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Author Topic: Lowfoam's Coffee Shop || [ F for M ]  (Read 2647 times)

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Offline LowfoamTopic starter

Lowfoam's Coffee Shop || [ F for M ]
« on: June 25, 2016, 03:06:31 AM »
  Opening ǀǀ Reminders 

°˖ ✧◝(○ ヮ ○)◜✧˖ °

I warned you I wasn't going to stop with the silly coffee puns. You should have listened. But you didn't.

Now you're going to have a bad time.

All puns and games aside, welcome to my one x one search thread. Here you can find a lot of different wants / needs / scenarios that I have cooked up or shamelessly stolen and want to do. Some of them are sorted by fandoms, other ones are not. Those will be put in my 'stories I made' idea category. Anyway, let's get right down to it. This thread might be constantly updated as I give it face lifts from time to time and insert / take out ideas as I see fit.

Friendly reminder:

• My On / Off thread is right here: My On/Off Thread

• I don't care if you're a girl playing a guy, my pairings will almost always be M x F. Lady parts simply do not do it for me.

• Please send me a PM, do not post in this thread. Thank you!



Tentatively accepting.

• These are the scenarios I am not accepting any new takers at this time:

» I'm Your Partner, Nice To Meet You!
» Meet Me On The Battlefield
» Angel By Your Side


Ideas to be added:

Video Games:
• The Evil Within

• Aliens

New ideas added!

Dead Space!
• Make us Whole

This idea has been re-tooled
• Bodyguard


Active Roleplays / Taken Scenarios

• I'm Your Partner, Nice To Meet You! -  rotochron
• A Dragon's Pet Beast Tamer - rotochron
• Dear Boss - DarkPrince
• Angel By Your Side - Gunner

If the games are italisized, this means they have been stagnant / I or my partner have not posted. 

« Last Edit: May 19, 2018, 07:58:27 PM by Lowfoam »

Offline LowfoamTopic starter

Re: Lowfoam's Coffee Shop || [ F for M ]
« Reply #1 on: June 25, 2016, 03:11:31 AM »
Original Ideas / Characters

Blow you're going to find several of my characters that I've been developing for years. These ones are pretty much raring to go in most circumstances, barring what kind of plot is built around them.

Obligatory: Original Character do not steal~!!11!

─────────────────────────────────────  ─────────────────────────────────────

Elizabeth Steele aka "Patient Zero"

My Art: Concept Art I || Concept Art II

Name: Elizbeth Steele

Other Names: Patient Zero / Zero

Sexuality: Straight

Age: Roughly 33, looks about ~24

Height: About 5' 3"

Weight: Fluctuates from 95 - 135lbs.

Noticeable Characteristics: Has heavy scarring on entirety of body from a lifetime of fights. Most noticeable being a network of scars around her throat where she tried to rip out her own vocal cords with her hands. Her eyes are a very bright blue, which may wash out to a light blue / white / gray depending on the situation she's in.

Personality: Steele takes 'socially awkward' to a brand new level. She may follow your character into the bathroom and not understand why they're so flustered when they need to use the bathroom. Most attempts at humor go over her head, or she may interpret it literally and think it very odd. Steele dispenses information on a need-to-know basis, but may open up a bit more if somebody manages to give her some good reasons why she should divvy up the goods. Naturally impassive, and a little stoic, Steele's not one for too many words. She will attempt to act 'normal' but it will look severely off. Whoever she is protecting at the moment may need to give her lessons on how to act socially in public.

Biography: Patient Zero was the first successful child that was drafted into a supersoldier program designed by PMC Raven. Raven was given unlimited funding from the government to create the perfect super soldier, and Zero was their first and original. The program began on experimenting on consenting adults and 'volunteers' but it was found that adult biology and genetics were too locked in with time. And so Raven began to kidnap children that fit their genetic profile. Sometimes from wealthy family members, sometimes just children from the poverty-stricken areas. They didn't care, so long as that child fit the medical profile.

Eventually they found Zero. After months of solitary confinement, and watching the children who had been brought in with her die, she began to develop a hatred for Raven. That hatred helped to survive the genetic testing and experimentation. Emotional, psychological, and behavioral conditioning was also administered, eventually completely wiping her memories and transforming her into a machine of war. When the genetic experimentation struck, and her body adapted to it, Raven cheered in victory.

Very quickly, Generation 1 was constructed. They had the key to unlocking the genes, now they just needed the soldiers. And so these children grew to be battle-hardened soldiers with body counts that would make most men pale. But Raven wanted to improve on their formula, so plans to draft Generation 2 were formed. Unfortunately, this involved scrapping Generation 1. Generation 1 did not take kindly to this, and staged a coup. It was bloody, and ended with only Zero alive.

