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urdreamydoodles · 17 days ago

Note

I love your headcanons!! I’d love to see how you think the X-men would react to the reader playfully biting them, in or out of the bedroom, whatever scenario you’d like (you can go with any characters, but bonus points for Logan, Erik, Charles, and perhaps a new one, Victor Creed 👀)

X-MEN CHARACTERS X FEM!READER

You bite them playfully

Characters: Logan Howlett, Remy LeBeau, Kurt Wagner, Scott Summers, Jean Grey, Ororo Munroe, Rogue, Erik Lehnsherr, Charles Xavier, Wanda Maximoff, Pietro Maximoff, Hank McCoy, Emma Frost, Laura Kinney, Wade Wilson, Victor Creed, Julian Keller, Kitty Pryde, Cable, Warren Worthington III, Morph, Mystique, Magik & Alex Summers

Reply to anon: OMG yes, Victor my little mad dog!

Logan Howlett

- You don’t expect him to react. Not really. He’s endured bullets, blades, and the unrelenting weight of time itself. A playful bite from you should be nothing—should be a drop of rain against an unshakable mountain. And yet, the moment your teeth graze his skin, a low growl rumbles from deep within his chest, something primal and unbidden. His muscles tense beneath your touch, like an animal caught between instinct and restraint.

- His gaze finds yours, sharp and golden, flickering with something unreadable. His lips curl into the faintest smirk, but his eyes betray him—dark with challenge, with something wilder lurking beneath. “That all you got, darlin’?” he rasps, his voice rough as gravel, his fingers curling at his sides as if resisting the urge to seize you right then and there.

- But Logan is nothing if not a man of action. A heartbeat later, his arm is around your waist, pulling you in close, the heat of his body searing against yours. His voice dips lower, a teasing growl, though there’s a dangerous edge to it now. “Y’know what they say, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your ear. “You bite a wolf, you better be ready for it to bite back.”

- And he does. Maybe not in the way you expect—not with teeth, but with hands that grip too tight, with lips that press too hard, with a possessiveness that lingers in every touch. Because Logan doesn’t do playful. He does hunger. He does need. And if you dare to tease the beast, you’d best be ready for the storm that follows.

Remy LeBeau

- Remy freezes the moment your teeth press against his skin—not from pain, not from surprise, but from something far more dangerous. The corner of his mouth twitches, not quite a smirk yet, but the promise of one. And then, ever so slowly, he tilts his head toward you, his red-on-black eyes gleaming with mischief.

- “Ma belle, you tryna kill me?” he drawls, his accent thick and lazy, but his voice carries that unmistakable edge of heat. His fingers brush over your arm, slow and deliberate, as if tracing the intent behind your bite. “'Cause I gotta warn you, chérie… I ain’t the kind to die easy.”

- The next thing you know, he’s got you backed against the nearest surface, one hand braced beside your head, the other tracing the curve of your waist like he’s memorizing the shape of you. His grin is downright wicked now, his gaze molten with amusement and something darker. “See, you play this game wit’ me, mon amour, you best know the rules.” His breath is warm against your lips, teasing, taunting. “You bite me? I devour you.”

- And then he leans in, and oh—Remy doesn’t just kiss. He claims. He teases. He tastes. His lips ghost over yours, never quite giving you what you want, never quite letting you escape, because if you’re going to start a game with the Ragin’ Cajun, you better be ready to lose.

Kurt Wagner

- The moment your teeth sink lightly into his skin, Kurt stills, his breath catching in his throat. For a split second, his mind goes utterly blank—because of course you would do this, of course you would find new ways to unravel him, to leave him speechless and stumbling. His tail flicks once, betraying his surprise, before curling around your waist in retaliation.

- And then—oh. Oh, then he laughs. A low, breathy chuckle that rumbles in his chest, warm and so utterly Kurt. “Mein Schatz,” he murmurs, his voice rich with amusement, his golden eyes gleaming. “Was that supposed to be threatening? Because I must say… you might have to try harder.”

- But his tail tightens ever so slightly, his hands settling on your hips, his body pressing just a little closer. His voice drops into something softer now, something teasing but fond. “Or perhaps you weren’t trying to scare me at all,” he muses, brushing his nose against yours, an intimate little gesture that makes your heart stutter. “Perhaps you were simply asking for a little attention, ja?”

- And oh, does he give it. He moves fast—so fast you barely register the shift before you’re elsewhere, whisked away in a blink of smoke and laughter. One moment you’re standing, the next you’re tangled in his arms, wrapped in the warmth of his teleportation, caught between breathless kisses and whispered endearments. Because if you’re going to bite him, liebling, he’s going to make sure you never regret it.

Scott Summers

- Scott’s reaction is immediate—sharp inhale, muscles tensing beneath your touch, jaw tightening as if trying to suppress whatever instinct just surged through him. His discipline, his restraint—it has always been his armor, his cage. But you—you have a habit of making him forget himself.

- “What was that?” he asks, voice lower than usual, a little rough around the edges, though the slight flush creeping up his neck betrays him. His fingers flex at his sides, like he doesn’t know whether to pull you closer or set you firmly away. But his ruby-red gaze is locked onto you now, and he is searching—for your intent, for your reasoning, for something he can brace himself against.

- “You can’t just—” He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair, as if that will somehow ground him. His lips part, like he wants to scold you, like he wants to tell you biting is not part of a proper battle strategy, but the words never come. Instead, his hand lifts, cups your chin, his thumb grazing over your lower lip in something dangerously close to reverence.

- And then, ever so slowly, his lips brush against yours—light, testing, but oh-so-intense. Because Scott Summers does not give in easily. He does not let himself have. But you—you are different. You are his exception. And if you are going to play with fire, then you had best be prepared to burn.

Jean Grey

- Jean stills the moment your teeth graze her skin, not in fear or surprise, but in the way someone freezes when they have just stepped into the unknown. She has felt so many things in her lifetime—pain, joy, rage, divinity itself—but the sharp, teasing sensation of you doing this? That is something new. Her lips part slightly, a breath catching in her throat, and though she does not speak, you can hear her thoughts as if they are your own: What exactly are you trying to do to me?

- And then, oh, she smiles. Slow, knowing, the corners of her lips curving into something dangerously affectionate. Her fingers trace lightly over your arm, telekinetic energy humming faintly beneath her fingertips as she studies you with emerald eyes that gleam with amusement. “You do realize who you’re dealing with, don’t you?” she murmurs, voice soft but laced with something teasing, something nearly predatory. “You think you can surprise me, love? That’s adorable.”

- But Jean is not one to let challenges go unanswered. The next thing you know, her hand slides to your jaw, tilting your face toward hers with effortless ease. She doesn’t need to use her telekinesis to hold you there—no, the intensity in her gaze alone is enough. “Tell me,” she muses, leaning in so close her lips barely brush against yours. “Do you bite because you want my attention? Or because you already have it?”

- And before you can answer, she kisses you—deep, slow, deliberate. Not just a kiss, but a response, a promise. Because Jean Grey is made of passion and power, and if you wish to tease her, if you wish to provoke her, then you must be prepared for the storm you have just invited into your arms.

Ororo Munroe

- The moment your teeth press gently against her skin, a low, melodic hum escapes her—a sound not of displeasure, but of acknowledgment. Ororo Munroe has spent years cultivating grace, control, an unshakable presence that commands gods and mortals alike. And yet, this—this quiet, playful act of yours—catches her off guard in the most unexpected of ways.

- Her silver eyes flick toward you, gleaming with something unreadable, and for a moment, the air around you shifts, electricity humming faintly in the space between your bodies. Not as a threat, not as a warning, but as a reaction—as if even the very elements themselves are uncertain how to respond to the way you unravel her. “My love,” she says at last, her voice a soft, indulgent purr. “Was that meant to challenge me? Or are you merely being mischievous?”

- Slowly, her fingers trail along your shoulders, feather-light, teasing, carrying the same effortless power as the wind itself. And then, in one smooth motion, she moves—you don’t quite know how, only that one moment you are standing in place, and the next, the storm has wrapped itself around you. You are pulled flush against her, her presence enveloping you in warmth, in strength, in the quiet promise of something far greater than either of you can name.

- “If you seek my attention,” she whispers, her breath brushing against your ear like the gentlest breeze, “you need only ask.” And then, with a slow, deliberate smile, she leans in, her lips brushing over the spot where your bite had just been—a silent response, a wordless challenge of her own. Because if you are to tease a goddess, then you must be ready to be worshipped in return.

Rogue

- The second your teeth sink playfully into her skin, Rogue gasps—sharp, sudden, entirely unprepared. It’s not that she doesn’t like it, not at all, but more that she did not see it coming. For all her strength, all her bravado, you have just done something no enemy, no battle, no nightmare has ever managed to do: you have caught her off guard.

- “Sugah,” she breathes, her accent thickening just a bit, her voice a mixture of amusement and something else—something dangerous. Slowly, her green eyes flick to yours, and oh, that look—half-smirk, half-warning—tells you that you might have just started something you cannot finish. “Did you just… bite me?”

- And then, before you can answer, she does what Rogue does best—she acts. One moment, you are standing comfortably, the next, she has you pinned. Not roughly, not cruelly, but firmly, her gloved hands gripping your wrists, her breath hot against your skin. “Y’know,” she muses, tilting her head as she studies you, “if you wanted my attention that bad, all you had to do was ask.”

- But the glint in her eye betrays her—because for all her teasing, for all her bravado, the truth is simple: she loves this. Loves that you would dare to play with her, loves that you know exactly how to unravel her defenses, how to make her forget the space she so often has to keep between herself and the world. And so, with a wicked little smirk, she leans in, her lips hovering just above yours as she murmurs, “Hope you know what you started, darlin’. ‘Cause I don’t play fair.”

Erik Lehnsherr

- The moment your teeth press against his skin, Erik goes very, very still. Not out of fear, not out of surprise, but out of calculation. He is a man of war, of tragedy, of wounds both seen and unseen, and he has spent his entire life anticipating danger. But this—this playful, fleeting bite from you—is not something he had prepared for.

- And then, slowly, he exhales. Not in frustration, not in anger, but in something far deeper—something like acceptance. His sharp, silver gaze flicks to yours, unreadable yet knowing, and a slow, deliberate smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. “Liebling,” he murmurs, his voice as smooth as tempered steel. “Do you think this is a game?”

- He does not move immediately. No, Erik prefers patience, prefers anticipation, prefers to let you feel the weight of what you have just done. And then, finally, he acts. His fingers ghost over your jaw, light as a whisper, his touch deceptively gentle. But his grip—when it finally settles—is not. His hand tightens, not cruelly, but possessively, his thumb tracing over your pulse as he studies you like a puzzle he has yet to solve.

- “If you wish to test me,” he muses, his voice a low, dark promise, “then by all means… continue.” And then, in a move so smooth it leaves you breathless, he takes—captures your mouth with his, slow and unyielding, like gravity itself bending to his will. Because Erik Lehnsherr does not play. He conquers. And if you wish to tempt him, then you must be prepared to surrender.

Charles Xavier

- Charles Xavier is a man of the mind, a man who has unraveled the deepest corners of human thought and consciousness, who has witnessed the entirety of existence through the whispers of others’ souls. And yet, for all his knowledge, for all the mysteries he has unraveled, you still find a way to surprise him. The moment your teeth press against his skin—soft, playful, fleeting—he stills, blue eyes widening just slightly, as if he cannot quite believe that you, of all things, could ever be so unpredictable.

- But then, oh, then he laughs. Not a polite chuckle, not the refined sort of amusement he offers in conversations of wit and charm, but something richer, something real. A warm, low sound that spills from his lips like honey, as if you have just whispered the most delightful secret in the world. He tilts his head toward you, curiosity sparking in his gaze, and for a moment, you see it—the boy he once was, the one who believed in the simple joy of being alive. “My dear,” he muses, a slow, knowing smile curving his lips, “are you quite certain you wish to play this game with me?”

- Charles is a scholar, a tactician, a man who has spent his life wielding words and thoughts like weapons, and he is not one to let a challenge go unanswered. Before you can pull away, his fingers ghost along your wrist, light as a whisper, and suddenly—you feel it. Not words, not images, but a sensation, a feeling, as if he is pressing the weight of his affection directly into your soul. This is how he fights back—by letting you feel what you do to him, by drowning you in the sheer, unshakable depth of his love.

- “You are a fascinating creature,” he murmurs, his voice a soft, intimate thing, meant only for you. And then, with deliberate slowness, he leans in, his lips grazing the same spot where your teeth had just been, a silent response, a quiet promise. Because Charles Xavier is a man of the mind—but with you, he has learned to love the body, too.

Wanda Maximoff

- Wanda Maximoff has spent her entire life on the precipice of chaos. Magic flows through her like a storm, raw and untamed, and though she has learned to control it, there is still a part of her that lingers on the edge—uncertain, fragile, waiting for the world to turn against her. But you—you are different. You do not fear her, do not tread lightly as if she is glass that might shatter at the slightest touch. No, you play with her, tease her, press your teeth against her skin in a gesture so human, so simple, that for a moment, she forgets the weight of her own power.

- Her breath catches—just a little, just enough for you to notice. Her fingers curl against your arm, not to push you away, but to steady herself, as if grounding herself in the moment, in you. And then, slowly, her lips curve into something soft, something real. “You’re bold,” she murmurs, her voice laced with quiet amusement, but there is something else there, too—something dangerous. A challenge. A warning. Because Wanda Maximoff is not someone you tease without consequences.

