#Vibrant metropolis | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

musicforastylesrestaurant · 1 year

Text

Airport Chaos.

masterlist || ask me anything <3

blurb masterlist is here.

authors note - seeing how agitated that harry looked when he was just trying to get out of the car actually made me so cross, just be grateful that you got to see him, learn to give people personal space.

word count - 2.5k

in which, harry’s just finished his show in barcelona, and is en-route to madrid, but there’s one more hurdle that needs to be jumped when fans bombard him, you and your one year old son finley. this results in a very agitated harry, a tearful toddler and a wife that’s claustrophobic.

As the car glides through the vibrant streets of Barcelona, a serene ambiance envelops you and your family, casting a veil of tranquillity over the world around you. The bustling energy of the city has retired for the night, leaving behind an exquisite symphony of solitude.

As your car glides along the deserted thoroughfares, the city unveils its timeless secrets. The ancient buildings, guardians of Barcelona's rich history, stand tall and proud, their façades adorned with intricate details and ornate balconies. Illuminated by the soft glow of streetlights, their colors dance in harmony with the moonlit sky, creating a spellbinding kaleidoscope of hues.

The streets, devoid of the usual crowds, are yours to explore, each corner leading you deeper into the heart of this vibrant metropolis. The gentle breeze whispers through the leaves of towering trees, lending a symphony of rustling whispers to the nocturnal symphony. Their branches reach out like gentle arms, swaying gracefully overhead, creating a celestial canopy above the cobblestone lanes.

Occasionally, you catch glimpses of life seeping through the silence. A few solitary figures make their way along the sidewalk, their silhouettes casting elongated shadows upon the ground. Some are still adorned in the attire of a long workday, their weary steps echoing the rhythm of a day well-spent. Others, just beginning their nocturnal duties, are cloaked in the promise of a vibrant night ahead. Their presence adds a touch of mystique to the ethereal scenery, reminding you of the shared humanity that underlies the city's nocturnal tapestry.

The intoxicating scent of the sea lingers in the air, carried by the zephyrs that dance through the city streets. It mingles with the aromas of nearby cafés and restaurants, teasing your senses and igniting a hunger for adventure. The distant echoes of laughter and faint strains of music beckon, hinting at hidden pockets of life that come alive when the sun sets.

The drive continues with you cradling your sleeping one year old son, Finley, in your arms. His tiny mouth remained gently attached to your breast, having drifted off while nursing in the backseat after Harry's exhilarating concert. The rise and fall of his contented breaths provided a soothing soundtrack to the journey ahead.

You, Harry, and Finley were en route to Barcelona–El Prat Airport, preparing to catch a flight to Madrid. The excitement of the concert still lingered in the air, yet a hint of apprehension crept into your thoughts. The prospect of manoeuvring through a bustling airport with a sleeping baby nestled in your embrace weighed on your mind. Your nails became the focus of your nervous energy, as you absentmindedly picked at them, a telltale sign of your discomfort in crowded spaces.

Aaron, the driver, broke the silence, his voice cutting through the air with concern. "There's quite a crowd near the parking area," he informed you and Harry. "It might be a bit tricky to navigate through when we arrive."

The words sent a ripple of anxiety through your body, tightening your grip on Finley. You couldn't help but feel a sense of vulnerability in the face of such a boisterous crowd. The conflicting emotions swirled within you, knowing that your partner, Harry, thrived amidst the adoring masses that followed his every move.

As if sensing your unease, Harry's gaze shifted from the passing scenery to your nervous gestures. His touch was a lifeline, lifting your spirits and grounding you in his unwavering support. He reached out and gently grasped your hand, lifting it to his lips.

With a voice filled with reassurance and tenderness, he murmured, "M’love, don't worry. Everything's going t’be fine."

His words echoed in your ears, resonating deep within your heart. Harry's touch, warm and comforting, conveyed a sense of security, reminding you that you were never alone in facing your fears. Even though he was accustomed to crowds, he understood your anxieties and was always there to offer solace.

A soft smile danced upon your lips as Harry pressed a gentle kiss to your knuckles, his lips grazing your skin with tender affection. In that moment, the outside world faded away, leaving only the connection between the two of you—an unbreakable bond forged in love, trust, and understanding.

And as the car continued its journey towards the airport, you clung to the strength and reassurance Harry provided. The touch of his lips upon your knuckles served as a soothing balm, instilling you with a renewed sense of courage and confidence.

The car slowed down as it approached the bustling parking area, the clamour of the crowd growing louder. But in that moment, with Harry's kiss lingering on your skin, you felt a surge of determination. The chaos outside the car could not overpower the love and support that encompassed your little family.

Gently shifting Finley off your breast, you carefully disengaged him, causing him to let out a soft whinge in protest. Worried that he might fully wake up, you quickly began to sway and soothe him, hoping to lull him back into a peaceful slumber. As your soothing motions took effect, his eyelids fluttered, and he settled once again into a deep sleep.

Glancing up from Finley's serene face, you caught Harry's attention. His eyes met yours, and you could see the concern etched in his features. Taking in the scene outside through the tinted windows of the Mercedes, he turned back to you, his voice filled with determination and care.

"I'll get out first, sign a few things, and then I'll come back t’help you and Fin," Harry explained, his unwavering support shining through his words.

As he prepared to step out of the car, a surge of fans already surrounded the vehicle. They clamoured for a glimpse of their beloved idol, desperate to show their adoration. Harry's body shifted, one leg still anchored inside the car while the other extended towards the crowd, his calm demeanour serving as a shield of tranquillity amidst the chaos.

With a graceful balance of firmness and kindness, Harry skillfully kept the fans at a distance, ensuring their safety while maintaining his own. He exuded a rare sense of composure, navigating the sea of adoring faces with a genuine smile and a genuine touch, making each person feel seen and valued.

As Harry prepared to fulfill his promise of signing an album for a dedicated fan, the crowd's energy buzzed with anticipation. He stepped out of the car with a gracious smile, navigating through the throngs of adoring fans who eagerly stretched out their arms, hoping to catch a glimpse of their idol.

Amidst the excited voices and outstretched hands, one fan appeared particularly adamant about getting close to Harry. They pushed forward, disregarding personal boundaries, driven by an overwhelming desire to be near him. Sensing the fan's persistence, Harry raised a hand, creating a barrier between them.

"Chill out, mate," he spoke firmly, his tone laced with a mix of assertiveness and exhaustion.

You observed the situation unfold from the comfort of the car, your heart filled with concern. As the encounter unfolded, you could see glimpses of Harry's fatigue creeping in. The long hours of performing, travelling, and constant interaction with fans were undoubtedly taking a toll on him.

His initial patience and composure began to waver, replaced by a growing agitation. Lines of weariness etched themselves upon his face, and his eyes betrayed a longing for a moment of respite. Despite his efforts to maintain his poise, the relentless demands began to chip away at his stamina.

And as the crowd's clamour continued, you sent a silent message of understanding and support to Harry, hoping he would find solace in your presence. In that moment, you yearned to offer him the calm and tranquillity he deserved, to shield him from the world's demands and allow him to simply be himself, away from the spotlight.

The image of Harry, his hand held up in a gesture of boundary and weariness, remained etched in your mind. It symbolised the delicate balance he maintained between his role as an artist and his own need for rest.

With a resolute expression, Harry addressed the persistent fans surrounding him, his voice carrying a blend of urgency and determination.

"I need to get m’wife and m’son out of the car," he asserted, hoping to convey the importance of their privacy and the need for a moment of respite. “Could y’please step back a little please.”

Some fans responded to his plea, relenting and creating a bit of space, while others continued to plead for photos and autographs. Recognizing the challenge at hand, Harry turned to the security team, issuing a request for them to create a pathway, guiding you and Finley safely through the crowd.

After ensuring that the security team was in position, Harry returned to the car, a mix of concern and weariness etched upon his face. Sensing his presence, you looked at him, seeking his guidance and reassurance.

"Is it okay for us to get out?" you asked, your voice filled with a mixture of anticipation and anxiety.

Harry's gaze met yours, his eyes reflecting the immense love and care he had for his family.

“As okay as it can be," he replied, his voice holding a gentle understanding of the challenges that lay ahead.

Reaching out, he took Finley from your arms, his touch filled with tenderness and protectiveness. As Finley nestled his face in the crook of his father's neck, the exhaustion and overwhelm washed over him, causing tears to well up and spill forth. The flashing lights and the cacophony of the crowd became too much for the little one to bear.

