My motorcycle lady

[asoftermeme]

Motorcycle Club (AU) SHIPPING MEME In real life, motorcycle clubs that are truly "gangs," or "1%," are no laughing matter, a part of a dark and seedy underbelly that's far from pretty. Like with many cultural establishments with less-than-stellar reputations, though, fiction has romanticized these fringe fraternities with shows like Sons of Anarchy. To be fair, the life itself lends to the idealized: spending time on the open road, answered very little to very few, being able to take matters of life and liberty into your own hands, cloaking yourself in leather and tattoos and denim and the very essence of Americana. It all screams freedom and a wild lifestyle. Equally wild and even more passionate is the love lives individuals involved in the motorcycle club lifestyles. When danger's at your back, it's good HOW TO PLAY Comment with your character, info, desired role, preferences, etc. Reply to others. Thread. Terms and all kind of fun stuff found here. PROMPTS old lady: Or old men, because why not. Essentially, the official significant others of members, and it's all very serious - with some bikers even viewing their lover as property. They may wear the biker's jacket or ride on the back of the motorcycle. brothers/sisters in arms: You know you're always there for each other, like family. Why not take things to the next level? mechanics: They fix up the bikes. They may just fix up your heart, too. civilian: The person you care for the most isn't in the life you can't leave. other

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Agent Texas | Red vs Blue

[a_shadow]

(( Mechanic of the group. ))

[holographiclockpick]

York can tell you how to bust out of prison with nothing but a plastic fork and a reasonably-sized jar of Vaseline. He's the world's premier scholar (or so he likes to think) on the 1990's Oasis-versus-Blur debate. He's halfway decent at doing arithmetic in his head.

He couldn't, however, tell you what the hell was happening to his bike. It smelled ranker than usual, a cocktail of burned gasoline and straight-up broken, and he could tell that internally, somewhere, something was about to give out. Luckily, he knew someone who could fix it.

"Hey, Tex!" He greets-shouts, giving the barest of knocks and flinging the door of her shop open. "So, I, uh, might be in a bit of a problem. You open?"

He's absolutely expecting her to throw a wrench at him, and he's ready to duck if that indeed happens.

[a_shadow]

That's a fairly good prediction, except that Tex is possessive of her tools—they're good quality—and she instead chucks something significantly cheaper and dirtier, an old oil filter.

"If I wasn't open you wouldn't have been able to practically break the door down," she says. "You might want to watch how you ask for things." Present it as a challenge and she'll be a lot more interested.

Superbia Squalo // KHR!

[sharktrash]

[ biker mafia gang, why not. o/ prompts 1-3. ]

[ possibly a big name in illegal races who had an ~accident~ (or sabotage) and resorted to being a mechanic after losing part of his dominant arm. still hops on for the gang's raids sometimes, though, and keeps up without trouble. ]

who needs prompts

[xxxxxx]

[Like most things about Xanxus, his arrival was violent, a wrench picked up and thrown at the back of Squalo's head as he ducked into the X VARIA X automotive repair and customization shop.]

Those scumbags at the Crocetti's new night club haven't been paying.

[Because 'hello Squalo, hope that wrench didn't give you brain damage' was too droll of a greeting. Xanxus ducked into the shop, blood already aflame at the thought of some action, mouth a cruel smirk.]

We're going to collect.

not us

[sharktrash]

[ Well, obviously, Squalo was going to snap around and scream like the graceful, majestic being he was. ]

Hello to you too, dickbag!

[ He's still going to pick up the wrench, put it on the work table and step toward Xanxus, though. He takes a rag to wipe the oils and dirt off his hands, both the real and the fake one, and picks up his jacket. Well, "his", but it probably belonged to Xanxus at some point. Or got customized, because that's sure a giant "X" on the back, sewn onto the black leather. ]

[xxxxxx]

[Who was calling Squalo majestic? They might need to get their eyes checked.

Also wow not even trying to hide the homo or saving it for the speeches. That jacket was almost worst than the butt tattoos.