- Before you can react, she moves. The world shifts around you, a flicker of crimson in the air, and suddenly, you are weightless, as if gravity itself has forgotten you exist. Her magic hums against your skin, curling around you like the brush of unseen fingertips, and she watches you with a look that is pure mischief. ��Tell me, darling,” she whispers, tilting her head ever so slightly, “was that meant to tempt me?”

- And then, with a slow, deliberate smirk, she leans in—her lips barely grazing your skin, a phantom touch, a promise of something more. Because Wanda Maximoff is chaos incarnate, and if you wish to play with her, then you must be prepared to dance in the storm.

Pietro Maximoff

- It happens so quickly that even you don’t realize what you’ve done. One moment, Pietro Maximoff is standing before you, talking, teasing, filling the space between you with his usual boundless energy, and the next—your teeth graze his skin, a fleeting, playful bite, quick as lightning itself. And then? He’s gone. A blur of silver and laughter, a gust of wind where he once stood.

- But before you can even blink, he is back—and oh, that look on his face. His lips are curled into a smirk, his blue eyes gleaming with something wild, something electric. “Really?” he breathes, shaking his head as if in disbelief. “You think you can bite me? Me?” His laughter rings out, sharp and bright, and suddenly, he is moving again��circling you, his presence a flickering pulse in the air, there and gone all at once.

- And then, he strikes. Not with speed, not with force, but with something far worse—anticipation. He stops right behind you, so close that his breath is warm against your ear, his voice a whisper of pure, unfiltered mischief. “You know what they say about quick reflexes, don’t you?” he murmurs, and before you can even think to react, his lips brush against your neck—a flicker of a kiss, a ghost of a touch, so fleeting you almost question if it happened at all.

- And then? He’s gone again. Laughing, running, taunting. Because Pietro Maximoff is not someone who is caught—he is the storm itself, and if you wish to play this game, then you must be prepared to chase the wind.

Hank McCoy

- Hank McCoy is not a man who is easily surprised. He has spent his life in pursuit of knowledge, unraveling the mysteries of science, of genetics, of the very fabric of existence itself. And yet, for all his intellect, for all his careful observations of the world—he does not see you coming. The moment your teeth press playfully into his skin, his entire body freezes, blue fur bristling slightly, golden eyes widening in stunned disbelief.

- “Oh, my stars and garters,” he breathes, his voice carrying the unmistakable weight of a man whose entire world has just shifted. Slowly, his gaze flicks down to you, studying you with the same meticulous focus he applies to his research, as if you are some rare, fascinating discovery he has yet to fully understand. “You do realize,” he murmurs, voice warm and teasing, “that by initiating such an experiment, you are opening yourself up to… repercussions, yes?”

- And then, oh, his smile. Slow, wickedly amused, utterly delighted. Before you can react, he moves—not with the hesitant carefulness of a man afraid of his own strength, but with the confidence of someone who knows exactly how to turn the tables. One moment, you are standing, the next, you are swept off your feet, cradled in arms that are both impossibly strong and impossibly gentle. “Ah,” he muses, adjusting his grip as if holding you is the most natural thing in the world, “I do believe I now have the advantage.”

- And then, with a quiet chuckle, he leans in—not to bite, not to tease, but to kiss the very spot where your teeth had been, slow and deliberate, a scholar testing a theory. Because Hank McCoy is a man of knowledge—but when it comes to you, he is more than willing to be a student of the unknown.

Emma Frost

- The moment your teeth graze her skin, Emma Frost’s response is immediate—a slow, measured inhale, the faintest arch of a perfectly sculpted brow. She does not startle, does not react with anything so crass as surprise. No, Emma assesses. A woman of elegance, of control, she has spent a lifetime ensuring that no one catches her off guard, that no one slips beneath the carefully constructed ice of her composure. And yet, you have done it, a playful bite against porcelain skin, an action so simple yet so bold that, for the briefest moment, even the White Queen falters.

- But then, oh, then she smiles. Slow. Deliberate. Dangerous. A curl of her lips that carries no warmth, only sharp amusement and something far more wicked. “Darling,” she purrs, voice smooth as silk, laced with the faintest edge of laughter, “if you wanted to get my attention, there are… other ways to do so.” Her fingers ghost along your wrist, deceptively gentle, a reminder that while you may have started this game, she is the one who will dictate how it ends.

- She does not retaliate with force, nor does she melt into you like some lovesick fool. No, Emma punishes in the most exquisite way possible—she makes you wait. A brush of her fingertips against your jaw, a lingering glance, the press of her body close enough to promise but never enough to give. “Tell me,” she murmurs, tilting her head, voice rich with amusement, “was that truly your best effort?”

- And then, when you least expect it, she strikes. A shift of movement so swift, so precise, that you don’t even register it until it’s happening—her lips against your pulse point, her teeth grazing the same spot where you dared to mark her. It is not surrender. It is not an answer. It is a lesson. A warning. A challenge. Because Emma Frost does not lose—but she does enjoy playing with her prey.

Laura Kinney

- The moment your teeth press into her skin, Laura reacts. No hesitation, no pause—her body tenses, muscles coiling like a predator poised to strike. Instinct kicks in before thought, before reason, before she can even register that it’s you. And for a split second, you feel it—the sheer, terrifying violence that lurks beneath her skin, the razor’s edge of a woman who has spent her entire life as a weapon.

- But then, just as quickly as the tension rises, it fades. A sharp exhale, a flicker of recognition, golden eyes narrowing as she processes what you’ve done. There is no laughter, no teasing retort—just a look. Calculating. Intense. Confused, but not displeased. “…You bit me,” she says at last, voice flat, as if stating the most bizarre fact in the world.

- And then? She tilts her head, considering you in that unnerving, almost animalistic way of hers. “Why?” The question is genuine—Laura has never been one for mind games or coy affections, has never understood the subtle language of teasing and playfulness. Biting is something she associates with combat, with survival. But with you? With you, it is different.

- Slowly, tentatively, she mirrors the action. A nip, precise and measured, as if she is testing this new form of affection, as if she is learning you the way she has learned every other part of the world—through experience, through instinct. And when she pulls back, there is something new in her gaze, something raw and unspoken. Because Laura Kinney may not understand why you did it, but she knows one thing with certainty—if you bite, then she will bite back.

Wade Wilson

- You barely have time to finish biting him before Wade gasps—loud, theatrical, utterly over-the-top. “OH. MY. GOD.” His hands fly to his chest, staggering back as if you have mortally wounded him. “DID YOU JUST—YOU DID. YOU ABSOLUTELY DID.” His voice is thick with emotion, somewhere between scandalized and delighted. “Babe. You bit me. Like a feral little love-goblin. That’s so hot.”

- And then? Then, all hell breaks loose. Within seconds, he is biting you back—but not just once, no, because Wade Wilson is incapable of moderation. He is nibbling at your cheek, at your shoulder, at your hand, peppering you with playful, exaggerated love-bites while making increasingly absurd noises. “CHOMP.” He sinks his teeth into the air dramatically, eyes wide with manic glee. “RAWR. Oh, sorry, that was my dinosaur impression. But honestly? If I were a dinosaur, I’d be a love-raptor. A snuggle-saurus. A Wade-a-don Rex, if you will.”

- The worst part? He does not stop talking. “You’re lucky I don’t have rabies,” he chatters, waggling his brows. “I mean, I might. I did lick a questionable taco truck the other day. But, y’know, if I do have rabies, then I guess that makes you my one and only transmission method—romantic, right?” He grins, then gasps again, as if struck by a sudden epiphany. “WAIT. Does this mean we’re in a vampire romance now? Am I your dark, brooding, undead lover? Babe, I gotta be honest, I am so ready to emotionally gaslight you across centuries of longing.”

- But then—just when you think he’s going to turn this into a full-fledged one-man show—he pauses. Just for a moment. The humor dims slightly, enough for something softer to slip through. And then, in a rare, fleeting act of sincerity, Wade leans in, pressing a kiss—not a bite, not a joke, but a kiss—to the very spot where your teeth had been. “…Seriously, though,” he murmurs, voice warm and uncharacteristically quiet, “that was, like, really cute. You’re really cute.” And then, just as quickly as it appeared, the moment is gone, swallowed up in another round of ridiculous, dramatic antics. But for that one, brief second? He meant it.

Victor Creed

- The instant your teeth graze his skin, Victor Creed laughs—a low, rumbling thing that vibrates in his chest, a sound that is both amused and hungry. He does not startle. He does not pause. No, Victor reacts the way a predator does when something small and delicate dares to bare its teeth—with interest.

- His fingers curl at your waist, grip firm, possessive, a wordless acknowledgment of what you have done. “Now that’s adorable,” he drawls, voice thick with amusement. “Little thing thinks she’s got fangs.” His golden eyes gleam as he studies you, head tilting slightly, as if debating whether to play along—or devour you whole.

- And then? He leans in. Closer, until his breath is warm against your ear, until you feel the sheer size of him, the sheer power in every inch of his body. “You wanna play rough, sweetheart?” he murmurs, voice dropping into something darker, something edged with promise. “You sure you can handle that?” And then, without hesitation, he bites back. Not gentle. Not teasing. But slow, deliberate, lingering—not enough to hurt, but enough to remind you exactly who you are dealing with.

- When he pulls away, his grin is wolfish, sharp and deadly. “That all you got?” he taunts, dragging a thumb over the mark he’s left behind. “C’mon, now. If you’re gonna bite, bite like you mean it.” And with that, he watches, waits, golden eyes glinting with something dangerous, something wild. Because Victor Creed is a man who thrives on blood and instinct, and if you wish to play this game, then you must be prepared to lose.

Julian Keller

- The moment your teeth graze his skin, Julian smirks. A slow, lazy curl of his lips, equal parts cocky and intrigued. He doesn’t jerk away, doesn’t react with surprise—no, Julian Keller is a man who thrives in the unexpected, who wears confidence like a second skin. “Well, well,” he drawls, amusement dripping from every syllable, “look at you. Feisty today, huh?” His voice is low, smooth, laced with the kind of arrogance that makes you want to bite him again—harder, just to wipe that smug expression off his face.

- But then, before you can so much as think about it, he moves. Swift, fluid, his telekinesis pressing against you, pinning you in place—not harsh, not cruel, but playful. A silent reminder of who he is, of what he can do. His grip at your waist tightens ever so slightly, his body angled close, so very close, and for a second, it feels less like a game and more like a challenge. “That supposed to be some kind of warning, babe?” he teases, his breath warm against your ear. “’Cause if you’re picking fights, you should know—I never back down.”

- He doesn’t retaliate immediately. No, Julian waits. He lets anticipation build, lets you think you’ve won—that you’ve caught him off guard, that he’ll let this slide. But then, just as you relax, he strikes. A sharp nip against your jaw, quick and precise, a mimicry of what you had done to him. But unlike you, he doesn’t stop there. No, Julian Keller is competitive, and if you’re playing this game, then he’s playing to win.

- “Gotta admit,” he murmurs against your skin, voice a quiet rasp, “you’ve got guts. I like that.” His grip loosens, but that smirk remains, his green eyes gleaming with challenge. “But next time? Maybe try a little harder.” And just like that, he pulls away, walking off as if nothing happened, as if he hasn’t just left you standing there, heart pounding, already plotting your revenge.

Kitty Pryde

- “Oh!” The moment your teeth press into her shoulder, Kitty lets out a startled squeak, her entire body jerking in surprise. She phases instinctively, and before you even register what’s happening, you’re biting nothing—your teeth sinking into empty air as she slips through you, her molecules scattering like mist. It’s not that she minds, not really. It’s just that she wasn’t expecting it. And Kitty Pryde does not like being caught off guard.

- “Did you just—?” Her voice is breathless, half-laughing, half-accusing, her wide eyes locking onto yours. There’s no anger there, no real irritation—just confusion and delight, an almost incredulous sort of amusement at the fact that you, of all people, had dared to bite her. “Okay, rude,” she huffs, crossing her arms over her chest in mock offense. “You can’t just do that without warning! What if I phased and got stuck inside the floor? You’d feel really bad, wouldn’t you?”

- But her protests are all for show, because the next second, she’s grinning, her playful side taking over. Kitty Pryde is mischief wrapped in kindness, and if you think for one second that she’s letting this go unanswered, you’re sorely mistaken. “Y’know,” she muses, tapping a finger to her chin, “if this is how we’re communicating now, I could phase my hand into your ribs and just… give your heart a little squeeze. Not lethal! Just, y’know… uncomfortable.”

- And yet, despite her teasing, despite her empty threats, there’s a warmth in her gaze, an unmistakable fondness in the way she leans in, brushing her lips—soft, fleeting—against the spot where your teeth had been. “But,” she murmurs, voice dipping into something gentler, something real, “I think I like this way better.” And then, with one final cheeky grin, she phases through you once more, vanishing just before you can grab her in retaliation.

Nathan Summers

- The moment you bite him, Cable pauses. No visible reaction. No sharp inhale, no startled flinch. He simply stills, his entire body locking into that unnerving, soldier-like stillness. His metal hand, which had been resting at your waist, remains unmoving, his entire frame rigid as if waiting, assessing. It’s instinct, honed over decades of battle, of survival. Because Nathan Summers is not a man accustomed to softness, and affection—even when playful—is something he has never learned to anticipate.

- And then, slowly, he exhales. His head tilts just slightly, his cybernetic eye dimming, the faintest flicker of something amused passing through his otherwise unreadable expression. “…Did you just bite me?” His voice is low, gravelly, tinged with something between disbelief and reluctant amusement. “Huh.” He says nothing else for a long moment, simply watching you, studying you as if trying to decipher what exactly prompted you to do such a thing.

