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Triss and Julia
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(trisscar)
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Jun 21, 2014 10:09AM
Here it is!
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(view spoiler)I also have some plots that aren't based off of fanfictions and books if you want to see those as well.
Ooo those are all really good. But my top favorites would probably be numbers: 1 and 4. (I can't choose between the two..lol)
I would really like to do 1 if you're up for it! I'll be the guy if you would prefer the girl (:
All right one it is! I don't mind which gender, I am I really could work with either. How advanced are we making the character sheets?
The character templates don't need to be too advanced. I usually do just the basic things like name, age, appearance, history, ect. You can make yours as simple or detailed as you want (:
All right. I tend to make my sheets rather basic and for the roleplaying enhance the character. So you're male or female?
Sounds good to me! I'll go ahead and be the guy if that's okay with you (:
All right. I'm fine with that, I'll have my character up soon.
Name: Nash JacobsenNationalities: British and Canadian
Age: 20
Birthplace: New York City, New York
Birthdate: December 26
Appearance:
Tattoos: (view spoiler)
Height: 6'3
Eye Color: Blue
Personality: Nash isn't a good person, but he's far from a murderer. He's actually got a very brilliant mind, but like most criminals, he uses it for wrong reasons. Due to going to jail a few times and growing up in a rough area, Nash is a tough guy and it takes a lot to break him down.
History: Nash, along with his twin brother, was born to a 15 year old mother and a 25 year old father. His father was never really around much, he was a known player of the area and has several other children due to the reputation he lived up to. His father was not only a player, but involved in a lot of illegal activities. He has been in and out of prison for most of Nash's life. Nash's mother, Eleanor, was hardly a mother at only 15. Growing up, Eleanor was more of a friend to Nash, which is why even now Nash calls her Eleanor rather than mom. They lived in the ghetto of New York City. Money didn't come easily and Nash was shoplifting by the age of 8. He was put in juvenile detention for the first time when he was 12. At the age of 13, Nash was admitted into a pediatric mental institution after an episode where Eleanor ended up calling the police. He was released a year later. His twin brother was killed in a gang shooting when Nash was 16. After that, that's when Nash starting selling and buying drugs. He was arrested a few times that following year. When Nash was 19, the murders happened. He knew all three women, and he was found with the same gun as the murder weapon, which made him a prime suspect. His attorney, who was assigned to Nash due to his lack of money, was nothing short of an idiot. He decided to file Nash for insanity rather than not guilty. The jury bought it.
Family:
Mother: Eleanor "Ellie" Maslow, 35 (view spoiler)
Father: Mike Jacobsen, 45
Twin Brother: Jack Jacobsen, deceased
Older Half Brother: Matthew Jacobsen, deceased
Older Half Brother: Cooper Jacobsen, 27
Older Half Sister: Bailey Margo, 25
Other:
((Sorry he turned out longer than I expected haha. That's what boredom does to me))
Name September ClarksonCommonly Used Name Temi, Sept, Lark
Age 22
Birthday October 31
Time 11:56
Birthplace Los Angeles
Relations
Father Thomas Clarkson
Mother Maggie Clarkson
Sister Sierra Clarkson
Brother Eric Clarkson
Appearance
Facial Claim Shay Mitchell
Personality At first glance you would think shes the type to always have control. Well.. that isn't really the case. She does stand up for herself and September is more than capable of telling someone to shut up. But usually she prefers to stay quiet and listen rather than just speak. Over the years she has learned that listening is often better itself. However she can never look at a persons fault. At all times September is digging through to find the brightness within a person and doesn't give up until shes got it. But because of that she has gotten hurt more than once.
History Rich, money rich. Her family was spoiled always having whatever they needed handed down to them. She wasn't really content with this life. September wanted something more. Yeah she had the designer clothes, the fancy shoes and anything else she could possibly want but it just wasn't enough. So at the age of seventeen she got up and headed out into the world. September went to college and realized how hard it truly was to earn money. She owed many people thousands of dollars. But she refused to ask her family. Nope. September managed several different jobs while balancing her education. It was at that point she learned to be quiet. September didn't really have that much time to speak out or party all night long. But she heard the stories and soon in her third year of college people were coming to her pouring out their life. It was nice. Gave her a comforting feeling. After graduating, September tried teaching. She didn't have the love that she thought she would. September realized she wanted to help people, so she pursued the art of medicine. Which turned out to be a bust since the sight of blood made her want to die. Finally a person offered September to be a therapist. She tried it and it worked great. So as of right now she is a therapist there to help people.
