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the-demi-jedi · 1 year

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Luke reads The PROX Transmissions

So the main hero is apparently some kind of genius scientist, but also an absolute trainwreck. Off to a good start.

Stephen must look so absolutely ridiculous walking around with, like, a window shaved in his hair with a number tattooed on his skin. Man should have shaved both side of his head to just look less like a madman, but I also understand that at this point, he doesn't give many fucks about what people think.

This makes me think whether Stephen is based on Dustin or if Dustin is, like, a separate entity in the lore.

The amount of profanity is rather... excessive for a book that presents itself as a sophisticated sci-fi novel.

Seriously tho. There's something so funny about the fact that Starset has exactly 0 curse words in their entire discography while this book has at least one F-bomb per page on average.

"Aston Wise was a drunken asshole." Well, I'm not sure if you're in a right position to judge, Mr. "has sex with students" Browning.

Aston Wise is like Elon Musk if he was as cool as he thinks he is (but man he's indeed an asshole)

TBH I never really understood that "pathetic sopping wet dog man" meme, but I think it could apply very well to Stephen

I like how both Aston and Steven are supposed to be some kind of geniuses yet they seem to share a single braincell

This book can be pretty campy sometimes. And I definitely do NOT mean it in a negative way.

Evil CEO, aka. the most realistic villain

Motherfucker pays his people 37K per year and then [shocked Pikachu face] when they betray him

Regretfully, I have to inform you that not even this book is immune to the "breasted boobily" trope.

So Dana's daughter is Sarah? For a second, I thought it might be Sarah the Sarah aka. the BMI influencer from the "Icarus" video, but that's not consistent with the timeline.

It's incredibly in-character for Aston Wise to think like "What would be the best way to introduce people to a message from the future about the collapse of civilization? LET'S CREATE A KICKASS ROCK BAND AND THEY'RE GONNA PLAY IN SPACESUITS"

One of the book's most bonkers qualities is that it regularly and fluently oscillates between "pulpy, campy thriller feat. suited thugs with guns" and "the deepest, most profound, most thought-provoking shit you've ever read with your two eyes"

It's so funny how Dustin describes himself as kinda politically neutral and yet. The villain is a CEO of a megacorporation. The shady villainous organization is called "Collective of Industrialists" and they're like 0,1% away from being those comical cartoon capitalists with top hats and twirling mustaches. The Message, the very thing Starset is about, can be basically boiled down to "unchecked capitalism can and will cause utter, irreversible collapse of the society". While there are phrases used like "healthy capitalism" (which I'm not sure can exist), the book overall is more left than beef on pizza.

"Jay Bezie, the owner of a major internet retailer" LMAOOOO

"Partick Walman" the author just fucking GAVE UP on being subtle

I'm feeling weird about the concept of the Everything Machine being able to print, like, fully functioning humans. What makes it so that it doesn't just print a lifeless body? Then there's this whole debate about soul / some "spark of life" that can't be replicated. I know the Order are all scientists so they don't give a damn about it, but what if they didn't colonize PROX, but only filled it with some lifeless flesh drones?

Okay so overall, the book ended in a very satisfactory way, but also left enough cliffhangers and loose ends to make you HYPED for the sequel. Also... it raises some questions about the lore revealed in the Divisions/Horizons era. How did Aston become "The Architect"? Does it mean he's evil now, or just a persona non grata for the Order? And what about the takeover of the Starset Society by the Order of Teslonia (which signalled the release of "Horizons")? Does it mean they are one entity now? And what role does Stephen Browning play in all of this? So many questions.

Overall 10/10, a must-read for every serious and self-respecting Starset fan.

#starset #dustin bates #the starset society #the prox transmissions #aston wise #stephen browning

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batsinurbelfrey · 2 years

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Periodically for no apparent reason I remember Stephen Browning and I am filled with an incandescent rage and the desire to throw him at a wall as hard as I can like wet spaghetti---

#HE'S SO FUCKING STUPID TO THE DETRIMENT OF EVERYONE AROUND HIMMMMM #THIS IS AN ASTON WISE HOUSEHOLD ON GOD-#the prox transmissions #starset

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nico-di-genova · 22 days

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Okay, so I went back and found as many of Lance’s radios as I could, below is the transcript of a man who is slowly losing his mind:

“No free air” pt. 1 in reference to him not being able to get clean air when stuck in the DRS train. “Copy that Lance, you’re doing a good job though. I’ll take a balance feedback when you can.” “The balance is bad because I’m behind four cars 😒” said relatively calm if not peeved. This is the beginning of the downward spiral.