Xanxus didn't even flinch at the greetings, waiting impatiently for Squalo to get ready.]

Hurry up.

[Or there was going to be a mechanic stool chucked next in greeting.]

[sharktrash]

[ Why would he want to hide the homo. He's the main bitch of the gang leader, that's nothing to sneer at. Also shut up, the butt tattoos were sophisticated and ~romantic~. ]

What's the rush? Got cops after your ass again?

[ But yeah, he's done and coming outside. Some of their people are still working, so there's no need to lock the shop up or anything. ]

[ So, does he want to go on two bikes or one? ]

[xxxxxx]

[Whatever made Squalo happy. : \ But seriously love yourself more, find better life goals, etc.

That comment was going to get him a swift kick in the butt, half to get him going and half because last time the cops had been after him had been Squalo's fault. Probably not but he was still going to blame it on him.]

If you have time to run your mouth, you have time to hurry up shitty shark.

[Two bikes would be better for intimidation, and Xanxus was already hefting a leg over his bike, turning to glance over at Squalo as he started it up.]

Follow me.

[As if he was going to do anything else, but you know.]

[sharktrash]

[ smfh ]

[ IT WASN'T HIS FAULT FFS he's not the one who decided not to pay at a drive-thru in the middle of a "mission". god damn it Xanxus. ]

If you've got time to fucking kick me --

[ Nope, he's got nothing. Just gonna climb onto his own bike - heavily customized, obviously, partly because he needs it due to the delayed reaction in his mechanical hand, and partly just because he can - and start it up. ]

[xxxxxx]

[LOOK WHEN YOU'RE THINKING OF TACOS YOU'RE NOT THINKING OF PAYING FOR THEM, BUT EATING THEM.

Xanxus wasn't even going to bother waiting for the retort, already scooting his bike out into the street, roaring off without a backwards look because Squalo's bitching was white noise at this point.

He parked his bike outside the nightclub, adjusting his gloves as he looked at the place idly, expression calm for now. It was a few hours before it was going to open, so it should only be employees at the moment, but it wasn't like getting civilians caught up in it would have stopped him either.]

Mammon says they owe us nearly one hundred thousand.

[And Mammon's word when it comes to money was basically law, as far as Xanxus was concerned. Not even a penny would be lost in Mammon's hands.]

[sharktrash]

[ NOT WHEN YOU LIVE IN A CIVILIZED SOCIETY. ]

[ Squalo stops right after him. There's a reason he's the official bitch second in command, he's the one person who can keep up with Xanxus, and so on. He hops off and whistles. That's a nice sum. ]

Kiddie gloves are off, then.

[ They can cause some serious damages if they're owed that much. ]

[xxxxxx]

[FUCK SOCIETY AND THE POLICEEEEEE.

Xanxus spared him a quick glance before he started off toward the front door, tugging at his leather gloves so they'd be properly in place for punching a bunch of scumbags in the teeth.]

Leave the accountant.

[Besides that, everyone else was free game, and Xanxus was just going to kick the door open with little trouble.

There was the usual 'who the hell are you?!' which would quickly segue into 'holy shit it's the Varia!' which led to 'don't let them get to the boss!'. That sort of thing. Xanxus was going to punch the guy nearest him and then send him crashing into the bar counter, grinning.

At this point, money was the furthest thing from his mind.]

[sharktrash]

Got it.

[ Squalo's got an own grin to match. He throws a wrench at the approaching security guy, embedding it in his forehead, then swiftly ducks under the next one's punch and flips him over. Grabbing a bottle from the bar, he breaks it to get himself a pointy weapon and grabs the guy Xanxus punched a moment before by the lapels, slamming him into the nearest wall and tickling his throat with the broken glass. ]

Right then. "The boss." Where do I find him?