{Eek I am sooo sorry. My school just ended and on the last couple of days was goodbyes and see you and stay in touch and cramming last minuet grades and yeah. But now I'm freee}
She perfect! I love her already! <333 and there's no need to be sorry, life can get crazy sometimes lol. And yayyyyyy summer! This is my third week of summer already. It's lovely having no school lol.
Psh are you kidding. Your guy is perfectionn.
Of course not! She's freakimg lovely :D And Awh shucks, thanks.
lol. First I thought of making a shy girl but thought that was too cliche. Than a bossy chargey type but ruled against that. So I went in the middle. xD
A happy medium is always a good thing XD sometimes people make their characters so shy and I'm just like, but then how do they start talking? Lol.
Nash Jacobsen's arrival was a big deal at Dalewood Mental institution. It's not everyday a murderer is admitted entrance. Reporters, cameras, and some of the angry public stood outside, shouting anything from questions to death threats at Nash as he was led inside the institution by two guards. His hands were secured behind his back by handcuffs which matched his orange jail clothes. Most of Dalewood's patients don't arrive in handcuffs, but Nash was deemed 'dangerous' and therefore extra precautions were taken. This is what happens when your idiot lawyer pleads insanity rather than not guilty. Nash didn't commit the murders. He had nothing to do with any of them. All three murders had been absolutely brutal, another reason why Nash was so hated by the public. One victim had all of her skin peeled off of her completely. The second victim had died a slow, painful death due to blood loss from having her legs cut off. The last and third victim had five bullet shots to the head.
Is Nash a nice guy? No. Is he going to be the guy who offers to water your plants while your on vacation? Hell no. Will be baby sit your kids? He wouldn't even consider it. Would he murder three women, each of them meaning something to him at some point in his life? Not a chance is hell. Nobody seems to care about the answer to that one.
It was easy for Nash's lawyer to plead insanity, considering Nash had been a Dalewood patient a few years prior. But that was for a completely different reason, it had been something along the lines of a very severe panic attack. Apparently that deemed him insane. This time, however, there was no good reason for Nash being here. He was innocent, but it seemed like not a single soul believed him. Even the way he looked separated him from the other patients. Nash, unlike others, looked completely with it, tired yes, but still aware.
Some of the actual crazies had wide eyes which truly made you believe they were psychos. And then there were the people that could never seem to stop muttering to themselves. Nash wasn't like any of those people. He seemed completely, for lack of a better word, sane. Why should a same person be in a mental institution?
The moment Nash was pushed into his cell, the cell where he would spend the majority of the rest of his life, his hand cuffs were taken off and he was thrown a grey jumpsuit to replace his orange one. "You've got an initial check up in ten minutes," one guard told him, gruffly. "I'll be back in five to escort you there."
Initial check ups include a physical and then a talk with a therapist would would determine their mental state. Despite what the therapist said, Nash would be kept in Ward C. Ward C was for the dangerous people. Nash being one of them.
Then the door closed and Nash was alone.
September sipped her coffee while leaning against the counter. The faculty room was quite nice. It had a coffee maker, a refrigerator, some sofa's, windows - nothing out of the ordinary really. But compared to some of the rooms in the rest of the building, this place was Vegas. She closed her eyes for a second feeling peaceful. Sunlight streamed through the window and a soft breeze rustled the growing plant on the window sill. Outside flowers were starting to bloom as it was the beginning of Spring. The sky was filled with clouds lazily floating their way across the world. Just for one moment she could feel like she was on one of those clouds, and that she was perfect. Just for one second...One second was all it lasted. She abruptly opened her eyes again, as soon as the sounds of society hit her. The window was wide open, so September could hear people screaming louder than usual. She walked over to the window with her coffee to see what the racket was all about. Reporters were hounding on the front steps, and most of the people looked angry. No scratch that - they looked pissed. And scared. Two policemen were guiding a young man. He looked to be in his late teens early twenties. Blond haired, blue-eyed essentially perfect looking. He was exceptionally tall and seemed to be normalish looking. So why was he here if he looked okay?
