proper bikes

Gotham City Garage is an anti-fascist anthem for the open road, starring reimagined takes on DC’s great female characters through an outlaw lens,” Collin Kelly, who’ll co-write the series with Jackson Lanzing, said in a statement. “We’re bringing Big Barda, Steel, Catwoman, Harley Quinn, Silver Banshee, Hawkgirl and the first Kryptonian this world has ever seen — the mysterious girl named Kara Gordon — into a world of bikes, outlaws and elaborate tattoos.

Songs Without Words // Dipper and Mabel in 10 // new au pls?

Death is Dallas Winston

Fandom: The Outsiders (Dally X Reader)

Warnings: Motorcycle riding without gear is mentioned, distracted driving, and slightly sexual actions. No sex though. Please ride motorcycles and dirt-bikes with proper gear. You have been warned.


  The roaring beneath you kept you focused. You hadn’t really thought about stealing anything before, but the beautiful black motorcycle had been leaned against the wall of an alley way. Sure, someone was probably going to try and get it back but you didn’t care in that moment.

  You had always been fascinated by the idea of motorized bikes. A motorcycle was all you really needed in your life. The rush of wind through your hair, the warmth of the bike under you, and the feeling of freedom was like a drug to you.

  It was like flirting with death in the most seductive way. A boy called out your name as you passed the DX.

  Speaking of flirting with death…

  Dallas Winston flagged you down. He had a drink in his hand a cigarette between his teeth. He threw the drink against the nearest wall and started over to you. You’d been together a few times and maybe today was one of his more caring days.

  You spotted Steve working on a car and Soda was outside, too. They saw you and Soda nodded in your direction a simple greeting.

  “The hell are on?” Dallas’ blue eyes stared you down. You scoffed. He took a drag of his cigarette before flicking it away.

  “A motorcycle.” You stated like it was obvious. He glared and removed your left arm from the handle. He pushed up your sleeve and looked for any signs of substance abuse. You weren’t on drugs and he knew that.

  “What kinda drugs are you on or are you just stupid?” He sounded slightly pissed. What was his deal? You noticed his hand had the silver ring he rolled a senior for. He and Sylvia must be apart again. You knew Sylvia and it was no surprise he must have found out about her sleeping around.

  “I’m living life. What’s it to you?” You sat on the bike waiting for him to do anything. Was he really trying to tell you riding was dangerous? Shoot, more people get killed in rumbles than on motorcycles. Well, to be fair there was a rumble pretty often.

  “You’re being stupid. This thing is a death trap and you’re gonna end up the prey.” Dallas stared you down. He was pushing your buttons in all the right ways. He knew what he was doing, too.

  You stood up and got as close to his face as you could without him backing up. You whispered the words in a low tone, “You know me better than that, I’m never prey. I’m the predator.”

  There was the dangerous look in his eyes you had been waiting for. You sat back on the bike and had your legs a bit farther apart than they had been. Dallas took notice and you jerked your head in the direction behind you.

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megazaprat  asked:

wait, how do we know that Keith had firsthand experience with the galra (other than the whole parent thing) before the series began?

Well, I just covered that- in s1e1 he stops looking for the Red Lion and stares at Zarkon’s stylized X-crest on Sendak’s ship in a way that suggest he absolutely recognizes that- but presumably, from a long time ago, so that he can know immediately he’s seen that symbol before, but not place where he’s seen it or under what context.

Other details, though:

Keith’s red hoverbike from the first episode is structured incredibly similar to the smaller craft that we see deployed by the Lions in the Balmera rescue mission. Its aesthetics are basically completely unlike any other piece of earth technology, and the presence of schematics on the wall of his desert shack would suggest that he built it himself. Hover technology like that is fairly common with alien technology that we’ve seen but Keith’s bike is the only thing that has it that we see on Earth.

Pidge, who’s not only technically minded but has a very solid grasp on theory and proper terminology, calls the bike a “thing” in a tone that clearly suggests she has no idea what it is and hasn’t seen anything like it before. (“Is this thing big enough for all of us?”)

The rest of the team also doesn’t seem to understand its capabilities the way Keith does- Keith knows the bike can go off a cliff, even heavily encumbered, and catch itself without crashing, but the rest of the team panics, at which Keith is basically just exasperated (“Shut up and trust me!”)

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(For manateeparty who is having a (surprisingly similar) bad day.)