Harry's embrace tightened, one arm wrapped securely around your waist, the other ensuring that Finley was cradled with care. His fatherly instinct kicked in, providing a sense of security amidst the chaos.

As the crowd pressed closer, their excitement reaching a fever pitch, one fan extended a hand towards Finley's tiny arm in hopes of capturing Harry's attention. But the innocent gesture had an unintended effect. Finley recoiled, pulling his arm back with a sudden jerk, his wide eyes filled with fear and uncertainty.

Witnessing your son's distress, a surge of protectiveness welled up within you. Your heart ached for Finley, his innocence disrupted by the intrusion of a stranger's touch. At that moment, the proximity to the airport entrance offered a brief respite, as the number of fans thinned out. However, the incident had stirred something within Harry, a mix of concern and frustration that flickered in his eyes.

Harry, usually known for his composed demeanour, could no longer suppress his emotions. He addressed the fans, his voice tinged with a touch of agitation.

“Please, don't touch m’son," he implored, his words a plea laced with a protective urgency.

Rubbing his hand up and down Finley's back, Harry sought to soothe his distressed son. His touch carried a mixture of tenderness and firmness, a comforting gesture aimed at calming Finley's frayed nerves.

In that fleeting moment, the world seemed to pause, the weight of the situation resting heavily upon Harry's shoulders. The love he had for his son radiated through his touch, as he tried to ease Finley's unease and offer a sense of security amidst the unexpected turmoil.

As you finally made your way into the airport, the bustling atmosphere shifted to a slightly calmer pace.

“I’ve just got to go to the loo, quickly.” Your fiancé told you and the rest of the security who nodded their heads as he quickly handed Finley into your waiting arms. Fatigue and weariness were evident on his face, etched by the demands of the day.

In a tender exchange, Harry spoke softly to Finley, their bond evident in every word.

"I'll be back soon, little one." he murmured, his voice filled with affection and a touch of exhaustion. Finley looked up at his father, their connection palpable even at such a young age.

You couldn't help but feel a pang of empathy for Harry as you observed the tiredness etched on his face. He had given his all on stage, then faced the excitement and challenges of the crowd. Yet, even in his weariness, he remained attentive and loving, making sure to reassure Finley before attending to his own needs.

Leaning in, you pressed a gentle kiss to Harry's cheek, a gesture of support and understanding.

“We’ll be waiting here for you," you whispered, letting him know that you were there, ready to provide the stability and comfort he deserved.

Harry swiftly made his way to the restroom, seeking a momentary escape from the clamour and demands that surrounded him. He entered a closed cubicle, the solitude offering a brief respite from the outside world. The heavy door closed behind him, enclosing him in a quiet space.

Seated on the closed toilet seat, Harry took a deep breath, his thoughts swirling in his mind. The facade of composure he wore for the public began to crumble, revealing a vulnerability that few had the chance to witness. He reached into his pocket, retrieving his phone, and with a trembling hand, he unlocked it.

The screen illuminated with a picture that held his heart captive—a snapshot of you and Finley when he was just born. The memory flooded his senses, the pure joy and love captured in that moment forever etched into his soul. The time displayed on the phone read 12:06 am, a reminder of the countless sleepless nights he had spent caring for his family.

Overwhelmed by a surge of conflicting emotions, Harry's composure shattered, and he silently sobbed. His tears fell in solitude, unheard by the world beyond the closed cubicle. He held his phone against his chest, clutching it over his heart, seeking solace in the tangible reminder of the love that anchored him.

The weight of his responsibilities and the unrelenting demands of fame bore down upon him. Despite his unwavering love for his fans, a sense of suffocation enveloped him at times. Guilt gnawed at his heart as he grappled with the fear that his son, the embodiment of his deepest love, had been placed in harm's way due to the adoration of his supporters.

Feeling the weight of his emotions and the need for comfort, Harry pulled his phone away from his chest and dialled a familiar number. The phone rang, each passing second heightening his anticipation.

Finally, the call connected, and he heard his mother's voice on the other end.

"Mum... I'm sorry. I know it's late, but I just needed to talk to you," Harry spoke softly, his voice laced with a mix of vulnerability and relief. Despite the unwavering support he found in his partner and in you, he longed for the familiar embrace of his mother's understanding.

His mother was one of his best friends, and he knew it was late over in England but he just needed to hear her voice. He knew you would always listen to his thoughts and feelings but there was something about hearing his mothers voice that made him feel better.

Don’t get Harry wrong, this was undoubtedly one of the best tours he had ever done in his life, but he desperately needed a break.

He was craving the feeling of his own bed, with Finley laying against his chest and you laid asleep in his arms.

2K notes · View notes

octoberautumnbox · 8 months

Text

Aquamarine

Soloist Lee Chaeyeon & Male Reader

Word count: 1.7k

Categories/tags: smut, shower, glass, camera/picture, standing sex, standing doggy, creampie, fluffy (at least thats the plan)

a/n: birthday piece for the second half of IZ*ONE'S HoneyWaterz! she gets like one fic a year y'all are missing out. and as usual (lol) no proofread no beta im sorry i know its terrible

The water glistens against her skin, shining as it falls down her back. The city lights seem so far below you like you're in the clouds yourself. The smoke doesn't reach up here, nor the hustle and bustle of the metropolis below. It's only you and her.

Click, click, click. Find her through your camera's lens, taking perfect shot after perfect shot. She turns around and smiles a divine smile at you, and you suspect that she's stopped posing a long while ago; now, she's just glad to find you nearby.

She paddles adorably over to the shallow end of the pool and takes a seat. "Thank you for taking me out like this, babe. I love you so much. Everything is perfect."

She wrings her hair carefully and looks up over the moon, enjoying the cool breeze of tropical air on her face and chest. Click.

"Ugh, stop it," she giggles. "I wasn't ready. Delete that one."

You chuckle and place your camera on a dry, flat surface and join her in the pool. The water is warm between your toes, and you accept the welcome by sitting down in it right next to her.

You try to put your arm around her shoulder, but she shrugs it off cutely. "Don't, you idiot," she scolds lovingly, "I'm all wet."

Sulking away playfully, never mind your lightly damp Hawaiian shirt, you respond. "Wow, calling me an idiot just for trying to love you. I knew it, you've just been using me all this time..."

She laughs her signature laugh, painting the skyline of your heart in vibrant tones of aquamarine. She takes your hand and pulls slowly, bringing your arm around her once more.

"You're gorgeous, you know that? Everything about you is perfect." Place a hand on her cheek and bring her gaze over to yours. "How'd I end up with someone as breathtaking as you?"

"Shut up, babe..." she chuckles lightly as she places her hand over yours. "You know I fell for you first."

Close your eyes gently as the gravity of your hearts draw your lips together. You find her halfway through the darkness, but of course you did. When has she ever let you down?

The kiss you share is slow, respectful. You ask for permission from each other wordlessly, giving and taking just a tiny bit more from each other's love with every singular peck.

She breaks the kiss gratefully. As you open your eyes you're met with a goddess, ethereal and alluring. And she's all yours.

