i’ve been lurking on f1 tumblr for a while as a reader and just recently decided to try my hand at writing.
i have a few ideas for driver x ofc, so i’ll be focusing on those until i’m more confident with writing for the drivers. after that i may try and take requests. but in the meantime, i hope you’re able to find something you enjoy here on the blog.
hi hi! i loved the first chap of tlihfy and was wondering if i could be added to the taglist? the prose is beautiful esp those opening lines about the sun and it living in her monitor HAHSGSG thank u sm in advance!!
hiii omg thank you soso much for the sweet words!!! that means a lot (and I’m so glad you liked the opening lines—I rewrote that part so many times so I’m very relieved rn lol)
and yes of course, I’ll add you to the taglist!! (p.s. chapter 2 will be up soon! i’m aiming to get it up within the next couple hours)
ABOUT — Joanna Hensley is brilliant, neurodivergent woman from a part of D.C. the world ignores. Her mind is her greatest asset and, due to a late diagnosis, her most misunderstood trait. Over the course her her story, there comes a battle between her deep-seated need for stability, quiet, and understanding versus her intense, all-consuming and chaotic love for a world (and a man) that offers none of it.
From a self-doubting, reclusive dropout to a world-renowned F1 aerodynamicist. She must learn to define success and happiness on her own terms, even if it means letting go of the love that defined her.
WARNINGS — Infidelity, toxic relationships, vague mention of the Christian Horner allegations (eventually), social anxiety, autistic!ofc, inattentive ADHD, imposter syndrome, sense of inferiority and wasted potential, financial difficulties. (if you read and feel like i missed anything please feel free to let me know)
NOTES — Hiii, i hope you enjoy the first chapter. :)) And if you’d like to be added to the taglist just let me know!
Series Masterlist
The only sun Joanna Hensley saw these days was the one she could control. With a few keystrokes, she could adjust its brightness, banish its glare, and command its full, undivided attention. It lived behind the screen of her 27-inch monitor, a digital star illuminating her face in the self-imposed twilight of her bedroom.
It was 1:17 AM in Washington D.C., and she was deep in the trenches of the F1Technical forum, her fingers flying across a mechanical keyboard that clicked with a satisfying, rhythmic certainty.
User: AeroAnna
Post: Re: Sidepod Philosophy - Inwash vs. Outwash
"...the argument that the '21 regs push teams towards a primarily outwash concept is reductive. Yes, the bargeboards are simplified, but you're all ignoring the potential for a more aggressive undercut to energize the vortex shed from the forward floor edge. If you can keep that vortex attached and sealed against the floor, you create a low-pressure zone that effectively 'pulls' the outwash from the front wing down and under the car. It's not about pushing air out anymore; it's about pulling it in and accelerating it. The sidepod isn't just a radiator cover; it's the most critical conditioning element for the entire rear of the car..."
She paused, rereading her words. It was clean. It was logical. It was a closed system where every action had a predictable, beautiful reaction. A world of downforce and drag, of laminar flow and turbulent wakes. It made sense in a way people never had.
A distant siren wailed, cutting through the quiet hum of her PC's cooling fans. The sound, thin and sharp, sliced through the years and pulled her from the pristine, carbon-fiber world of Formula 1 back to the cracked pavement and humid air of her own reality. The single sodium streetlight outside her window cast a sickly, orange-yellow glow into her room, the same color it had been her whole life. The color of caution.
The taste of a half-and-half—half lemonade, half sweet tea—flooded her memory, so vivid she could almost feel the cold plastic cup in her hand. It was the taste of walking home from school, the styrofoam container from the carryout warm in her other hand. Three-piece chicken wings, extra crispy, with fries thrown in the same box so they’d get soft from the steam and grease. Mumbo sauce on everything. That was the rule.
She’d been a quiet kid, a ghost that drifted between the orbits of louder, more gravitational friends. One week she’d be with the girls who debated the merits of Beyoncé versus Rihanna on the Metro ride home, the next with the boys who practiced dribbling drills on the cracked court behind the school. Joanna was the constant, the listener, the one who was always there but never quite part of it. She was known for keeping to herself, yet drama always seemed to find her, clinging to the clothes of her more outgoing friends like secondhand smoke. She’d offer a quiet opinion, a logical solution they’d usually ignore, and then retreat back into the safety of her own thoughts.
Her days ended early. The D.C. she lived in wasn't the one of monuments and museums on TV. It was a D.C. of neighborhood beefs that simmered for generations, of lines you didn't cross and corners you didn't turn after dark. The occasional pop-pop-pop of gunshots in the deep of night was a familiar, unwelcome lullaby, a stark reminder of why the sodium glow of the streetlights was the only sun she felt safe under. Home was a sanctuary. School was a mission. The world outside those two places was a variable she couldn’t control.
She shook her head, forcing herself back to the present. Back to the forum. Her post was getting replies already. Quick, incisive agreements from screen names she recognized—engineers, amateur aerodynamicists, obsessive fans. Here, she wasn't the quiet girl on the edge of the drama. She wasn't a Georgetown dropout with an abandoned Instagram profile still claiming a future that had evaporated four years ago. Here, her thoughts weren't awkward or stilted. They were elegant. They were powerful.
Here, she was AeroAnna.
And she was about to post an idea about floor-edge wing geometry that was so radical, so counterintuitive, it just might work. She leaned forward, the glow of the monitor catching the intense focus in her eyes. The siren faded. The past receded. There was only the problem, and the beautiful, elegant physics of its solution.
ABOUT — Joanna Hensley is brilliant, neurodivergent woman from a part of D.C. the world ignores. Her mind is her greatest asset and, due to a late diagnosis, her most misunderstood trait. Over the course of her story, there comes a battle between her deep-seated need for stability, quiet, and understanding versus her intense, all-consuming and chaotic love for a world (and a man) that offers none of it.
From a self-doubting, reclusive dropout to a world-renowned F1 aerodynamicist. She must learn to define success and happiness on her own terms, even if it means letting go of the love that defined her.
WARNINGS — Infidelity, toxic relationships, vague mention of the Christian Horner allegations (eventually), social anxiety, autistic!ofc, inattentive ADHD, imposter syndrome, sense of inferiority and wasted potential, financial difficulties. (if you read and feel like i missed anything please feel free to let me know)
NOTES — I can’t promise consistent updates but I’ll try for once a week!
Chapters below the cut. This list is subject to change (as with everything that I have ever written ever— I am liable to write more than I originally planned on. So there could be more than 21 chapters). Hope you enjoy :))