During her time in captivity, Zero had developed a love for one Elizabeth O'Connor, a fiery redhead doctor who was a light in the darkness of Raven. She had a moral, a conscience, and completely objected to the treatment of the children. It took her many months, but she eventually managed to break through the veil of drugs and behavior code words to the real Zero. And they developed a hidden relationship rather like an older sister/ younger sister or even a mother / daughter.

In the end, despite the carnage and havoc she had wrought, Zero's main handler, a man named Gabriel Hayes, distracted the child soldier long enough that a sniper shot O'Connor through the neck. She bled out as Zero held her in her arms. Her rage and pain activated the latent genetic treatments and Zero mutated that day. She pounced on Hayes, devouring what she could in revenge, eating him alive. And when she was finished, she turned her attention to the facility, brutally murdering scientists and soldiers alike. Finished with her dark rage, she set the whole thing on fire and watched it burn. She adopted Elizabeth's first name and a pet name "Steele" and rebranded herself as Elizabeth Steele. She tried to live a peaceful life, but her past keeps coming back to haunt her.

Oftentimes, people refuse to let the past stay buried. Black Ops forces, retired soldiers, scientists, doctors, and even the government all want access to Raven's research. And what's left of Raven protects it like a rabid dog. Whoever is unlucky enough to find what little information of those human experiments remains will quickly find themselves being hunted by a variety of soldiers and black ops agents.

Luckily. . . Steele still has her eye on that data.

Powers: Fast healing, intelligent, fast, superhuman strength. Can duck under bullets, have been known to wrench car doors off, and in rare cases, pick up cars.

Steele has the ability to conjure up organic armor. It covers her face, spine, arms and shoulders. Each hand is capped by a talon, and a tail juts out of her spine. Her mutations are controlled, and go in various stages:

Stage 1: Normal: Her tail is shrunk and appears to be metallic links circled around her hips. As a result, Steele has adopted the "punk" way of looking to get the belts to fit in better. Also a better way to hide her BDUs.

Stage 2: Activated : Her tail may or may not be mutated to be roughly seven feet in length, and capped with a deadly, serrated tip. Her armor will cover her face, spine, shoulders, and arms.

Stage 3: Uncontrolled: Her tail will most certainly be mutated. Her jaw will break and unhinge, revealing sharp, serrated teeth that have been mutated from her originals. Her talons will have grown. Movements will be erratic and jerky, mostly instinct and vague thoughts guiding her at this point.

Stage 4: Berserk: Imagine a giant, 14-foot cat. Now cover that in armor. Steele's mind is not present in her body and very much runs off of instinct and battle thoughts alone. Will kill everything in sight. She may or may not be able to calm down on her own. In this state, she has a rough timer before her body will force her to de-mutate in order not to kill her.

Drawbacks: Such powers are not without consequences. When mutated, Steele requires an ungodly amount of calories in order to stay mutated. On a normal day, she may require ~6,000 just to function. On a day she mutates, Steele will require between ~12,000-15,000 in order to survive. If she does not meet the calorie goals for that day, she will begin to starve and shut down. Government agencies, black ops agents, and other PMCs are known to try and 'starve her out'.

Cannibalism: Steele does not eat people for fun. O'Connor taught her a regard for life. But the virus/nanomachines that allowed her to mutate, if deprived of a readily-available food source, will seek out other particles of the virus/nanomachines. Steele tries to eat animals that have mutated into monsters, or even deer or bears or other game, but her body will force her to consume people if there's no other food source nearby.

─────────────────────────────────────  ─────────────────────────────────────

Cyra Rovski
(Image 10000% completely SFW!)

Name: Cyra Rovski

Other Names: Kid, Kiddo, Newborn
“Get your ass over here!”
“No don’t go there!“
“Holy fuck how are you still ALIVE?!"

Ghost's Name: Requiem, aka "Req"

Sexuality: Straight

Class Affiliation: Hunter

Age: 24

Guardian Age: 12 years.

Nationality: German / European / Russian 

Languages: Old German/Russian, English

Height: About 5' 3"

Weight: 115 - 125lbs.

Hometown: Outpost 44-A, aka Last Colony

Current Residence: The Tower / Last City


• Kade Ultani - Brother - not related by blood
• Ritasky - Sister - not related by blood
• KESH-13 - Father - not related by blood

Biological Family:

[ Meredith Rovski ] - deceased
[ Eric Rovski ] - deceased

Noticeable Characteristics: Has heavy scarring on her stomach from her First Death, this was caused by a stray shot from a Fallen soldier that punctured her stomach. Another scar is to the right of her forehead, the killshot from her First Death. Like most Guardians, Cyra has a multitude of scars spanning over her body. Some have faded with time, but others are there permanently despite Requiem’s best attempts to keep her Guardian whole and functioning.

Commonly wears greasepaint before heading out on missions, although coloration and style can change depending on mission type or her mood.