Without her forehead leaving yours, she whispers to you, "Let's go inside, babe, I'm getting cold."

~~~

Pull her by her waist into the shower enclosure and take her lips again. She strips you of your Hawaiian shirt, now soaked, and tosses it out of the glass cubicle. Her arm wraps around your neck, while her free hand finds the shower handle.

The showerhead comes to life, and warm water falls onto your back. Chaeyeon slips her fingers under your waistband and pulls down, taking away your last bits of clothing and relieving you of the growing pressure in your shorts.

You do the same, pulling off her dripping wet bikini bottom. Without ever breaking the kiss, she kicks them away and takes your hands onto her plump and firm ass. She moans lightly at your touch, music to your ears.

As much as you want to keep them there, you know there's more you have to do first. Break the kiss for just a moment, and see your girlfriend out of breath.

Grabbing the hem of her top, you pull up. She raises both arms to help you out, knowing that this also gives you the best view of your favorite part.

The wet piece of fabric moves up past her chest, and her beautiful tits bounce free from their containment. You keep pulling until the bikini top clears her head and finally her arms, and then you toss them out of the cubicle and shut the door.

She wraps her arms around your neck again. Grip her ass cheeks and pull her towards you, savoring her firm behind while you force your cock between her thighs.

She moans cutely at the sensation of your head right at the entrance of her heat. You kiss her again, torridly this time, and she returns your affections hungrier, more impatient, less quietly than earlier.

She pulls you even closer, pressing her soft breasts onto your chest, and the feeling could not be more heavenly. You know she's doing this on purpose, and so you respond in kind by giving her a smack on her butt cheek, forcing it to jiggle. As she's groaning into your mouth as a reflex, you leave her at a loss for a more heavenly moment.

Chaeyeon finally frees your lips, and the both of you take a deep breath. You can't get enough, though, and bring her over to the glass pane nearest to you.

"You're so fucking hot..." She traces all over your body with her fingertips. "How do you want me, babe?" she asks courteously.

"You have to smile for the camera, sweetheart." Turn her around to face the glass, and wipe away the steam obstructing her view of outside. She spots your camera sat on a table, facing the pair of you, and she blushes and smirks devilishly as she catches wind of your plan.

"Naughty boy... Hurry up and take me." Chaeyeon bends over and gives you a clear view of her ass, and shows off her pink lower lips for your pleasure.

You make her lean on the glass pane with her forearms as you grab her by the hips. Always the gentleman, you don't keep her waiting. Pull her lips apart, hear her groan at the feeling, and, finally, push your hardened cock into her tight pussy.

"Fuck..." Click. The flash goes off in front of her, and she turns redder in her cheeks. "This is so fucking hot, babe..."

"Happy birthday, baby. You're getting a private photo book of tonight as one of your gifts. Smile your prettiest."

You feel her velvet walls clench lovingly around your cock. It isn't a challenge at all though, with her slick lubricating her insides, to pull out nearly all the way, and force yourself back into her core.

Relish the feeling of fucking the most beautiful woman in the world. Take pride in how she powerlessly surrenders herself to your will. With every thrust deep into her pussy, you show her that she'll only ever belong to you.

"Babe, harder... Please fuck me harder." You comply with her request, as you thrust forward you forcefully pull her back. Her ass meets your pelvis at every pump, producing a symphony of slaps and groans.

Click, click, click. The camera makes its presence felt as flashes fill the other side of the bathroom. Push your goddess of a girlfriend harder against the glass, and she lets out a loud "ahhhh" as her nipples and breasts are squished onto the cold surface.

"Right there, babe, keep fucking me just like that..." Her walls only get tighter as your cock splits her apart. The sounds of her pleasure fill the bathroom as you bring her closer and closer to climax.

"I love you... so... fucking much, babe..." you mutter next to her ear. You can tell she's losing control of herself, she answers only in moans of ecstasy at the rough fucking she's receiving.

Hook her leg under your arm, raise it for the camera. Click, click. The view of her pussy being violated by your cock is crystal clear for the camera to capture. Click. Chaeyeon screams in pleasure as you reach new depths in the lewd position she finds herself in. Click. Her face is smushed against the glass with how hard you're pushing her. Click, click, click. Her nipples grow stiffer against the clear pane, spurring her on and on towards her eventual release.

"Sweetheart, you still good?" She can't answer, you know she can't. Just one look and you can tell she's long gone: her head thrown back, eyes rolled into the back of her skull, no regard for whatever she might be saying anymore.

Figure she's had enough. Conclude her long day with a bang. Give her a high note to end a perfect celebration. Better yet, make her sing the high note herself.

You grow more ravenous with your hold on her. "You know... One of your gifts... a whole photo book... of just tonight." Click. You thrust into her sex more roughly, chasing your high as you force her to reach hers. She can't defy you, and you know she won't. She's yours.

Her climax comes to her like an earth-splitting bolt of lightning. All at once, a guttural scream rips through her throat, click, streaks of her cum spray onto the glass she's pressed against, click, she stumbles as her legs give out underneath her, click, click, and her walls grip you in a desperate attempt to prolong her unholy pleasure as much as she can, click.

"I'm cumming, baby... Happy birthday--!!!" With a deep groan you shoot your cum into her womb, making sure every spurt stays in and takes. Her walls apply a heavenly amount of pressure on your cock, milking you for more, and you give her exactly what she wants. With every spurt of your hot cum into her abused snatch Chaeyeon screams louder yet, click, begging in gibberish for something she herself doesn't even know anymore.

You realize she's full up when your cum overflows from her pussy and down her thigh. She's taking heavy breaths now, and your wits are slipping away from you.

~~~

You find yourself sat on the cold tiled floor of the shower. Warm water still falls from the showerhead and onto the pair of you. Chaeyeon is taking her sweet time filling her lungs with air and steadying her breathing. Her head's leaned onto your shoulder, so you push her hair aside to give her a kiss on her forehead.

"I love you, sweetheart. You might not have heard me earlier, but happy birthday."

She can only respond in deep breaths and scratchy hums. She brings her lips back over to yours, last kiss before getting dressed for bed. And you know that meant "I love you too."

a/n: yknow i should just stop planning fics at this point lmao. anyways, happy birthday our feather chaeyeon!!!

#lee chaeyeon smut #chaeyeon smut #girl group smut #izone smut #kpop smut #fic box

774 notes · View notes

miueo · 3 months

Text

𐙚 my little idol ♥︎．。．:*･° chap i ✿

ᰔᩚ ︶ྀི new legacy .

summary : you're currently in a new girl group underneath jyp entertainment ! your group is performing well on charts, you have a stable fanbase, and many bops to listen to! you try your best to avoid dating scandals for the sake of your reputation and status but it's all ruined by a very popular group of boys.

pairings : ot8!skz ♡ femidol!reader !

warnings : no smut in this chapter ; heavy on smut, sexualization & objectification, perversion, obsession, taboo / dark concepts (for some members, not all !) , mental physical / health issues (depression, anxiety, etc.), coercion, unsolicited pictures, more to be announced.

notes : hiii !!!! i am currently in guangdong… ive been traveling so much lately, sorry for the lack of content. THIS IS JUST AN INTRO CHAPTER!

taglist : @p0eticjust1c3 @yunjinswifee @sky00ung @pinkdranks @bloominhos @mi-mi-mu @nasiaisan @kitkat1sstuff @hyunjinhoexxx @theinsanebish

selected song for fic :

in the bustling heart of seoul’s entertainment scene, amidst the glittering promise of fame and the relentless pursuit of dreams, there exists a young talent whose voice echoes with the power to stir souls. her name is song y/n, a gifted vocalist whose journey to becoming a k-pop sensation began with a passion for music that bloomed in her hometown.

from an early age, y/n’s voice enchanted audiences, drawing praise for its depth and emotional resonance. encouraged by her family’s unwavering support, she embarked on a path that led her to jyp entertainment, where her talent would be nurtured and polished to perfection. in the rigorous world of k-pop training, y/n’s dedication and natural ability set her apart, particularly her ability to convey emotion through every lyric and melody.

selected for her exceptional vocal skills, y/n found herself among the chosen few to join 4ura, a newly formed girl group at jyp entertainment. with three other members, each bringing their own strengths to the table, 4ura aimed to carve out a place in the competitive landscape of k-pop. for y/n, being part of 4ura wasn’t just about achieving stardom; it was about fulfilling a lifelong dream and sharing her music with the world.

as rehearsals filled her days and anticipation fueled her nights, song y/n stood on the brink of a future she had once only dared to imagine. with determination in her heart and the power of her voice as her guide, she was poised to make her mark as not just an idol, but as an artist whose presence on stage would resonate far beyond the lights of seoul.

❁

at the forefront stands y/n song, the group’s main vocalist hailing from the vibrant streets of new york city. blessed with a voice that effortlessly transcends genres, y/n’s journey to stardom is a testament to years of dedication and an unyielding commitment to her craft.

beside her is olivia wong, the group’s main dancer, whose electrifying moves reflect her upbringing in the bustling metropolis of hong kong. with a dance style that blends precision and grace, olivia brings a dynamic energy to 4ura’s performances, captivating audiences with every fluid motion.

adding to the group’s allure is minjeong kim, renowned as 4ura’s visual, drawing inspiration from the natural beauty of jeju island. with a magnetic presence that commands attention, minjeong’s ethereal charm and captivating gaze make her an undeniable visual powerhouse within the group.

completing this quartet of talent is autumn yang, the group’s main rapper with roots tracing back to the sun-drenched shores of california. autumn’s sharp lyricism and charismatic delivery bring a fresh perspective to 4ura’s music, adding depth and diversity to their sound.

