#the biker gang

[queenie-ofthe-void]

Steve knows the kids are obsessed with the newest up and coming metal band, Corroded Coffin, even though their music is actually terrible. But when Robin of all people begs Steve take them to the band's next gig, he relents.

Everything starts to make a lot more sense when they walk up to the stage and there's an honest to god Siren behind the microphone, a guitar slung low on his hips with magic wafting off him in waves over the crowd.

The singer clocks him immediately and quickly schools the flash of surprise in his eyes into something more flirtatious.

Steve smiles, the cat that caught the canary. He was right. Their music really does suck, and he can't wait until tomorrow when he can rub it in his tiny human friends' faces.

Tonight, however, he's going to ruffle a pretty boy's feathers.

~~~

Eddie knows his music's horse shit, tailor made for humans- sue him, they needed the money. So he's always a little surprised when another creature finds their way to his concerts. It happens on occasion, and of course they're always welcomed. He's seen all sorts on their tour.

But something as beautifully unholy as a Nephilim?

The man with the auburn hair and hazel eyes surrounded by a gaggle of children glows with a golden aura so soft and warm Eddie's almost left speechless. Almost.

He's caught staring, but he can't take his eyes away. So Eddie does what Sirens do best. He preens, puffs his sleek black feathers just enough for only the man in the crowd to see and sings. A move typically saved for encores, the crowd goes wild with energy and pushes their way towards the stage.

The Nephi laughs, full-bodied with mirth at the antics. A beacon of golden light bursts from him, control of his halo slipping just the slightest.

It's unearthly, it's sinful, and Eddie falls to his knees in worship. The men and women caught in the halo turn to him, smiling and leaning in and touching what is Eddie's--

But the Angel relaxes, the halo draws back, and the peoples' hands fall away even though their eyes linger.

None of that matters when the Angel blows him a kiss. Eddie knows, deep in the hollows of his bones, that when he finds him after the show, he'll stretch his Angel's wings and show him just how bright his halo can glow.

[filmnoirsbian]

I do think it's funny whenever film reviewers who clearly don't enjoy horror as a genre are forced to review a horror film and fall back on the tried and true "well it's no [insert classic horror film that is not similar in any way to the film being discussed but is one of the only ones non horror fans respect as a work of art in itself]" method. Like, you're right, this movie ISN'T Dawn of the Dead 1978. Léon the Professional is also not Holes. What has that got to do with anything.

[jackalopenecropsy]

ok i'll indulge myself....

part 1(?) of biker gang!141 and an interesting fem grunge!reader... if u want more

cw; slight mentions of blood

The streets were pretty quiet this time of night. The only sounds to be heard were barking dogs or tires occasionally skidding in the distance. And the teenagers were never out this late in the fall, as school just started or they were working their dead jobs at the gas station or high school graduates pouring the same 5 drinks at a bar.

You liked walking around- even though it was maybe 1 or 2 in the morning- mainly because you had your scary guard dog with you, (who wasn't even a bit scary, he was just a police academy dropout with a fear of cotton swabs and squirrels) but also because the air this time of year smelled the best. It did wonders for your skin and sinuses, so why not? Walking around in the daytime was a lot more of a chore anyways, teenagers skating sporradically with fruity vapes on necklaces or older men just leaving their blue collar jobs for lunch while staring at you with unreadable expressions.

The northwoods, sigh. You'd told yourself that you'd leave it all the time when you were a kid. Over the years, a mix of the economy making that absolutely impossible and an aquirement of taste for small-town life made it a lot easier to accept the impossibility of it. Bartending and eventually being remote in editorial work kept you afloat in the small house you'd been able to buy flat out in the south side of town.

That part of town was just cemeteries and neighborhoods, neighborhoods and railroads, and gas stations and bars. As most south sides were. Another luxury of living where you lived was the copious amounts of streets and drag-worthy strips of old highway that laid for miles in one direction or another.

You used to work as a freelance flag girl for drag racers on some shitty craigslist copy, but quit l because the only racers that wanted you were full of white-claw drunk young assholes rooting for douchebag car modders who compensated for their dick sizes by throttling so hard that the pop of their exhausts sounded like gunfights. It was too loud and to risky and too tasteless.