Dean pulled the apartment door shut behind him, automatically checking that it was locked.  Positioning his backpack securely on both shoulders, he hurried down two flights of steps then crossed the walkway to the bike rack.  He’d hit the snooze on his alarm one too many times this morning, but if he pedaled fast enough, he’d get to his first class on time.  

Today was his long day, with classes spread out all over the (thankfully flat) campus and, even with his bike, he’d be lucky to make it everywhere on time. He unlocked his bike, stashing the lock in his backpack, before wheeling it away from the rack.

After just a few inches, the bike lurched to a stop.

Dean swore and pushed it forward again, checking to see if his pedal was tangled up in the bike next to his. With closer inspection, the problem became clear: the bike next to his was secured not to the rack, but directly to Dean’s bike.

He yanked at it, but there was no way that state of the art lock was coming off. And now, there was also no way he was going to be on time.  Muttering, he re-attached his lock then kicked the tire of the offending bike before spinning around to sprint to class.


The day had gone from bad to worse, collapsing like a row of shitty dominos.  Flustered by being late for his first class, he’d probably tanked the quiz and then he’d had to leave it early to get to the next one (nope, still late).   He’d been planning to bike home for lunch, but without the bike, he was stuck eating on campus, scrounging together coins from the bottom of his backpack for the vending machines. Oh, and if the blister on his right heel was any indication, apparently his new shoes rubbed.

With the apartment building in sight, he began to relax a little.  This day couldn’t end quickly enough and he consoled himself with the thought of his comfy couch and the beer in his fridge.  From the sidewalk he could see something fluttering on his bike.  A piece of paper, taped to the seat.  No doubt an apology.  

Instead scrawled in big black letters, the note simply read:
Apt. 22

And, oh look. His bike was still being held hostage.

Ripping off the note, Dean stomped up one flight of stairs, following the hall to the left until he came to the correct door.  He banged on it, not letting up even when he heard footsteps approaching it from the other side.  

The door flew open and a man Dean’s age stood there.  He was dressed in jeans and a button-down shirt, looking somehow a hundred times more put together than Dean in his jeans and t-shirt.  Well, other than his mess of dark hair, which looked like it was waging a valiant battle to leave his head all together.

The man looked startled, and his blue eyes widened, even as his mouth fell open, but he quickly recovered from the surprise when Dean held up the note.

“What the fuck, dude?”

The man blinked and folded his arms in front of his chest. “You locked your bike to mine and now you’re mad?”

Dean managed to sputter an outraged combination of “That’s not what happened” and “I did not” that came out as “I didn’t what happened.”

The man squinted as he tried to make sense of that and Dean gave up and simply pulled him out the door by the (rather firm) arm.

Thundering back down the stairs, Dean led him to the bikes, pointing exaggeratedly to each aspect of the problem in turn. “My bike. Your bike. Your lock.”

“That’s not my lock.”

Dean sighed and steered him to the front of the rack. “Well, here you see my lock.  It’s the one that goes directly from MY BIKE TO THE RACK.”

Just then another man approached them.  He was shorter, with wavy sandy hair and a hell of a smirk.

“Oh, hey, Cas,” he said with feigned casualness.

Cas nodded at him without looking away from the conjoined bikes. “Gabriel.”

Gabriel held out his hand. “I’m Gabe, Cas is my roommate and you are?”

“Dean,” said Dean, watching as Cas tugged unsuccessfully on the bike lock.

“Look, Cas,” Gabe said cheerfully. “The nice man with the bike is named Dean.”

Cas kept his focus on the bikes, but if Dean wasn’t mistaken, he flushed a little bit.  It was a good look on him.

“So, apparently I forgot to mention that I borrowed your bike, Cas.”  Gabe’s attempt at regret was sorely lacking in sincerity. “And since I somehow broke your lock while ‘borrowing’ it, (Honestly, Dean thought, the only thing missing were the air quotes.) I got you a new one. “

Gabe beamed, obviously pleased with himself.  

Cas finally met Dean’s eye, looking so mortified that Dean had to bite back a smile.

“I would like to apologize for any inconvenience.  Apparently, my roommate is not acquainted with proper bike lock usage.”

Before Dean could wave it off as an honest misunderstanding, Gabe spoke up.  “I wouldn’t say that. “

Cas raised an eyebrow. “No?”

Gabe fished the key out of his pocket and tossed it into the air.  Reflexively, Dean snagged it.

