though, so I’m good.”

“When will you eat them?” asked Max.

Daniel shrugged. “When we’re closer to halfway done, probably.”

“It’s eight P.M. already,” Max said, gently. “We’re more than halfway done.”

“Oh!” Daniel shot to his feet, the toadstool clattering a little bit with the abruptness of his movement. “Radical. In that case, I think I’ll join you.”

Max smiled. Truthfully, he was just as glad for the company as he was for Daniel remembering to eat.

Hours six and seven were rough for everyone. Max would usually start to feel it around then. Even perfect George finally sat down on the risers in the front of the studio. The women started walking around like there was glass in their feet, some laying on their backs with their pointe shoes in the air to try to get the swelling to go down. Daniel’s energy wouldn’t falter too badly if he had a snack, but even then it faltered enough. His confidence tended to hit a downward spiral as his jumps got more effortful, as he fell out of more of his turns, as he hit too many hard landings.

He had asked Max one time, kind of joking and kind of not, how Max managed to stay so good even into the late hours of rehearsal. Max didn’t know what to say, other than to try to explain what it was like to have a former ballet master as a father and a personal studio in his garage. He wouldn’t give up the stamina it left him with, but he was also somehow glad that Daniel hadn’t gotten what he got. He knew Daniel was sometimes jealous of him in his darkest moments, just like Max was sometimes jealous of getting to wake up late on off days or have parents who brought him flowers after every show even though he was a boy.

But it didn’t help to dwell on that, Max thought. What they wished they had wasn’t what they actually had, and Daniel was a beautiful dancer just the way he was. Max only wished, as he watched Daniel flinch under the director’s critiques, that he was always able to see it for himself.

Hours eight and nine were the worst, for Max and for everybody but especially for Daniel. Daniel had described it to him a few times, and Max could see it in him now. The lights of the studio that were once inviting became aggravatingly bright, the music became annoying, the criticism became unbearable, and even the familiar feeling of his own body became unwelcome, like a costume that was too tight. It was weighing heavy on Daniel tonight, Max could tell—the way he gritted his teeth as he was told to run the same eight counts again and again and again was evidence enough. He was still smiling but, it looked a bit more like he was baring his teeth.

Director Wolff let them go at 11:30, a full half hour earlier than scheduled. The dancers poured themselves out into the parking lot, stumbling to their cars with half-hearted goodbyes shouted back at the building. Max heaved his worn-out body into the passenger seat of Daniel’s truck, startling just a bit as Daniel slammed the driver-side door shut after climbing in next to him.

It never scared Max, not the way his father slamming the car door after rehearsals used to scare him. Not when Daniel himself flinched at his own sound, not when his head dropped the moment his hands were on the wheel, and especially not when Max reached an arm around him and Daniel leaned into him like a lifeline, like Max was the only thing that could keep him afloat. They stayed like that as their fellow dancers left in the cars around them, enjoying the darkness and quiet and the sound of each other’s breath until the lot around them was empty.

“Fuck,” mumbled Daniel, voice low with exhaustion. “That was a fucking drag.”

At first, Daniel had tried to keep up the act with Max in the car, had tried to muscle his way back to hour-one-Daniel. Max didn’t know how or why it had changed, but he was so glad it did. Instead of forcing himself into a cheeriness that seemed physically painful, he would instead put on a chill playlist and drive them back to their apartment under the lights of the city, and when they got home he would sit in Max’s lap on the couch and let him massage away the hours.

“Yes,” said Max, hand gentle in Daniel’s hair. “That was awful. Let’s go home.”

[fourtyforever]

2025 rookies are living such different lives, man. like isack is a thriving influencer who is meeting his celebrity crush every weekend. gabi is in an age gap romcom. ollie is experiencing being a younger brother for the first time in his life. kimi is living out a shakesperean tragedy about the pitfalls of being the chosen one.

[fourtyforever]

outta office 🙂‍↔️

[fourtyforever]

[fourtyforever]

prompt: Maxiel, new shoes

anon TYSM!! this got long, more under the cut

—

“Our food is almost here. Can I borrow these hiking boots, Daniel?”