September stared for a couple more seconds before it hit her. He was that murderer wasn't he? Whats-his-name...Nark? Nate? Na-something. She walked back to the counter and tried to find her papers. Somewhere in those papers his name would be written in neat, typed writing. Shuffling through the papers she found it. The picture fit the man outside -- well now probably inside. Nash. That was his name. Nash Jacobsen. That name actually sounded kinda innocent. Shame that the most innocent sounding ones were the worst. September shook her head. What was with all these thoughts? She had a job to do. She was assigned to see how crazy this Nash person was. September shivered slightly. She always thought the best of people but it would be hard after all the crimes he had committed. Stealing, murdering, what was next?
September finished her coffee and set it down on the granite counter. She took all her papers and began walking down the halls. Her flats were comfortable and quite cozy. Not to mention quiet as well. Normally she would have on heels but there was a rule here that, employees weren't allowed to wear anything sharp or possibly hazardous to the patients. So flats would have to do. They were a dull gray color with a checkerboard design engraved on them. She reached her office and quietly opened the door. Switching on the light she glanced around to make sure everything was in place.
Her desk was painted white and pushed off in one side of the room. Walking over, September ran her hand over it. Papers were stacked neatly on one side while the other side was filled with trinkets. A picture of her and her family enjoying themselves for once was, placed in the position so that it was showed off for the world to see. September spent most of her life hiding the truth from the world. They were a perfectly normal family. Not at all stuck-up, spoiled and rich. Nope. Her family was kind and generous, but had to struggle for money. That was what she told everyone, and most people bought it. September placed most of the papers she was carrying down and took the ones that she would need for her patient. She took a ballpoint pen and turned to sit in one of the chairs.
The chairs were actually quite soft. But too white. It was as if they were brand new. A soft cushion was placed on the bottom so when you sat on it, it was as if sitting in a feather. Another cushion was placed on the back so you could easily lean back and just fall asleep. And you'd be comfortable. There was another tall cushion on the other side of her, as well as a couch sitting on the side of her. The rug was a gray color, and rather soft as it was ticklish. Making sure no one was about to come in, September slipped her feet out of the shoes and placed them on the floor. Her toes were pained blood red but she wasn't supposed to show anyone. Any dark colors may trigger the signs of death to any of the ailing patients and whatnot. Light colors only. So her fingers were painted a lovely shade of pink, but her toes red. It wasn't like anyone would ever really find out. September leaned her head backwards certain that no one was about to come in and see her. The ceiling was painted a light shade of blue just like the four walls surrounding her. Everything around her was all light and peaceful.
Until she heard a knock.
(view spoiler)
Nash's lawyer explained Dalewood to Nash after their 'victory'. Well, his lawyer say it as a victory. He got his client off of death row, what an accomplishment! Nash, on the other hand, found this mental institution worse than death row. This what not a victory of any kind to Nash. At least on death row his misery would end at some point. Not here. Nash would rot in this building for the rest of his life. What a victory. Anyway, his lawyer had basically told Nash everything he already knew about the place. You get two uniforms. You change your uniform every other day. You get to shower everyday, for five minutes, and the water is always cold unless you're reward for good behavior is a 10 minute hot shower. You get three meals a day. It is the same options everyday. If you don't like the options, you don't eat. Being a high risk patient, you are given your own cell that way no fights break out. In case of bad behavior, there are punishments. Such as solitary confinement, electroshock therapy (illegal, yes, but Dalewood thinks otherwise) and other various things. The list goes on and on about what you need to know about being a patient at Dalewood.
Nash had changed out of his horrid orange jumpsuit and into his horrid grey jumpsuit thing, still wearing a white t shirt underneath. And then he sat on his bed, and waited. Everything in this place was grey. The walls, the floors, the sheets, the uniforms, and most likely the food as well. Welcome to Dalewood, Nash. Nice to have you back again.
"Alright, kid, let's get you sorted out." Nash looked towards the front of his cell to find a guard unlocking it. He was one of the same guards from just a few minutes prior. Nash watched as the large man then proceeded to walk into the cell. He got Nash by the front of his shirt and pulled him onto his feet, a little rougher than necessary, and then put the handcuffs back on, also tighter than needed. "Tight enough?" Nash didn't say anything, but you can imagine on the inside, he wasn't thinking very many nice things. The hard metal dug into his already sore wrists.
Not all guards are nice to the other employees but there is not one guard in all of Dalewood that is nice to the patients. Most guards are somewhat physical with the patients and every single guard verbally bullies the patients. The warden, Mrs. Hoeman, doesn't care, so the guards do what they want. Even if it is at the expense of the patients.