❁

beyond their individual talents, 4ura thrives within the supportive community of jyp entertainment, fostering close relationships with labelmates nmixx, stray kids, itzy, and twice. from collaborative performances that electrify audiences to backstage camaraderie that strengthens their bonds, 4ura and their fellow jyp artists form a tight-knit family united by a shared passion for music and a drive to push boundaries.

as they prepare to debut on stages both local and global, 4ura stands poised to make an indelible mark in the world of k-pop. with their unique blend of talent, charisma, and ambition, they are ready to carve out a place among the stars, promising a future where their music will resonate far and wide, leaving an unforgettable imprint on the hearts of fans everywhere.

everything is so perfect right now. what could possibly ruin this beautiful moment?

167 notes · View notes

denksmail · 2 months

Note

Hello love, i stumbled upon your blog and think that it's cool! Can you write a superman/Clark Kent x flourist!Reader? I can't think of a scene so go crazy😭

let me cook 😈 😈

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢꜱ: Superman (Clark Kent) x Reader ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: none! xx ᴀ/ɴ: Finally a Dc request!! I love writing for DC sm >w<. Especially writing for the batfam. Also thank you everyone for the fat load of requests omg!! Multiple of you asked what my guidelines regarding NSFW, just DM me, and see if I'm comfortable writing your request. ᴘʀᴏᴍᴘᴛ: Clark is visiting Smallville for the weekend and decides to go to his local florist shop to buy a little something for his mom. Little does he know, he will leave the shop with more than just a bouquet of flowers.

Clark was always sweet but he put his work and responsibilities before everyone. Even his loved ones. His friends start to pick up on this behavior and demand that he take a break from saving everyone all the time. With time, Clark gave in and started with visiting his family back in Smallville. It's been months since he spoke with them. He didn't even know what he'd do when he saw them again. An idea crossed his mind. The least he can do is provide a gift for them. His first idea is to buy flowers for his mom, Martha.

He left the house in hopes of finding the perfect flowers for her. Across the street was a small pink flower shop that recently opened. Clark adjusted his glasses, smiled, and made his way across the street to the shop. Upon walking into the shop, he was immediately hit with fresh floral scents. A blend of roses, lilies, and other exotic blooms. The whole shop was decorated to match each flower displayed. With every flower of every color filling the room and making the shop vibrant.

Behind the counter stood a young woman, arranging a bouquet with deft hands. She had a warm smile and bright eyes that sparkled with enthusiasm. Clark approached her, his usual confidence slightly wavering in the presence of her captivating aura.

"Hi there," he greeted with a friendly smile. "I'm looking to buy some flowers for my mom. Do you think you could help me find the perfect bouquet?"

The florist looked up, her smile widening. "Of course! I'd be happy to help. What's the occasion?"

"Just a visit," Clark replied. "I haven't seen her in a while, and I want to bring her something special."

The florist nodded thoughtfully, her fingers tapping her chin as she considered his request. "Well, let's see. For a mother, you want something that conveys love, appreciation, and warmth. How about a mix of roses and lilies? Roses symbolize love and admiration, while lilies represent purity and refined beauty."

Clark watched her as she moved around the shop, selecting flowers with care. Her movements were graceful, almost like a dance. He couldn't help but be mesmerized by her dedication and passion for her work.

"That sounds perfect," he said, his voice sincere. "You really know your flowers."

She blushed slightly, her smile becoming a bit shy. "Thank you. I love what I do, and it's always a pleasure to help someone find the perfect bouquet."

As she continued to assemble the bouquet, they chatted about various topics—flowers, Smallville, and even a bit about the bustling city of Metropolis. Clark found himself enjoying the conversation more than he had anticipated. There was something refreshing about her genuine interest and warmth.

"You know," she said, tying the bouquet with a delicate ribbon, "these flowers remind me of my own mom. She used to tell me that flowers are nature's way of smiling at us."

Clark smiled, feeling a connection with her words. "Your mom sounds like a wonderful person."

"She was," the florist replied softly, her eyes reflecting a mix of fondness and nostalgia. "I think your mom will love these flowers. Here you go."

She handed him the bouquet, a beautiful arrangement of red roses and white lilies. Clark took it, marveling at the care and artistry that had gone into creating it.

"Thank you," he said, his voice warm. "I really appreciate it."

As he reached for his wallet, the florist placed a hand on his arm, stopping him. "It's on the house," she said with a wink. "Consider it a gift for your mom."

Clark was taken aback by her generosity. "Are you sure? I don't mind paying."

"I'm sure," she replied, her smile genuine. "Just promise to come back and tell me how she liked them."

He chuckled, feeling a warmth in his chest. "I promise."

Before he could leave, the florist reached into her apron pocket and pulled out a small piece of paper. She scribbled something on it and handed it to him.

"Here's my number," she said, her cheeks tinged with a hint of pink. "In case you ever need more flowers, or, you know, just want to talk."

Clark took the paper, his fingers brushing against hers briefly. "Thank you," he said softly. "I'll definitely keep that in mind."

With the bouquet in one hand and her number in the other, Clark left the shop, a smile playing on his lips. As he took to the skies, he felt a sense of excitement and anticipation. Visiting his parents was nothing new to him but this time, there was an added reason for his uplifted spirits—a charming florist who had managed to make his day a little brighter.

81 notes · View notes

hyunjin-amore · 10 months

Text

A Love Beyond the Cape: Clark Kent x Male Reader

This my first request😭😭

I wanted to take a moment to express my gratitude for your first request. Thank you for reaching out and allowing me to assist you. It's truly a pleasure to be of help, and I look forward to continuing our conversations. If you have any more questions or need further assistance, please don't hesitate to ask.

Thank you once again!

There formerly lived a well-mannered reporter named Clark Kent in the vibrant metropolis of Metropolis. In his day job at the Daily Planet, Clark was well-known for his modest demeanor and commitment to his work. To everyone's surprise, however, Clark had a life-threatening secret hidden behind his glasses and modest appearance.

A young man in the crowd caught Clark's attention one fateful day as he was researching a story at a nearby charity function. Clark felt pulled toward this man by his magnetic energy, which came from his endearing smile and gentle eyes. Clark was unaware that the man in question was M/N, a well-known novelist and philanthropist.

Throughout the entire event, Clark couldn't help but notice M/N, and he couldn't shake the feeling that something was connected. Clark's heart raced at the way M/N carried himself; there was something that sparked a deep yearning in him. Clark couldn't get rid of the thought that maybe their paths were meant to cross.

Weeks passed, and Clark could not shake the memory of M/N. Numerous nights were spent by him meandering through Metropolis' streets as he considered whether or not to come out as the superhero Superman. Their lives would never be the same if he did, he knew. However, Clark found it impossible to resist the allure of love any longer.

Gathering all his bravery, Clark went looking for M/N and extended an invitation to go for a stroll beneath the starry Metropolis sky. Clark eventually came clean about his secret as they walked around the city, taking off the glasses that had been hiding his real identity for so long. M/N was taken aback and in awe as he saw the fabled Superman up close.

However, M/N grinned and showed compassion and understanding in his eyes rather than showing fear. It all made sense now—the extraordinary quality he had always sensed in Clark. Both men understood then that there was more to their relationship than met the eye. Beyond all boundaries and expectations, love had made its way into their hearts.

Clark and M/N set out on a journey of love, trust, and support that day onward. They came to enjoy each other's company and to share their lives, goals, and dreams. Superman, Clark's alter ego, came to represent hope for the two of them as they battled life's obstacles together.

Many were inspired by their love story, which served as a reminder that true acceptance and understanding can exist even in the face of secrets and hidden identities and that love knows no bounds. Whether or not love wears a cape, it is a force greater than all others. This is what Clark and M/N taught the world.

Because Clark Kent and M/N accepted their roles as lifelong partners and lovers, their love blossomed in Metropolis and shone as brightly as the sun.

#lgbtq #male reader #clark kent x male reader #dc universe #superman #man of steel #henry cavill #top male reader #dom male reader #henry cavill x male reader

193 notes · View notes

spacemilkies · 1 year

Text

Good Kitty

pairing: Earth—42!Miles Morales x BlackCat!Reader wc: 3k+ rating: teen a/n: another fandom, another trap. I plan for this to be a non-linear series. Feel free to send prompts for this pairing!

synopsis:

Spider-man? Never heard of him. You were Black Cat. And what you did know was that it was never a good idea to leave a world in a man's hands.

