[justify][size=10]HEADCANONS
- bred to be a dog fighting champion
- fulfilled such fate; undefeated in 38 rounds
- bears tattoos due to owner abuse (fur shaved thin to show these)
- many scars and bruises due to fighting
- unhealthy condition
- will develop ptsd
- triggers include: loud noises, any physical contact, and blood
- pls tell him you're about to touch him before you do
- all he has known is dog fighting, purely that. he does not expect kindness or small talk or people to care about him. he expects to be beaten and shouted at, and to attack targets and kill them: he knows nothing else at all; he doesn't know how to even act or function.
- pls be gentle with him
- v v tense
- just rlly confused and mechanical
- ok hes like ariel the little mermaid coming onto land- he doesn't know jack shit
- never developed actual relationships with anyone at all
- but he will eventually discover he's homosexual and demi-homoromantic
Posts by LOCKJAW
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[justify][size=10]his reference:
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[justify][size=10]text
ok here are his tags!!
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[justify][size=10][justify][size=10]It was predestined for him, and he followed that predetermined path just like they intended. Hand-selected genes determined which personality he would be home to, how much muscle he was to gain, how powerful his jaws would be and if they would lock down once his victim was selected. They knew how he would act before he acted, knew how he would fight before he fought, knew how he would grovel before he groveled, how he would obey before he bowed his head.
He was more machine than animal.
Every action of his was bet on, every injury predicted, and every win expected. When that buzzer sounded, it was common knowledge that blood would be spilled, and it sure as hell wasn't going to be a machine's blood. Machines don't bleed; a machine was supposed to do as programmed, supposed to work without flaw, supposed to be nothing more and nothing less than what it was told to do.
His day was broken down into a schedule that was followed without error. He'd be woken at 8AM every weekday, and 10AM every weekend. The wide metal bowl would be refilled with expired meat and energizers, foggy water replaced- he did not hesitate on devouring it all, such an act would result in him being beaten until he finished all he was given. He'd then be prodded with sticks, his cage would be rattled and shook repeated, and angry voices would fill his ears. This would happen to the others as well; he could hear their growls or snarls, just like his own. Music would be playing, throbbing and crude, and he knew it was time when the men began stomping their feet.
He'd be placed into a new cage, though this one with walls and no place to see through but a cut-out rectangle that forced his gaze to stare into the eyes of the other canine across the arena. He'd be further prodded at and shook, shouted and cursed at, until finally a buzzer sounded and the door lifted.
What came next often was divided up into frames by the time after: nearing his opponent, a few scuffles, blood spilling, snarling, his jaws locking, and the whimpers of his victim. And then the sound of men was deafening and he was taken away and put back into his first cage and awarded the same expired meat with mixed drugs.
Sometimes he would fight once a day, or three times a day, or every other day. He wasn't sure why, and he wasn't sure if he minded it. Dog fights and tattoo parlors were all he knew. Fighting or being knocked out to receive tattoos his master requested, this was his life. He became accustomed to it, just like every other dog who had been in the game since they were old enough. It was simply all he knew, so, he accepted it.
That was until one day he was not woken on schedule, and he was not woken by his bowl being filled or his cage being rattled. He was woken from strangers in matching uniforms, who were oddly gentle with him. These people who he did not know- who he did not understand. Fearing he was being put into danger, he escaped who would have been his rescuer, and fled the warehouse without slack.
This was how he ended up here, in a world he did not know existed. In a place he did not know, with scents he could not identify. Where he, the machine, found himself... malfunctioning.
He stood, clueless, upon the forest floor, brows knotted and eyes wide, stance tense and defensive in his uncertainty. The air smelled of many animals, and he could only guess this was some sort of civilization- some sort of place one might call home if they belonged. It was as close as Lockjaw knew to be similar to the warehouse he had spent his entire life, scents of all the other canines filling the air. Perhaps this was like... that- like somewhere he belonged, right?
The canine simply let out a bark, well, as much of a bark as he could with the muzzle secured around his maw, though animalistic compared to most civilized creatures that belonged in their clans. He knew how to talk, yes, but only limited to what he had picked up from the older dog fighters when he was growing up, which wasn't exactly a wide vocabulary. So, for now, a bark was going to have to suffice.