- And then, finally, he shakes his head, a quiet huff escaping him—something that might, under very specific lighting conditions, be mistaken for a chuckle. “You’ve got guts,” he mutters, the corner of his lips twitching in something dangerously close to a smirk. “Reckless, but gutsy.” His organic hand brushes against the spot where your teeth had been, as if committing the sensation to memory.

- He doesn’t bite back. Doesn’t tease or taunt or retaliate. No, Cable is not a man who plays games. Instead, he opts for something simpler, something quieter—his hand cupping the back of your head, his lips pressing against your forehead in a rare display of open tenderness. A silent acknowledgment. A wordless acceptance. Because Nathan Summers may not understand softness, but for you, he is willing to learn.

Warren Worthington III

- The moment your teeth sink into his skin, Warren lets out a sharp gasp—a mix of surprise and something dangerously close to pleasure. His wings flare instinctively, feathers rustling with a sudden, unconscious movement, his entire body reacting before his mind can catch up. Because Warren Worthington III is a man of control, of composure—and yet, with you, it seems to shatter so easily.

- “Did you—” His voice is breathless, his pupils blown wide, his blue eyes flickering with something unreadable. “You just—” He swallows, as if struggling to find the right words, as if the simple act of you biting him has completely short-circuited his mind. He is an angel carved from marble, all sharp lines and celestial grace, and yet here he stands, utterly undone by something so small, so mortal.

- And then, something shifts. A slow, wicked smile tugs at his lips, the sharp edge of his Archangel persona slipping into his gaze. “You really shouldn’t do that,” he murmurs, voice a velvet purr. “Not unless you’re prepared for the consequences.” His wings snap forward in an instant, encircling you in a cocoon of soft, gilded feathers, trapping you against his chest. His fingers ghost over your jaw, tilting your chin up so you have no choice but to meet his gaze.

- “Because now?” His lips brush against the very spot you had marked, his voice dropping into something dangerous, something electric. “Now it’s my turn.” And then, before you can even think to protest, Warren Worthington III—heir, angel, warrior—bites back.

Kevin Sydney

- The moment your teeth sink into his skin, Kevin’s entire form shifts in surprise. One second, he’s his usual self—sharp jaw, bright eyes, that ever-present smirk—and the next, he’s you, your own expression of mischief mirrored back at you. His voice, now an exact replica of yours, lilts with exaggerated amusement: “Wow, is this what I look like when I do something reckless? No wonder you love me.”

- He lets the illusion linger just long enough to make you blink in disbelief before shifting back, his laughter spilling out in warm, unrestrained waves. There’s no irritation, no reprimand—just the unshakable joy of a man who thrives on unpredictability, who relishes in the absurd. “Biting, huh? I like this new development,” he teases, rubbing the spot where your teeth had been with faux contemplation. “I gotta say, I wasn’t expecting that, but hey, I do have a thing for surprises.”

- He retaliates in the most Morph-like way possible—by suddenly growing a pair of exaggerated fangs and snapping playfully at you, his grin widening as if daring you to test your luck again. “C’mon, babe, if we’re making this a thing, let’s make it fun,” he quips, waggling his eyebrows in an over-the-top display of challenge. “What’s next? Claw marks? A dramatic villain monologue? Give me something to work with!”

- And yet, despite all the jokes, despite the effortless laughter, there’s something softer underneath. Because Kevin Sydney is a man who hides behind humor, who masks emotion with theatrics—but the way he touches you now, fingers brushing idly along your wrist, is genuine. “Seriously, though,” he murmurs, his usual grin dimming into something real, “I like when you do things that catch me off guard. It reminds me that life’s worth sticking around for.”

Raven Darkhölme

- The moment your teeth press into her skin, Mystique doesn’t flinch. She doesn’t jerk away. Instead, she merely stares, her yellow eyes sharp, assessing, calculating. It’s impossible to tell what she’s thinking—whether she’s amused, annoyed, or considering shifting into someone entirely different just to make you regret it. “Interesting,” she murmurs at last, her voice low, velvet-smooth, carrying an edge of intrigue that makes your heart stutter.

- Then, before you can so much as blink, she moves. A blur of shifting colors, of muscle and bone rearranging in an instant—and suddenly, she’s behind you, her lips a ghost of a presence against your ear. “You really think you can surprise me?” she purrs, her breath cool against your skin. “I’ve spent lifetimes being a step ahead. If you wanted to catch me off guard, you’d have to try harder than that.”

- But despite her words, despite her unshakable composure, there’s an undeniable interest in her tone. Because Raven Darkhölme is a woman who’s spent decades in control, who rarely allows herself to be touched without permission—and yet, you’ve just walked right through every layer of her defenses without fear. And that? That fascinates her more than she’d care to admit.

- “Brave,” she muses at last, her fingers tracing the very spot you had bitten, her expression unreadable. Then, with a slow, deliberate smirk, she adds, “But reckless.” And just like that, she shifts—her form melting into someone else, someone entirely unfamiliar—before disappearing into the shadows, leaving only her voice lingering behind: “I will be returning the favor.”

Illyana Rasputina

- The moment your teeth sink into her skin, Illyana freezes. Not in shock, not in discomfort, but in something else—something unreadable, something ancient and dangerous. Because Illyana Rasputina is not a woman accustomed to softness, and affection—even playful—has always been laced with sharp edges in her world. Her grip on her Soulsword tightens, and for a fraction of a second, her eyes flicker with golden fire, as if Hell itself has stirred in response.

- And then, she turns to you—slowly, deliberately, her expression eerily calm. “Did you just bite me?” Her voice is quiet, but there’s something lethal beneath it, something that makes even the air around her still. She doesn’t sound angry. If anything, she sounds… curious. As if she’s trying to decide whether this is something to be annoyed by—or something to encourage.

- And then, after what feels like an eternity, she laughs. It’s low, dark, a sound that carries the weight of fire and steel, of war and something far older than you could ever comprehend. “Hah. You’re bold,” she muses, tilting her head, considering you with something between amusement and fondness. “I like it.” Then, with a flick of her wrist, her Soulsword vanishes, and she leans in—so very close, her breath warm against your throat.

- “But you do realize,” she murmurs, her voice a whisper of shadows, “that I always bite back.” And before you can so much as react, she’s gone—vanished in a flash of eldritch fire, leaving nothing behind but the lingering heat of her presence and the unshakable knowledge that this game has only just begun.

Alex Summers

- The second your teeth graze his skin, Alex jumps—a sharp, involuntary reaction, his entire body tensing as if you’ve just electrocuted him. “What the hell?!” he blurts out, twisting to look at you with wide, startled eyes. There’s no immediate anger, no irritation—just sheer, genuine confusion, as if he cannot comprehend why you would do something so reckless.

- And then, as realization dawns, his expression changes. His brows furrow, his lips twitch, and before you can so much as breathe, he lets out a laugh—not the kind you were expecting, not cocky or smug, but genuine. It’s warm, boyish, disbelieving, the kind of laugh that makes the edges of his eyes crinkle. “You bit me,” he says again, shaking his head like he still can’t quite wrap his mind around it. “Are you—are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

- And yet, despite his reaction, despite his initial shock, there’s something undeniably fond in the way he looks at you now. Because Alex Summers is a man who has spent his life in the shadow of expectation, of responsibility, of chaos—and here you are, bringing something light into his world, something unexpected, something good. And maybe, just maybe, he doesn’t mind that as much as he pretends to.

- “Alright, fine,” he relents at last, rubbing his neck where your teeth had been, his grin turning almost challenging. “But just so you know? I’m keeping score.” And with that, he leans in—his lips brushing against your jaw, a teasing warning before he suddenly nips at your skin in retaliation, pulling back with a satisfied smirk. “Your move.”

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inkievoid · 4 months ago

Text

An answered prayer || K. Wagner x Fem!Mutant!Reader

Content Warning: Christmas stuff, fluff and a sprinkle of jealous Kurt

Words: 1.2k

Authors Note: This is an anon request, I believe? Might have Lost a name on accident, oopsies... Enjoy <3 And Happy Holidays!!!

Christmas, what a wonderful time of year. The fire's lit, holiday music playing as the rest of the team enjoys the annual party and secret Santa exchange. Holding his own gift from his dear sister in his lap. Trying to focus on anything but the sight he's transfixed on.

He's supposed to be blue, feeling the sharp green of envy pulling at the edges of his being as he stares down their leader. Grinning wide as he hands over your gift. Watching you rip away at the shiny silver wrapping paper across the common room, hearing you loudly gasp.

Probably something practical and thoughtful... Typical Scott.

And now you're gushing over some stupid cable-knit sweater as you put it to your front. Pulling Scott into a tight embrace as he, albeit awkwardly, hugs you back with a tight smile. Kurt can feel his brows pin together, tail flicking against his own calves in irritation. He knows he has no real right to be jealous. You're not his. Not officially, at least.

You're aware of each other's feelings and have been on a few dates even. But with his duties to the council in Genosha, he hardly gets to see you unless it's fairly important or the occasional time off. Which, obviously, he hates, holding a candle for you for the longest time now.

Kurt sighs, turning his attention back to the fire, arms crossed over his chest as he takes in the dancing flames in the fireplace as everyone buzzes around him. The sound of the party makes it hard to think of anything but your smile crossing his mind.

Sighing, he stands from the couch, heading outside into the cold. Standing out on the back step of the mansion. Looking across the beautiful blanket of fresh white snow just fallen earlier that morning. The inky night sky filled with stars for once over the trees.

That feeling of jealousy still not leaving him. Heart beating against his chest as he takes a deep breath. Closing his eyes as his hands pressed together, a huff of cloudy air escaping him as he softly prayed to himself.

"Heavenly Father, give me the strength to resist the temptation of jealousy. Help me to trust in Your plan and to find contentment in Your provision... She knows not what she does to me, and I know a devil like me isn't supposed to ask for anything... But all I want is her... Bless my friends, bless my dear family, and please, Lord, bless mein Schatz. Amen."

The door creaks open behind him, yellow eyes cutting through the darkness as he looks back to see you standing at the door, arm behind your back with that sweet smile he's come to love.

"Am I interrupting something?" You ask softly, a half smile coming to his lips as he shakes his head, waving you to come outside.

Coming out, you close the door gently, stepping over to him with a quiet kind of grace. Silence filling the air as you both look out into the night sky. So close together, you can feel Kurt's body heat from just being next to him.

It's now or never...

Clearing your throat, you meet his eyes, moving your arm from behind your back. A cute little bag with two kids building a snowman together hanging off your fingers. Blue, sparkling tissue paper billowing from the top with a tiny tag hanging from the handle.

"Merry Christmas..." He looks a little dumbfounded, looking down at the bag before taking it in his palms.

"My sister, she... gave me a gift already?" You chuckle with a nod.

"I know, I got Remy for the Secret Santa. Gave him this really nice deck of cards I found when we had a mission overseas a few weeks ago, but I wanted to give you something too... Special people deserve special gifts." He thanked God in that moment; it was dark out, and you'd see his entire face turn purple as he blushed.

"I... didn't get you anything." You just shrug, not honestly caring about it in the long run.

"My gift can be the look on your face when you open yours. Come on." You nudge the side of the bag, making him look it over. Taking note of how you crossed out "from" on the attached card and wrote "love" instead. Making his stomach do an involuntary flip. Moving the tissue paper away, he pulls out a flat square box, glancing up at you with a small scoff.

"This isn't going to be dozens of tiny boxes, is it?" You tap his shoulder with a roll of your eyes.

"Just open it!" He smiles, pulling the lid away. Face falling as the dim light catches the shiny silver circle pendant. A piece of ivory in the middle with their initials engraved together. He feels his chest tighten, looking up into your eyes in shock.

"I thought it would look good next to your rosary... And you always talk about how we don't get enough time together... Now I can be with you all the time in some way." His eyes fall back to the box, quickly pulling out the necklace and inspecting it closer.

"This... This is beautiful. And so thoughtful..."

"Well, it's just something I thought you needed... Plus, I... I've been wanting to talk to you about something." His eyes shoot back up to you. Looking into your eyes with a hint of disbelief.

"About what?"

"Us." His eyes widen, mouth opening like a fish as you close the gap, pressing your hand to his cheek with an affectionate stroke of your thumb.

"You mean so much to me, Kurt, and it's been killing me to not... Be with you. I miss you constantly and can't stop thinking about you all the time." His free hand drifts over yours on his cheek with a content sigh.

"I can't stop thinking about you either... I don't want you to think that it's necessary for us to be together if we're—" You silence him, kissing him with a tender touch he's never felt before. His head tilts, pressing into you, hand traveling to snake his arm around your waist. Pulling you even closer to his warm frame with a fondness he could only hold for you.

Lips separate, the shared warmth between you almost suffocating to a degree.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to hear you say that, mein Schatz... Merry Christmas." Leaning back in, your lips connect briefly before there's a bang at the door, making you both nearly jump out of your skin.

It's Gambit at the door with a grin on his face, Rogue behind him with a soft giggle as she covers her mouth with a gloved hand. Quickly you turn away from their prying eyes, feeling your face heat up as the thick Cajun drawl pours through the glass.

"Dinner's on the table, lovebirds! Time's ticking' before Cyclops has that aneurysm if you two don't move." He laughs before walking back towards the dining room, arm around Rogue as they disappear. You sigh, rubbing your cheeks to make the heat go away, Kurt only smiling wider as he slips his present box back in the bag. Holding up the necklace, he gives it one last look before turning your face back to look at his.