A sigh escapes your lips, a sound not born out of exhaustion but rather from the depths of sheer boredom as you shifted your weight and rolled onto your side. The warm rays of the setting sun spilled through the window, enveloping you in a soft, golden embrace. If only you had chosen to cast your gaze outward, you would have been met with a rare spectacle—a breathtaking panoramic view of the magnificent Manhattan skyline.

Less than three years had passed since you had walked the halls of your high school, a graduate filled with shattered aspirations and dry pool of dreams. Back then, the mere notion of such a view, of standing amidst the towering giants that graced the New York City skyline, was nothing short of a fantastical dream. It was a dream that seemed elusive, almost laughable, considering the harsh realities of life that had once deprived you of even the simplest means to put food on the table.

And perhaps, deep down, you still carried a glimmer of disbelief, a lingering doubt that whispered in the recesses of your mind. But as you lay there, basking in the gentle warmth of the sun's caress, you couldn't deny the profound sense of fulfillment that coursed through your veins. It wasn't solely the outcome that brought you satisfaction, but rather the journey itself, the arduous path you had traversed, and the resilience you had shown in embracing your roots.

For it had been surprisingly effortless, slipping back into the embrace of your origins, your identity intertwined with the vibrant tapestry of this city. The laughter that echoed within you was tinged with a certain fondness, an acknowledgement of the simplicity and ease with which you had found your place within this bustling metropolis. The streets, once unfamiliar and daunting, had become your familiar pathways, the very pulse of life flowing through your veins.

Your mother, a beacon of strength in the face of adversity, had tirelessly striven to keep you on the straight and narrow. The echoes of your father's incarceration still resonated within the corridors of your memory, a haunting reminder of the tumultuous path your family had been forced to tread. In those fragile years of your middle school days, the familiar embrace of modest living had been abruptly torn asunder, thrusting you all into the unforgiving shallows of Brooklyn's reality.

It was during those trying times that your mother, fueled by an indomitable spirit, took it upon herself to forge a path of honest labor. Her determination was nothing short of admirable, a testament to her unwavering love for her family. Yet, with every stride she took to ensure your well-being, the sacrifices etched themselves deeply into your collective existence. The simple pleasures that others took for granted, like an abundance of food on the table or shoes that conformed to the suggested lifespan, became luxuries beyond your reach.

Life, you discovered, was a merciless game where the cards were often dealt by the devil himself. It was a relentless battle against the odds, an unyielding struggle to make ends meet and find solace amidst the unrelenting tempest. And yet, your mother stood tall, weathering each storm with a determination that defied the very fabric of fate. She taught you resilience, instilled within you a fire that refused to be extinguished.

But even as you marveled at her strength, you couldn't help but question the cosmic forces that seemed intent on testing your resolve. The burdens that weighed upon your shoulders were never meant to be borne by the innocent. They were the unjust consequences of a world that cared little for the plight of those who fought against the currents of adversity.

For you had come to understand that while life may not always be fair, it is in the face of adversity that true character is forged. It is in the crucible of struggle that you discover the strength within, the power to rise above the hand you've been dealt.

Now, in the lap of luxury, you resided amidst opulence and excess, surrounded by an abundance of trinkets and baubles that stretched beyond the boundaries of imagination. The intricately woven rug beneath your feet held within its fibers the potential to feed your family for a year, and the resplendent chandelier suspended above the table embodied a fortune twice the worth. You lived ensconced in comfort, a world where your wants had transformed into ceaseless indulgences.

Yet, amidst this abundance, a sense of frustration gnawed at your core. The material wealth and extravagance that once held allure had now lost its luster, leaving you restless and longing for something more. The very essence of your existence now seemed devoid of purpose.

"So, I'm assuming you won't be joining," came the voice of your roommate and fellow thief, Tamara Blake, as she cast her shadow over you. For her, the thrill of the heist held a different significance. In her philosophy, as long as the wealthy continued to amass riches, there would always be treasures to claim. But you sensed that she, too, shared the underlying sentiment of disillusionment, the desire to divert her gaze from the chaotic world unfurling beyond their plush surroundings. It was another reason why you chose this apartment—a sanctuary that shielded you from the harsh realities of the world, yet one that you found difficult to leave behind entirely.

Brooklyn held memories you struggled to confront. It was the resting place of your mother, a place that felt simultaneously distant and unwelcoming. Your gaze barely grazed the surface of the deep neckline of the chiffon dress, its shimmering diamond necklace nestled in the hollow, before you turned your attention back to the river's expanse.

"Nah," you replied, dismissing the notion of joining Tamara on another exhilarating score. The thrill that once electrified your every heist had dissipated, leaving behind a hollowness that even your absence failed to disrupt. The vast fortunes amassed over time would sustain you and your descendants for generations to come. It had become nothing more than a game—a sport devoid of meaning.

"Alright, I probably won't be home tonight then," she added.

Your rested your chin against the crook of your elbow as your gaze fixated on the final ferry gliding into the dock. "Oh, you're playing with your prey this time?"

Tamara's laughter cut through the air, sharp as glass. "Hardly. I expect him to succumb before it reaches that point, but alas."

You grumbled halfheartedly as her hand affectionately tousled your tousled hair. "Want me to bring your favorite hors d'oeuvres home?"

The thought of clams and puff pastries, once delectable and enticing, now held little appeal, particularly after a day spent tucked away in an expensive clutch. "Don't bother," you dismissed, the notion hardly worth entertaining.

"Very well, then. Don't get caught up," Tamara admonished, securing a last-minute addition to her wrist—an exquisite pearl bracelet procured from last spring's collection.

"Then I wouldn't be worth my weight in diamonds," you replied, your voice carrying a hint of mischief and the thrill of a life lived on the edge. As Tamara departed, a whirlwind of confidence in her wake, you remained seated, contemplating the choices that led you to this gilded existence. Amidst the emptiness that lingered within, a flicker of longing danced in your eyes, a silent plea for purpose to infuse meaning into the richness that surrounded you.

—ฅ/ᐠ. ̫ .ᐟ\ฅ —

Once again, it is the relentless grip of boredom that finds you perched atop the towering edifices, surveying the disarray that has befallen Brooklyn. The supple leather of your suit clings to your thighs, molding to your form as you shift on the balls of your feet. Since the tragic downfall of Captain Morales, the city you once called home has become a fragmented tapestry of desolation, where memories have been reduced to ashen ruins.

There was a time when you entertained the notion of relinquishing your feline-inspired guise in exchange for a cloak of righteousness, a chance to become the hooded vigilante who championed the downtrodden. The romantic notion of stealing from the wealthy and bestowing upon the destitute held a certain allure, a homage to the age-old tales of justice. But the harsh reality came crashing down upon you with unforgiving force, as your first and only act of benevolence was unceremoniously discarded in the merciless rain. In those moments, the wound inflicted upon your spirit ran deep, an ache that lingered as a phantom pain from a life best left behind.

Now, you stand upon the precipice of a new era—a time where strength and self-reliance have become the pillars upon which you build your existence. No longer shackled by the burdens of altruism, you have embraced a philosophy of self-preservation. You have forged a path that revolves solely around your own well-being, a truth that resonates as the sweetest symphony within your soul.

In this solitude, high above the city that bears the scars of its own unraveling, you revel in the power that courses through your veins. Your senses heightened, you become keenly aware of every movement in the urban symphony below—a cacophony of life that swirls in discordant harmony. The distant sirens wail like mournful ghosts, intermingling with the screech of car tires against asphalt and the rhythmic hum of electricity pulsating through the veins of the metropolis.

Brooklyn, once a tapestry of memories, now lies before you in a state of perpetual flux—a testament to the fragility of existence and the transient nature of human aspirations. As you peer into the depths of the city's heart, you can almost taste the bitterness that permeates the air, mingling with the grit of determination and the acrid residue of lost dreams.

