#goes hard...

[souvenir116]

okokok i don’t know if any of this will make sense but i feel like you are someone who would be able to see the vision.

_____________________________________________

imagine, just for a second, having someone who’s life mirrored yours. it was so similar yet so different, everything being the same on the surface but if you look a bit deeper it’s flipped.

imagine you are born, first, of course, and you are destined. you were born to win. and he is born, sixteen days later (that number being the one he will race with) and he doesn’t know it yet, but he is predestined. even though you were first, you were bred for this, he was born screaming, red in the face, red to the core. rosso corsa.

imagine you stay home from school one day, lying about not feeling well. your father takes you to a track, and you watch your godfather, your mentor, the red cape already heavy on his shoulders (and yours, but not yet. for now it still rests with him). you fall in love. and somewhere, miles away, he grows up among the greats. his father is one of them, he toddles among them, shoes too big but no choice but to make them fit.

imagine you are ahead. and suddenly, he appears, fighting you tooth and nail. this prodigal boy, who looks so sweet, is frothing at the mouth, hungry for a taste of victory. today, you taste it, and he sees red (he only ever sees red, he was only ever meant to see red) and he pushes you aside. the taste of victory is ripped from your mouth, still staining your teeth, and your father screams at you. but he doesn’t taste it either.

imagine being scared. you have known this one dream, known it for years (you may not have been born for it, but your first breath was made to let you scream red). the cape on your shoulders is heavy and uncomfortable, it wasn’t yours to wear yet. you have no choice. he sits among men, a child, and sixteen days seems so much longer now. you carry the one you looked up to, forced to look down on his grave, unsure if the cape you wear was stained red with his blood.

imagine you are flying. you are fighting among men, you clawed your way forward. not all the way to the top, not yet, as that step is held by two men who used to be brothers but now can’t look each other in the eye. that doesn’t matter, because today you stand on the top of the world, looking down on everyone. the shoes that were once too large pinch in the toes, suddenly restricting you. in the back of your head you know that he stood here yesterday, too, rained in victory and clutching to a promise that it was all worth it. but, sixteen days have turned into a three year gap, because you were born for this.

imagine you are where you were predestined to be. shroud in red, wrapped in a metal coffin with your stained cape tucked surely around you. your father is dead, not knowing of the lies you told him. it’s okay papa, you say, i’m here now. i’m in the red. you’re fighting with the greats, with him. and he fights you, the same way he did back when you were angelic and he would get screamed at. this time, he tastes the victory, and you look on in anger. you have never been more hungry.

imagine feeling bigger than everyone but also the smallest in the room. you ripped the trophy away, not from him, but you have it now. your father doesn’t cry, but he doesn’t yell either, and that must be enough. the song of your people has never sounded so good and so hollow too. that night, blinded by a feeling you don’t understand and too much of everything else, you see him. you call for him, looking down from above (of course, it has always been this way). he calls back.

imagine clawing forward with all of your strength and feeling better each day. imagine looking down on him (looking up to him, too) and being gripped by a knowingness. this is not yours, not yet, but in the moment you can enjoy it. when he looks up again you his eyes sparkle (they never sparkle for anyone else). three years ago you were never hungrier, the red taking over and spilling from your core all the way to the tips of your fingers and the soles of your feet. today, showered in victory, the red only adorns your clothing (and the cape, which grows heavier and lighter each day). he is blue, he is always blue. his blue carries hints of red though (it’s a mirror, he is your mirror. you are his mirror).

imagine knowing that everything is connected. the number sixteen, a shared hunger, red. maybe it is a red string, wound before you were born to win and before you were born predestined. maybe you were born for each other.

Excellent said anon, I totally see your vision. 16 days apart turning into a 3 years gap, out of reach, Max getting his first race win in Spain exactly at the same weekend Charles took his first with Ferrari in GP3, Max recommending Charles to the team for his seat before leaving GP3 and moving into F1 when Charles has to go through all junior categories, but nonetheless, Max saying "I always thought that, if I'd make it to F1, Charles would also make it."

"It’s never been a surprise to me that charles is sitting here - ... It’s not a surprise that we are sitting here together.”

Because Max knew, he always knew Charles' potential and that's why he always rates Charles high, that's why he is along very few people Max rates, but also, Max waited him to get to F1. For 3 years until it happened. To race with him. To race against him. He believed in Charles.

Max is the very same person who always talks about retirement, but even back then in 2019, he dared to compare him and Charles to Lewis and Seb's rivalry, and said "I think we have at least 15-20 years of racing ahead of us."

Same goes for Charles. He'll always put his battles with Max as his best races, back then, Silverstone 2019 even they were both not fighting for a win, or a close date, in Vegas.

And even if I don't want to mention his name, you know someone said: These two will fight forever. They will fight even in F1.′

Max and Charles are intertwined in a way that sometimes I can't even comprehend, the contrast between the red and the blue, the connections with the numbers, their loyalty and endless devotion for their teams, the hunger, they raced together in their whole childhood and now they are racing in F1, the pinnacle of motorsports, where they both dreamed to be, worked for it all their life and I think it's so precious.

One thing about them though, no matter how much they respect or value each other, they'll fight tooth and nail on the track, the hunger will never fade away, that's what I admire the most about them.

[afterthelambs]

"In another life I would have really liked just dancing and making inventions with you"

[thankstothe]

!👏

[cupcakeshakesnake]

Uncaring

[sopuu]

possessive x obsessive

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

License to Kitty.

[lemonwrap]

[chloesimaginationthings]

Connection terminated.

[p0rk-guts]

More guard dog/attack dog dynamicsss......

Character A who has B wrapped around their finger and thinks they're completely in control of their precious loyal partner x Character B who is way more powerful and aware than A thinks and A only controls B because B lets them but B definitely gets off on that fact

[yellow-sword]

My sword is even colder.

[meltypen]

can you draw teto with a tooth fang? ^^

yes!

[platoapproved]

louis + cruelty

[xpurplepiex]

grandpa torture hours

[nyaa]

アニメ美術から学ぶ《絵の心》 Kobayashi Shichiro

[stivkun]