// rushed!! excuse any typos pls
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[justify][size=10]Lockjaw here is a wolfdog perfectly bred for dog fighting, his genes hand-selected for him to create the ideal fighting machine. Since birth, all he has been prepared, trained, and taught to do is win these dog fights. He's a champion fighter, having won 38 rounds before he escaped the warehouse he had spent his entire life in. Now, he's in the clan world, with no idea how to socialize, behave, etc. He's got PTSD, triggered by loud noises, physical contact, and sometimes the scent of blood. His appearance, a tall, muscular wolfdog covered in tattoos (his owner was abusive) is intimidating, and, really, you should be a bit afraid of him due to his nature of knowing nothing but attacking and killing targets, but he really just needs some help right now adjusting and learning. Even his vocabulary is very small due to his lack of socialization with others.
OPEN TO
- he won't make friends easily at all, but he desperately needs them. he'll likely go through some rough patches with you, but in the end he's the most loyal creature you'll know. (plus, it's great to have a champion fighter on your side!)
- romance? what even is romance? lockjaw doesn't know. it may be interesting to throw him into a situation where he finds you attractive, because he'll have absolutely no idea to act. (he's homosexual)
- being exploited. it's very easy for you to trick lockjaw into killing or hurting others: all it takes are some harsh words, perhaps a few hits, and you to point him in the direction of someone you'd like to be his target. hell, he doesn't even know what he's doing is wrong.
- reading or speaking classes. he needs someone to tutor him to read and to expand his vocabulary. all he knows is what he heard the other fight dogs speaking, and their vocabulary wasn't exactly wide.
- more! just throw ideas at me and i'll be happy to talk about them with you! i'm very excited and museful!CLOSED TO
- rape, litters, serious relationships, family (maybe open to family adoption after a while as a brother or something, as he is about two years,) etc.
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[justify][size=10]heyo! i think lockjaw could be manipulated easily by pariston! he's an ex-dog fighter, trained for such a lifestyle by birth. all he's known is fighting, and he's a champion of 38 fights, until he escaped the warehouse he spent all his life in. now that he's in the clan world, he doesn't know how to behave or socialize or even use big words.
it's really easy to manipulate him: he even has PTSD and will lash out if his triggers (physical contact, loud noises, and blood) occur. a few loud, angry words, even a couple jabs, and for you to point him in the direction of someone you'd like to harm or kill, and lockjaw will instinctively do what he does best, without even knowing it's wrong.
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[justify][size=10]username: dawes
name: lockjaw
bio link (not mandatory): click
information abt preference to cuddles(will go in hover): very awkward about it, because it's really going to be like therapy for him to recover from PTSD, return to civilian life, socialize, and escape the environment he used to know (pure dog fighting)
what do you want in a cuddle buddy?(objective of cuddling): he'd need someone very patient and calm, but perhaps a little stubborn and strong bc he will likely lash out a bit adapting to physical contact, but eventually come to see it as a peaceful action.
want a certain cuddle buddy, or want to be matched?: matched is fine! just be sure to read his tags a bit, as he's been through hell and is using this for therapy to adjust to civilian life!
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[justify][size=10]tracking bc i love john, but figuring out any plots with lockjaw is,,, interesting!
his tags are below if you have any ideas! :^)
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[justify][size=10]sure! that would be great, bc god knows he needs it!
would you like to make the thread or would you prefer me to? and what board should it be in?
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[justify][size=10]oh, i forgot to add that he's actually homosexual! but totally we could still have a thread where she helps teach him and widen his vocabulary!
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[justify][size=10]Lockjaw supposed his bark was meant to call out to someone, but he didn't expect anyone to actually arrive, well, someone that wasn't an angry human who would perhaps kick the canine and yank him by the muzzle straps to put him back into a cage. And honestly, Lockjaw might have preferred that- preferred it because it was simply all he knew. And now? What the hell was he to do? How was he to act? What was his duty? He was given no commands and no objective, and so he stood clueless a moment as he caught the sight of a serval rounding the corner to approach him.
Instinctively, Lockjaw lowered his head and squared his shoulders, ears pinned to his neck and his eyes wide. His lips twitched as he wondered if he should bare his teeth or not to this stranger, though the muzzle around his maw would definitely prove difficult if he wanted to snap at the other.
The male's ears perked, though, as the animal actually... spoke to him. Well, that was rare. His expression noticeably changed from defensive to curious as he went on. His ears twitched uncertainly as his head cocked ever so slightly. He understood a good chunk of the words spoken, but was still a bit shaken by the fact that another animal greeted him, one that wasn't a canine, one that actually spoke a simple greeting to him, and that there was no buzzer- no arena, no cage, no buzzer, no men stomping.