"Could you help me put this on so I can show my gift to everyone, mein Schatz?"

All content on this page is fictional and I do not condone the acts I enjoy in a fictional sense. I don't consent to my work being reposted or translated.

#x men #kurt wagner x reader #kurt wagner x fem reader #xmen x reader #x men 97 #kurt wagner #nightcrawler x reader #Nightcrawler x fem reader #nightcrawler

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tom-foolery-incorporated · 4 months ago

Text

Cock Worship with ES!Bumblebee

NSFW MDNI 18+

Gender neutral and sex neutral reader, racially ambiguous, oral, face fucking, sub reader dom Bumblebee, I’m so normal about Earthspark Bee I promise

Bumblebee’s pelvis twitched as his spike rested atop your face. He couldn’t hold back the smile that formed on his intake at the sight before him. Your eyes were wide open and practically heart shaped, your lips parted with gentle yet excited breaths passing through, and your form sitting so obediently on his berth.

He measured the length of his spike against your face for a moment. Bumblebee hummed in thought as he rubbed his cock against your face, his transfluid leaking from his tip down your forehead, nose, and finally across your cheek. He couldn’t hold back his amusement at seeing your chest moving in needy pants of air. The idea that you were so excited just having his spike laid over your face made a smug feeling wash over the mech.

“Cute,” Bumblebee cooed cupping the back of your head. “Do you want my spike?”

The way you jerked forward then stopped yourself from pouncing on his heated cable didn’t go unnoticed. “Yes,” you said breathlessly. “Yes! Please can I suck it?”

Bumblebee’s cooling fans jittered at your request. Of course he wants nothing more than to shove his spike down your throat and watch you struggle to swallow his overload but it was so fun watching you squirm and wait for him to order you around.

“Yeah?” He mocked while stroking the back of your head. “My desperate little slut wants to suck me off so bad?”

You clenched your fists against your lap and let out a whine. “Please!” You begged doing your best to stay still. “I want your cock, please!”

Bumblebee’s hips stuttered as his optics fluttered closed at your begging. You were going to be the death of him.

“Frag,” he groaned thrusting against your face. “You know I can’t resist you when you beg like that.”

He could hear your needy panting and practically see the heated air steaming out of your mouth. Bumblebee’s own excitement continued to leak down your face and he could tell by the way you licked around your lips you were desperate to have him in your mouth.

Bumblebee guided your head back as he pulled his hips away from you. His spike slid down your face until the tip made contact with your lips.

He could feel his spark throb in response to how you looked up at him with nothing but pure love as your lips puckered against his tip. Pink transfluid leaked down your lips and dribbled down past your chin. “Go ahead, Sweet Spark,” Bumblebee purred. “I’m all yours.”

Like a well trained pet told it can finally eat its food you dove onto Bumblebee’s spike. You grabbed around the girth of his phallic cable eagerly. You rubbed your hands up and down his spike as you panted in excitement. “Thank you,” you murmured as you pressed kisses to the tip of his spike. “Thank you.”

You ran your wet tongue along the length of his cock trying not to slobber all over the hot metal. Bumblebee chewed on the flexible metal of his lower lip trying his best not to lose his cool and start fucking your face. His door wings fluttered in bliss at the loving attention you payed to his throbbing spike.

His transfluid was spread all over your lips like a perversion of lip gloss.

You followed your tongue up his spike with wet sloppy kisses. There was no point on his thick throbbing cable that your lips didn’t touch. Every hot inch of metal was lovingly covered in spit from your licking and kisses. For you in this moment, his spike was everything. The baby blue biolights, the yellow flexible metal, the way it weeped pink fluids, and how Bumblebee’s own shaky moans echoed in your ears.

“Frag,” Bumblebee groaned watching you savor his spike. “That good?”

“Mmm,” you moaned running your lips up his shaft. “You taste so good. I wish I could just live off of your cock.”

Bumblebee punctuated how he moaned your name with a sharp swear. You were going to be the death of him.

“You’re just going to keep teasing me or are you gonna let me fuck that pretty little face?” Bumblebee groaned over his whirring cooling fans.

Your eyes lit up at his offer and you quickly dropped your hands from his shaft. You looked up at Bumblebee and opened your mouth invitingly for him to take whatever pleasure he needed from you.

“Primus,” Bumblebee moaned pushing the back of your head towards his spike. “You’re too good to me.”

With a sharp thrust of his pelvis he pushed his spike as far as it could go into your mouth. Your gagging only spurred him on. The slobber you produced around his cock mixed with the pink transfluid creating a foamy light pink liquid.

“So good,” Bumblebee moaned thrusting into your face. “You’re doing so good.”

You kept your eyes trained on his optics as you choked and sucked around the massive intrusion in your mouth. Your drool dribbled down your chin in an erotic streak of spit and transfluid. Bumblebee’s servo stayed steady on the back of your head as he thrusted into you trying to balance his neediness with not tearing your poor throat.

By now you feel like your body should have adjusted to his size. Your body should have molded itself to being the perfect pleasure doll for the mech.

You only looked up at Bumblebee with pure love in your eyes as he took whatever he wanted from between your lips. His own optics darted over your face suddenly feeling nervous at the unadulterated attention you gave him.

“Look at you,” Bumblebee groaned trying not to shove the rest of his spike down your throat. “Look at how good you take my spike. Primus what did I do to deserve such a-“ He cut himself off with a wailing moan as you hollowed your cheeks and tried to suck more of him in.

“Little slut,” Bumblebee laughed giving you a harsh thrust that made you squeak and gag. “You’re too much.”

His thrusts picked up in intensity as your eyes watered from the battering his spike put your throat through. You knew you’d be raspy and sore for a while but God was it such a pleasant reminder of what your lover did.

“I’m gonna overload,” Bumblebee moaned his thrusts becoming shaky. “Take it all! Primus I want to see you swallow it all!”

You did your best to move your head in time with his thrusting. You worked so hard for his release and you were going to get what you wanted one way or another.

His needy moans flowed through your ears like a symphony and his transfluid flowed into your mouth like liquid gold.

The acidic taste was difficult to get used to but now you practically wished you lived on it.

Bumblebee gave your mouth a couple tepid thrusts as you tried to swallow around his cock without choking. “Primus you’re so good,” Bumblebee moaned. He swore under his breath as he slowly slid his spike out from between your lips. You followed him trying to keep him inside of your mouth earning a low chuckle from the mech. He held your head in place so he could properly pull himself out from the warm grasp of your mouth.

Transfluid leaked from the corners of your lips and dribbled down your chin. You gave a couple coughs when Bumblebee finally pulled out of you.

“You look wrecked,” Bumblebee laughed his faceplate flushed blue.

You licked around your mouth earning a low groan from the yellow mech before you. “I wanna warm your spike,” you said in a raspy voice.

Bumblebee hissed feeling his over stimulated spike twitch at the idea. “No,” he replied giving your head some gentle pets. “I don’t want you to go completely voiceless.”

You nodded trying to hide your disappointment and instead opted to grab his servo and nuzzle your face into it.

“I love you,” you rasped.

“I love you too.”

#transformers #earthspark #earthspark bumblebee #bumblebee #valveplug #swerve x reader valveplug #bumblebee x reader #bumblebee x reader valveplug #bumblebee valveplug

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andmaybegayer · 2 years ago

Text

For a different project I was reading about developments in induction heating technologies and realized I had a small misunderstanding about how induction stoves work.

So, the classic misunderstanding is in why steel works on an induction hob but aluminium doesn't. Most people assume this is because you need a magnetic material in order to induce a current, but if you know your physics you know this isn't true. You can induce a current in any conductor, and indeed inducing currents in aluminium is something that happens in industry all the time.

So then you get to my understanding of why you can't use aluminium and copper, which is that they're too good at conducting electricity. Induction generates a voltage that pushes a current through the material. Aluminium and copper are much better conductors than steel, so the generated potential is lower and the overall current is lower as a result of material interactions with the field, so you don't get nearly as much heat out of induction on aluminium as on steel. This was what I thought. This is also wrong, although it's closer.

The actual answer is one step deeper. Induction hobs have to operate at pretty high frequencies, usually 24-ish kHz, both for audible noise reasons and, crucially, because they rely heavily on the skin effect. Interestingly this makes that first wrong explanation kind of more correct, I'll get to that in a moment.

The skin effect is a thing that happens when you have an alternating current in a bulk material; the AC signal sets up magnetic fields that force current to flow in a thin layer closer to the surface of the solid rather than flowing evenly throughout the material. This increases the effective resistance of the material, since you end up with a reduced effective surface area through which current can flow. The skin effect gets more pronounced at higher frequencies, and it's part of why you'll see bundles of smaller cables used to conduct high power AC: each cable has its own skin that can carry more current than the same quantity of material in one bulk cable.

In the right kinds of steel and iron, 24kHz is enough to generate a current carrying skin only a few tenths of a millimeter thick, which has a high enough resistance to generate the heat needed for cooking. Ferromagnetic materials have very high magnetic permeability, which causes them to experience much stronger skin effects. Copper and aluminium, between their high conductivity and lower magnetic permeability, have much weaker skin effects, their skins at 24kHz are much thicker, and so you just can't kick up enough resistance to the current to generate heat, it just spins around in there getting kind of warm but you'd have a hard time actually cooking with it. Indeed, non-magnetic stainless steel also won't work on induction hobs, because it also has a much thicker skin effect.

So you have the "real answer" being a fun hybrid of the two incorrect explanations.

The main side effects I take away from this are twofold.

1) you can absolutely make an induction hob that will heat copper and aluminum and non-magnetic stainless steels, you just need a high enough frequency to generate a strong enough skin effect to generate heat. Panasonic makes one that uses 60+kHz induction under the brand "Met-all".

2) if you physically constrain the current by having a really thin piece of metal, you can induction heat it anyway. When I read this, I stopped, took out a piece of aluminium foil, and stuck it on my induction cooktop. It almost immediately got incredibly hot and I pulled it away before anything bad happened. Turns out you could definitely melt and maybe even vaporize aluminium this way. So don't do that. Apparently people do this with lightweight titanium cookware too, which would not be able to sustain the necessary currents in a large bulk solid but can if you thin the base of the pan out enough.

#cooking #induction #physics #material science #engineering

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nonbinarybrainstorm · 8 months ago

Note

Could I request a top Starscream/bottom Soundwave. Maybe they trying for a child?

Heyo, had to take a break for a bit since my anxiety flared up in the most inconvenient way and time and sometimes the most terrifying thing is a blank page.

Anyway, I'm a bit better and I hope you enjoy this.

Soundwave stiffens up when he feels two arms snake around his waist and he looks as Starscream rests his chin on Soundwave’s shoulder, huffing at the sly smirk on the seeker’s face.

“I’m reading,” Soundwave taps the datapad in his hand against Starscream’s helm pointedly.

“I can see that. After all, you’ve been reading for hours now,” Starscream nudges the datapad away but quickly returns his hand, running it gently over Soundwave’s abdomen, “You should take a break.” Starscream kisses Soundwave’s shoulder, smirking at how Soundwave tries to suppress a shiver.

“I…” Soundwave sighs, “Fine.” He gasps as Starscream’s hand travels lower to toy with the wires in the seam at his hip, “Ah, so that’s what you mean…”

Soundwave shuts his optics at the feeling of Starscream’s soft chuckle on the back of his neck and lays his hand over Starscream’s, rubbing it fondly with his thumb.

“Let’s go to the berth, shall we?” Starscream purrs.

“Sure.”

Guiding Soundwave by the hand, Starscream keeps his optics locked with Soundwave’s, an eager light to his gaze that speaks of promise as Soundwave keeps his movements slow and deliberate. He can’t move too fast, can’t let Starscream know how much he wants this, needs this. Starscream urges him onto the berth, never letting go of his hand and even going so far as to interlock their digits, sending a thrill through Soundwave as he watches Starscream move over him and settle between his legs. For a moment, they just stay like that with Starscream gazing down at him intensely, making him shift awkwardly as he tries to resist looking away from those piercing red optics.

“What?” Soundwave finally breaks the silence.

“Nothing,” Starscream smirks and lowers his helm to nuzzle in under Soundwave’s chin to get at his neck cables, tracing his lips over them delicately, “Just never thought I’d be here.”

Soundwave hums softly in acknowledgment, tilting his helm back as Starscream moves in and places a hand on Starscream’s back. Charge sparks lightly along his lines as Starscream presses his denta lightly into the sensitive cables while his hands trail down Soundwave’s frame with barely restrained fervor. Already, Soundwave can feel how hot Starscream’s frame has become, his hot vents brushing heated air over Soundwave’s plating and cables as charge pings off his frames in quick bursts. Soundwave huffs in amusement, hooking his leg on Starscream’s hip to drag him down and grind their panels together.

“It seems like you want something,” Soundwave emphasizes his point with a roll of his hips, pressing more firmly against Starscream, earning a soft groan from the seeker.

Starscream eyes Soundwave hungrily and grabs his hips, pulling him in roughly, “I have everything I want.” He pauses for a long moment as he tucks his thumbs into Soundwave’s seams, sending a low level of charge directly into Soundwave’s lines, and then chuckles as Soundwave twitches with excitement, “Except maybe…”

It takes a moment for Soundwave to steady himself until he can trust his vocalizer not to sound absolutely wanton even as his panels heat up at Starscream’s delicate touch, “Except what?”

Laying a hand on Soundwave’s lower abdomen, Starscream lowers his helm to kiss Soundwave’s chest reverently, “A sparkling?”