Daniel lifted his head from the sheets, where he had been lounging in the afterglow of a particularly good fuck. Max had wiggled into a soft pair of Daniel’s shorts and his stupid discarded Red Bull T-shirt, and was looking up expectantly at Daniel from where he was crouched in his closet. It was still new enough to be strange, and Daniel oddly found it more strange to see Max rummaging in his closet like he belonged there than to have him moaning beneath him or panting into his shoulder as he fucked him. None of it was a bad strange, though. Different, exhilarating maybe, but not bad.

Daniel indulged in a nice long look at Max while his patience hadn’t yet run out, taking in the curve of his thighs under soft pale skin and the flashes of orange sunset reflecting off the blue of his eyes. “What boots?” he said, just before Max started to get annoyed by his lack of response.

Max held up a pair of Timbs. “These.”

“Oh.” Daniel laid his head back down, tilting his head to keep one eye on Max. “Those aren’t hiking boots, babe.”

The name rolled easily off his tongue, and Max’s cheeks burned red even as he looked back at the boots with a huff—another thing that was new, but definitely something Daniel was enjoying. “What? Yes they are. Look at them.”

“Those are, like, hiking boots for people who don’t hike,” said Daniel. “You can’t actually hike in them.”

“Whatever. Can I borrow them or not?”

Daniel hummed in the affirmative, and Max laughed as he pulled the boots on. They looked a bit silly against his shorts-and-teamwear outfit but Daniel couldn’t bring himself to mind, especially when Max returned from downstairs with the pizza and beer that they were both going to lie to their trainers about.

It was funny, really, how much hadn’t changed at all. Eating junk in each other’s apartment during off weekends was a Max and Daniel staple. So far, getting each other off first had only been an improvement on the experience.

“Why do you have these, then?” said Max as he opened the door, as if he had been thinking about it the whole walk to and from the lobby.

Daniel rolled over to sit up, delighting in the way Max’s eyes automatically traveled up and down his bare body. “Dunno. I think someone got them for me as a gift.”

He popped the cap off one of the beers with the opener Max had brought in with him as Max went for the pizza. Before even taking a bite, he said, “Do you have real hiking shoes, then?”

Daniel took a long sip from his beer instead of answering right away, letting Max dig into the pizza while he waited. He had nice outdoor shoes, but real hiking boots, the kind he looked up pictures of when he was bored and lingered in front of whenever he went shopping with his dad back home, those were for people who actually had the time to use them. They were for people who had time to meander, to explore, not just to put in the right amount of cardio to keep fit for race weekends.

“Nah,” he said, and more of what he was thinking must have come out than he thought because Max seemed to notice, putting down the second piece of pizza and tilting his head at Daniel.

“Why not?” he asked. “You of course could buy very nice hiking boots, they can’t be so expensive.”

“I’d never use them,” said Daniel. “The kind of boots I want are way too nice to just have sitting in my closet.”

“You could just wear them,” said Max. “Or, is this not about the boots actually?”

He sounded hesitant, gingerly prodding in a way that he never did in any other part of his life. Daniel didn’t usually like when people tried to read into what he said beyond what he was willing to tell them, but Max’s honest curiosity made it hard to fault him for it. “Maybe,” said Daniel, the honesty coming surprisingly easy. “I dunno. Kinda wish I had time to hike so much that I needed nice boots for it, you know?”

He picked up a piece of pizza, feeling Max’s eyes on him. Eventually, he said, “do you wish you had time to do that right now?”

Daniel shrugged. “I guess I don’t mind it now, ‘cause I like what I’m doing even better,” he said. “Like, I wouldn’t give up racing just to go be a mountain man, you know?”

He looked up in time to see Max’s pupils dilate. “You would be a good mountain man, I think.”

Daniel grinned. “Think so, Maxy?”

Max nodded, leaning forward to kiss him. That had been pretty awkward the first few times, but they were getting the hang of it. “I think you’ll be a very good looking mountain man someday, especially with your fancy hiking boots.”

Daniel laughed, kissed him again, and quickly forgot about the whole thing.

—

It used to be normal for surprise packages to arrive at Daniel’s LA house—sponsor gifts, merch to sign, whatever—but now it gave him much more of a start to step inside and see the brown box on the foyer table. One of the cleaning staff must have been kind enough to bring it in for him while he was off traveling, off trying to stay busy and distracted and do whatever kept him as far outside the spheres of Formula One as physically possible. He had planned to start making dinner right away after getting back, but now his curiosity was piqued and it was impossible to ignore.