“No free air.” The sequel “No free air. That’s the problem with a DRS train you’ve got no free air” a little more upset, but more so at the general Vibe.

“I think overtaking will be challenging” - said annoyed and cunty followed by like a thirty second pause before his engineer was like “okay Lance I understand that message.” (They did not understand. This is where the Yuki Tsunoda obsession kicks in on the pitwall I think)

I think his engineer was trying to say he was getting a lot of tire deg in turn 14 so he needed to try giving slack somewhere else to make up for what he was losing in 14 in order to catch up with Yuki. To which Lance replied: “Yeah, I’m trying bro, but it’s not working” still relatively calm, but very much beginning to fray.

Some more discussion about where Yuki is pace wise.

Lance complaining about tires, the grip, how even in free air he’s not really seeing a difference ended with “I don’t really understand” Followed by ANOTHER long pause then his engineer finally responding, “okay Lance we understand we are looking at plan B” “I don’t think so because it’s ridiculous, I can’t pass Tsunoda, it’s not possible.” He knew very early on it wasn’t gonna happen but the pit wall simply said “we do not hear”

“We don’t think Tsunoda’s a threat for now”“What do you mean you don’t think he’s a threat? Do you think I’ll get him - easily?!” This was where the delirium truly begins to show through as Lance wonders wtf the Yuki Tsunoda fan club has suddenly overtaken the Aston garage.

It’s mentioned AGAIN they think it’s likely he’ll catch Yuki, despite the fact he’s got three cars between him and Yuki. Lance catches up with the three and then goes on the radio to be like, “I don’t see Tsunoda” followed by the first insane laugh. Truly he was cracking the whole race, this was the nail in the coffin.

AGAIN they mention Yuki. “So we are catching Tsunoda,” followed by information about the actual three cars in front of Lance, and then once more a discussion of how far ahead Yuki is. Obsessed with Yuki they are, and it’s clear Lance doesn’t really know why. He’s already said multiple times it’s not obtainable.

Finally, THAT radio message. Overall, Lance confused bewildered and also wondering why the hell he’s hearing Yuki’s name more than his own during the entirety of the race.

#a Shakespearean comedy if I’m being honest #like truly he was so lost #they clearly have communication issues they need to work on team wise 😭#lance stroll #formula 1 #japanese gp 2024

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thatsdemko · 10 months

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like he would- l.stroll

masterlist

requested: n

pairings: Lance stroll x fem!reader

warnings: not intended for minors + long(I’m sorry for that) + teasing + begging + fingering( f receiving) + lighthearted jokes

a/n: I know the image is of toronto but this fic is based in Montreal. shoutout @oconso for letting me borrow your lance knowledge for parts of this fic! enjoy everyone☺️🫶

《 the following content has ideas that are not intended for minors. 》

it was supposed to be lights out and away we go, but instead you’re stuck in the pitch black with nothing but candles and cellphone flashlights during a power outage playing all sorts of games with the drivers.

lando sits to your left, Carlos on your right, Charles and Pierre sit across from you with Lance. the man who had somehow managed to snag a few drivers attention when he started asking you and Fernando bizarre questions out of pure boredom.

that’s how this game of never have I ever, truth or dare, fuck,marry, kill, and many others you couldn’t remember now began. it all began with Lance asking if Fernando would rather be a sugar daddy or a sugary baby. the answer surprised you both.

power outages like this don’t often happen in the middle of free practice. it was an odd event that the so called pinnacle of sports had something like this happen that lasted for over two hours thus far. boredom was hitting everyone, and that was how you all seemed to be gathered around in a corner of the Aston Martin garage.

“okay, so I think it’s Pierre’s turn to ask a question.” Carlos keeps track, finger pointing at the Frenchman who taps his chin scooping out his next victim.

“y/n! you’ve been awfully silent, Cherie.” his grin turns into a smirk as he adjusts his seated position on the ground more towards you. you can only see the glow of his beautiful blue eyes in the candles and lit up cell phone flashes, but he’s got a deviled look that makes your stomach twist in knots.

“who would you fuck, marry, and kill: me, Charles, or Lance.” he pulls his knees tight into his chest, chin resting against the top his kneecap, “pick wisely!”

you laugh nervously, not because of the question— god no it was so easy. you knew exactly who you’d pick in a heartbeat to marry, fuck, or kill. it was admitting it to all three drivers that became the hard part.