Soundwave pulls more air in through his vents, his spark whirling rapidly at the thought.

“You…” Soundwave grabs Starscream’s chin, forcing the seeker to look him in the optic but Starscream seems nonplussed by the gesture, smiling confident as ever, “That’s a big ask.”

“There’s no rush,” Starscream murmurs, taking Soundwave’s hand in his and shifting his helm to kiss the palm of it.

Prodding Starscream’s forehelm, Soundwave leans back as he opens his panels for Starscream’s viewing pleasure, his anterior node aching with need just from the thought of touch, “Convince me.”

That earns him a wolfish grin and Starscream is upon him all once with hands and glossa that overwhelm him. Soundwave tosses his helm back with a soft cry as Starscream’s soft and hot glossa leaves a slick trail around his anterior node before he feels pressure as the node loses the ability to ground the buzz of charge making it pulse with need. Then, he’s left painfully untouched, shivering as cold air brushes his folds as Starscream moves to hover over him, removing Soundwave’s face mask to press his lips to Soundwave’s. His movements are soft and deliberate, taking his time to worship Soundwave’s lips, gently spreading them with his own so that he can slip his glossa in and nudge Soundwave’s, chuckling at the vulnerable gasp Soundwave makes.

Soundwave grabs at Starscream’s side, pressing into the kiss hungrily, and moans when Starscream’s spike finally nudges against the folds of his valve, urging Starscream closer by wrapping his legs around the seeker’s waist. Starscream hums appreciatively and spreads Soundwave open with a thumb as he continues to kiss his conjunx.

“Doesn’t seem like you’ll take much convincing,” Starscream teases as he presses the head of his spike against Soundwave’s already clenching valve, “I think you’re more excited by the idea than you let on.”

Soundwave grits his denta and looks away, energon flooding through his lines at being caught, “Just… just take me.”

A kiss lands on Soundwave’s faceplate and he turns with surprise to see Starscream’s optics dim yet warm. It sets Soundwave’s spark ablaze. Starscream lowers Soundwave to fully lay out on the berth before grabbing Soundwave’s thighs firmly and, grinning with a mischievous light in his optics, practically pulls Soundwave onto his spike. The sudden insertion lights up the node clusters in Soundwave’s valve in rapid succession, forcing him to grip the berth as charge and liquid pleasure fill him to the point that it’s almost painful, and in a moment of clouded lust, he unlocks his tank.

“Fill me,” Soundwave groans, “I want your sparkling, I do.”

Starscream peppers kisses all over Soundwave’s chest and shoulders while gently rocking his hips, grinding into Soundwave, “Then you’ll let me have your spark?”

Wordlessly, Soundwave lets his chestplates part, and in an instant Starscream returns the gesture in kind, the two of them flooding the room with icy blue light that washes out all other colors. Soundwave steadies himself on Starscream’s shoulder, his optics trained on the seeker’s spark, still marveling even after so long that this has been given to him in totality. Starscream rests his temple against Soundwave’s and lowers himself slowly until the coronas of their sparks brush, making him stop with a gasp at the sudden flood of sensation and Soundwave is left shaking. It’s intense, feeling Starscream’s everything within him, the charge now a ceaseless loop leaving Soundwave almost dizzy. He feels his full valve and yet he can now feel the delightful warmth Starscream feels with his spike buried in Soundwave’s wet, greedy valve.

Pushing past the corona, Starscream completes the bond and it’s almost impossible to tell where one of them begins and the other ends by touch alone, intensified all the more once Starscream finally begins moving his hips. Now able to feel what Soundwave feels, Starscream can feel what makes Soundwave twitch and writhe with pleasure all the more acutely and he thrusts faster and faster, both of them urging the other harder, needing more, their hips meeting in a messy cacophony of clangs and the lewd sound of lubricant gushing from Soundwave’s valve. The head of Starscream’s spike bursts into Soundwave’s tank, making them both stiffen up and gasp and though Starscream makes a valiant effort to hold back his overload, the wave of charge coursing through Soundwave pulls him under. They cry out as Starscream releases his load into Soundwave’s tank with weak moans and grunts as Starscream’s hips spasm, his frame wanting to unleash every nanite his frame has produced, determined more through instinct than conscious thought to get Soundwave thoroughly sparked.

Slowly, their sparks separate, and they’re able to pull away with heavy vents and frames clinking back into places as they rapidly cool with the dissipating charge no longer overworking their systems. Starscream kisses Soundwave sloppily, completely uncoordinated in his post-overload daze but he needs to show Soundwave how delighted he is, his vocalizer totally fried from the intense bought they shared.

“Starscream…” Soundwave calls out amidst the kiss, his hold on Starscream is desperate, “I… I want this to work.”

“Me too,” Starscream’s voice is fried and sounds like it’s been put through several gate filters, only exciting Soundwave as a sense of satisfaction rears its head in his spark knowing he has this kind of effect on his seeker, “If it didn’t happen tonight, there are more to come…”

“Yes…” Soundwave sighs, pulling Starscream close, “Yes, please. Oh, Primus.”

The two hold each other throughout the night, neither willing to pull away from the other.

#starscream #soundwave #soundstar #valveplug #anonymous #nubbs writes

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sameeksha-4717 · 5 months ago

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paxdlove · 5 months ago

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D-16 interfacing headcanons/ cogless reader / size difference / implied reader x pax at end of/ was supposed to be short but as always I got carried away.

He starts off really gentle, because even for a cogless bot he’s considered pretty big.

“Ah, pit,” He’d breathe, eyes darting downwards at your small frame below him, legs spread wide around him as he nudged against your entrance, “Y-you okay? Frag, I really don’t wanna hurt you.”

It’s only when you stare up at him with half-lidded optics, mouth parting to scold him half-heartedly, “I swear if you tease me for even a nanoclick longer—”

Your scowl flatters as you feel him enter, valve trembling with the effort it takes to stay still, to resist the urge to wriggle away from the thick head of his spike as it pressed in slowly.

His helm drops to your neck, venting hot air onto the sensitive wires there as he pants and grits his teeth.

“Primus…fragging relax then…you’re so damn tense.”

You can’t even muster up a retort, voice only coming out embarrassingly high pitched as you try to relax.

You can barely register his breathy laugh as he finally bottoms out, his strong hips flush against your pelvis.

His servos grasp onto your sides, and then your legs, before dragging you even further down.

He pulls back from where he had been nestled against your neck just enough to stare at the warm place between your legs, your frame shaking with the pure strain of accommodating his length.

“M’ gonna move now,” He says, optics still trained on where the two of you met.

You barely nod your helm before he’s dragging his spike out, making you shiver with the sensation.

He pushes back in, snarling.

You can’t even understand what he’s saying as he grits out incomprehensible words into your ear, his heavy frame pinning you down with his weight as he slides out yet again.

You wriggle in his grasp.

The servos on your waist tighten.

“Stay still,” He hissed sharply, golden optics narrowed till they were almost closed.

He rocked back into you, and his optics do close this time, and you scrabble for purchase as the sheer deepness overwhelms you.

His frame is hot to the touch, nearly scalding as he leans impossibly close.

He huffs at the heady scent of your arousal, hips picking up pace as he rut into your warm heat frantically, lubricant dripping from between your thighs and spilling onto his pelvis.

The sounds were maddeningly lewd, and his vents heavy across your neck.

You writhe against him, but he just snarls again, his optics snapping open to stare at you, the glowing yellow almost too bright as he drank in your expression.

His own face was contorted in concentration, as though he was angry, but the desperate rolling of his hips as he slid into you over and over again said otherwise, as did the roaming roughness of his servos, gripping and grabbing onto the most sensitive parts of your plating as you keened below him.

It’s not long before your vision flickers with the beginnings of an overload, unable to do anything but ride it out as your vocalizer glitches with static as it floods through your systems.

D-16 thrusts through your spasming valve a few more times before following after, burying himself to the hilt as he overloaded.

He panted hot and heavy against you, mouthing the cables on your neck as his frame grew impossibly tense through his overload.

You felt it when the last aftershocks of his overload passed, the way his frame slowly relaxed and slumped against you.

He lifts himself up after a moment, propping himself up with his arms just enough to gaze at your worriedly, although his frame still heaves as he catches his breath.

“You alright…?” He murmurs, face tinged with an embarrassed hue that you can’t help but giggle, even as his spike remains buried deep inside your sensitive valve.

Your servo comes up slowly to touch at his face. He leans into it.

“I’m more than alright,” You say softly.

He gives a crooked grin, eyes impossibly wide and adoring as he looks down at you, relieved.

“Good.”

He swoops down to steal a kiss.

You hear a familiar voice nearby, and you feel D-16’s lips twitch downwards.

He’s already frowning when he pulls away, “The glitch is back to bother us.”

You smack him playfully, “Be nice,” You chastise him, “He tries his best not to annoy you,”

D-16 smirks then, “Yeah, correction, he’s back to bother you.”

You don’t get the chance to reply before another low voice drops to your ear, presence heavy and mischievous behind you, “Heya. Still got another one left in you?”

Your over-sensitive valve twitches around D-16’s spike.

#d 16 x reader #smut #valveplug #d 16 #imagine

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aka-indulgence · 8 months ago

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Meteor Shower

Finally got around to writing a Ramattra thing that isn’t based on an AU in my head that requires an introduction first jfhksdjfs I want him to treat me special 😭

Summary: You wake up in the middle of the night to Ramattra’s affections. A few minutes awake wouldn’t hurt…

(Reader/Ramattra)

(Also there are suggestive themes in here so be warned! Not explicit but theres some steamy kissing scenes >//<)

—————

You were slowly drawn from your sleeping state.

You were warm. Tired. The blanket was heavy on you, and you felt the most comfortable you’ve ever been in a long time.

You slowly blinked your eyes opened, feeling like a herculean task in of itself. Something was pressing against your cheek insistently, pecking you over and over. A weight shifted over you, and you felt yourself getting squished against warm metal. It takes a few seconds of your brain booting up to realize that that pressure on your face was a mouth, kissing you over and over.

Ramattra couldn’t kiss like a human would. But every time he made contact with your cheek, your nose, your forehead, he would make a gentle smooching sound. Even when you turned to speak to him, he didn’t stop his kissing assault.

“R… Ram… mm…” you mumble as he kisses your lips over and over.

“Go back to sleep darling.” He drawls. Despite not having a throat or an organic voicebox to speak out of, he still sounded huskier than usual. He cradles the side of your head, his cable hair draped over your collarbone as he insistently presses his mouth against your cheek, like he couldn’t get enough of you.

“Hard to go to sleep… When a big omnic man keeps kissing me like this,”

“Mmm… I’m sorry, sweetness.” He purrs, sounding none too apologetic as he moves down your jaw and presses his mouth to your neck, and you moan quietly.

He pulls you more insistently to be under him as he continues to kiss you, and you feel your cheeks getting warm, when you feel a bit of his tongue come into play.

“This is… really nice Ram, but I don’t think I’m up for it right now,” you say honestly. Ramattra, despite being an omnic with no need for it, was… quite the insatiable man in bed. It was hard to get him to stop, and you really were too tired for it right now.

“I know. I just… couldn’t resist. You’re too sweet,” he chuckles into your throat, making you shudder.

You shuffle closer to him (even though you’re right against his chest), and he turns his body a bit so you aren’t crushed under him. Ramattra slows down just a little, placing a kiss on your temple, and you smile when he starts running his fingers down your hair and caressing your cheek. You reciprocate with a small kiss on his jaw, nuzzling into his hair.

“What time is it?”

“It’s three in the morning.”

“Why aren’t you sleeping yet?”

“You know I don’t need sleep.”

You roll your eyes at him, if he even saw it. “Powered down mode. Whatever the equivalent is.”

Ramattra sighs wistfully, absent-mindedly nuzzling into your hair.

“I was going to, but I was enchanted by your sleeping visage. You look adorable with your eyes closed, with not a worry in the world… just how I like it. I meant to kiss you then go to ‘sleep’ but you mewled when I kissed you and… I couldn’t stop.”

“Clearly,” you giggle, when he ‘sniffs’ your cheek. He turns your face towards his and places his mouth against yours, and you share a gentle, sensual kiss.

You felt so soft and delicate when he had his hand behind your head like this, pressing into his kiss. You felt his omnic tongue prod at your lips, asking for entry. You opened obligingly, letting him explore your mouth and play with your tongue. It felt sweet, if a little heated. He hums, sending minute vibrations through your mouth and cheeks that felt quite pleasant. You pull back to take a breath, but Ramattra chases you, pushing his tongue back into you hungrily. You let him drink your breaths, pressing his body against you that felt desperate and needy.

He let you part after the second kiss, though he still had his hand on your cheek possessively. Your breaths were hot and you felt sensuous, even as your eyelids drooped. You tucked your head under his chin and you were about to ask him to come to sleep with you, when something catches your eye, outside the window.

“Wait, Ram… what’s that?”

Beyond the parted curtains, you see streaks of light start coming down from the sky. One at a time, then more follow. Ramattra sits up straight, looking at them.

“A meteor shower.” He announces, turning to you. “Do you want to see it?”

“Oh yes,” you respond, trying to force yourself to wake up more as you spin in bed and get into your slippers.

The air outside is cold when you step onto the balcony. You’re whipped by brisk winds that blow your hair up and you start to shudder. Wordlessly, Ramattra places his scarf over your shoulder, wrapping the ends around you like a blanket, and guides you towards the little bench. He sits with a soft ker-chunk, and pulls you into his lap. You shift until you’re comfortable, your legs hanging off to the side of his and watch the sky.