The guard pushed Nash forward, and then proceeded to walk to therapist's office. The guard knocked on the door, keeping a strong hand on Nash's lower back to make sure he didn't try anything.
(view spoiler)
September got up and straightened herself. She fixed her light pink blouse and straightened her teal jeans. Checking to make there was nothing sharp laying around she opened the door. At the sight of Nash she forced on a warm smile and tried to make him feel welcome "Please, come in." she said as if she was inviting someone in her house instead of a therapist room. That was something she tried to do. September always tried to make the person feel welcome, as if they were coming into a safe place. Which they were. Her room was always a safe place to be. But, really the purpose of this was so that they would talk. Most people talked and told everything when they felt safe. "Take a seat wherever you would like. The couch or chair, I don't really mind." September added in. Giving options was always nice. It made them feel as if they really did have a say which usually helped the low self-esteem issues. "You boys I'm assuming know how to wait outside." she addressed the guards. "If anything happens I'll scream rather loud so you should be able to hear me unless you are deaf. In which case I have to wonder how you got the job." she finished. "Thank you."
September hoped that she was putting up a good front. If Nash saw she was nervous everything would be screwed. No, she had to show that she wasn't nervous and that she knew what she was doing. She didn't care that he was a murderer. Nope. September wasn't worried whatsoever. Nope. No worries..none. She bit the inside of her lip slightly - a habit she had formed from a very young age. Although it had lessened, she still bit her lip as a nervous habit whenever something dramatic was happening in her life. Making sure that Nash wouldn't get hurt by the door, she shut it and walked towards the chair she originally was in.
Sitting down, September tried to breath and calm herself down. He was a murderer yes. But there were two bulky, dimwitted guards outside. And over here, in Dalewood guards didn't hold back on prisoners. They went all out, so if he tried to attack her, September just had to yell and instantly he would be gone. Or she could send him to be dangerously crazy which meant he'd be under lock and key at all times. Or she could find some loophole in which that lawyer didn't see so she could send him to jail. Or...or something else! She was smart she could find loopholes.
But what if she was already dead before they got to her?
What if she was his next victim?
September shook her head. No way would that happen right? No way would someone manage to kill her before the guards got to them. But he was skillful...and this wouldn't be his first time killing. What if he learned how to do it quietly? What if he learned to do it quickly? But how would he murder you Lark? she asked herself. He didn't have any weapons and chocking someone took more than a second. September rationalized. Nothing bad would happen to her today.
Today nothing bad would happen. Today she'd be safe.
Right?
When the door to the office opened, Nash looked up to find a very attractive woman in front of him. She looked to be around his age, give or take a little, but she definitely younger then the therapist who worked here last time Nash was here, back in his teen years. That therapist had been old and quite harsh. She had no tolerance when it came to stupid answers and she had no problem asking personal questions. In fact, she tended to get way to personal for most patient's comfort. Did the old lady care? Not even in the slightest. In an odd way, though, Nash kind of liked her. She was very blunt, and he found that funny, even if she wasn't trying to make a joke. On the other hand, the therapist wasn't a huge fan of Nash. She didn't appreciate him and his stupid thirteen year old logic. This therapist was nothing like the one prior to her. For one thing, she was actually smiling at him. That hasn't happened in... God knows how long. He's been in jail for over a year and then almost right after his trial he was sent to Dalewood. It's safe to assume not many smiles have been exchanged. Nash looked her up and down, not really caring whether it was obvious or not. She already thought he was a murderer. So her impression of him really couldn't get much worse. Because, really, how does it get any worse than that?
One of the guards gave him a little push into the office. Nash nodded slightly when she said he could sit wherever. He eased himself into the chair, looking around her office a bit. Nash the turned in his chair in time to hear her talking to the guards. The bigger guard gave Nash a long, cold stare, almost daring him to try something. Nash gave an obnoxious little wave, well waved the best he could with handcuffs on, to the guards just as the door closed. Nash wasn't stupid, he wasn't going to pull anything in here. This lady has done nothing to him, why take anything out on her? And with guards outside the door, nah. Wasn't worth whatever hell they would out him through. He would be on his better behavior.