But in the ends of the summer, it was taken over by the bikers. Not bicycle-bikers, but motorcyclists.

You were absolutely terrible at hiding your drooling depraved stares at every single one of them. The young women in skin-clad leather and red lipstick with matching sleek bikes, the finer-aged older men in their lean-back harleys with bandanas, the cute guys your age in their blackout helmets and their modestly-modded bikes. Oh, the variety, oh the taste. You had once thought about picking up biking yourself, but when you told your friends they all cackled at the idea. You were too absent minded at times; definitely from all the weed you smoked. Only half embarassed, you agreed.

Tonight was no different than the other nights of early Septembers before. Your dog lapped his tongue in the air catching stray dew drops falling from leaves overhead as you took your time walking accross the street. He swayed his tail so hard that you almost got knocked over a few times. The sound of a motorcyle revving in the distance made you slow your speed to a halt, listening intently, shamefully to see if you could get any bit of eye candy while out.

You recognized the sound of the engine, which soon became engines as the sounds came closer.

'Oh... a group of Kawaskis?? No... that's at least two more different motorcyles, but a few Kawaskis.. Do I hear a Harley?'

You blinked to yourself before shaking your head.

'God fucking damnit, you geek. You should NOT be able to tell what motorcyle model someone's riding from the fucking engine.'

Before you can shamefully walk back towards your house, you feel your dog tug harshly at his leash. You try to hold him back, but he yanks with one solid push of his back paws on the blacktop, and before you know it, you're hands and knees down on the hard ground as he's running full speed towards the sound of the motorcycles.

You groan in frustration as you stand up in a small bit of pain, your fishnets torn to shit as your palms and knees are scraped just enough to bleed a reasonable amount for getting launched by a 90 lb dog of muscle.

"Riley!" You shout and run at him, dodging a few trash cans along the street's edge as you do so. "Riley, goddamnit! Come back! Here boy!" Your converse were broken in enough to give you good ground as you chased him, and you almost grab his loose leash dragging behind him- until you trip over your own feet again just before you do.

You stay on the ground this time, unworried for your dog, as he's a big boy who knows how to not get hit by a car or get lost. More focused on the soul-eating embarassment of being outrun by a dog with more anxiety than a war veteran, and tripping twice in the process. You ignore the growing and stalling sound of engines beside- or in front, you can't tell being face down in the gravel- you as you're grovelling.

"Eh... excuse me miss? Are you alright?" You hear a gruff, dark voice mumble from just above you. You whip your head up to look at 5 people in bikers helmets just in front of you, their motorcyles off or stalling as they stand looking down at you on the ground.

"Oh- oh my- uh yeah- don't worry about me I'm great. I just tripped- nothing serious." You wave them off as you try and cover the growing fluster on your face. You stand and shake the dirt off your hands before swiping it off of your zip up, shaking it out of your gloves too. You look up to see none other than Riley, sitting contently behind the man in front of you, eagerly being pet by one of the bikers with a skull design painted onto his helmet and visor.

"Riley!" The biker looks up and your dog wags his tail hard enough to knock the bikers over too, and barks at you. "You are so not going to get any treats when we get home." He whines and continues barking, then twirls in a circle.

"You're dog's name is Riley?" The man in the skull helmet asks- and you suddenly become hyperaware of how all of the bikers are staring so intently at you. And those that have spoken so far have sickeningly thick English accents.

"Ah- yes, yeah. I was just on a walk and I heard you guys from the other street- but he just loves motorcylists so much, he took off on me. Usually he just waits until they pass us by. I'm so so sorry if he got in your way or anything." You scramble to try and seem somewhat normal as you switch between standing like a deer in their headlights, and holding your arms as the wind blew against your back.

"Ain't that a funny coincidence." The biker next to him stated, his accent thicker, and different. Possibly scottish.

"You watch it- It is a good name for a dog like this." The skull-helmet points an authoritative finger at the scot before patting Riley's head again. The man in front of you laughs heartily and takes his helmet off, revealing an older- FINELY aged man with hair in a short, short pulled back light brown and gray spotted ponytail. His mustache pulled down into a scruffy beard by mutton chops, giving him a real grizzly harley-rider look. You swore your jaw dropped when he took it off, and you were quick to cover your mouth when he smiled at you.