“well for starters, Charles I’m so sorry.” you turn to the Ferrari driver, who nods in understanding, “it’s not you, it’s me.” you say, it’s somewhat sarcastic and there’s some truth to it. you could never see yourself marrying Charles, he was far beyond your league and your personalities were a bit different. he was someone you’d maybe kiss, but never go any further.

“Pierre,” you mock his previous state, finger resting against your chin, “I’ll marry you.” you point to him shaking your finger up and down, “I think you’d treat me right.”

“and I wouldn’t?” Lance interrupts, hand resting to where his heart sits, he plays hurt that gets a laugh out of everyone in the circle, “I thought we had something?”

if you had it your way, you’d fuck and marry Lance, but you couldn’t admit that to them. you couldn’t admit that the man who sits directly across from you on the floor, criss-cross applesauce, was the guy you’d let fuck you until a headboard fell off, and then marry you the next day.

you and Lance had nothing serious. the occasional flirt, a text message here and there, but it never left the first stage. it never got any more serious than that, and despite the many hints at wanting the next level, like a date or something, he never got the very obvious message.

“we do—“

“but only fuckable?” he cuts you off, and you can tell he genuinely is upset. it was his idea of the silly little game. it was his idea to start asking fuck, marry, kill. but it was he who couldn’t stand the results.

“you’re not just fuckable, Lance.” you admit, lucky that the light isn’t back on for everyone to see your rosy red cheeks. the air around you was beginning to feel warm despite the cool temperatures of Canada, you were throwing off your teal green Aston Martin jacket to cool off from the heat of embarrassment.

“it’s a game, man, she wouldn’t actually kill me.” Charles reminds him with a smile and a pat on the back that seems to calm him, “I’m sure if Pierre said your name twice she’d pick you for marriage and sex.”

you’re not sure why he’s riled up, but luckily enough the emotions slip him and he’s back to his giggly self answering the questions and dodging the dares.

“you should really apologize to Lance.” Carlos collides his shoulder with yours. his head nods in the direction of the Canadian across from you who lucky enough is engulfed in a chat with Fernando.

he can feel your eyes on you. it makes his skin crawl, his heart jump out of its cavity. he wonders what you’re talking about. he wonders if it has anything to do with him or if you just have a staring problem. he admits that being overly dramatic about the choice was wrong, but it still stung. the very idea of you even marrying someone that wasn’t him burned a hole in his heart.

he wasn’t going to just be fuckable.

—

“hey,” you enter his motorhome, to-go bowls of salad and soup rest in your arms as you carefully move up the steps, “brought some food for us.” you smile setting it all on the table and he joins you.

“you know, if you were my girlfriend, I’d kiss you for this gesture.” he unwraps the steaming hot container of chicken noodle soup, you find it cute that he warms his hands up over the steam.

“yeah?” you ask back, beginning to dig into the hot soup, “if I was your wife I’d slap you for that comment.”

he shakes his head blowing at the hot contents on his plastic spoon. you watch him carefully slurp the broth that burns his tongue and he spits it right back out, “too hot.” he quickly sips his water bottle before his eyes fall on you.

“do you need a kiss to feel better?” you fake a pout pretending to care that he burnt his tongue. he plays along nodding, “take care of me, y/n.” he frowns.

you move from your seat at the table, about to press your lips to his cheek when he turns his head, hands cupping your face, his lips land on yours. it shocks you for a moment, how smooth the move was. he’s pulling you down into his lap, each of the nerves in his fingers itch to remove your sweatshirt.

“Lance,” you break away from the kiss, resting your hand atop of your chest to compose yourself. the past thirty seconds had been much of a whirlwind. looking down at him, he’s out of breath too, chest visibly rising and falling, “we can’t do this on the bench.” you say removing your legs from around his body allowing him to sit up.

your words hardly have a second to register in the air, he’s already standing up once again cupping your face with his hand, lips hovering dangerously over yours, “so the bedroom then?” he asks, thumb pad swiping your cheek while his other hand pushes hair off your shoulder.

the bedroom in the motorhome was cramped and small. it was a full size bed with barely any wiggle room for movement in the room, it’s not the ideal place, but where else could you go? he had to be on the track in an hour, there was enough time to kill in that tiny hot space.

you just follow him in the room and watch him quickly discard his teal green shirt that clung to him. you watched his hands pull the back of the neck over his head to reveal the tattoo on his rib cage. your eyes scan his body up and down, tongue licking your bottom lip like you were ready to devour him.