You came at a good time. The meteors were plentiful now, shooting across the sky and disappearing like a rain of light. It twinkles in your eyes, and with his scarf, now most of your body felt warm except your face. Your hand wanders until it finds his, and you absent-mindedly grasp his, your fingers interlocking with his mechanical ones.

“The sky’s so clear here.” You say, just above a whisper. He nods, his hair brushing against yours.

“It is. It is the privilege us omnics have… not having to rely on so many things that pollute our skies. Food. An excessive amount of light. I… enjoy the stars.”

The skies twinkle.

“... I like this,” Ramattra hums, “the quiet nights are nice, here. I don’t have anything planned out in the near future. Just more planning, and resting.”

He squeezes your hand.

“More time with you.”

When you turn to him, he was already looking at you. It felt natural to lean into his kiss even as the meteor shower continues.

You’re not sure how long you stayed on the balcony. It could be somewhere from a few minutes to half an hour. After the meteor shower ended and the stars took back their stage in the night sky, neither you or Ramattra had the urge to move from your position. The both of you silently looked up at the stars. Ramattra always got into an inquisitive, thoughtful mood when he looked at the stars like this. Maybe he was remembering his brother from the monastery. He still rubbed the back of your hand from time to time, interrupted by pecks to the top of your head.

It was easy to let your mind drift and your eyelids flutter, quietly slipping back into slumber.

…

It would be dawn, soon. And Ramattra hasn’t had any ‘shut-eye’. Not that he needed to, but…

Your arms have gone slack, and your head was slumped to the side. He leaned his head forward to look at your face, pulling your hair back. Just as he thought, you were already in deep sleep.

He pressed his mouth to your temples. It was hard not to, he was addicted to kissing you.

“Let’s go back inside, dear,” he whispers, carrying you with his hand under your neck and knees, bringing you back to the bed.

#ramattra #overwatch #sighs #i havent been able to write longform for him bc i keep being too #Distracted by thoughts of him to write one thing at a time #jsflfjdf #he’d treat me right #orange #aka writing

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waksworldrebooted · 1 year ago

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THE FULL MOTORCITY PITCH BIBLE GOT LEAKED

It’s been a while since I posted anything Motorcity related but here we are with this thing: the full unedited extended Pitch Bible from Chris P.

Special thanks to The Media Busters for finding this:

Motorcity: Series Bible (Revised 2/15/11)

Logline: In the future, charismatic tyrant, Abraham Kane, is taking over Detroit, transforming it block-by-block into his insidious city of tomorrow: KaneCo Deluxe. But one thing stands in his way: the Burners! Led by the charming and impulsive daredevil, Mike Chilton, this band of hot-rod wielding rebels fights to protect Motorcity - the last oasis of freedom - from the power-hungry Kane and his endless army of technological terrors. Motorcity is a high-octane animated action-comedy that celebrates freedom and independence with cool cars, great action, and dynamic heroes who stand up for what they believe in.

Motorcity: Live Fast. Live Free.

Remember the feeling you got when you first had the chance to drive? The power? The freedom? That’s what Motorcity is all about. It’s a high-octane animated thrill ride, pitting futuristic cars against terrifying robot technology, rival hot rod gangs and the nefarious power-hungry villains lurking in their own backyard!It’s the story of Mike Chilton, a teenage hero, and his struggle to prevent the evil Abraham Kane from achieving the complete and total domination of his hometown – Detroit. It’s a show for people who love to drive or can’t wait until they can.

The Situation

THE CONFLICT: Motorcity is the story of the BATTLE FOR DETROIT!

Detroit has been split into two separate sections of the same city: KaneCo Deluxe, a floating city of the future owned by evil industrialist, Kane, where freedom and cars are abolished, and Motorcity, a vibrant underground community built within the bones of old Detroit where people are free to live as they please. Kane desperately wants control of Detroit- wielding power over KaneCo Deluxe isn’t enough. He needs to wipe out the last patch of resistance and claim Motorcity as his own to complete his vision.

OUR HEROES: Mike Chilton and his band of rebels, The Burners.

THEIR MISSION: To protect Motorcity, the last oasis of freedom, from the evil reach of Abraham Kane, a power-hungry tyrant hell-bent on taking over all of Detroit so he can transform it into his insidious city of the future – KaneCo Deluxe.

Mike and The Burners are charming rebels that share a lot in common with the original “Champions of Justice”: Robin Hood and His Merry Men. To put it simply:

Mike = Robin Hood

The Burners = Merry Men

Our heroes hide out in Motorcity (Sherwood Forest), devising plans to take down Kane (Sheriff Of Nottingham) and bring freedom to the people of Motorcity (Nottingham).

Julie (a Burner with a secret: she’s Kane’s daughter) = Maid Marian (she straddles the worlds of Deluxe and Motorcity

The Feel and Tone

Action! Freedom! Speed! FUN!

When you strip it all down, Motorcity is about the joy of racing around in tricked-out cars, fighting robots, and racing your rivals. It’s FUN! Dang it! And we never want to lose sight of that.

Mike has the ability to look a life and death situation in the eye and find the fun in it. Every day is a high stakes battle, but Mike’s impulsive approach to any problem is what makes him unique. It’s not that he doesn’t take his fight with Kane seriously – It’s the heat-of-the-moment, seat-of-his-pants way he that makes him Mike!Get ready for an eight-cylinder action-comedy road trip through the fast lane of futuristic sci-fi...

The World

KaneCo Deluxe

Perfect, but boring. Kane’s futuristic metropolis is cold and uninviting. The gray and white shell envelops the “engine” of the old city underneath. It’s the veneer that hides the multiple cables, wires, pipes and guts encapsulated in Motorcity that power all of Detroit. Floating “living room” pods carry the Deluxe citizens from apartment husks to factory complexes to food distribution centers and back. The pods recharge as they dock. They only go where the computer sends them. There are no sidewalks. There is no freedom. No one decides where and when to go – they just do as they’re told.

The KaneCo Deluxe citizens all work for KaneCo - and if they question Kane’s methods, they don’t dare say anything about it for fear of their safety. As long as they do what the great leader, Abraham Kane, says, there won’t be any trouble. This includes participating in the war effort against Motorcity and the Burners – who, according to Kane, want nothing but to take away their safety and replace it with chaos and anarchy!

Motorcity

Underneath the sprawling megacity of Deluxe is a vibrant community of freedom-loving farmers, engineers, artists, mechanics and warriors. Although they live underground, these Motorcitizens are happy and free. This underground world is colorful and organic – a meld of nature and technology. A harmonious blend of old and new. Mike and the Burners use the immense power lines and data cables as roads to traverse the distances of Motorcity, as well as the remnants of the old highways and roads that haven’t been destroyed by Kane.The people of Motorcity are frequently under attack by KaneCo’s forces. Kane often sends his seek-and-destroy robots – he calls them his Safe-T-Bots – to eradicate enclaves of humanity nestled within the city’s inner workings. Some Motorcity citizens respond by building up highly defensible fortress dwellings to protect their beloved city. While some hide or stay mobile, there others who rise up and fight to protect what they’ve built for themselves down there. They don’t have to play by Kane’s rules and they want to keep it that way. Motorcity is a nurturing oasis for creativity, danger and fun.

Mike is the leader of the Burners – the primary force of resistance against Kane – but there are other gangs and groups in Motorcity. They are mostly unorganized and fight each other more often than they pose a threat against Kane. Mike and the Burners regularly go on scavenging expeditions to the oldest reaches under the city to find the parts needed to build and maintain their vehicles. They also raid Kane’s power plants and technical facilities buried under the city for advanced electronics and other futuristic tech. Kane’s biggest weakness is that his enemy lives in his own basement. They can attack his soft underbelly without warning.This is a constant source of frustration and anger for Kane!

The mechanics of KaneCo Deluxe and Motorcity:

KaneCo Deluxe is a giant supercity – about 175 miles across. Good thing the Burners’ cars can drive so fast! 500mph gets you around Motorcity quickly, especially with no rush hour...The pods up above travel just as fast - but no one ever gets within 10 miles of the city’s border. Since no one can control a pod, no citizen has ever even been close. And just in case someone tries, there’s a force field trapping everyone in. The view from the edge of town is completely obscured by a giant holo-projection of a depressed wasteland. This is what Kane has fooled the people into believing. There’s nothing worth it out there. Everything worth having is within the walls of KaneCo Deluxe. There’s a lot of danger out there and we need to protect our borders! All utility and power systems that run KaneCo Deluxe are buried in Motorcity. The Burners and other pockets of Motorcity dwellers draw what power they need from these massive generators. The immense tubes that provide energy, water, ventilation, communication and sewage are used by the Burners as a network of tunnels and highways to travel underground - as well as provide access to the maintenance hatches needed to sustain KaneCo Deluxe.The Burners have figured out ways to hack into these maintenance systems to not only get in and out of Motorcity, but to throw Kane off their scent as well. When Security Bots are on their tail, the paths of the massive tubes can be switched – just like the switches of old fashioned train tracks. The Burners know these tubes and tunnels better than anyone and Mike has learned to be unpredictable – to go left when it’s logical to go right. The best way to outwit a robot is to think like a human!

The Characters

Mike Chilton

(bravery, guts)

AFFILIATION: Burner

TITLE: Leader - he’s the man in charge of the Burners, and the man behind the entire resistance against Kane. He’s got a tough challenge ahead – both in fighting Kane, and managing the unique personalities of his team.

IS: a cool, quick-witted, funny, gutsy, impulsive 17-year-old who generally has things under control and doesn’t take much seriously (except for, of course, his mission to take down Kane). Mike never does things the easy way – he does them the fun way! That means leaping BEFORE looking, jumping into the water without testing the temperature.

Mike is naturally gifted. He doesn’t have to try to be exceptionally good, he just is. He is the guy who doesn’t care about winning the trophy, but he has a closet full of them. This effortless skill is what attracted Kane’s attention and what makes him such a tough opponent.

STRENGTH: His daredevil spirit – it usually gets him out of trouble.

WEAKNESS: His daredevil spirit – it usually gets him into trouble.

WANTS: speed and adventure. New experiences. And most of all... Freedom! For everyone! That means saving his people – the citizens of Motorcity. Mike wants to keep Motorcity out of Kane’s clutches so they don’t become drones to the Deluxian way of life and lose their precious freedom, or even worse, be destroyed if they refuse to submit. The Burners are the people’s only hope, and Mike isn’t going to rest until Motorcity is truly free.DOES NOT WANT: BOREDOM! Complacency! Mike likes to DO. Why waste time talking about it when he could be done before the others stop flapping their gums? IF HE WAS A WEAPON, HE’D BE: a machine gun

FAMILY: None known

RELATIONSHIPS:

MIKE AND KANE: Mike used to be a cadet in Kane’s Ultra-Elite Forces Training Academy - he believed in KaneCo Deluxe and felt it was his duty to protect the people. Mike was the top of his class, tackling every challenge or fight with reckless abandon – none of the other cadets had the courage, the guts or the skill to keep up with him. Kane saw something special in Mike and took him under his wing. He had BIG PLANS for our boy. But when Mike discovered what Kane was really up to (you know, EVIL), he knew he had to break rank and take a stand. Both Mike and Kane feel BETRAYED by one another, which makes their struggle for KaneCo Deluxe and Motorcity extremely personal.

MIKE AND CHUCK: They’re best buds. They’re opposites, but they need each other. They have each other’s back – no matter what...

MIKE AND JULIE: They’re very close, but not that close. There’s nothing romantic going on between them – at least not yet...Mike doesn’t show his vulnerable side too often, but when he does, it’s almost always with Julie. He confides in her. Fears, worries, hopes and dreams.

MIKE AND JACOB: Pupil and teacher to a degree. Jacob offers up sage advice, and Mike does his best to follow it.

MIKE AND THE BURNERS: They’re a makeshift family and oil is thicker than blood. Mike would do anything to protect his team and vice-versa.

RIDE: Mutt – a retrofitted 70’s Muscle-Car with four turbine tri-pulsor engines, a slew of energy weapons, a grip of gadgets and a 21st century chopper hidden between the exhaust pipes!

WEAPONS OF CHOICE: Guts. Oh, and also a SKULL-HEADED DUAL-BLADED SPARK STAFF (think laser-sword meets flaming chainsaw!)

Chuck

(brains)

AFFILIATION: Burner

ROLE: Tech Guru / Mike’s co-pilot

IS: Mike’s best friend and sidekick, as well as an automobile aficionado – he knows everything about every car ever made ever- schematics, engine specs, performance ratings, etc. However, he is also terrified of the “speed” and “danger” associated with them. (Come to think of it, we never see him driving...) He reluctantly rides shotgun with Mike on most missions, even though he’d much rather avoid conflict altogether.

STRENGTH: Thanks to his big ol’ brain, Chuck can always find an escape route or a solution to a technical problem in a pinch. He performs well under stress and terror, even though he hates it. Although he's usually terrified of the situation Mike has put him in, he is incredibly loyal and will never bail on him. Chuck is also constantly improving the Burners’ computer and security systems.

WEAKNESS: AAAAAAHH! Easily scared. Overly-cautious. Anal retentive. Always fiddling with the computer and security systems!WANTS: To survive driving around with Mike. To stay home and play “Laser Swords” on his computer. To win Claire’s heart. And secretly – to be more brave.

DOES NOT WANT: To man the gunner controls (but he will if he has to!). To “go in for a closer look.” To go skydiving.