“I’d say it worked just right.  Because now you’ve met the guy you’ve been pathetically staring at from afar.”  Gabe walked away, whistling.  

Dean looked at Cas with raised eyebrows, waiting for the denial.

“I wouldn’t say pathetically…” Cas began carefully.

Dean laughed and handed him the key.  

Wear your helmets - and wear them CORRECTLY.

About a week ago, a member of our triathlon club got into a horrifying bike accident. The details of what happened are unclear - the roads were wet, he was alone, and it appears that something happened to his rear wheel or tire which caused him to fall. At some point, it appears that his helmet either slipped back or completely came off his head and he broke his fall on his forehead. 

He was airlifted to the nearest hospital and has remained in ICU, totally unresponsive, for the past week. He has multiple broken bones and a very serious brain injury. It’s unclear at this time what the outcome will be, but it looks fairly grim.

He was an experienced cyclist (a multiple Ironman finisher) and in excellent physical shape. 

Just because you “know” what you’re doing doesn’t mean you’re immune. Even if you’re wearing a helmet, it doesn’t mean you’re immune. Please, please, please take the time, EVERY TIME to be sure your helmet is on correctly.

Here are some tips in case you’re not familiar (or could use a refresher!) on the proper bike helmet fit:

1. Make sure your helmet meets the basic requirements of the Consumer Product Safety Commission. Buy from a reputable brand. Look for a CPSC sticker inside the helmet. If you don’t see one, don’t buy it.

2. Most helmets are made from EPS foam, which is designed to crush on impact (absorbing the shock in place of your head). These helmets are SINGLE USE. If you have an accident and your helmet gets any impact, it is done. Get a new one.

3. Most helmets are very adjustable in sizing, but TRY ONE ON before you buy it! The key to a fit is your helmet should sit LOW, LEVEL and SNUG.

4. The front of the helmet should cover your forehead. If your forehead is exposed, you are vulnerable.

5. The chin strap should be snug beneath your chin - you should barely be able to fit a finger between the strap and your chin. Adjust the side straps so that the point of the V sits just below your ears. Many, many people wear the straps too loose, which can cause the helmet to slide out of place if there is an accident.

6. Push the helmet back and forward on your head - if you can move it more than an inch, it is too loose. Adjust the straps and test again.

7. CHECK YOUR FIT OFTEN. Helmet straps tend to loosen, you might be wearing a cap or wearing your hair differently - so your helmet may fit differently from time to time. EVERY TIME you put your helmet on, give it a good wiggle and check.

I know I sound like an overly concerned Mom, but this is serious stuff. Please be careful and protect your brain! It’s not “cool” to ride without a helmet - it’s just stupid.

Originally posted by lacletaoficial


why the hell aren’t any of yall wearing proper bike helmets, yall’re gonna get hurt

i-dont-know-what-to-put-as-a-url  asked:

Hi, sorry to bother you but I just wanted to see some punk! Nico and nerdy! Will because there is not enough in this world! Thank you so much! (FYI, I love your writing)

“I’m not getting on that.” Will says, stopping dead in his tracks next to Nico as soon as his eyes fall on the vehicle. Nico turns around, one eyebrow raised as he worries one of the piercings in his lower lip.

“Why not? I brought a helmet for you and everything. Don’t you trust me?” At that, Nico smirks a little, stepping closer to Will and offering him one of his hands. The blonde blushed but after a moment’s hesitation, takes Nico’s hand in his. People always tell them they make a strange couple, but more often than not the thought makes Will smile rather than annoy him. Nico with his black clothes, leather and boots, dark hair in a messy ponytail and piercings glinting in the sun looks like the exact opposite from Will, always in a nice shirt and ironed pants, keeping his blond curls out of his face by running his fingers through them far more often than he probably should.

“Hold on to me and nothing will happen, okay? It’s not even a proper bike.” Nico promises with a soft smile and startles Will out of his thoughts. His heart flutters in his chest, his cheeks heat up but nevertheless Will manages a nod and takes the dark helmet from Nico. He doesn’t know yet where his boyfriend is taking him, but as cheesy as it sounds, as long as they’re together Will doesn’t actually care that much where they are going.

Nico straddles the Vespa and pulls Will onto the seat behind him, snug against his back to matter how much it makes Will’s face heat up. Will squeaks when the bike finally rolls out of the parking space, even though they are moving relatively slow still. He can hear Nico’s chuckle carried away by the wind around their ears and presses closer against his boyfriend’s back.