Rain/River - you know who you are~

[baseball_baka]

Yamamoto stumbled against the lowered metal door of the shop. It was late evening and he didn’t even know it was this place he’d come to. He could think a million other places he could have gone to, but instead, his shoulder hit the side of the garage door with a loud bang as he fight to remain upright. He could have gone to a back alley quack after, instead, he was sliding down the metal and sitting upon the ground, bike laying next to him from where he had walked it here, ignoring the blood slowly pooling under him. The fight had been ferocious. It had been seriously bad shit that had gone down. He’d not been in a turf war like that since he’d taken the mantle of “The Requiem Rain”.

The gang had been merciless and he was sure that right now, there were a few dead bastards on the highway somewhere he couldn’t remember for the pain in his head where he’d been struck back a lead pipe. They’d thought he’d go down easy. Not him. He was ‘the Requiem Rain', and one of the toughest bosozoku to ever ride the means streets of Namimori.

Only now, after it all was over and he had been victorious had he stumbled off to lick his wounds in private. The back of his head slammed against the metal and he swore softly. This was not where he wanted to be. This was definitely not that. Because he worked here.

Oscar.

And perhaps that's why he had come here instead of anywhere else. Because if he was going to go, he wanted to see his mechanic. He wanted to see the man who had made his baby into the amazing monster it was now. He wanted to see him. Or maybe it was the head trauma. Whatever it was, Takeshi was there at the door of 'Interpol', the terribly named bike shop.

He swears again and chuckles. He'll rest here against the garage door a minute and then he'll go.

[riveres]

Luckily for him the owner of this shop is out.

Despite the terrible name, Interpol is one of the few neutral bike shops in the area. It's owner, a tall hulking former police officer took no bullshit from the gangs that came around there trying to claim the spot as their own and often hired former bosozoku as mechanics that still had no problem with bashing in the heads of anyone that tried to disturb the peace.

The reason why the place was coveted among the bikers? The only mechanic that didn't look much like a biker at all, the owner's young, western son. He almost looked like a girl until you heard him talk. It's enough to make any self respecting biker scoff at the boy. But under the hood, he made Demons. Bike's fast enough to make seasoned riders wary as hell and reckless speed lovers salivate. His modifications were only given to the few that earned the right to have it, and Takeshi was one of them. (Although 'Papa' was keeping a close eye on the boy. It's not only his mechanical skills that made his son desirable to those that came into the shop.)

If he was here, he would've thrown him out. Soon Oscar and a few men came out the building to see what was the noise, some of them them had bats, pipes, knives and were pretty much ready to get rid of whoever came in. But once Oscar discovers it's Takeshi, he calls them off and goes immediately.

"Yamamoto-san!" He should really get to a Doctor instead, but there isn't time to think about that.

"Take his bike, I'm taking him inside." Oscar orders as he slings the injured man arm over his shoulder.

"But Oscar, he's-"

"I don't care if he's The Requiem Rain! He's bleeding, take his bike in before anyone notices he's here and injured!"

[baseball_baka]

He had been hoping to just get a breather and go. He knows he's not welcome at this shop unless he's a paying customer. The owner had already threatened numerous times to remove his balls and make them into a hat every time he showed up and smiled too much at Oscar. He couldn't help it. Oscar made him smile.

But he's not smiling right now. Right now, he's trying to keep conscious. He notes the figures flooding out of the shop. Notes the weapons and there's a slightly dangerous smirk. "Give me a second, boys, I'll be right with you." Because he's certain that an attack right now would be the end of him if he couldn't think of a way out of it. Only his head hurt so much and he's bleeding quite a bit though his leathers.

Then he hears that familiar voice and that smirk becomes a smile. "An angel descends." He teases weakly, even as he feels that frail shoulder under his arm. He forces himself to his feet with shaky legs. "You don't have to worry about me. I just needed a breather. I'll get my bike and go. Just don't tell your pop I bled on your garage door, okay." Only he's not making any effort to leave. Instead, he's leaning a little more on Oscar, signaling his willingness to go inside and risk the wrath of Zenigata rather than bleed out in some dirty alley.