IF HE WERE A WEAPON, HE’D BE: a force field

SECRET: He doesn’t know how to drive! As much as Chuck loves cars, he’s just too scared to get behind the wheel. He’s able to keep the gang fooled by telling them he refuses to drive anything other than a Remote Control Car until he finishes building his dream car - the fastest, sleekest, most high-performance automotive machine the world has ever known. Of course, building the ultimate hot-rod will take years. And years. And years...

FAMILY: Chuck’s parents live in KaneCo Deluxe. They have no idea that Chuck is a Burner. They think he’s a Hover Repulsor Interface Technician at KaneCo.

RELATIONSHIPS:

CHUCK AND MIKE: They’re best buds. Chuck would do anything for him.

CHUCK AND DUTCH: Chuck engineers cars. Dutch builds cars and repairs them. Chuck is very precise and anal-ytical – a perfectionist. Dutch is not – he’s an artist and creates on the fly. When these guys have to collaborate, things get a little tense.

CHUCK AND CLAIRE: Chuck has a BIG crush on Claire. Claire thinks Chuck is G-ROSS.

CHUCK AND TEXAS: Oil and water. Legolas and Gimli. Nothing in common, except for their Burner patch and friendship with Mike – who often bridges the gap between them.

RIDE: “Umm... it’s in the shop.”

WEAPONS/SKILLS: Master Hacker. High-Tech Slingshot. Advanced trigonometry

Julie

(heart)

AFFILIATION: Burner

ROLE: Intel-Gatherer / Gal on the Inside / Illusionist / Moral Conscience

IS: a bright, empathetic girl who sees good in even the worst people. She’s less quick to shoot than Mike, but when she does, she’s accurate and lethal. Julie is a master of stealth, infiltration, and espionage. She’s both feminine and tomboyish, has a smart, sarcastic sense of humor, and is quick on her feet – she has to be, because she leads a secret double life...

EARTH-SHATTERING SECRET: Julie is Kane’s daughter – and NONE of The Burners know. She tells them she is able to gather intel on Kane’s nefarious plots because she’s a “KaneCo Intern.” And, of course, Kane has no idea that Julie is hanging out with those ne’er-do-well Burners.

STRENGTHS: Chameleon-like ability to blend into any environment. She has the rare gift of being accepted into Deluxian society and the Burner World. She can access the highest levels of KaneCo headquarters without breaking a sweat. She also knows her way around a hologram projector – she uses her illusions and decoys to evade capture when she’s running with the Burners. Julie also possesses a great moral compass and lets the gang know when they’ve gone too far.

WEAKNESS: Her secret identity. Can’t let her father know she’s a Burner, and can’t let the Burners know she’s Kane’s daughter.

WANTS: Harmony. She also wants her father to realize that what he’s doing is wrong. She wants to maintain her relationship with her father AND her affiliation with the Burners – a delicate balancing act.

DOES NOT WANT: anyone to get hurt.

WORRIES THAT: the other Burners are having fun without her when she’s up in KaneCo Deluxe.

IF SHE WERE A WEAPON, SHE’D BE: a sniper rifle

FAMILY: Kane is her father. Her mother passed away when Julie was an infant.

RELATIONSHIPS:

JULIE AND KANE: Kane loves his precious, little girl and would do anything to keep her safe. He wants to protect her from everything – which is one of the main reasons he built KaneCo Deluxe in the first place.

Julie still believes there’s good in Kane and doesn’t want any serious harm to come to him. What he’s doing may be evil, but she still thinks he’ll come around in the end. But until that day, she has to do what she can to help the people.

JULIE AND CLAIRE: BFFs since kindergarten. These days Julie sometimes has trouble relating to Claire’s Deluxian lifestyle. But Julie uses her old friend as a sounding board for everything she can’t tell the Burners about.

RIDE: Nine Lives -A modified mid 21st century police cruiser. Her ride can produce decoy hologram-cars to throw pursuers off her trail, cloak to near invisibility, and deploy smoke screens, oils slicks and electromagnetic pulse mines. Also has a high precision Sniper Beam under the hood.

SKILLS AND WEAPONS: Espionage. Natural charm. Can manipulate Tooley with ease. Able to keep the Burners focused on the mission at hand. Extensive knowledge of flash grenades, smoke bombs, and other electro-explosives.

Texas

(Muscle)

AFFILIATION: Burner ROLE: Texas handles anything that involves exploding, crashing, or smashing things with his head.

IS: Slightly stupid. Somewhat lovable. And REALLY violent! Powder keg. Won't think twice about punching anything. Dedicated to the team and be the first to the battlefront when a fight breaks out. He is not a voice of dissent. He's gung-ho. He's a cheerleader. He's raring to go! Hell yeah!

SECRET: Really wants to be leader of the Burners. No… believes he WILL BE leader of the Burners!

STRENGTH: Strength

WEAKNESS: Brain. Ego. Self-confidence bordering on delusion. Likes to brag about qualities he does not possess but thinks he does. WANTS: To move fast and smash stuff. To be Mike. But unlike Mike, Texas wants to be recognized for his awesomeness.

DOEST NOT WANT: To wait. To solve problems by “talking it over.” And big words!

IF HE WERE A WEAPON, HE’D BE: Trick question! Texas IS a weapon!

FAMILY: His parents live in Motorcity, where Texas was born and raised. His father plays the harp. His mother is a Professor of Women’s Literature.

RELATIONSHIPS:

MIKE AND TEXAS: Hero and understudy. Mike doesn’t know it, but Texas wants to be him.

TEXAS AND CHUCK: Oil and water. Muscle and smarts. Polar opposites.

TEXAS AND DUTCH: Fire and gasoline. Any dumb idea Texas has is always encouraged by Dutch.

RIDE: TEXAS - Not unlike George Forman, Texas has named his car after himself – because it is clearly the best name for anything awesome. Cobbled from the best late 20th century Italian sports cars, TEXAS is equipped with massive air-powered battering pistons, ram plates and hydro drills. Relies on physical weapons such as his roof-mounted grappling hook and the battering ram which is revealed by splitting open his front grille.

WEAPONS OF CHOICE: Laser nunchucks. Strong-ness. Massive neck!

Dutch

(creativity)

AFFILIATION: Burner

ROLE: Guerilla artist and mechanic

IS: the Burner’s creative spark. Unable to take the oppression of KaneCo Deluxe, he ran away to Motorcity to make art in peace. Now he fights against Kane’s forces to keep from losing his newfound freedom. Dutch is wary of Deluxe – he’s glad to have escaped and hates going back, even to fight Kane. He’s mistrustful of others - until he gets to know you; then he has your back for life.

STRENGTH: Ingenuity. Ability to make something out of nothing. First-rate mechanic. Makes the Burners and their cars LOOK GOOD too.

WEAKNESS: Dutch tends to be an island. That’s how he got his name – because he goes it ALONE. But Dutch can’t resist getting caught up with the Burners. It’s too much fun and he gets to build all sorts of crazy stuff. Sometimes he cares a little too much about his art. Dutch doesn’t take criticism well, so do NOT criticize his work or tell him how to do his job. Just don’t. Trust me.

WANTS: To be free to create and express himself in peace

DOES NOT WANT: To hear what you think about his art.

IF HE WERE A WEAPON, HE’D BE: A spring-loaded bear trap

FAMILY: His parents live on surface but they don’t keep in contact. They totally buy into the KaneCo lifestyle and think their son is a criminal.

RELATIONSHIPS:

DUTCH AND CHUCK – Chuck works on the cars’ circuitry and computer parts. Dutch focuses on the physical workings. Chuck is an anal-retentive nerd who wants everything done a certain way. Dutch can’t stand those kind of restrictions. He’s going to do it his way or no way at all. This causes friction. A lot of it.

DUTCH AND TEXAS – Dutch is a bit of a prankster and is constantly egging Texas on to do really dumb things (like talk to hot girls, lick a battery, chew on tinfoil, or super-glue his hat to his head).

DUTCH AND JULIE – She’s cool, but he doesn’t understand why she can’t just give up her meaningless life in KaneCo Deluxe and live in Motorcity full-time like the rest of them. It gives him doubts as to her true intentions.

DUTCH AND CLAIRE – People like her are EXACTLY why he left that Deluxian wasteland in the first place. Yechhh!

RIDE: The Scorpion Sting - A mid 21st century hot rod that’s in a constant state of modification. He’s switching the color and welding new things onto it every episode. The speakers incorporated into the Scorpion’s body transform into his “SONIC SPITTER,” that can shatter armor plating with ear-splitting sound waves. Dutch’s car also carries

ROTH – a multi-functional robot who helps with the car mods and field repairs.

SKILLS AND WEAPONS: McGuyver-esque building talent. In charge of TRAPS. Wields a weaponized SOCKET WRENCH, which he has modified to serve as a mace.

The "Sonic Spitter's" description was not given unfortunately

Jacob

(wisdom)

AFFILIATION: Burner

ROLE: Advisor, chef, and crazy old uncle type

IS: a hippie type in his mid-60’s and Kane’s former partner (a relationship that ended when Kane got all megalomaniacal and what-not). Jacob can’t quite keep up with all these young whippersnappers, so he’s taken on a more advisory role in the group: cooking them organic meals instead of the processed food bars they serve in Deluxe, counseling them on missions, and helping them out however he can. But don’t underestimate him just because he’s old and likes mung bean stew – he’s still got some driving left in him! And he’s chock full of scientific and technological knowledge, too, if you can sift through all of the organic food talk.

STRENGTHS: Cooking (according to him), experience, and knowledge of Kane. And a pretty dang good helicopter pilot and great when you need a tow.

WEAKNESS: Cooking (according to Burners). His back. The gout. Enlarged prostate. He’s not as young as he used to be…

WANTS: To see a truly free and safe Detroit, the way he and Kane envisioned it before Kane went off the deep end.

DOES NOT WANT: The music up too loud. New technology. To be forced to live in Kane’s idea of Detroit.

IF HE WERE A WEAPON, HE’D BE: a musket

RELATIONSHIPS:

JACOB AND KANE – Jacob and Kane worked together in the past. In fact, they co-founded KaneCo, hoping to create a safer, more peaceful world. But they had a falling out about how to use the technology they created. Kane turned on Jacob, ultimately labeling him an enemy of the state. They’re like Obi-Wan and Darth Vader. Magneto and Dr. X. One stayed righteous as the other spiraled down a dark path.

JACOB AND MIKE – Yoda and Luke. The man who has seen it all, and the up-and-comer with tremendous potential and a lot to learn.

RIDE: The ’57 Sasquatch - A 20th century chop top, jacked up on monster truck tires with a modified tow truck bed for a rear end.

WEAPONS OF CHOICE: Garden hoe. Compost. Juicer. Wisdom. Organic mung beans.

Claire

AFFILIATION: Deluxian

SERIES ROLE: Represents the average Deluxian youth

IS: Julie’s “valley-girl” best friend and confidant. Claire serves as a sounding board for Julie to discuss the problems she can’t discuss with the Burners – primarily, her secret life as Kane’s daughter.

STRENGTH: The amount of KaneCoins in her bank account, shopping prowess and super-hotness.

WEAKNESS: She’s obnoxiously prissy, is grossed out by the Burners and is pretty useless unless you need someone to go to the mall with.

WANTS: To live her nice KaneCo Deluxe life surrounded by her KaneCo products without having to suffer the antics of those dirtbag Burners Julie insists on hanging out with!

DOES NOT WANT: To be stuck in Motorcity for any length of time. Especially with that creepy Chuck!

FAMILY: Daughter of prominent KaneCo executive.

RELATIONSHIPS:

CLAIRE AND JULIE – Best friends. Claire is the only person who knows Julie is leading a double life as Kane’s daughter and a Burner. Even though she doesn’t approved of these new friends Julie has and the cause they fight for, she goes along to support her friend- Julie usually has a pretty good sense of what is right. She may not like the Burners, but she’s a true and loyal friend to Julie, no matter what.

CLAIRE AND CHUCK – Chuck is into her…she does NOT feel the same.

CLAIRE AND THE BURNERS – She only hangs out down there because of Julie. They are gross and smelly and hate everything good, like KaneCo products! She doesn’t see what Julie sees in them…and she hopes it’s just a phase.

CLAIRE AND KANE – She’s a KaneCo fangirl and Kane loves her. She’s just the kind of friend and role model that his daughter needs. Claire only WISHES she could be Kane’s daughter. Julie is TOTALLY LUCKY!

RIDE: her bedroom - a standard KaneCo living pod.

SKILLS AND WEAPONS: KaneCo credit. Consuming. Good use of rouge.

Abraham Kane

AFFILIATION: KaneCo

ROLE: Founder and CEO of KaneCo. Homicidal tyrant.

IS: An evil industrialist and megalomaniacal madman hellbent on capturing all of Detroit. Which means getting rid of the entire Motorcity population living in the bowels of his precious Deluxe. Which means WIPING THEM ALL OUT. And to add insult to injury, he has fun being evil.

STRENGTHS: Charisma. Unlimited resources. Technological Terrors. Master propagandist. Complete lack of remorse.

WEAKNESSES: Puts all of his faith in his technology. Consumed with wiping out the Burners and everyone in Motorcity.

WANTS: To get rid of those filthy Burners. And control-control-control. Kane’s got big plans for KaneCo Deluxe, and they don’t involve anyone living underneath it and gumming up the works. He won’t rest until everything with a pulse is removed from Motorcity and it is his to further his vision of complete domination.