"If it makes you feel better, I've got handcuffs on," Nash said. Luckily, this time, his hands were secured in front of him rather than behind him. Nash found it more comfortable this way. Well, as comfortable you can be in handcuffs. The positition of his hands didn't matter, whenever his hand shifted, even slightly, the cuffs dug into the raw skin. Not all of the patients had to wear hand cuffs, only the patients labelled 'dangerous' had to. It's safe to say Nash was waiting for the day when he was no longer deemed 'dangerous'.
"What's your name?" Nash asked. He wasn't going to bother and introduce himself, she no doubt had all of his files somewhere on her desk or something. Nash wasn't asking her name for politeness reasons, he just didn't like sitting in silence. It made him kind of uncomfortable. Not to mention, she looked kind of nervous siting across from a murderer. Maybe some small talk helps with that stuff. Little did she know she was sitting across from a fairly normal guy. Not a good guy, but not a murderer either. Nor was he actually insane. But how was she supposed to know that? Nash's files weren't going to tell her that.
September snapped out of her daze when she heard him talking. She came back to the world enough to hear him mention something about his handcuffs. Oh yeah that is another thing. He has handcuffs. He can't do much damage with them now can he? she thought to herself. After running once more through all the things she could do to him, if he dared to hurt her she settled down in her chair. "I am September Clarkson. And I'm assuming you are already aware that I'm going to be your therapist. If not - well you're hearing about it now bub." she told him. September looked through her materials until she found a completely blank sheet of paper and pen. Than she turned to face him. "Let me tell you something right now. I know you've had therapists in the past. I'm probably not going to be anything like them. For better or worse I guess that would be up to you." she started. "So yeah. Don't start expecting the normal boring questions like: how are you, and other easy stuff like that." September explained. "Most of the time people lie on those anyways." she muttered. "So here is my request for you. Speak." she stated. "Speak normally. As if I'm a uh a friend. Or family member. Or I don't know. Someone that you're close to. Speak as if I'm one of them."
Than September relaxed in her chair and waited for his response. She was actually intrigued by what he may say. She'd dealt with suicidal people, crazy people, people who just wanted to vent, but never in her life had she encountered a murderer. So what would his first initial reaction be? What would his face signify? Would his left eye twitch? What would he say? Even if she was terrified of him, she was still rather curious. And usually her curiosity won over her fears.
Than it dawned upon September. She had given him an entire paragraph of instructions as a professional. She hadn't really loosened up, and normally people didn't speak when they felt like a professional was talking. No. Normally people spilled if they felt like they were talking to a friend. Someone that they trusted. A professional would never really work. And..great. So wrapped up in your fears you can't loosen up. Good job Lark. Good job. she said rather disappointed in herself.
((Sorry for the late reply! I’ve been kept busy haha. I hope you still want to do this :P))She was right about Nash having therapists in the past. He had grown used to the same old questions every day, “how are you today?”, “are you feeling better?”, “what problems are you having today?”, things along those lines. And truthfully, they do grow old. And they get old really quickly. September was right about another thing as well, Nash never actually told the truth of those questions. He would usually keep his answers simple with only one or two words. So of course his therapist thought Nash was improving. After all, he was answer “Good” to almost every question that was asked.
“Just talk?” Nash repeated, leaning back in the chair. He didn’t know what to say, and for a moment he debated about not saying anything. But this was quite possibly one of the only people who may believe he’s not insane as long as he gave her a reason to think so. But now here was the tough part, convincing her that he really wasn’t insane. This should be easy, right? That’s what Nash thought, but at his trial, no matter what he said, someone always took his outbursts as Nash being a ‘psychopath’.
Nash has never been one to be good at opening up to someone, even friends and family. Growing up in a bad side of town, you learn quickly that you can’t just trust whoever looks worthy of it. And now to pretend like his therapist, September, was someone he knew was going to be somewhat challenging. Not to mention he wasn’t sure what to say to her. He just had to go for it.
“Okay, well for starters I didn’t commit any of the murders. Whoever wanted me locked up just pulled random shit out of their ass to make it look like I did it.” Although some of the facts were suspicious and didn’t make Nash look innocent. Unfortunately for Nash there were quite a few coincidences that didn’t put him in a good light. “I feel for the victims and their families,” he knew all three of them after all, “but I didn’t do it,” Nash looked at September, he didn’t know if she was believing him. “I didn’t do it,” he repeated. He’s said that line multiple times in the past year or so. He has yet to find someone who will believe that.
“And I’m sure as hell not insane. But I guess you’re the judge of that.”