Personality: Cyra never really got the chance to be a kid when she was growing up, and that mentality has carried over into her Rebirth. The peace later granted to her finally gave her this opportunity, much to the dismay of everyone in the Tower. Thankfully, her immature ways are beginning to fall by the wayside, but Cyra will often get the thought, "Should I do this? This seems like a good idea."

Logic and her Ghost, Requiem, will tell her no, she should not do it, but Cyra will often engage these fleeting whims anyway. Past exploits have included jumping down and scaring poor, unsuspecting Warlocks, or asking one of her Titan friends to Havoc-fist her in the chest to see if she'll survive the hit.

While in the Tower, Cyra's fairly laid back. She's a bit odd for a Hunter, preferring to be obnoxiously chipper and happy. . . a direct contradiction to how Hunters are perceived as brooding, cocky, and dark. Cyra is more than happy to walk around, lounge about, or indulge in other Hunter pursuits, such as climbing high places or taking catnaps.

Out in the field, Cyra morphs into a battle-hardened Guardian. She was forged in the fires of the desperate struggle of humanity's last stand, so she's no stranger to the heat of battle. Other Guardians are still trying to work the kinks out of the Newborn, as Cyra often enjoys suicidal charges into battle with nothing but a knife and a scout rifle. Impulsive, and brash, this has led Cyra to many a death and revive. . . and lectures from other Guardians. She's anything but frivolous, though, and knows that her Second Life is a great gift - she cherishes and treasures it wisely.

Personal History: Cyra’s past is steeped in tragedy, just like 99.99999% of every other Guardian that was Reborn.

She was born a healthy baby to one Eric and Meredith Rovski, in a tiny nomadic human color named Colony 44-A, aka the Last Colony. When Cyra was growing up, times were grim and gritty for humankind. The Fallen were preying upon the population, and despite their best efforts, huamnkind was quickly being thrust upon the brink of extinction.  When she was six years old, a scout came and informed her that both of her parents were killed during a supply raid. At that tender age, Cyra stopped being a child and became a soldier. A man, Captain Henry Byron, inserted himself as role of "father figure” into Cyra’s life. He taught her how to be a scout, hold a gun, survive, deal with grief, and much more. Cyra loved him dearly.

She lived until twelve years of age, with humanity dwindling away person by person around her. What the Fallen did not kill, starvation and disease did. Eventually, Exodus Blue was drafted as the final escape plan, and Cyra took part in securing and managing the outer perimeter while the ships were taking off. This would be the encounter that would swiftly end her life as a human. As one colony ship suffered devastating damage, Cyra ran out to try and hold the line and resupply, only to be shot by a Fallen soldier. Injured and bleeding, she sat and accepted her fate as a Fallen skiff locked on and finished the job.

Many, many years later, Requiem revived her, pulling her from the void. She ran into the Hive upon being Reborn, but was saved by Kesh-13 and his Fireteam. Cyra caused quite a stir when she was brought back to the Tower - never before had a Guardian been brought back so young. And it was quickly asked of the Traveler never to bring back another child. Cyra's mental state was in severe instability. She was kept under supervision at all times, and there was not a week that went by that she did not try to kill herself - and most days, she succeeded.

Through many, many months of therapy, Cyra was eventually pulled out of her mind. The young human spoke a language that had not been heard since the Dark Age - not Russian, not German - but a strange hybrid of the two. After a rough period of readjustment to her new life, Cyra finally began to climb the ranks of being a Guardian.

Death and tragedy are bittersweet to this young Guardian. She was present for the ill-fated siege on Luna, where she lost her father, Kesh-13, and his Fireteam to Crota.

And then, much later, she lost the Tower.

In terms of "Guardian legend", Cyra is still considered very young. The title of Newborn is still stubbornly affixed to her name, despite her feats and skills.

She’s still looked upon as a child by most Guardians (and considering her age, she most certainly is), primarily due to both her age physically and Guardian-wise. Rest assured, however, Cyra was forged in fire, and can stand her ground with the rest of the Guardians.

But. . . she still has a lot to learn.

There is one nifty perk to hanging out with Cyra - her favorite home is inside Rasputin. And the Warmind takes a kind, if a little grumpy, acceptance to her presence. Apparently, she's not the only one who speaks the old language she knows. 

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« Last Edit: May 19, 2018, 07:15:03 PM by Lowfoam »

Offline LowfoamTopic starter

Re: Lowfoam's Coffee Shop || [ F for M ]
« Reply #2 on: June 25, 2016, 03:15:10 AM »
Action / War / Adventure

Below the cut you'll find all my action plots.



He fucked up.