The night holds a different air tonight, as if the very fabric of the city has absorbed the collective unease and transformed it into an eerie calmness. The absence of screams that once reverberated through the alleys and streets transforms your rooftop traversal into a bittersweet journey down memory lane, a respite from the haunting nightmares that plagued your mind. There is no concrete reason why you find yourself here, navigating the labyrinthine paths above the cityscape. It is not mere boredom that fuels your actions tonight; there is something deeper, an indescribable longing that propels you forward.

And then, it happens—a moment that seizes your heart and halts your relentless stride. The city below unfolds before your vigilant gaze, and you notice a stark difference in the illuminated windows. A somber darkness has settled over the once vibrant tapestry of lights. Fear or the cruel whim of fate, it is impossible to discern. Yet, amidst the shadows, two windows stand out, each holding a story of its own.

One window, its fractured pane a testament to the scars of a volatile past, remains enigmatically shrouded. Your pulse quickens as memories of bittersweet delicacies flood your senses. The rich aroma of sweet potato-filled empanadas mingles with the tantalizing scent of sweet strawberry horchata. It is an intoxicating blend that tugs at your heartstrings, evoking a yearning for the familiarity and warmth that resides within. Though you know it to be a trick of the mind, the illusionary fragrance lingers, teasing your senses, rendering your heart heavy with emotions you dare not fully embrace. The mask upon your face serves as a barrier, futilely attempting to shield your eyes from the rawness that seeps through.

Refusing to linger in the grip of nostalgia, you forcefully wipe away the moisture that accumulates upon your face, an act rendered useless by the relentless saturation beneath your mask. Your resolve remains unyielding as you avert your gaze, no longer willing to succumb to the power of longing. Instead, your body surges forward, propelled by the strength that resides within, fingers grazing against the unforgiving asphalt as your form glides through the air with an effortless grace.

In this nocturnal ballet, your movements become an expression of resilience and purpose. The open patch of land, a realm teeming with untold stories and unspoken truths, lies just a few blocks away, yet you refuse to let your gaze wander in that direction.

With every stride, every leap, you embrace the freedom that comes with embracing the unknown. The night is your canvas, and you, the spider-inspired maestro, weave a symphony of vigilance and determination against the backdrop of a city that both loves and fears you.

On this side of Brooklyn, the streets held little intrigue for you, their worn pathways offering no solace in your relentless pursuit. Even within the confines of your own neighborhood, the prospect of an exhilarating hunt seemed dim. Your father's voice, a reverberating echo from the past, cautioned against playing where you slept, reminding you of the chaotic aftermath such endeavors left in their wake. His words were etched into your consciousness, a reminder of the perils that lurked within the realm of familiarity.

There was a time when you entertained the audacious notion of orchestrating your father's liberation. The notion of liberating a person, unlike pilfering a diamond-encrusted necklace, required meticulous planning and a trusted accomplice. But such an endeavor held little appeal for Tamara, whose worth in diamonds was a currency she held dear. Moreover, your correspondence with your father had dwindled to naught since your mother's untimely passing. While a prison break would undoubtedly pave the way for a long-awaited reunion, the stakes were high, and failure would plunge you both into a deeper abyss.

And yet, acceptance became your constant companion.

With a brief transition bridging the divide, your body once again guides you toward a familiar destination. You descend with practiced silence, landing softly on the worn planks of the fire escape. Gazing upon the abandoned building before you, the passage of time seems inconsequential. Its dilapidated facade holds a steadfast resilience, much like the memories you have forged within its decaying walls.

A murmur escapes your lips, barely audible, as you tread the path of reminiscence. Scaling the railing, your eyes fixate on the far corner, where a metal-plated vent rests inconspicuously. To the untrained eye, it would go unnoticed, a hidden entrance designed to challenge only the most intrepid souls. Those with arachnophobia or a discomfort for confined spaces would instinctively shy away, blissfully ignorant of its true purpose.

But you are one of the few who knows its secrets, aware that this unassuming vent conceals a passage into the depths beyond. Though your high school physique was more forgiving, you now possess an agility honed by relentless practice. With calculated finesse, you squeeze through the narrow tunnel of darkness, your body adapting to the constricting confines. The sudden drop-off awaits at the end, but you navigate it with unwavering poise, balancing precariously upon a narrow beam before gracefully leaping to the next, traversing the chasm with the assurance of a seasoned acrobat.

Upon reaching the topmost floor, a sense of coziness envelops you, but the space feels confined compared to the open expanse below. With practiced grace, you lower yourself, hanging from the sturdy beam, preparing for a seamless roll upon landing. Yet, your focus wavers, captivated by a peculiar sight.

"When did someone mend that?"

Your gaze fixates on the highest window, where a marginal break had been repaired. Its elevated position renders it impractical as an entry point, rendering its restoration all the more puzzling. Even the building's original occupants never saw fit to address it. The mended window sparks a cascade of questions, igniting your curiosity like a flame dancing upon the wick.

But as the ancient adage warns, curiosity holds the power to slay the feline.

Fortune smiles upon you, for the highest floor boasts the lowest ceilings, mitigating the impact of your roll as your body gracefully meets the floor. Gasping for air, you summon oxygen to replenish your lungs, knees resting on the ground as you survey your surroundings. Every corner brims with potential danger, and your instincts sharpen, seeking out the source of the disturbance.

A flicker of shadow dances at the edge of your vision, fleeting and elusive. Was it a mere play of light, a figment of your imagination? Uncertainty lingers, but one thing is certain: this place is no longer the sanctuary of your childhood. Its innocence has been usurped by an unseen menace, lurking in the forgotten crevices of this once-abandoned edifice.

The air gradually fills your chest, accompanied by wheezes of exertion, as you rise unsteadily to your feet. Your options unfold before you like a complex tapestry, each exit tainted with newfound doubt. The doors you once presumed accessible may now be sealed shut, the floorboards that once creaked beneath your weight, fortuitously silent. Whoever now occupies this space possesses a heightened awareness, their presence a palpable threat that chills the air.

The distorted sound of soft clicks resonates in the air, an eerie melody designed to unsettle you. It plays with your senses, toying with your perception of reality. The voice, dripping with arrogance and disdain, pierces the silence like a venomous serpent.

"I'm afraid we have no need for strays here. We're more than capable of handling our own rat problem."

With a swift, fluid motion, you drop into a defensive stance, ready to face whatever adversary dares challenge you. Your words, laced with defiance, spill forth from clenched teeth, "Cute that you think you can afford my pedigree."

The source of the voice remains elusive, a phantom lurking in the shadows. The disadvantage of being grounded gnaws at your instincts, urging you to regain the upper hand.

"Pedigree? In Brooklyn? Don't make me laugh."

The calculated movements of the unseen presence further shroud their location, deliberately traversing the beams above to obscure their tracks. In response, you coil closer to the ground, making your body smaller, while your gaze darts around, searching for any sign, any clue.

Your voice adopts a tone you reserve for targets, laced with a hint of intrigue and the promise of a challenge. It dances through the air, light and airy, as you remark, "Maybe you should. Your voice sounds enticing. Hopefully, your wit matches it."

A scoff of disdain echoes in return, prickling your nerves, a telltale sign that your words have struck a nerve.

"Does that work for you?"

The voice has shifted, now above you, the mysterious figure closing in, inching ever closer to your vulnerable position on the ground.

"It depends. Come closer, and I'll be more than happy to provide you with a demonstration."

A heavy silence descends upon the space, laden with tension and uncertainty. You are ill-prepared for this encounter, having ventured into this treacherous corner of Brooklyn without your customary utilities. The realization of your own recklessness washes over you, a bitter reminder of the risks you have taken.

Yet, if they dare attempt to confine a cat in a wet bag, you will unleash all the fury and resilience that resides within you.

"If you insist."

They remained perched above, their position granting them a vantage point to observe your every move. As the impending strike hurtles towards you, a fleeting glimmer of purple catches your eye. Instinctively, you duck beneath the incoming attack, narrowly evading its trajectory. The clash of limbs reverberates through the air as you block their follow-up assault, your own clawed glove extending in a retaliatory gesture. Their speed is astonishing, an awe-inspiring display that leaves you momentarily off balance, seized by the collar and hoisted over their shoulder.

Yet, you are not caught off guard. Prepared for this impact, you roll onto your back with practiced grace, positioning yourself strategically as they hover above you. Both of you conceal your identities behind masks, but their assailant garb does a superior job of obscuring their true self. While your mind races to decipher the symbol adorning their attire, you sense an equal curiosity emanating from beneath their weight, solid and imposing.