“don’t be shy, we’re friends here.” he climbs onto the bed, lips connecting with yours, he carefully dips you down onto the mattress, his hands ride up the back of your shirt, and swiftly unhooks your bra, “I want to see you too.” he nibbles on the bottom of your lip, before pulling away allowing you to remove your shirt and bra.

his imagination was short of everything that’s underneath your clothes. he’d pictured every curve of your body, but when you finally revealed it to him it was somehow much different. your breasts were his fascination, seeing how beautiful they were, he couldn’t help but rest a hand on one of them.

“you’re beautiful.” he whispers, half naked body colliding with yours. his skin was warm, but his hands were cold, carefully you felt them ghosting your skin all the way down towards your naval.

you were tired of the kissing, the sucking on each others skin, you needed him in you. you needed to feel him. all of him.

“fuck me, Lance.” you pull away, hand pressing over his vocal cord you say it one more time, “fuck me.” you release your hand from his throat and watch him remove his joggers and boxers before rejoining you in bed.

his pointer finger trails down your stomach, stopping just below your jeans, “you sure?” he asks, his finger moves to rest atop the cool metal button holding everything together.

all you can do is nod, swallowing the nervous lump in your throat. his finger swiftly undoes the button and zipper, the jeans come off your body in one quick motion leaving you in just your wet panties.

he licks his lips before carefully pulling the material down your legs, your pussy throbs when his fingers touched you down there, you were impatient with how slow he was moving.

he carefully tosses your panties to the side, hand carefully spreads your legs apart for himself, he props himself up with his hands on both sides of you, his chain hovers over your lips, “what did you want from me again?” he asks, smirk tugging at his lips, you quickly smash yours against his to wipe it off.

“fuck me, stroll.” you repeat, and his body goes down on you, tip barely nudging your entrance you’re met with a gasp when you feel him in your center. the strokes are even, and slow, his hips grind against yours at a steady pace.

his chain is mesmerizing as it moves up and down across your face, you reach up with your teeth, pulling on it to bite from screaming. you can feel yourself clench around him, little moans and grunts escape both your lips, you feel him go further in your core, it’s painful but you’re greeted with an inkling of pleasure that makes your legs shake as they wrap around his torso.

“I haven’t even gotten to the good parts, baby.” he grunts looking down at you, your eyes are welling with tears, lips sucking the cool silver chain around his neck, he couldn’t think of a more beautiful sight to see.

you let go of the chain, throwing your head back against the pillow beneath you, he’s got one hand against your hip, the other holding him up above you when he bulldozes into your clit. the bundle of nerves send a shockwave through your body, his name rolls off your tongue that echoes back against the tiny four walls of the bedroom. he does it once again, this time his tip barely touches but it’s enough to make you whine.

“Lance,” you breathe out, watching his eyes focus on you, “touch me.” you beg, pulling on his chain and he dips his head down for your lips to touch his, “I’ve been so good.”

“have you?” he asks, quickly pulling out earning a breathy whine from you as your fingers dig into the skin of his shoulder blades, “do you want me to get Pierre? your husband? maybe he can treat you right?”

you shake your head, “no, no you treat me right.” you say, shaky hands cupping his cheeks, “you’re all I need.” you whisper, “but why don’t you touch me like my husband would? or should I call Pierre for that?” your smirk is a dare that he can’t turn down. he pulls away from your body for a moment, index and middle finger delicately wipe across your wet folds.

“Lance,” his name rolls off your tongue long and whiny, you’re squirming under his touch, “again.” you beg, legs spreading further apart, so he see the moisture between your inner thighs.

you’re more than just wet for him, you’re glistening in thick cum already. he can’t help the way it makes him feel, he takes his index finger and swipes some of it up for a taste, “you taste good.” he whispers before using the same index finger inserting it inside of you just like you asked.

your body tenses at the feeling of him. your hips buckle as you push them upward for him, “would he fuck you like this?” Lance asks, his fingers bump your clit for a brief second, “answer me, darling, could he fuck you like this?”

you shake your head, “no, he wouldn’t.” you reply feeling him touch you once more, legs convoluting your body releases the cum you can’t hold back anymore.

he’s smiling looking down at you before pressing a kiss to your sweaty forehead, “good girl. now come on, mrs.stroll we’ve got to get clean up before we head to the track.”

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