Again, as he stumbled as quickly as he could down the brightly lit passageway, he shifted both of his arms and knew they weren’t broken. Okay so maybe his rib was broken, his chest was sucking in on itself, but he could feel it was nowhere near his lungs so he could deal with that. It had been a bad crash and he was sure it would be good to watch on the replay later but right now he had something more important to do.
Wrapping his McLaren team jacket more tightly around him and rubbing his ribs in an effort to get warmer, Jacob craned his neck to see further over the barriers onto the track. He always sat right at the bottom row if he could, out of the way of the brightest lights that were always on at the sides of the seating area, and out of sight of anyone in the windows of the commentary and press boxes. So this is the ‘glamour’ of the F1 life.
More F1 writing! Starting to get into their personalities and histories, awh it’s so fun, even if it’s not very good.
This might make more sense if you’ve read my other two, which can be found here.
Wrapping his McLaren team jacket more tightly around him and rubbing his ribs in an effort to get warmer, Jacob craned his neck to see further over the barriers onto the track. He always sat right at the bottom row if he could, out of the way of the brightest lights that were always on at the sides of the seating area, and out of sight of anyone in the windows of the commentary and press boxes.
So this is the ‘glamour’ of the F1 life.
The thing I’m writing at the moment, which should hopefully be pretty short, is a sort of continuation of my other one, Night Drive. F1 is so so so much fun to write and make up drivers/ characters for :D Especially when you can just make them all be in love with each other, it’s excellent.
His brain was already over analysing every single moment that had occurred in that room so far. The Ferrari driver had his back to him and the cameras were focused somewhere else, so for a few painful seconds he could close his eyes, try and be back on the circuit again. Blissfully, he could still hear the screaming of the engines and the bullets of water hitting his helmet if he listened hard enough and shut his eyes tight enough.
Whoops, me doing F1 writing again. It was so fun to write though :’)
Writing in my F1 universe again.
Much in the mood for writing angsty I LOVE YOU BUT I CAN’T SAY fic so be prepared
(this isn’t a hint to my own feelings, if you were wondering, haha)
Right, my first piece of F1 writing :) Don’t expect it to be good, but I had such fun writing it and I think I’ll continue with stuff.
I hope it’s not too bad. /worried
“What are you doing here?” His voice somewhat scared me. It was hoarse and croaky, as if he hadn’t spoken in weeks. His tone was aggressive.
“I’ll leave you to explain, John,” Mycroft said cheerily, and left the room.
“Explain what?” Sherlock glared at me with such ferocity that I almost took a step backwards. I held my ground.
“I’m- I’m not sure,” I admitted, cursing my voice for failing.
Explain what happened. Come on, talk!
“I found a body in the Forest,” I began, clenching my jaw. “Of another student. It looked like an animal had done it.” As I continued the thoughts in my head began to gradually order themselves. “Your brother seemed to think it is time for you to return to Hogwarts.”
This is the last chapter. I’ve been writing since 6am yesterday morning so I’m going to bed in a minute. xD I’ve also been writing this whole fic for around six months now, urgh, it’s taken so long, sorry.
Thank you thank you thank you to the people who read this <3 I know it’s not brilliant or whatever but I hope you’ve enjoyed reading it.
“Professor, is there a particular reason you are pointing your wand at John here?” a voice said mildly from one of the arches.
I turned to look. It was the tall Ravenclaw Prefect who had talked to me about Sherlock earlier in the year, who I hadn’t seen since Sherlock’s disappearance.
Vonich was indeed pointing his wand rather viciously at my back, and I clenched my jaw.
The Ravenclaw stepped forward, the umbrella swinging gracefully at his side. Vonich glanced doubtfully at it as the Prefect strode confidently across the courtyard to meet us.
“Professor Ctheiz sent me to take young John from your-” he frowned slightly at Vonich’s raised wand, “-capable care and bring him up to his office.”
I tried to look around her little kitchen in an attempt to shake the subject off, glancing between the rusty-hinged cupboards and the rare sunlight pooling on the floorboards near her feet.
“Well you need to get somewhere with it,” she frowned, looking a little concerned.
I could deal with people staring at me every day, I just hid and pretended I didn’t notice. I could deal with this eventually.
But there was still the issue of Sherlock Holmes.
I still couldn’t believe that he had escaped capture. There were so many good Aurors in the Ministry, at least if the wild stories in the Prophet were to be believed, and so many good teachers in Hogwarts that could be looking for him. Because everyone had decided that he was the culprit.
Well that was damn good.
I’ve been meaning to see Senna for ages but exams work stupid stuff took up time, finally got to see it this afternoon.
Oh my god.
I’ll forgive non-F1 fans for not reading any further, but let me tell you something, you are missing out on something so utterly brilliant. Go and see Senna anyway.
I’ve always known about him, ofc, even before I got into F1 I knew his name. I’ve never particularly been that interested in him, although I knew what great a driver he was, and how he died. I remember every year on that weekend for about five years now, how sad it was every time.