[riveres]

He'll deal with his father when he comes back. It's still better to deal with that than let Takeshi bleed out outside the shop. They are neutral, but standards are standards. (Add to that, Takeshi may be the The Requiem Rain, he may be a bosozoku, covered in tattoos and piercings with leather and chains, but underneath all that... he's a sweet friendly guy that avidly follows baseball. If his father wasn't a legendary biker, Oscar would be pretty sure he'd play on baseball team. He also was one of the few bikers that didn't explode in laughter or disbelief at finding out Oscar would be modifying his bike.) So yeah, of course he's going to save him.

"Don't speak, you're practically leaking out blood." His voice is concerned, grave with the thought that Takeshi might not survive this. He needs a doctor, he really does.

[baseball_baka]

There's that smile. That brilliant boy-next-door grin. It must look so strange on the face of a man that had just been in a deeply violent turf war. There's no telling how many he ended up hurting or killing, but it's a good bet that it was quite a few if he ended up looking like this. Still, he smiles because he doesn't want Oscar to worry.


He allows himself to be brought in though. He's certain that he'll end up in the office. "Just hook me up with some bandaids and I'll be out of your hair in no time, okay?"

[riveres]

"You need more than just bandaids, Takeshi." And that is the truth.

He sets him down on the sofa, worn and cracked with old leather. (But extremely comfy.) Oscar goes behind the desk to get the medical kit.

[baseball_baka]

He's being scolded. He's being scolded by his pretty mechanic. It would be embarrassing if he didn't deserve it. He does though because he's trying to undersell the injuries he has. He doesn't want to worry Oscar. More than that, he wants to be sure he gets out of there. He doesn't want to bring the other gang he had been fighting here but more than that, he doesn't want to deal with Oscar's dad while he's leaking blood like a siv.

He sits when he is placed and puts his hand over the worst wound. "I'm really sorry, Oscar. I was trying to find a place to lay low and I ended up in front of your door. I guess I knew you would take care of my bike at least." Because his bike is one of a kind and a lot of other bikers want it (though honestly only he can bring out the perfection of the monster that Oscar had built).

[riveres]

It's then Oscar speaks truthfully or at least speaks some of the truth. "I don't care about the bike, what matters is the rider. I could always make a new one, a better one for you. But I can't do that if you're not here, Takeshi." Oscar's father insists upon neutrality, but it's pretty obvious who he pulls for in the fights for territory.

"But it's in the garage, safe and sound."

The lithe mechanic leans down with bandages in his hands. "Take away your hand."

[baseball_baka]

"I care about the bike." He mutters. "It was a precious gift from a really important person to me." He knows better than to say any more. He's never been secret about his attraction to the mechanic. It's probably why Oscar's dad was so against him. Because Takeshi would give anything to be able to take Oscar out on a date or heck, even hold his hand. But he knows he can't chase after Oscar. The mechanic deserves someone better than some two-bit biker.

He sighs a little and then moves his hand as instructed. His shirt is slashed open and it looks like he had been stabbed with a knife along with all the bludgeoning wounds. It's bleeding quite badly.

[riveres]

Meanwhile Oscar never quite got it or was oblivious to the bikers attraction to him. There was more important things to think about in his mind. Plus Takeshi was the Requiem Rain, he had women fawning at his feet. (Maybe even had men.) Why would be even be interested in a girly gearhead with an overprotective dad? But..."It really is?" He likes recognition for his talents, it's rare that he gives it so purely.

Oscar has to breathe and try not to panic about all the blood, he lifts Takeshi's shirt and begins to clean it. "I may have to give you stitches."

[baseball_baka]

He wishes that Oscar would have more confidence in his work. That bike is a true masterpiece and it's gotten him out of so many scrapes. It's also made him a bit of money though street races and the like. But more than that, it had been made by those pretty and skilled hands and that makes it even better. "It really is. I suppose I should tell you that more, until you believe it. That you make the best bikes." There is a pause and he considers it. He might as well. If he's going to die, he doesn't want to die without saying it clearly. "And you really are. An important person to me and not just because you made it. It's because I like you a lot."

Probably the worst timing for confessions but he really doesn't want to let it be unsaid any longer. "And if you need to, go ahead. I can take it."