He left his groceries in the kitchen and came back with scissors, cutting through the tape and carefully opening the box. He didn’t recognize the sending address, but it was obviously some corporate mailing office and thus the risk of it being, like, a bomb or something was hopefully pretty low. Inside was another box: this time an attractive forest green cardboard with a Nordic-sounding company name stamped onto it in tidy white print. There was other writing on the sides, which Daniel saw when he pulled it out of the first box, but it was in a language he couldn’t read.

He lifted the lid of the second box, and what he found inside was a little card sitting on top of the most beautiful hiking boots Daniel had ever seen. Panels of rich brown leather were sewn tight against soft-looking padding around the ankles, laced with strong cord around shiny brass hooks down the center. The toe and the heel were properly chunky, but the sole was molded into a gentle curve—not the sleek arch of good running shoes, but a strong, gentle curve like a muscle that had seen years of use. They didn’t look fast, but they looked hardy. Checking inside the boots revealed that the left boot was a half a size bigger than the right boot, the kind of customization Daniel only ever used to get on his race boots.

He could barely tear himself away from his admiration of the boots long enough to pick up the card that came with them. On one side was the same company name that was on the box, embossed with green ink into the nice cardstock. On the other side, there was a handwritten note:

For my mountain man.

- MV

[fourtyforever]

prompt: Maxiel, new shoes

anon TYSM!! this got long, more under the cut

—

“Our food is almost here. Can I borrow these hiking boots, Daniel?”

Daniel lifted his head from the sheets, where he had been lounging in the afterglow of a particularly good fuck. Max had wiggled into a soft pair of Daniel’s shorts and his stupid discarded Red Bull T-shirt, and was looking up expectantly at Daniel from where he was crouched in his closet. It was still new enough to be strange, and Daniel oddly found it more strange to see Max rummaging in his closet like he belonged there than to have him moaning beneath him or panting into his shoulder as he fucked him. None of it was a bad strange, though. Different, exhilarating maybe, but not bad.

Daniel indulged in a nice long look at Max while his patience hadn’t yet run out, taking in the curve of his thighs under soft pale skin and the flashes of orange sunset reflecting off the blue of his eyes. “What boots?” he said, just before Max started to get annoyed by his lack of response.

Max held up a pair of Timbs. “These.”

“Oh.” Daniel laid his head back down, tilting his head to keep one eye on Max. “Those aren’t hiking boots, babe.”

The name rolled easily off his tongue, and Max’s cheeks burned red even as he looked back at the boots with a huff—another thing that was new, but definitely something Daniel was enjoying. “What? Yes they are. Look at them.”

“Those are, like, hiking boots for people who don’t hike,” said Daniel. “You can’t actually hike in them.”

“Whatever. Can I borrow them or not?”

Daniel hummed in the affirmative, and Max laughed as he pulled the boots on. They looked a bit silly against his shorts-and-teamwear outfit but Daniel couldn’t bring himself to mind, especially when Max returned from downstairs with the pizza and beer that they were both going to lie to their trainers about.

It was funny, really, how much hadn’t changed at all. Eating junk in each other’s apartment during off weekends was a Max and Daniel staple. So far, getting each other off first had only been an improvement on the experience.

“Why do you have these, then?” said Max as he opened the door, as if he had been thinking about it the whole walk to and from the lobby.

Daniel rolled over to sit up, delighting in the way Max’s eyes automatically traveled up and down his bare body. “Dunno. I think someone got them for me as a gift.”

He popped the cap off one of the beers with the opener Max had brought in with him as Max went for the pizza. Before even taking a bite, he said, “Do you have real hiking shoes, then?”

Daniel took a long sip from his beer instead of answering right away, letting Max dig into the pizza while he waited. He had nice outdoor shoes, but real hiking boots, the kind he looked up pictures of when he was bored and lingered in front of whenever he went shopping with his dad back home, those were for people who actually had the time to use them. They were for people who had time to meander, to explore, not just to put in the right amount of cardio to keep fit for race weekends.

“Nah,” he said, and more of what he was thinking must have come out than he thought because Max seemed to notice, putting down the second piece of pizza and tilting his head at Daniel.

“Why not?” he asked. “You of course could buy very nice hiking boots, they can’t be so expensive.”