DOES NOT WANT: Anyone to have fun outside of the predetermined box. Anyone living beneath KaneCo Deluxe. Anyone joining the Burners. And most importantly – to let anyone else have control of anything.

IF HE WERE A HISTORICAL FIGURE, HE’D BE: Vlad the Impaler. With just a hint of Joseph Stalin.

FAMILY: Julie is his daughter. His wife died a long time ago.

RELATIONSHIPS:

KANE AND MIKE: Mortal enemies. Were once like father and son. Now each sees the other as a backstabbing traitor who broke his heart. He wants vengeance against Mike at all costs! No one betrays Abraham Kane!

KANE AND JULIE: Believe it or not, Kane does love his daughter. And at one point in time, she was the whole reason he started KaneCo Deluxe. But nowadays his reasons are much more nefarious, and Julie clings to the hope that she can restore her father’s humanity some day. Kane sees Julie as a child, a fragile egg that needs protecting. And protecting means an ivory tower and isolation, not a father’s love. Their relationship is cold. Kane doesn’t even bother to know Julie and the bright and caring young woman she’s become. He keeps her at arms length at all times.

KANE AND JACOB: Co-founders of KaneCo. Were once like brothers. Then Jacob began to see Kane as a despotic maniac with no moral compass, and Kane began to see Jacob as a naïve idealist who has no idea what it takes to run a corporation.

KANE AND TOOLEY: Tooley may be an imbecile, but he possesses one quality that is very important to Kane – loyalty.

RIDE: He would never get near a car, but sometimes grabs the controls of whatever technological death machine he pits against the Burners.

WEAPONS OF CHOICE: Safe-T-Bots and other Robots. Slaughter Pods. Doom Drones. Threats and intimidation. Eventually, the “Teenage Assassin.”

Tooley

AFFILIATION: KaneCo

ROLE: Lackey and mindless thug. Think Barney Fife, but bigger and dumber. Picture Gilligan if he could beat you up.

IS: a lovable goon and uber-KaneCo fanboy who has earned his spot at Kane’s side by being unwaveringly loyal. He has totally bought into the KaneCo way of life and he’ll do whatever Kane says without ever being a threat to Kane’s power…except for when he tries to impress his hero and his plans go horribly awry. Or when he’s watching cartoons on the job and the Burners sneak past him. Or when the Burners outwit him and lock him in a closet. Or when he tells Julie anything she wants to know and gives away Kane’s secret plans. You get the picture.

STRENGTH: Brute strength. Has seen every episode of the “Robot Walrus”.

WEAKNESS: He’s even dumber than Texas. Easily manipulated, especially by Julie. Usually watching “Robot Walrus” when he’s supposed to be working. WANTS: To please Kane and to make Julie his ladyfriend for life.

RELATIONSHIPS:

TOOLEY AND KANE – Tooley is Kane’s obedient lackey. Kane knows he’s dumb, but unlike Mike Chilton, he’s LOYAL. Tooley LOVES Kane and wants to be just like him, but unfortunately lacks any of Kane’s skills.

TOOLEY AND JULIE – Their names rhyme! That means they’re meant to be, right? That’s what Tooley thinks. If it were up to him, they’d have a beautiful KaneCo wedding and honeymoon right there in beautiful downtown KaneCo Deluxe and have lots of babies at the KaneCo Maternal and Neo-Natal Complex. Unfortunately for him, Julie’s not buying it.

TOOLEY AND THE BURNERS – Tooley is to the Burners what Sergeant Shultz was to Hogan’s Heroes. He’s incompetent and that’s what allows them to infiltrate KaneCo as often as they do.

TOOLEY AND “TEENAGE ASSASSIN” – Tooley can’t see why Kane needs this tool—he’s already got a TOOLEY! He resents the need for extra muscle…especially muscle with brain. Teenage Assassin can’t believe Kane keeps an imbecile like Tooley around. Needless to say, they don’t get along.

RIDE: a standard KaneCo security pod.

WEAPONS OF CHOICE: Fists. Futuristic police baton

Gabriel ("Teenage Assassin")

AFFILIATION: KaneCo ROLE: Kane’s new Number One IS: Terrifying.

STRENGTH: He’s like a cold, calculating version of Mike. All skill, no humor.

WEAKNESS: None known WANTS: To destroy Mike Chilton. To please Kane.

DOES NOT WANT: To Lose.

IF HE WERE A WEAPON, HE’D BE: one of those new state-of-the-art automatic rifles that can shoot around corners.

FAMILY: Unknown

RELATIONSHIPS: Unknown (but here’s a Top Secret tidbit: he used to know Mike)

RIDE: a modified, weaponized KaneCo security pod.

WEAPONS OF CHOICE: Force field gauntlets. Anything else that gets the job done.

Duke of Detroit

AFFILIATION: Himself

ROLE: Scoundrel. Rogue boss.

IS: a shadowy, charming, manipulative figure based in the Deep Reaches of Motorcity who has a hand in anything and everything he finds useful. Those that know of the Duke know he’s not a dude to be taken lightly – or dealt with at all! A deal with the Duke usually costs a lot more than you bargain for. There’s probably a great story behind his mouth full of metal teeth, but he’s not telling.

STRENGTH: finding weak spots. Manipulation. Coercion. Political genius. Making offers you can’t refuse. Street smarts, especially in the world of Motorcity.

WEAKNESS: Vain. Addicted to material wealth. Wouldn’t hesitate to stab his own mother in the back.

WANTS: Free reign over Motorcity. Constant entertainment, usually at the expense of others.

DOES NOT WANT: Conflict with Kane – that would endanger the good thing he’s got going!

IF HE WERE A WEAPON, HE’D BE: a tommy gun

FAMILY: Unknown

RELATIONSHIPS:

THE DUKE AND THE BURNERS: Mike and the gang know better than to trust the Duke, but sometimes they have no choice. The Duke has clout, whether you like it or not.

THE DUKE AND MOTORCITY: He’s friendly to civilians until it’s time to pay what you owe. Then the creepy metal smile disappears. The Duke keeps people in line by offering them sadistic pay-per-view style combat events, which he stages in his own Motorcity stadium.

THE DUKE AND KANE: Mutual understanding. They sometimes even work with each other when there’s something in it for both of them. A war between them would seriously threaten their respective empires.

RIDE: An early 20th century Bentley tricked out with gangster flare and armed to the gills.

WEAPONS OF CHOICE: Spiked baseball bats. And a mouth full of metal teeth.

Q&A

WHO/WHAT IS MIKE PROTECTING?

Mike and the Burners are all that stands between Kane and complete domination of Detroit. The Burners are defenders of Motorcity, and they’ll fight to the bitter end to keep Kane from getting his clutches on this last remaining bastion of freedom.

Ultimately, Mike is protecting people’s freedom. The freedom to live their lives the way they see fit.

WHY DOES KANE WANT DETROIT SO BAD?

Because it will give him POWER. Power to create his city. Not the city that the people want, but the city that they need.

Power to protect himself. To control. To crush those who would dare betray him.

Kane grew up in poverty in old Detroit. Surrounded by crime and decay. He never felt safe.

Working on the automobile assembly lines saved him from the streets. It gave him order and structure when everything else in his life was chaotic. Much like Henry Ford, the assembly-line mentality made a huge, and not altogether positive, impact on his thinking. He started seeing people as parts of a vast machine, not free-thinking souls. He determined excessive freedom and free choice was what was ruining Detroit. And he began to dream about what Detroit could be if he was in charge…

We like to think of Kane as sort of an anti-Bruce Wayne. Both were scarred at a young age by the ills of their cities. Both passionately dedicated their lives to making their cities a better place. And both went a little overboard: One going the hero route, dressing up as a Bat to clean up the streets. One opting for the dictator tract, ruthlessly acquiring power and subduing opposition to forge his “better world”.

IF KANE FAILS TO TAKE OVER DETROIT, WHAT DOES HE LOSE?

Obviously power. Deep down, Kane is afraid of being that powerless kid on the street. He NEVER wants to return to his old life.

Which is why Kane can’t allow the citizens to control their own lives. In his mind, freedom is just another word for everything to lose. Freedom leads to chaos, collapse, and ruin – just like in Old Detroit. He needs the power to control everything, make all the decisions, and ensure people dictate their lives by his singular vision.

And nothing poses a bigger threat to his power than the existence of Motorcity. If he fails to conquer that subterranean, freedom flaunting rat-hole, the roots of liberty could take hold and spread like noxious weeds through his precious Deluxe. Not to mention, those scumbag Burners will continue attacking Kane’s Deluxian tree at its roots, dismantling the future city’s underground power stations and infrastructure.

WHAT DO PEOPLE IN MOTORCITY FEEL ABOUT MIKE AND THE BURNERS?

Most citizens view Mike and The Burners as heroes. But there are some who see them as punk delinquents whose Kane-agitating antics bring unnecessary hardship on their neighborhoods.

Motorcity is also home to other Revolutionaries; rivals who believe the Burners are getting in the way of their plans. Or think Mike’s tactics are too soft – they are particularly disturbed by the fact that he considers the well–being of Deluxians when crafting plots to stop Kane.

WHAT DO DELUXIANS FEEL ABOUT MIKE AND THE BURNERS? WHAT DO THEY FEEL ABOUT KANE?

Though most of the people in KaneCo Deluxe are not truly happy with what Kane has provided, they don’t dare say so. Most of them fall in line and accept things the way they are. Anyone who sympathizes with the Burners does so privately, unless they have a death wish. And on the opposite side of the issue are a few who, like Claire, seem to have been duped by Kane’s promises and slick presentation.

WHAT DO PEOPLE IN MOTORCITY FEEL ABOUT KANE?

The consensus in Motorcity is that Abraham Kane is a real *%$#!

But as Motorcity isn’t exclusively populated by the morally upright, there are some who would be more than happy to sell-out to Kane for special privileges or payment.

HOW WILL WE SHOW THAT LIFE IS GOOD FOR DELUXIANS?

Citizens of KaneCo Deluxe receive three square meals a day, state of the art living quarters, and a steady job that’s guaranteed not to be outsourced. There’s no traffic. No crime. No poverty. What’s not to like?!

HOW WILL WE SHOW THAT LIFE IS BAD FOR DELUXIANS?

The three square meals are pre-selected by KaneCo, and usually consist of unappetizing fare like “throat cubes”. The living quarters are more like drab prison cells. And the jobs are, well… pretty much slavery. Workers are expected to report to work whenever the KANECO CHIME is heard. (Much like a prison siren or the school bell between periods.) Everything is scheduled. Everything is controlled. You don’t have a say.

WHAT OTHER “NON-TOOLEY” ALLIES DOES KANE HAVE ON HIS TEAM?

Kane is constantly surrounded by henchmen and hangers-on, some of whom have their own secret agendas in mind:

There’s a “Dutiful Sycophant” who laughs at his jokes and kisses his butt, but is secretly vying to take him down and seize control of Deluxe. A deadly, ubertalented “Teenage Assassin” who seems even more driven than Kane to wipe out Mike and The Burners. And we’ll introduce others as our season progresses…

ANY ONE ELSE INTERESTED IN “THE BATTLE FOR DETROIT”?

There are some unsavory characters lurking in the bowels of the city, but none more devilish than the DUKE OF DETROIT. A crime-boss of sorts, his only interest in the Battle For Detroit is figuring out how he can spin it to his advantage. The Duke has his sights set on extending his influence in Motorcity. And he sees Mike as a valuable tool – aligning himself with the rebel hero could score him big PR points with the people.

On the other hand, the cutthroat Duke is no dummy. He knows Mike’s moral code could really interfere with his plans. So from time to time, he’ll do what it takes to keep the kid in line – which sometimes means allying himself with Kane. After all, in the end, the Duke’s only real allegiance is to himself.

There are also other interested parties and forces at work outside of the domed Deluxe that we can weave in and out of the seasons as we progress. Rival CEOs, Criminals, and Shadow Organizations that attempt to lend support to Mike’s cause in hopes of accomplishing their own agendas.

HOW DOES KANE WAGE HIS WAR AGAINST MOTORCITY?

Primarily with brutal force, terrifying technology, and fear. He has an endless army of Robots at his disposal that he unleashes daily to bombard Motorcity. He has a seemingly infinite arsenal of wicked ways to stick it to the people. But his horrifying laboratory creations usually present the biggest challenge for our heroes and the poor citizens. Like the time he pumped an ever-expanding, flesheating Sulfuric-Acid Foam Gel into Motorcity, a concoction designed to rapidly dissolve all living, organic material. Yikes!

Sometimes Kane is so blinded by his thirst for power that he pursues incredibly risky plots that end up putting himself and all of Detroit in danger. Like when he forces his R&D lab into morally unconscionable territory in the hopes of creating the ultimate Attack-Bot, and ends up creating a hybrid bio-mechanical creature that promptly escapes and starts “cocooning” Motorcity and Deluxian citizens.

Kane often focuses his attention directly on our Burners, developing BurnerSeeking Death Drones, hiring bloodthirsty Bounty Hunters, or luring the rebels out of their underground lair by callously using citizens as bait.

Of course, The Burners aren’t just going to sit around waiting for Kane to unleash his latest plot. They’re always looking for ways to take the fight to his doorstep and destroy his plans before they get off the ground. Like when they attempt to infiltrate his top secret, insanely dangerous weapons factory with the help of Kane-Co Safe-T-Suits. Or when they smuggle out Kane’s top alternative-fuel physicist to avert nuclear-scale disaster.

#motorcity #waksworldart #waksworldrebooted #julie kane #mike chilton #chuck motorcity #texas motorcity #dutch gordy

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