Ayrton Senna was a damn good driver. Even someone who doesn’t follow F1, doesn’t know what the racing line is or what an apex is, can tell he is good. The way he kept that car on the road- he was always talking about ‘the limit, go beyond the limit’ and that was exactly what he did. It was just superhuman. Almost completely unnatural. His passion and drive and desire to win was what as much kept his podiums going as much as his skill and the car he drove.
He brought a new element into F1 that I don’t think had been fully recognised before then- personality. His fights with Prost and all that drama, as the film points out, kept people interested and made F1 the most popular it had been for a while, maybe ever before. Maybe it wasn’t good that they had a rivalry, as obviously it led to accidents, anger and lost titles, but it certainly helped the sport.
He was also, from what I saw and what I’ve read, a good man. Maybe not the cleanest of drivers and certainly wasn’t afraid to play dirty when it came to getting the championship, but, perhaps more after his later wins, he was modest, sweet, kind, caring and had the utmost respect and love for Brazil. I think that was, at least back then, rare for a racing driver. I think it must be difficult, when you’ve won so much and proved yourself over and over again, to not show off and think you can’t be touched. He certainly didn’t think he was immortal.
I’ve read people say that his death was ‘inevitable’ and that ‘it was just lucky he didn’t kill anyone else’. From what I saw, that’s incredibly unfair. I’m not blaming that accident on the car he was driving, not totally, because we’ll never know and there’s no point. But if they’re referring to the times he bumped Prost off, I don’t think he would ever have done it if he thought there was a serious chance of either of them being killed. I know, I know, every touch in F1 could kill, but I don’t think he wasn’t suicidal or wanted anyone else to be in severe danger.
Obviously I’ve never met him so I have no idea.
I think I’m in love with him though. <3
he was super super super good looking too
Back to the film- it was excellently put together and didn’t seem like a documentary at all. Exhilarating, exciting and utterly nerve wrenching, it was everything a Formula 1 movie should be, especially with Senna. The soundtrack was superb. I think it was Eddie Jordan who said at Canada last weekend that you can’t replicate F1 on the big screen, movies like that don’t work. Wrong.
In today’s terms, people could compare Senna to Seb. Seb is a fantastic driver, as obvious from this season so far and last, and I have no doubt that he’ll win the title this year, maybe even next. He also certainly seems like a good man, modest like Ayrton became.
But I’m not sure he’s a better driver. I’m not some top F1 analyst and if you gave me footage of two white F1 cars being driven by Seb and Webber I probably wouldn’t be able to tell the difference, so I can’t really say. Maybe Senna was just ahead of his time, talent wise, and more drivers are just better these days.
I agree with what a lot of people are saying in that Hamilton can learn from this movie.
Like Senna, he certainly doesn’t want to put anyone in serious danger, but he might end up doing so. Like I said before, when Senna tried to overtake Prost, costing Prost the championship, he did it at low speed, at a not too difficult corner.
Unlike Hamilton somtimes, who just seems a bit reckless and makes mistakes overtaking. Like the Webber incident at the start.
And I so so so badly want to work in F1. I know I’ve rabbitted on about this for the past few weeks but god I want to go. ._.
Conclusion: go and see Senna.
A writing prompt is just a phrase or idea that gives your imagination a little boost to get going, and sets you off in a new direction, that you may not have thought of yourself. Once you’re off and running, the rest is up to you. The prompts provide you with that initial direction; where you take it after that is completely up to you.
Writing prompts are a great way to break through writer’s block and can help whichever stage of a writing project you’re at.
“John, wake up.”
Blearily, I raised my eyebrows, still half asleep, and grunted with dim recognition.
“John, for god’s sake, get up.”
“What?” I mumbled, slowly noticing the panicked tone of whoever was standing over my bed.
“Just come down to the Hall, quickly.”
By the time I had heaved myself up and rubbed my eyes, whoever was talking to me was gone. In fact, the whole room was deserted, bunks empty, covers thrown back and hastily packed papers in overflowing trunks.
Something was wrong.
Oh and one more thing:
To the people (the wonderful people) who read my Sherlock fic, I’m so so so so sorry for not updating it for ages, I seriously haven’t had time to write D:
I promise I’ll try and do some this weekend.
“So we can do whatever we like and they won’t be able to do anything about it?” John said, blinking.
Sherlock looked down sideways at him and couldn’t help but show a tiny smile. “Well not anything,” he admitted wryly, lifting John’s chin with a nimble finger so they locked gazes.
“Sherlock, that’s not appropriate,” a voice scolded.
Without moving his finger or his eyes, Sherlock pursed his lips. “Mycroft, take your seat, I think it’ll start soon.”
John, as much as he didn’t want to, turned around in his seat and saw Sherlock’s brother, in an incredibly smart top hat and tails; the only difference to the other male guests was the bright silver pocket watch and the long umbrella he held in his right hand.
“Sherlock, your seat is three rows behind John’s, I told you earlier,” he tutted, raising his chin.