"I... I-" But the muzzle prevented him from speaking further. His brows knotted together, and he straightened, lips pulling back to let out a soft growl of both uncertainty and disdain for the contraption around his jaws. For now, he simply shook his head. No, he assumed, there wasn't anything he needed.
And then another animal joined the serval- one that was a canine, but... definitely not a canine he saw in the warehouse. But she came with flashing teeth, and so Lockjaw immediately let out a sharp growl at her presence, taking her smile for simply bared teeth. But then her words were cheery and asked if he'd like any water or food. What the hell? These creatures were confusing.
Again, his expression changed and he took a step back, eyes wary as they darted between the male and the female who had greeted him. Finally, he decided to nod in direction of the pomeranian- yes, he wanted water and food. Afterall, he hadn't gotten his kibble this morning before he escaped.
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[justify][size=10]so this guy's already in darkclan, but i think i'd like for him to have a dual alliance with another clan!
i'm just looking for a clan that's above slow pace and will respond to semi to advanced posts! that's about all- i'm not very picky.
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[justify][size=10]He identified the scent before it neared the group to be a canine. And again, Lockjaw was jolted back into his memories and instincts, and his tense muscles only became tenser. This one was a wolf, though, which made Lockjaw further wary. Often, wolf hybrids were bred down into the hybrids like Lockjaw himself- the dogs that weren't entirely... dog. These were the game-changers- the ones everyone bet on, the ones that were sure to take a win, that held a primal advantage over the other dogs. The few fights he had been in with wolf hybrids proved the most difficult. The dogs there had been hungry, but the wolves had been starving for longer.
And then he spoke, asking something about getting something off of him, to which Lockjaw assumed it was the muzzle. And although how much the wolfdog wanted the muzzle off of him, he wasn't about to let another canine get so close to him, both in fear of the other, who introduced himself as Ben, and himself. He didn't think he was supposed to fight them. But... what was he to do if he wasn't? He didn't know anything but targeting and killing.
So Lockjaw shook his head quickly to the medic, a soft breath escaping him. He couldn't trust himself nor the other.
He had noticed a feline's scent mingled in with the group that greeted him, but hadn't worried too awfully much to seek it out until suddenly the scent returned. It was that belonging to a savannah cat, one who approached him with a bowl of water in his grasp. Lockjaw carefully examined the stranger as he set the bowl down and stepped back. The wolfdog lowered his head and slowly approached the bowl, nudging it further back towards himself to further create a personal bubble he found to be his only safety.
He was eager to drink up, but the muzzle prevented him from opening his mouth wide enough to properly drink the water. He simply stood a moment, a bit embarrassed to find himself in such a situation after not letting the other canine to remove his muzzle.
But luckily, the feline who had brought the water spoke up, gesturing to his muzzle. The canine was still hesitant, but less so due to both his need for water and his lack of as much distrust compared to the timber wolf. This was a cat. Cats don't fight, right? A cat that had provided him resources, like the humans who had done the same to him, who were the ones to remove his muzzle when it was time to fight.
So Lockjaw, after a moment of contemplation, edged towards the savannah cat only a few steps before leaning his head down, providing the other freedom to remove the muzzle. His ears stayed perked, eyes wide, and body tense, though, as if ready to dart or strike if he made any wrong moves.
// oops i always forget to reply ooc!!
no worries if you can't match, i don't mind! he's just my muse baby so excuse my length!
and thank you both! i'm sure i'll be having lock stay here for a while!
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[justify][size=10]@bubba: no problem! i'll make it soon!
@reindeerus: that sounds great! yeah, he totally needs to be taught more english, and some little elven phrases too because that would be really interesting cx
and a mutual crush sounds good to me- i can definitely see lockjaw developing a little crush on him!
either way, i think these two should grow close because i think lockjaw already trusts him a bit more than anyone he knows so far and will probably imprint on him!
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[justify][size=10]here!!
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[justify][size=10]@reindeerus: omfg yes! i can imagine pyr trying to drop pick up lines but lock thinks he's still just teaching him more english so he's like writing it down like "okay got it, so what does that mean?"
aw, so cute!! i'm fine with either, really, i don't have a preference. you can choose!
omfg lockjaw would just be so disappointed and embarrassed cxWAFTURE : hey!! ah of course! he ned's all the help he can get! and ooh, that would be interesting. i think he totally needs a good influence like her to be around- it's desperately needed!
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[justify][size=10]ty all sm!!
i'll check em out!
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[justify][size=10]tracking bc i might have lock join!
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[justify][size=10]also track on sub bc i'm never on my main anymore whoops
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[justify][size=10]tracking for now!! will reply soon!
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