TWENTY THREE. MALE. VILLAIN. ROSCOE FROM OLIVER AND COMPANY. SAM WAY.
people look at me and i know what they see. teeth. claws. cold eyes. they see what i want them to see, and they feel what i want them to feel. afraid. worried. awed. i wasn't always this way, very rarely do we turn into the dogs our sires expect us to become. nobody expected this of me; for me to grow into one of the toughest, most ferocious dogs in new york city. i was a pup once as well, just like everybody else. but that was a lifetime ago. something which i don't remember all too clearly, neither do i want to. all i know of my time before sykes took me in is what he told me. and it isn't a story i like to hear, for it doesn't do me justice to the dog i am today.
i was the runt of the litter. smallest and last born of a group of ten, surprising when the average litter size of a doberman is eight. one of my litter brother's died in a few days, they thought i would as well, since we were the same size and our mother only had eight teats to feed us. but they were wrong. i was a fighter. i am a fighter, and i will keep on fighting until my last breath. apparently the owners attempted to bottle feed me, but i wouldn't take, instead i attempted to push my siblings out of the way, and when they would budge i would make them. gradually i grew stronger, though still smaller than the others. the owners said i had "heart", i prefer to think of it as determination. i never really bonded with the others, because of that. and because they were always muckign about and playing. i started learning the hard way from the day i was born, nothing in life comes easy. you need to work for it, and that's wht i did.
when we ready to be sold, families and couples visited, each taking a look at us all in the playpen. my brothers and sisters rolling around, playing with each other and jumping up for the attention of the others, while i waited in the corner, growling at the strangers who were invading our home. i don't remember my mother, but i'm sure if i could remember that day she probably would have scolded me for it. when sykes came there were four of us left, five already gone to new homes with happy faces and wagging tails. drool slobbering out of their mouths onto their poor, new owners sleeves. sykes picked me because i was the only one who was worth his time. he saw me growling in the corner, snapping at my brothers and sisters when they tried to come close, and he recognised a quality in me.
see, dobermans are very loyal animals. sure, you're seven times more likely to get bitten by one than by some dumb labrador, but we're seven times more loyal to our owners. and a hundred times more aggressive towards strangers. the perfect animal you want as a guard dog. or as an incentive to pay your friendly, neighbourhood loan shark. thing is we're not all that aggressive towards other dogs, but when you're an eight week old pup thrust into the rough hands of numerous strangers traipsing through your home when all you want to do is nap, it's pretty terrifying. or so i can imagine. anyway, this somehow brought out my nastier side, rather than basking in the attention like my idiotic siblings, i snapped. and that's why i got chosen. for the second time in my life, i realised that violence really was a means to an end. and that end was getting what i wanted.
sykes taught me that life is a business. you need to organise the things in your life to make a profit. you do as your told, and you work your way up to the top. i'd been at the bottom before, and there was no way i was going back there. once you give a dog a taste of victory, and he'll never let it go. which was why i was so disgusted with the idea of having a partner. desoto was no match for me. i was older than him, maybe not stronger, not yet, but i was smarter. i wasn't going to let that pampered pooch get in my way. i was subordinate to one living being only. sykes.
THINKS OF HIMSELF AS SOME KIND OF CASANOVA, THINKS ALL WOMEN ADORE HIM
HAS A THING FOR RITA
LIKES GIRLS WITH BITE, bit difficult
HE'S THE BEST, TOP DOG, FROM THE START.
DESOTO IS THE CLOSEST THING HE'S GOT TO FAMILY, BUT HE DOESN'T LIKE TO GET ATTACHED TO ANYONE.
CAN HARDLY REMEMBER HIS BIRTH FAMILY, BUT GETS THE IDEA THAT NOTHING IN THIS WORLD IS SAFE, NOTHING IS PERMANENT, WHICH IS WHY HE DOESN'T FORM ATTACHMENTS, AND DOESN'T SHOW ANY KIND OF AFFECTION TOWARDS DESOTO.
DOESN'T LIKE PEOPLE GETTING CLOSE, BECAUSE THEN THEY'LL KNOW HIS WEAKNESSES, AND IF THEY KNOW HIS WEAKNESSES THEY CAN HURT HIM. ROSCOE DOESN'T LIKE GETTING HURT.
TREATS LIVE LIKE A BUSINESS, DOES AS HE'S TOLD AND WORKS HIS WAY UP. WAS THE RUNT OF THE LITTER, WHICH IS WHY HE'S SO AGGRESSIVE AND DETERMINED. DIDN'T WANT TO BE WEAK, EVEN FROM THE START SO NEVER GOT ON WITH HIS BROTHERS AND SISTERS, FOUGHT WITH THEM, TRYING TO BE THE BEST. WHICH IS WHY SYKES PICKED HIM, BECAUSE HE HAD AN AGGRESSIVE STREAK, THOUGHT HE COULD TAME HIM AND HE DID.
ROSCOE AURELIO DANIELS
roscoe, obvz. aurelio - gilded/golden. daniels - god is my judge.
sam way you say? no how, pray tell does he represent roscoe in any way, shape or form? i know what you're thinking, it's a bit out there, but i have reasons! sam way is fittt, and not just in a "omg another hot brit boy talia wants to stalk and marry", he's ripped, and roscoe needs to be muscled. he needs to be lean, and good looking. but he needs to know it. sam way, as lovely as he is, has a vain look in a lot of his pictures, the cocky smoulder (yeah i went there) of the guy you see wandering around in his hollister top and his jack wills cut offs who just knows everyone should adore him. but i didn't want him to be overmuscled, desoto is very much the braun in the operation, roscoe is the brains. that being said, i think sam way also looks like he could have a way wih words that might make him more than just aesthetically pleasing.
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THE PERSON BEHIND THE MASK!
HI. MY NAME'S JOE. AND I WORK IN A BUTTON FACTORY. LOLJK. IT'S ME. TALIA (;
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