He fucked up something awful and he knew it. People were after him, ghosts with no names and no faces. He was positive that they didn't exist officially to the world - they were phantoms, the blackest of the Black Ops. And they were coming for him. They weren't going to stop until he was dead. And it wouldn't be a graceful death, either, especially after what he'd done. They were going to torture the ever-loving shit out of him to get the location of the drive he'd hidden. He was going to die completely obliterated from the world - no records, no proof of existence.

They'd just erase his existence from the face of the earth.

He'd been relentlessly hunted for weeks, and it had been at least six days since he'd gotten more than four or five hours of fitful catnaps.

He was hungry. He was thirsty, and goddamn, he was tired, but he can't stop. If he stops, he dies, and he knows it. But if he doesn't slow down. . . it'll only be a matter of time before he makes a mistake and winds of dead.

And just a few hours later, he does make that mistake.

And it's not pretty.

Before he knows it, there's flashbangs and guns and gigantic men covered in camouflage tac-armor that literally makes them appear from thin air. He's beaten into the ground, restrained. A gun is held at his head.

A grating voice, distorted by a voice filter and face mask, demands, "Where is the data?"

This is the crux of his problem. He'd been too reckless. He'd dug too deep. He hadn't covered his tracks well enough, he'd stuck his nose in places it hadn't belonged. How was he supposed to know that Lewison wasn't a nuclear test site? It hadn't been his fault he'd found out about the GOD project.

Monsters were real. He knew that. The terrorists that had infected the world with Nanomachines had almost plummeted the world into chaos. He'd enlisted as Urban Defense Infantry the first chance he got. Sure, he shot dogs or cats or even people that had been infected, but they'd all been Uncurable. Simple monsters that had only one intention: destroy everything they saw.

But there had been more. So, so much more. There had been a truth to the Nanomachine Terrorism, and he wanted to be the one to find it out. Imagine his surprise when he'd shown up to his post the next day and his CO had tried to put a bullet in his skull. So he'd smuggled out what data he had, determined to find more. He had to keep looking, keep searching through deleted archives and private security systems.

"Where is the data?" The voice barked again.

He breathed through clenched teeth, wheezing, determined to be silent. Above him, he could practically see the soldier tightening his finger on the trigger of the gun pressed against his temple.

This was it. He was prepared to meet his maker.

But then he heard glass shatter. The heavy stench of copper hit the air. The soldier threatening him is violently torn away, his flailing boot catching him in the head and sending stars careening into his vision. It takes him several handfuls of precious seconds, but when he finally can open his eyes and prop himself up, his consciousness hazy, his body utterly exhausted. . . he sees a blonde staring back at him.

The first thing he notices are her eyes are blue - a metallic and electrifying blue - and oh so very bright in the darkness. They almost seem to glow.

The next thing he notices is she's covered head to tow in blood, and it's practically dropping from her hair and down her cheeks.

Around him, everybody is dead.

The last thing he notices is a seven-foot tail jutting out of her ass, waving in the air behind her like a cat, catching the light and glimmering a matte silver.

"You're. . . you're Infected." He stammers.

Oh shit. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shi-

In response, those metallic blue eyes narrow, and she lifts a small handgun up.

"Where is it?" She rasps, her voice hoarse.

Well. . . he certainly had gotten himself in a huge mess, that was for fucking certain.

[ Plot extremely open for interpretation. But I have a few good ideas, namely a backstory involving your character and mine.  This story has been recently changed and upgraded. It takes place in the near-future with a slightly different twist on the world as we know it. A lot of tacticool bullshit, sorry if you're ex-military, lol. I only pretend to know military things, I actually don't. ]

[MAY CONTAIN: Military, death, blood, gore, violence, language, mutations, medical torture, bodily torture, and cannibalism.]

─────────────────────────────────────  • ᴼ • ─────────────────────────────────────

Angel By Your Side

Angel By Your Side

She is the voice on his ear. When items, ammo counts, maps, or lift tickets are scrolling across his HUD, it's because she's at the computer, fingers rapping away. She tells him where to go, keeps him focused in stressful situations. . . not that he needs it. They've been the perfect team for years. He's had rare few mission failures with her leading the way. Her job isn't to carry a gun, kill a person, or anything like that - it's to care for him. She makes sure his bills are paid, his mail is delivered correctly, and his house is up to date.

Unfortunately, there seems to be an attraction growing. . . and neither of them quite know how to handle it.

[ I'd like for this one to be unrequited love at first. Maybe he's in love with her, or she's in love with him? How do they tell each other? How do they push their relationship past work-wife and work-husband? ]

─────────────────────────────────────  • ᴼ • ─────────────────────────────────────



Emma is the best in the business. Nothing - absolutely nothing seems to faze her. When she's ordered for a job, the employer knows that it'll get done. That's why she's so sought-after, and highly paid, to boot. Her house is littered with her wages, and her pantry is stocked and full.

After all, what kind of girl wouldn't want a little insurance when the zombie apocalypse is happening?