Baring your teeth, you hiss defiantly, a mixture of challenge and provocation dripping from your words, "So you enjoy it rough, do you?"

A cocky tilt of their chin betrays their confidence as they respond, "Most men do."

This close the vague familiarity of the voice behind the mask gnaws at you. Though the speculation is faint as you calculate your next move.

A man then.

You could work with that.

Knowing that a headbutt would yield no victor, you tap into your resourcefulness, employing your body with precision. Your foot connects with a swift strike to his solar plexus, jolting them momentarily and creating the necessary space for you to wriggle free. As you roll a few feet away, maintaining a safe distance, the sound of a wheeze escapes his masked lips. With a taunting tone, you tease, "Aw, poor baby. Has the cat got your tongue? Men always finish so soon."

Tension tenses his shoulder as he regains his footing, a charge of determination propelling his advance. His arm grips your shoulder, preparing to toss you once more. Yet, you possess the agility to seize the opportunity, pivoting with agility and daring, aligning your back with his chest, sacrificing a vulnerable position for the advantage it grants. The motion of your next move is intended to disrupt their balance, your leg deftly splitting his thighs as you attempt to shove them backward. However, your calculation of his resilience proves inaccurate, as he fiercely bring you down alongside him.

Effortlessly, he rolls atop you, overpowering your defenses, pinning your arm back with ease. His voice drips with smugness as they taunt, "You're right. You are pedigree. What do they call you? A ragdoll?"

The curl of his self-satisfied smirk ignites a blazing fire within you, fueling your determination as you squirm beneath his weight. "Still not close enough. Allow me to enlighten you," you hiss, your voice laced with an unsettling sweetness.

His hand presses against your head, drawing dangerously close. A slip-up, a momentary vulnerability that becomes your catalyst for escape. Your nails claw into the flesh of his arm, exerting force until the compressed nerve yields, weakening his left side. Taking advantage their loosened grip, you unleash a powerful back kick, squirming free from his grasp.

Now afforded the precious gift of space, you act swiftly, nimbly scaling the wall with a determination born from necessity. The strain on your arm protests the swinging motion, but you persevere, perching yourself just out of their reach on a low-bearing beam. Your chest heaves with exertion, a telltale sign of the intensity of the encounter. There is a captivating allure to the figure before you, an air of knowingness that radiates from his composed demeanor as he casually rolls his shoulders, shaking off the impact of your attack.

Even from their position below, he maintains the advantage, a fact he is acutely aware of. Yet, for reasons unbeknownst to you, he refrains from exploiting it, at least for now. "Crafty entrance," the voice remarks, revealing his knowledge of the vent. This realization dawns upon you, highlighting the indicators you carelessly overlooked. This building is undoubtedly inhabited, but the question remains—why?

"I wasn't aware someone was watching. I would have put on a better show," you retort, a playful hint in your voice.

"It was rewarding enough," he counters, his words dripping with a hint of intrigue. You envision the angle of your contorted body, the spectacle it must have presented to an observer. Indicators often accompany additional security measures, yet they allowed you to stumble into the trap instead of springing it prematurely.

"I tend to prefer finer things, but I can appreciate prime real estate. New owner?" you inquire, a note of curiosity lacing your words.

The figure leisurely crosses his arms, providing you with a slightly clearer glimpse beneath the moon's gentle illumination. Shades of dark purple shroud his form, obscuring detailed features, yet you discern a lithe and agile build. "Something like that," he responds, his tone light but tinged with an underlying sense of boredom. "It's time for you to be a good kitty and run off. I'm not fond of house cats."

His words resonate within you, as if he had plucked the thoughts from your mind. Though you had initially been poised to retreat toward the familiar path from which you came, an uncharacteristic trust in this enigmatic stranger tugs at your instincts. There is an inexplicable feeling that assures you it will be alright, that survival is not merely wishful thinking. Alternatively, you may be sealing your own fate, and Tamara would revel in newfound wealth.

"That's a shame," you remark, as you feel his eyes trailing after you as you cautiously pry open the vent. Even though he is out of sight, his presence lingers, his words carving ripples in the air.

His next statement leaves you with a wry smile, "Funny you say that. I thought you were too expensive for my taste."

As you wriggle back through the vent, ensuring a seamless exit, the metal sheet slams shut, sealing off the passage behind you. The cool breath of Brooklyn's night air embraces your heated skin, invigorating your senses. In an instant, you spring into action, traversing the building with a swiftness born of instinct and experience. Every stride, every leap, carries you closer to the boundary of your neighborhood.

Yet, in the depths of your being, something stirs—a sensation more profound than mere boredom.

Curiosity.

#earth 42 miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles x reader #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman fanfiction #42 miles morales #miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles morales #prowler miles

625 notes · View notes

1-800-papaya · 2 months

Text

Charming a Duchess

Benedict Bridgerton x Duchess Y/N

Author | I just want to say that this will not follow the books but instead reimage Benedict's love story in the future season four, this means that all events and characters from seasons 1 to 3 will be included. Once again i really do hope you guys love this story and idea for Benedict just as much as I do.

The early morning sun filtered through the towering oaks that lined the driveway of the grand estate of Inveraray Castle, the ancestral home of the Duchy of Argyll. A soft breeze carried the scent of heather and the distant murmur of the River Aray. Y/N Campbell, the newly titled Duchess of Argyll, stood at her bedroom window, gazing out at the rolling hills that had been her sanctuary for as long as she could remember.

“Y/N, dear, we must hurry,” her mother’s voice called from the hallway. “We cannot afford to delay the couch much more.”

Y/N turned from the window, her heart heavy with a mix of excitement and trepidation. London awaited them, a bustling metropolis full of promise and potential matches for her younger sisters. Charlotte and Dorothea were giddy with anticipation, their chatter filling the house with an infectious energy that even Y/N couldn’t resist.

“Yes, Mother, I’m coming,” Y/N replied, smoothing the skirts of her travel dress. She glanced at her reflection in the mirror, her emerald-green eyes reflecting the determination she felt. At five and twenty, she was content with her life, devoted to her family and her passion for the arts. Marriage was not something she sought for herself, but her siblings’ futures were her priority.

Downstairs, the household was a hive of activity. Trunks were being loaded onto the coach, servants bustled about, and her younger siblings were saying their goodbyes to the staff. Y/N’s mother, the Dowager Duchess, stood by the coach, her regal presence commanding respect. Despite the loss of her husband a mere year ago, she had managed the estate with grace and strength.

“Y/N, there you are,” the Dowager Duchess said, a warm smile lighting up her face. “Are you ready?”

Y/N nodded, returning the smile. “As ready as I’ll ever be, Mother.”

“Excellent. Now, where is that dog of yours?” Her mother’s tone was fondly exasperated.

As if on cue, Archie, Y/N’s beloved Gordon Setter, bounded into view, his dark coat gleaming in the sunlight. He circled Y/N’s legs, tail wagging furiously. She bent down to ruffle his ears. “Come on, Archie. London awaits.”

The journey to London was long but pleasant, the rolling countryside giving way to bustling towns and villages. Y/N and her sisters chatted excitedly, their laughter filling the coach. Charlotte, at nine and ten, was vibrant and full of life, her blue eyes sparkling with dreams of romance. Dorothea, just eight and ten, was quieter but equally excited, her gentle nature endearing her to everyone she met.

As they approached London, the landscape changed dramatically. The air grew thicker, the roads busier, and the buildings taller. Y/N’s heart quickened. London was a far cry from the serene beauty of Argyll, but it held a charm of its own.

Argyll House in London was a grand townhouse in Mayfair, elegantly furnished and ready to host the family. As they stepped out of the coach, Y/N took a deep breath, absorbing the bustling energy around her.

The following days were a whirlwind of introductions, parties, and social events. The marriage mart was in full swing, and Y/N’s sisters quickly became the darlings of the season. Y/N, though more reserved, found herself enjoying the vibrant arts scene in London. She visited galleries and attended musical performances, her passion for the arts rekindled with every new experience.

One evening, at a particularly grand ball hosted by the Bridgerton family, Y/N stood at the edge of the room, watching her sisters dance with eligible gentlemen. She felt a sense of satisfaction, knowing they were enjoying themselves.

As she observed the swirling colors and listened to the lively music, a voice interrupted her thoughts. “Miss Campbell, isn’t it?”