"I'm sorry about that miss- You've got a good dog protecting you. My names John Price." He walked up and took your hand from your face, squeezing it lightly. "My boys back there are harmless. You seem to have roughed yourself up a bit." He tilts his head as he leans back and looks you up and down, still holding your hand. Oh how deeply thankful you were that he was blocking the headlights from illuminating your red face.

"Yeah- I'm fine though, really! I just, can't keep up with Riley if I tried." You laugh and tremble a little as the cold air catches up to you. He raises an eyebrow- and fuck it gets to you because it makes him smirk a little bit too.

"Well, no offense but you look like you're in no condition to walk home like that!" A woman's voice comes up from behind Price's. You squint at the light when she comes up, and you see a blonde woman about his age with smile lines and blue eyes that could knock you down to your knees yet again. "My name's Kate, don't let John here scare you, he's just an old man." They banter a bit as you stare into space, begging any ethreal being to show you a sign that this is real life.

'Fuck being bisexual, god hates me.' You curse to yourself as you smile shyly at her.

"We can give you a ride home if you'd want! I wouldn't feel right letting you have to get yourself home with blood down your legs." Price motions with his free hand at your torn fishnets, rocks littering the cuts on your leg.

"Oh- I don't want to impose or anything, and I'll have Riley!" You struggle to keep yourself still as the wind continually stings.

"Lass, you're shakin' like a leaf in this wind." The scottish man shakes his head in his helmet, leaning back against the flat of his bike.

"You ain't getting home with just a dog draggin' you forward." The gruff voice of the skull-head from beside him made you look away in embarassment. They were all right, you were blocks away from home, and you didn't have your phone on you either.

"Um.. If you're sure you don't mind... but what about Riley?"

"He can ride wi' me!" The scott excitedly patted the flat he was leaning on, shuffling a few top panels to show a compartment on the back of it that had a hooking mechanism for leashes. Assumedly he had dogs too, and how greatful you were for it.

You sigh in relief that you wont have to limp home in your misery, as strong as you are, the chunk of you lost twice to the blacktop actually hurt more than you'd ever want to admit.

Before you can take a step forward, you're lifted off your feet and holding the shoulders of Kate. She laughs as you gasp and sets you on the back of skull-head's bike so you can backpack him, right next to Riley in the odd formation their bikes created.

"I promise he's not as scary as he looks- right Simon?"

"I don't bite." He chuckles deeply and you tense against his back as he does so. "You might want to hold on tho', I'm not exactly the easiest ride." You blush, hard as he says it, and the group laughs loudly as they start their bikes.

"Oi, treat her nice Si." A soft voice jeered from the last bike to Kate's right. "Or else I'll have to take her off your hands."

"Nice try Gaz."

"Boys! Quit scarin' her." Price chuckles and lights a cigar as he revs his engine. "Or else she wont wanna see us again. Now where do you need us to take you, love?"

'Ah.' Was all that crossed your mind as you locked your arms around Simon's waist, and you all shot off down the street.

[aberfaeth]

guys i cant take it here anymore truly. “the rat grinders killing small baby animals in the forest for 2 years has unsettling implications for their morality” Do You Remember When. Riz Gukgak Shot A Guy’s Fingers Off, Like As A Method Of Torture

[chocohybrid]

The many tribes of Dementus's Horde - From Metal Beasts and Holy Motors

[old-desert]

Inktobertale 2024 Day 6: Hyperspeed

How convenient that I just so happened to have a biker gang au lying around, huh.

[motorverseofficial]

[bettyfrommars]

I'm on Fire

biker!Eddie x fem!artist!Reader

90's au

MDNI, 18+ ONLY

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 2.5 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13 - Part 14 - Part 15 - Part 16 -Part 17 - Part 18

Summary: it's the mid-late 1990's and Eddie owns a mechanic garage/tow truck service with his Uncle Wayne. Reader is an artist who gets a flat tire on the freeway, and the rest is kismet. Lots of sexual tension, biker bad boy Eddie with a soft heart, both not sure how to navigate this adult crush they have on each other, amidst other complications. No Vecna, and they all met when they were young, but as very different people. Eddie and Steve are heavily tattooed and grew up in the MC life. Although Steve and Eddie's characters verge on OOC, I really try my best to keep them canon at their core. There will be dark themes later in this fic: cheating (not on reader), violence, allusions to domestic abuse, etc, so please continue with caution. Appearances by uncle Wayne, and eventually some other ST characters. Plenty of references for SOA fans to enjoy, though I don't go into detail about their ranks and whatnot. Eddie is in his early 30’s and reader is late 20’s to early 30’s.