Emma is also a force to be reckoned with on the battlefield. She doesn't use guns - too noisy, and they draw the infected. She prefers her litany of blades, instead. She packs wherever she goes, machetes strapped to both of her legs, a sword on her back, and a multitude of knives hidden everywhere. Unlike other pockets and small towns of survivors, she's not a soldier. She's got her own special career as a Messenger. People pay her to deliver letters, packages, and special deliveries from town to town.

Messengers don't live long. But she's got a reputation for being one of the oldest in the business. And she's only 26, to boot. She should've died years ago. But like the pockets of humanity still living in this world, she just won't die. And that's not a problem for her. She's a great runner, and before the zombie apocalypse happened, she was a free runner - it's help given her a leg up (ba dum tiss) on other Messengers and even the infected.

Until one day. . . shit hits the fan.

(I enjoy roleplaying slightly smarter zombies. A little bit of L4D mixed with Last of Us and 28 Days Later. What's more terrifying than a zombie? One that's mutated and it can run faster than you, that's what. Plot open for discussion, tons of directions this one can go in!)

MAY CONTAIN: Military, death, blood, gore, violence, language, zombies, and more ]

─────────────────────────────────────  • ᴼ • ─────────────────────────────────────

« Last Edit: May 19, 2018, 07:36:50 PM by Lowfoam »

Offline LowfoamTopic starter

Re: Lowfoam's Coffee Shop || [ F for M ]
« Reply #3 on: June 25, 2016, 03:18:10 AM »
Crime / Gangster

Below the cut you will find plots detailing characters in an crime / gangster setting.

Currently there are no plots. :c
« Last Edit: April 30, 2017, 07:28:31 AM by Lowfoam »

Offline LowfoamTopic starter

Re: Lowfoam's Coffee Shop || [ F for M ]
« Reply #4 on: June 25, 2016, 03:20:07 AM »
Historic / Drama

Below the cut you will find plots detailing characters in a historic / drama setting.



Vampires have always been real. . . just not how people believed them to be.

They do drink blood, have retractable fangs that can easily pierce through human skin. . . but they also have magic. Created thousands upon thousands of years ago by gods that have long since abandoned them, they were imbued with the very elements of the earth themselves. Vampires, by channeling this energy, can use magic to do a broad scope of things. But nothing quite so mundane as to bend the elements themselves - rather they harness this magic to forge items from ripping them from the god's dimension.

It's referred to as the Void - no vampire can survive there for long. And those rare few who have eked out this other dimension as their home. . . they're hardly more than ravenous beasts, completely blackened and tainted. But short bursts (such as summoning chains to wrap around a target, calling a sword or a weapon, etc-) are perfectly fine.

One such Vampire lost he love of his life to one of the many epidemics that claimed the human populace back in the ages before modern medicine. As she died, he wept, and begged for her to come back to him. She smiled, and said she could never imagine leaving him. Not now, not ever. She'd come back. And for years, he wandered alone. He kept company from time to time, hell, he even loved others - but none held a candle to her. It's said a Vampire can only truly love once in his or her life. He'd had his chance. . .

Vampires were very unexpectedly thrown into the light of day when the human populace was decimated by a deadly disease. It didn't take long - superbugs, antibiotic-resistant bacteria. . . the modern age finally faced its first Black Plague. And as the human population dwindled, so too, did the food source of the Vampires. Panic spread, their existence as known, and humans. . . humans began to become hunted.

It's best to keep blood bags nearby, after all. Lucky humans were sent to Vampire-run medical facilities, where they were kept safe from the disease lurking outside in the cities. All they asked in payment were donations of blood. But it wasn't enough. What little survivors remained were sometimes found, kidnapped, and kept inside of the houses of Vampires for their own private leisure. Human blood is at a premium nowadays. The synthetic replica the Vampire companies managed to create wasn't too bad, it kept them functioning, kept the hunger away - but nothing beats the real thing.

He's walking down the street one day when he sees her.

The one he loved and lost. He's taken aback - especially because she's making short work of murdering a Vampire in broad daylight no less than twenty feet away from him. Some human survivors did blame the Vampires for this epidemic, for their current conditions - and set about to acts of vigilantism. . . and Vampire murder. He's stunned, rooted to the spot. She's different - tattooed, and sporting some shocking red hair, but it's her.

He just barely manages to avoid getting shot when she levels a gun at his head.

And then she runs.

He has to find her before the Human Recovery Squads do - or she meets a much darker fate.