“I’d never use them,” said Daniel. “The kind of boots I want are way too nice to just have sitting in my closet.”

“You could just wear them,” said Max. “Or, is this not about the boots actually?”

He sounded hesitant, gingerly prodding in a way that he never did in any other part of his life. Daniel didn’t usually like when people tried to read into what he said beyond what he was willing to tell them, but Max’s honest curiosity made it hard to fault him for it. “Maybe,” said Daniel, the honesty coming surprisingly easy. “I dunno. Kinda wish I had time to hike so much that I needed nice boots for it, you know?”

He picked up a piece of pizza, feeling Max’s eyes on him. Eventually, he said, “do you wish you had time to do that right now?”

Daniel shrugged. “I guess I don’t mind it now, ‘cause I like what I’m doing even better,” he said. “Like, I wouldn’t give up racing just to go be a mountain man, you know?”

He looked up in time to see Max’s pupils dilate. “You would be a good mountain man, I think.”

Daniel grinned. “Think so, Maxy?”

Max nodded, leaning forward to kiss him. That had been pretty awkward the first few times, but they were getting the hang of it. “I think you’ll be a very good looking mountain man someday, especially with your fancy hiking boots.”

Daniel laughed, kissed him again, and quickly forgot about the whole thing.

—

It used to be normal for surprise packages to arrive at Daniel’s LA house—sponsor gifts, merch to sign, whatever—but now it gave him much more of a start to step inside and see the brown box on the foyer table. One of the cleaning staff must have been kind enough to bring it in for him while he was off traveling, off trying to stay busy and distracted and do whatever kept him as far outside the spheres of Formula One as physically possible. He had planned to start making dinner right away after getting back, but now his curiosity was piqued and it was impossible to ignore.

He left his groceries in the kitchen and came back with scissors, cutting through the tape and carefully opening the box. He didn’t recognize the sending address, but it was obviously some corporate mailing office and thus the risk of it being, like, a bomb or something was hopefully pretty low. Inside was another box: this time an attractive forest green cardboard with a Nordic-sounding company name stamped onto it in tidy white print. There was other writing on the sides, which Daniel saw when he pulled it out of the first box, but it was in a language he couldn’t read.

He lifted the lid of the second box, and what he found inside was a little card sitting on top of the most beautiful hiking boots Daniel had ever seen. Panels of rich brown leather were sewn tight against soft-looking padding around the ankles, laced with strong cord around shiny brass hooks down the center. The toe and the heel were properly chunky, but the sole was molded into a gentle curve—not the sleek arch of good running shoes, but a strong, gentle curve like a muscle that had seen years of use. They didn’t look fast, but they looked hardy. Checking inside the boots revealed that the left boot was a half a size bigger than the right boot, the kind of customization Daniel only ever used to get on his race boots.

He could barely tear himself away from his admiration of the boots long enough to pick up the card that came with them. On one side was the same company name that was on the box, embossed with green ink into the nice cardstock. On the other side, there was a handwritten note:

For my mountain man.

- MV

[fourtyforever]

gang I’m so unbelievably unmotivated to write rn could a girl get some prompts (anythingggg honestly but extra bonus points for balletverse or emergency care-verse)

[fourtyforever]

First thing you see after you zoom in is how you die

How you dying 👀

[fourtyforever]

Reminder that Lewis Hamilton has a separate Wikipedia page for his legacy, literally just to enumerate his career achievements, records and awards

The tables are so long that they need a key to help you parse through the information:

It has 615 citations and is 87 pages long if you wanna print it

Its helpfully sorted out in tables covering Wins (105):

Podiums (202):

Poles (104):

And his F1 Records (most championships, most wins, most podiums, most poles, most laps led, most fastest laps, most wins in a single grandprix, most grandprix wins at different grandprix, most grandslams in a single season)

It's a very good read.

[fourtyforever]

idc how bad shit gets I'm not reading formula one yaoi

[fourtyforever]

hi everyone

[fourtyforever]

WHAT IS GOING ON

[fourtyforever]

everyone wanna see the updated "have they fucked nasty - f1 teammates; an exploration" powerpoint?

[fourtyforever]

What do you mean no homo

[fourtyforever]

"i just got sent a nice photo of me and lewis when we were 13 can i put it on the screen?" PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE

[fourtyforever]

WHERE is the photo????