Adrian

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name Adrian Dale Slade age Twenty-Five gender Male, cisgender

eye color Amber hair color Dyed or bleached height 6'1" (185cm)

occupation Mechanic Drug runner sexuality Bisexual, Homoromantic affiliations The Free Kings A notorious outlaw motorcycle club, counted among the 1%.

build Broad-shouldered and fairly muscular, though he somehow manages to still appear lanky due to the length of his limbs. scars A surgical scar starts in front of his ear and makes a C shape on the side of his head, curving up to his forehead; In the middle, what appears to be a healed gunshot wound. His knuckles are scarred from work and fistfights. There are almost too many to keep track of, he's dotted with the ghosts of knife wounds, bullets, and motorcycle mishaps. piercings His left ear is pierced once, the other is pierced twice. His left nostril, his septum, and his tongue.

hairstyle Buzzed close to his scalp and worn a bit longer between cuts to experiment with different colors. If his hair isn't a bright neon, it's bleached almost white for the purpose of dyeing designs into it. Naturally, it's a sandy brown color. tattoos A crane on his neck, a stylized moonlit sky covers the entirety of his back and extends over his shoulders and onto his chest, flowing into a matching set of sleeves-- Though the left has recently been expanded over his hand and fingers. His right calf down to his foot has an ornamental piece. His left leg has a full sleeve. scent A deep, solomn earthen scent containing pine, juniper and musk. Thanatopsis, by BPAL.

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personality Even before his stuttering and the bullet to his head that caused it, Adrian was a man of few words, believing that actions are the best way to get a message across. He says even less now, which often leads people to believe he's stupid. Those who are patient enough find this is far from the truth, when he does engage in longer conversations it's clear that he's highly intelligent, thoughtful, and wise beyond his years. He's slow to trust and tends to be cynical even on the best of days, disillusioned to the point of detriment.

Despite his arguably negative worldview, he does his best to live his life to the fullest and with no regrets. To his nearest and dearest, he gives his all; His unflinching loyalty, the entirety of his heart, the depths of his soul, and even his life should there be a need for it. There is little to nothing he wouldn't do for the few who worm their way through all his misgivings to get close to him.

likes Music, racing and doing stunts on his motorcycle, abandoned buildings, birds, technology, the smell of gasoline, body modification, cold brew coffee, art, older people, dogs, recreational use of hallucinogens, listening to conversations, audiobooks. dislikes Quiet, talking for extended periods of time, cowards, waking up early, clutter, being cold, having to prove himself, conformity, tradition, pity, being told he can't do something. virtue Fortitude. The virtue of fortitude enables one to conquer fear, even fear of death, and to face trials and persecutions. It disposes one even to renounce and sacrifice his life in defense of a just cause.

hobbies Customizing motorcycles, blacksmithing and machining his own parts, urban exploration, shooting, going to live shows. medical conditions Neurogenic stuttering, dyslexia, and epilepsy(focal seizures) caused by a traumatic brain injury. vice Lust. Call it a case of "heightened libido" if you want, or a desperate bid to feel something, anything. Or grasping at any notion of intimacy, no matter how shallow or fleeting it may be. Whatever you call it, he's DTF.

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biography Adrian came into the world roughly ten minutes after his sister Misti on February 3rd, 199-. The timing was less than ideal, his parents were neck-deep in a bid for power against their former gang, having broken away to start their own and seized as many meth labs, coke lockups, and weed farms as they could on their way out. His and Misti's formative years were spent being bounced from safehouse to safehouse, sometimes with their mother or father, sometimes both, often left with a network of friends.

Eventually, the dust settled and so did their lives; Dale and Beverly Slade had come out on top, having founded the The Free Kings successfully while equally successfully pushing out the motorcycle club they'd abandoned from their city. With power came stability, and they settled into a permanent home with the twins. Adrian and Misti had a fairly average childhood from there, blissfully ignorant of their parents' criminal enterprise until late into their teens. They'd grown up thinking that their parents just had a really lucrative auto shop.

Joining the gang had never been a question, at sixteen he had already had the grand tour of the meth labs and weed farms, the pretense of legality had been dropped and he had been put to work maintaining the club's bikes. It felt natural to follow in his father's footsteps, after all, he was the man he admired the most and wanted to emulate. He took to the life like a duck to water, carving out a place and a name for himself as he fought his way up from the bottom like any other prospect.

And like any other criminal, he accrued a number of targets on his back along the way. Rival gangs, cops, the feds, prospects who wanted his spot, the meth-heads he often encountered, he could predict and understand enough to keep himself out of trouble he couldn't get his way out of. Even with all his foresight and luck, he couldn't keep dodging them forever.

It happened on a perfectly normal day, during a routine sale to resupply the city's club scene with an ocean of amphetamines with a trustworthy buyer. There had been no indication of anything being off. The goods went onto trailer, the cash got handed over in duffel bags, quick and easy. He had been watching the truck pull away with the cargo, about to turn towards the rest of the crew.

The miracle of a just-bad-enough shot and the skill of a neurosurgeon just in the nick of time saw him live through the impact of the bullet that had been fired through his skull. He had gone down at the start of what ended up being a massacre, everyone at the deal had died except for him, the cash was long gone. Long after the fact, he would learn that the gang was a shitshow, scrambling to figure out what the fuck had happened and who the fuck did it while he was laid up in the hospital for months trying to learn how to function as a human again.

He had survived but not unscathed, his speech didn't come back the same-- he had a new stutter--, he had difficulties reading due to dyslexia he hadn't had before, and began having seizures. Years passed, he got back on his feet and returned to his previous life. No one had figured out who had been behind the betrayal. Except for Adrian...

residence A one bedroom, one bath apartment above his auto shop.

valuables His motorcycle and customized helmet.

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playlist
|provoker - dark angel|
Not trying to fuck not trying to fight / I just don't want to be alone |grimes - shinigami eyes|
You ready to die? / Got my Shinigami eyes on you / And you can't say no

tropes
|delinquent hair|badass biker|gayngster|speech impediment|near-death experience|mr. fixit|storyboard body|smarter than you look|physical scars, psychological scars|survivor guilt|sole survivor|'tis only a bullet in the brain|ethical slut|safe, sane, and consensual|beware the quiet one| living is more than surviving|cope by creating|the reliable one|