[ Vampires are daywalkers and nightwalkers. The concept of the magic can be reworked or completely thrown out - I'm good with either. Open for editing. c: ]

MAY CONTAIN: Death, blood, gore, violence, language, . . . light cannibalism? Sure. I mean vampires get hungry too. . . ]

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« Last Edit: April 30, 2017, 08:23:23 AM by Lowfoam »

Offline LowfoamTopic starter

Re: Lowfoam's Coffee Shop || [ F for M ]
« Reply #5 on: June 25, 2016, 03:21:59 AM »
Horror / Dark

Below you'll find all the plots that make me go hnnngg.
Lucid Dream

Lucid Dream

She's been on the run for a very long time now, the path behind her littered with soda cans, coffee cups, and candies high in caffeine. It's all she spends what little money she on. Any pills or stimulants or sodas are going to be guzzled and downed in just a few seconds. Anything to keep her awake and not let her fall down the rabbit hole. Ever since she was a little girl, she had a strange power. Whenever she fell asleep, she dreamed. And those dreams became reality. When she was a child it was harmless - there was nothing wrong with the inside of her house transforming into a playland where her stuffed animals came to life and danced and played with her.

But when other people dream around her. . . her ability runs wild. Those dreams bleed into her own, and nightmares come to life. Johnny down the street murdered three people and never told anybody - in her dreamworld, he is an axe-wielding maniac seven feet tall and built like a brick house. The hyperviolence inside of him wants out, and he'll stop at nothing until he slaughters everyone in sight.

Helena three houses over didn't like her husband anymore, so she poisoned him to collect on life insurance. And when she dreams, she sees Helena as a ichor-spewing spider who would gladly sink her fangs into her.

And that's the crux of her problem - her dreams are reality. If you die inside of them, you die in real life, sometimes in the most brutal, evil, gory of ways. One such incident made her flee from her childhood home as her parents were murdered. The police are in pursuit, but she never stays in one place for too long. She can't stay awake forever, though. She has to sleep sometime.

And the sins of other people will reveal themselves.

MAY CONTAIN: Shit fam, I don't know for this one!

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The Collector

The Collector

She regains consciousness in a dimly-lit room. She can't remember how the fuck she got there, but her head's pounding and she feels sick. She gets up and discovers she's in a concrete cell with absolutely nothing. She's only in what she wore that morning: a t-shirt and shorts. There's absolutely nothing there for her. After fruitlessly scouring the cell for a way out, she discovers there is only one door. It's made of metal. And it's sunken into the wall. There is absolutely no way to pry it open. And there's a huge pane of one-way glass that sees into her little cell.

Speakers, set into the wall, come to life.

"Undress." It says. They're using a voice changer. A modulator.

She refuses.

"Undress." It commands.

She adamantly says no.

And she's punished severely for it. Blaring lights and sounds come on, almost making her go deaf. She can't see. She's blind. He doesn't give her another chance - he just walks off and says that's it. She's left like that for hours. He comes back, gives her one simple command: undress. She refuses. The same treatment. And eventually, out of desperation, she caves. She undresses, leaving her in nothing but her underwear, and she's rewarded. Water and food. She's left alone for the rest of the night.

And so it continues. For every command she obeys, she's rewarded. A pillow. A blanket. Food. Water. Each command is different, but steadily begins to grow more and more sexual. She's given lingerie to wear and nothing else. She can't wear anything. She relents - the punishments are not worth it.

And then everything changes. 'Blindfold yourself.'

She does. And he comes in.

He likes pretty things. And his last Pet broke beyond repair some time ago. He's been without company for far too long. It's time for a new Assistant.

[ Side note: this will be a very dark roleplay, and sex is probably going to be pretty frequent. I imagine it would start off as rape, non-con/dub-con, and slowly progress to a more consenting relationship. Stockholm syndrome abound! What will your character do? Pin her to a wall and fuck her? Strap her to a table and force her to deepthroat? Anything is free game to break her will - please just run it by me first. ]

[ Side note 2: Inspired by The Collector, Don't Breathe, and Captivity. ]

[ MAY CONTAIN ]: Rape, non-con, dub-con, torture, mind games, psychological horror. . . depends on what we'd like to do! 

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Through the Looking Glass

Through The Looking Glass

Additional looks for Alice:

Dress No. 1 || Dress No. 2

She was quiet when she came to live at the Sir Heathrow's Halfway Home.

"Completely insane." Heathrow said, shaking his head and uttering a small sigh. "What a pity! Such beauty has to rest in such a bed of insanity." Heathrow shook his head and walked off.

He didn't think so. She looked. . . normal. Well, normal compared to the inhabitants of the halfway home, anyway. But she was quiet, doing what she was tasked to do. She'd just come from Garrow's Asylum. According to her file, she'd spent roughly 10 years there - who would have thought? He certainly didn't. She appeared far too kind, quiet, and meek. Maybe she was just adjusting, after all. Asylums were rough and awful places to be, he supposed. As a doctor (and psychiatrist) he never had too much time to pay attention to her, either, much as he liked. He enjoyed saying hello to her in the hallways, and she responded with a tender smile as she went about dusting and cleaning. She was pretty, but mad. And he was just working at the Halfway Home in hopes of running his own hospital one day.