Y/N turned to find the handsome Benedict Bridgerton standing beside her, a charming smile on his face. He moved with a kind of effortless grace that drew attention wherever he went. Y/N had observed the second-born Bridgerton throughout the season. She had watched as he poked fun at his brother’s dopey lovesick similes as he danced with both his own and her sisters. Charlotte and Dorothea both expressed great joy at having the attention of the dashing Mr. Bridgerton. Though her mind did roll through many articles in Lady Whistledown that either showered the Bridgerton family with praise or cast a slight shadow over them. He intrigued her to great lengths.

“Duchess, actually,” Y/N corrected gently, offering a polite smile. “Y/N Campbell of Argyll.”

“Ah, my apologies, Duchess,” Benedict said, bowing slightly. “I’ve heard much about you and your family’s arrival. Your sisters seem to be enjoying the season.”

“They are indeed,” Y/N replied, glancing at her sisters. “It’s their first time in London, and they are making the most of it.”

“And you, Duchess? Are you finding London to your liking?” Benedict’s tone was genuinely curious.

Y/N hesitated, then nodded. “It’s different from what I’m used to, but it has its own charm. I’m particularly fond of the art scene here.”

Benedict’s eyes lit up with interest. “Is that so? I happen to share your passion for the arts. Perhaps we could visit a gallery together sometime?”

Y/N was taken aback by his forwardness, but there was something sincere in his eyes that made her smile. “I would like that, Mr. Bridgerton.”

“Please, call me Benedict,” he said, his smile widening.

“Very well, Benedict,” Y/N agreed. “And you may call me Y/N.”

#benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #bridgerton #scottish

135 notes · View notes

dangerousduckcloud · 3 months

Text

Flowerbeds make up for a nice eternal rest

Read it also on AO3

“Couldn’t sleep.” You replied, putting the well-loved copy of the book back in the shelf. “What about you?” “Yeah, same.” He sat down on the couch, legs spread and elbows resting on his knees. “Hard to do so when you learn your whole life is a lie… Just ink on paper.”

I've been updating daily, however I've noticed the quality is not quite good sometimes (today, for example), so I'll be taking longer to update, maybe once a week/2 weeks or so, I'm sorry for this, but I wish to write something of good quality

Chapter 6 < > Chapter 8

taglist: @kurai-hono-blog

Fingers ghosting over the spines of the books, you're surprised to see so many titles familiar to you, from Lord of the Rings, Jurassic Park, all the way to Jane Austen books, some of them more worn than the others, a small smile creeping up your face at the thought of knowing just who read these books so many times.

A new question —added to the many that’ve appeared since you accepted you’re in some other reality— popped on your mind, if so many things in their world are similar to yours; people, social functions, historical events, what was so different that led yours not having superheroes and vigilantes? There’s no Gotham, no Metropolis, no Star City, nothing.

Did this mean they simply do not exist, or they just didn’t want to make themselves known? Here, everything started with Superman. If he existed in your reality, what made him not want to help people? Had he been captured by the government instead of the Kents? Had his ship landed someplace else? Are there other planets out there?

So many questions, so many possibilities, not a single answer.

The book authors are the same as your world; Tolkien, Crichton, Austen… Not just a coincidence in people here writing books with the same title, so it begs the question of a point you mentioned last night.

Does this mean there's another version of yourself in this world? Is there a different version of them in yours?

“You alright?”

It didn’t matter how many times you would hear that voice, it will always send shivers down your body, making your heart skip a beat. Turning around towards the voice, the early morning light deluged him in a pink-golden light, water droplets falling to the floor, he was only dressed in black pants and a tight black shirt that didn’t seem comfortable, his muscly arms threatening to rip it apart.

His unnaturally vibrant green eyes were more focused on the book you were holding —Little Women— rather than your face.

“Couldn’t sleep.” You replied, putting the well-loved copy of the book back in the shelf. “What about you?”

“Yeah, same.” He sat down on the couch, legs spread and elbows resting on his knees. “Hard to do so when you learn your whole life is a lie… Just ink on paper.”

“I don’t think it is.” With long strides, you sat down next to him, an ample space left between you two. “The fact that you’re here with me discussing about this mess should mean that you’re more than just a puppet created to entertain. You’re a human being, with feelings, thoughts, ideas… Who knows, maybe someone from your world came to mine and wrote your life story.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah, of course. If you were simply the mere product of a writer, how could I be here, when I’m not?” This whole time he’d been looking at the floor, lost in his mind, finally turning to look you in the eyes. “I’m as lost in this as you are, but the one thing I’m certain, is that you’re real, Jason. As real as the moon and the stars.”

It was immensely evident something continued plaguing his mind, his eyebrows drawn and eyes unfocused, you knew how lost he must feel like, having felt the same just the night before, but whatever conclusion he came to, his face searched yours once again, a tired, tight smile on his face.

----

Breakfast had been a chaotic affair, having to explain to the rest of the family present in the house what endured after you woke up in the cave, Tim and Cass having long gone to sleep after they were sure you were safe.

“So, we’re not real?”

“You are, just not in my world. At least not like this.” Your meal had long gotten cold, being bombarded with questions that left you no time to take a bite. “There are no vigilantes there. Also, I’m sorry, Tim.”

“What for?”

“I thought you were delusional.”

Everyone in the table laughed, with Tim throwing you a harmless glower, even Alfred coughing to hide his smile.

“This is intriguing.”

You nodded at Cass’ response, at last grabbing your fork to eat your cold scrambled eggs, attempting not to make faces at the taste.

“So…” Tim spoke once again after refiling his cup of coffee for the third time. “Everything that we’ve suffered, is all just because someone wrote it?”

All eyes were laid on you, your face pale and mouth dry suddenly.

You couldn’t say no, because you still didn’t know how this worked, and you didn’t think you’ll ever find out, was your world shaping theirs, or was it theirs shaping the stories you were shown?

But you also didn’t want to say yes, because that would mean…

Unconsciously, your eyes wandered over to Jason, eyes locking for a second, his neutral demeanor changing into a raised eyebrow.

“Why did I die?”

“I… I don’t know.”

Cass raised a brow as well, her words clipped. “You’re lying.”

It was way better when you still thought they were just crazy, with no interrogations to interrupt your breakfast.

“There… There was a poll.” Avoiding everyone’s faces, you spoke to the table, voice as small as possible, however, with them being the detectives they were, they still could make out your words, if the gasps were any indication.

“A poll?” Jason reiterated, outraged. When you looked up, green eyes filled with hate was the only thing you could focus on. “A poll to decide my fate? A fucking poll?”

“I—Jason, they—”

“They what? Why would they do something like this!?” His eyes were glowing, hands closing into fists. “I was fifteen! Why would you do this? Who the fuck would think of killing a teenager!?”

“Wh—Me!?” You stood up, chair dragging behind you. “Jason, I wasn’t even born when that happened! And—and from what I read; they didn’t even think they’d do it.”

“Oh, and that’s supposed to make me feel better?”

Tears were prickling your eyes, mouth left hanging open. He had every right to be angry, everyone would, however the hate directed to you was unwarranted. The rest of them were looking at you, faces unreadable, except Dick’s, his eyes red, but whether it was for the current situation or remembering Jason’s murder, you didn’t know, maybe it was both.

It was clear none would come to your rescue, too disgruntled and sorrowful on Jason’s behalf.

“What do you mean you weren’t even born?” Tim asked, his investigative soul winning against his feelings. Or maybe this was his way to deal with the pain. “You’re Jason’s age, you were fourteen.”

Sniffing, you cleared your tears with the sleeves of your shirt. “I don’t know how time works here. That happened in the… The eighties, I think. I was born in the 2000’s.”

“This doesn’t make any sense.” He mumbled. “The years…” And without another word, he left the kitchen, quickly followed by Jason, although taking another path.

“Jason, wait.”

But your words fell on deaf ears. You hadn’t known Jason for a day, and he already hated you.

“I’m sorry.” Apologizing for everything you’d done and everything you didn’t, you walked out the kitchen as well, not a clear destination in mind.

#jason todd #the red hood #redhood #red hood #x reader #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #batman #dick grayson #robin #batfam #tim drake #bruce wayne #nightwing #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd x fem!reader #cass cain #cassandra cain

56 notes · View notes

waksworldrebooted · 5 months

Text

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

93 notes · View notes