A/N: This was the very first reader insert series I ever wrote for fandom. I adore those of you who have taken the time to show love for this! It's so nice to be able to share these stories with others and not just watch it rot away on my computer. Inspired by the song and video I'm on Fire by Bruce Springsteen

playlist

Series One Shots

AO3

biker!eddie edit

biker!Eddie sitting for a painting

The Velvet Hammer Steve & Robin's house Eddie's apartment above the garage

Fanfic Bind

[originalgravity]

[firefly-graphics]

Biker Dividers

Please like and reblog if you use or save.

Dividers List

[zelda-daily]

Day 81: Modern OOT part 2

[rainbow-cheshire]

☆ν3 тαℓєηтѕωαρ ᴄσℓℓαɓ - υℓтιмαтє ɓιкєʀ gαηg ℓєα∂єʀ ѕнυιᴄнι☆ (notes at the back!)

full collab will hopefully be out soon but here's my entry for @drv3giftexchangeclub 's talentswap collab! (hosted by the amazing @deceitxdeception !)

funny story, in the last ghosted talentswap collab someone suggested biker kiyo and i've been wanting to do it since then, and then when deceit rolled which character i'm doing and what talent they will be getting, turns out i did get the ultimate biker gang leader, BUT IT'S SHUICHI HAHA🤣 which is also super fun because 1. you would never imagine shuichi being a delinquent, 2. shuichi's talent is basically in the law department while being in a gang likely involves illegal stuff so 👀

overall i'm really proud of this, shuichi looks and doesn't look like himself at the same time lol (for those of you saying shuichi's canon design is emo, no that's goth this is real emo /j) i am also never drawing a motorcycle ever again :)))) (i do want to expand on this au though, specifically adding kiyo i already have notes for him hehe)

💙if you are planning to repost my drawings/edits, etc either ask for permission in the comments/private message me, or mention my username in the caption AND tag me, or else i will ask you to remove the post for stealing thank you💙

[chocohybrid]

some memes i’ve made recently for furiosa (all biker horde related oops)

+ bonus

[bitter69uk]

In Memoriam: the great outsider queer Swiss photographer and committed aficionado of firm male flesh Karlheinz Weinberger (10 June 1921 – 10 December 2006) died on this day. He specialized in documenting Elvis-worshiping rockabilly and motorcycle gang subcultures in the sixties and seventies, taking smoldering homoerotic portraits of sullen leather-clad thugs posed like defiant peacocks. It was reading John Waters’ voluble praise that turned me on to Weinberger’s work in the first place, and I am eternally grateful. One regret: I wish I’d snapped up the 2011 coffee table book Rebel Youth when it first came out. It’s slipped out of print since and copies now go for over £100 on eBay! Pictured: portrait of a young greaser punk by Karlheinz Weinberger, 1962.

[motorverseofficial]

Why is Cross staring at Killer so lovingly in the banner. Side eye. Cross care to elaborate

[fictionalmenxyn]

☠︎︎ 𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐎𝐟 𝐀𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡𝐲 ☠︎︎

Pairing: male!reader x Sarah Cameron

About: you had grown up with the Cameron’s. Your families were close. Reason why? Your dad and Ward were the original leaders of Sons of Anarchy. The motorbike gang thrived. When you were seventeen. Your dad had died while out attending business for the gang. You wanted to carry his legacy. But Ward, Topper’s dad and Kelce’s dad stepped down. They said it wasn’t the same without your father, which was true. So you four (you, Rafe, Kelce and Topper) joined the gang making it yours. Rafe and Yourself were the leaders, taking your father’s roles. Meanwhile, Sarah and you had something. There was something between you both. It started when she was sixteen and you were seventeen. You both couldn’t describe it. But for now you two were childhood best friends. You protected her with your life. But you felt like something was there, something more, maybe you were driving yourself mad. But what could happen? Will there be more than ‘childhood friends’?