She hardly spoke. She hardly ate. And wherever she went, she carried that silly, threadbare rabbit. A keepsake from childhood? Perhaps. It looked far too childish for her. Heathrow kept her file (and twice weekly psychological review sessions) in a locked file cabinet. One for which he had no key. The girl was fated to remain a mystery, apparently.

Until one day another woman stole her rabbit.

He just happened to walk into the kitchen to get an afternoon cup of tea when the impossible happened. The kitchen was no longer right. It turned into a twisted, darkened landscape of writhing metal and jail bars and jail cells. He could hardly believe what was happening. Surely, he was dreaming? The meek girl shook her head, lifting up a tea kettle and striking the thief over the head with it.

"It's your own fault, you know." She said, in a strong and confident voice he'd never heard her use, "Making all this fuss. And for what? It's either this or you get an audience with the Queen."

And then the world winked into black.

He awoke on the kitchen floor. There was no blood. No broken kettle. And the mysterious girl was standing before him, looking down at him with wide, worried eyes.

"Please." She whispered, her voice light and wispy as a feather, her eyes large, sad, and green, "Don't say anything."

Of course he did. He assured her he would not, but he got to his feet and ran to Heathrow's office as soon as she was out of sight, ready to report his concerns. . .

Only to find the girl there, stabbing a knife down, laughing and signing a song.

"There once was a man who tried to fix heads, poking and prodding until their little brains bled. Laugh, laugh now, can't you see? The dissector is as dead as you and me!"

He hardly felt ashamed that he couldn't move. She dragged the knife out of Heathrow and pointed it at him, the tip gleaming silver and red. He collapsed, too frightened to move - she'd just murdered Heathrow! Almost as though she were a call girl, she crawled over him, seating herself upon his chest, the knife tip dragging over his chest and stomach. Her head drunkenly lolled forward as she grinned, a sadistic smile cracking her skin like she was a doll made of delicate porcelain.

Her body shivered, her black hair lengthening and braiding itself, roses growing where the blood fell.

Her skin stretched and broke, and he screamed.


And he fell through the roses, the earth. . . and fell through the sky. He fell rather roughly on the ground and fell unconscious immediately.

He woke to a rabbit snuffling his face and a familiar pair of green eyes staring at him.

She sighed.

"I was hoping you wouldn't come to Wonderland."

[ this is primarily a psychological RP. Are they hallucinating? Did Alice somehow sway the psychiatrist to believe that Wonderland was a true place? Or. . . is it real? Let's talk about this plot - it'd require a lot of communication. If you want to play as Wonderland is real, my basic idea is as follows:

Alice in Wonderland is as she was in her youth - sharp-witted and sharp-tongued. She acts as the rabbit for other people in their Wonderlands as she helps them confront whatever psychological horror they've pushed deep, deep down.

The Red Queen drags these people into Wonderland (rather against their will). She crafts it so they have to face their fears, but often in sadistic and awful ways. She just wants to see heads roll, after all.

The Alice in the "real world" is a meek, quiet, and very well-mannered girl. The Red Queen and Alice often vie for dominance of the body. . . and the shell is all that's left.

The Red Queen and Alice are one in the same - one cannot exist without the other. I can explain more in detail if you'd need!

This game is heavily inspired from American McGee's Alice / Madness Returns, but it does not follow the storyline or canon. I may borrow elements from time to time, however!   ]

MAY CONTAIN: Death, blood, gore, violence, language, psychological themes, etc.]

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« Last Edit: April 30, 2017, 08:25:06 AM by Lowfoam »

Offline LowfoamTopic starter

Re: Lowfoam's Coffee Shop || [ F for M ]
« Reply #6 on: June 25, 2016, 03:25:11 AM »

Below the cut you will find plots detailing characters in a sci-fi setting.

I'm Your Partner, Nice To Meet You!

You're My Partner, Nice to Meet You!

The year is 2341. Most of humanity was completely wiped out by bombs, famine, and The Great War. Maybe it was by sheer luck or the eye-opening revelation that people with power had single-handedly decimated about 85% of the world's population. . . but the wars stopped. Nobody was declared the winner. What was left of countries all across the planet amassed what was left of their resources, and one hundred twenty-three years after the war ended, Paradisio had been created. There was only one caveat: humans needed a guiding hand to stay their more violent tendencies. So the countries turned battle androids into more sympathetic and human companions. These cyborgs are incapable of harming humans, and instead rule Paradisio in major political and bureaucratic roles.

This has caused some tensions between real flesh-and-blood people and these cyborgs. The cyborgs ultimately only seek peace, and naysayers have declared the Real Life movement, stating that humans should rule. The cyborgs refuse to let this happen, as the world is in ruins as it is now, all at the hands of humans.

Paradisio is a futuristic city nestled on the bay, sporting a small amount of humans. In direct contrast to the wasteland and the desolated cityscapes around it, Paradise is lush, green, and seems to be the utopia that textbooks dreamed the future would be about. It also requires a police force to ensure that its citizens remain in line. The Paradisio Emergency Resonse Team (PERT) serves as Paradisio's Swat force of the future. Amidst the hover cars and the magnetic elevators lie the Real Life movement. Terrorist attacks are on the rise, and it's PERT's job to respond to these incidents.

She's new to the force. He's not, he's been there for a while and has become a literal powerhouse to the force. If there's a situation, call him. He won't fail. She's also young - maybe twenty-five. And rumor has it she survived in the wastes just beyond Paradisio, surviving the hell-torn landscape that is filled with relics of the war. Autonomous bipedal guns, still combat-operational cyborgs, mines, grenade drops, renegade groups. . . Until one day she stumbled into Paradisio. She was patched up, her psyche scanned and personal assessed. It was deemed that she should work in PERT, as her combat experience would be perfect.

It's his job to show her the ropes. They're partners - they share housing. But he sustained near-fatal injuries in the war, years before he managed to get to Paradisio. Luckily for him, they were able to outfit him with a new body. There's an attraction growing between them, and it certainly doesn't help that they're assigned to their own private housing. Standard PERT regulations. But people view these kinds of relationships taboo - even if he's still human on the inside. They face a lot of opposition from the Real Live movement, discrimination between their ranks, and people who just don't agree with their relationship.

[ They may openly fight their attraction at first, maybe they embrace is right away. I'm up for some concessions as to what your robot looks like underneath. I just ask that the skin can't come off. It's synthetic, I'd like for it to stay on. Helmets / masks are huge turn ons for me, I love them. But it's okay if you want it to fold back so they can kiss or what-have-you. If sex happens - and it probably will - it'll be a robot/cyborg x human pairing. Plus, we can always change how his dick looks. He can probably get a new one customized to his preferences.

For reference, I'd love if your character looked similar to these: Cyborg Ref 1, Cyborg Ref 2, Cyborg Ref 3, Cyborg Ref 4

HUGE additional bonus if romance can be worked into this plot. I'd rather it not be Porn Without Plot. Additionally, later on if wanted, we can outfit my OC with some kind of neural uplink so they can be inside of each other's heads when they fuck.

MAY CONTAIN: Power play, age play, dub-con, non-con, size differences, huge plus if you play a more bara-esque character, violence, blood, action, adventure ]

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Meet Me On The Battlefield

Meet Me On The Battlefield


"Shit!" She cursed, flipping switches, fingers practically flying over her instrument panel. The EXO suit wasn't going to last long - it wasn't a Titan, that was for damn certain. And she couldn't handle too much strafing fire from that goddamn Firefly, either. Hera Industries was sure doing a fine job making sure she was taking it up the ass this time. . . She didn't know if she was going to make it.

A shot rocked the EXO unit forward, and she hissed in pain as her forehead smacked against the control panel. The world became a blur as she tried to shake off what surely was a concussion. She blinked away the kaleidoscope of colors in her eyes, ignoring the warnings on the viewscreens in front of her. The cameras were cracked, but she saw another EXO unit, clearly marked with Hera Industries, just tens of feet away from her. It had a high-powered plasma rifle aimed at her, and it was charging its next shot.

Now or never.

Angel let out a battlecry as she thrust the controls forward, forcing her half-broken war machine to lunge forward, and at just the right time, activated the rear thrusters. The plasma rifle flashed, and she felt the impact, but the deed was done. The EXO unit was nearly knocked off course, but she landed directly on top of her enemy. They hadn't been expecting that. Smoke and the smell of burning circuitry began to fill the unit, and Angel coughed, her eyes stinging.


"No shit!" She snarled.


The back of her EXO unit popped off, fail-safe explosives forcing it to slide down, and Angel was tossed roughly into the air as the seat ejected from the EXO machine with only seconds to spare. She hit the ground hard, rolling to a stop, her mask cycling through the air as she breathed heavily. She was disoriented as she landed, but she curled up into ball right as her EXO exploded, fatally damaging the second one underneath it. She groaned as she pried herself out of the seat harness, her body aching as she tenderly picked herself up. From the smoke, she saw the bright blue glow of a Personal Mobility Pack (PMP), and her heart leaped up into her throat as she saw the soldier survived. Panic clawed its way up her throat - she had nothing. No gun, just a backup knife. She drew it right as he landed and sprinted at her, attacking her in less than a second.

Angel did her best - she really did - but she was tired, running off of three hours of sleep, and her adrenaline crash was setting in. He punched her in the face, and when her head rocked back, he disarmed her and kicked her legs out from underneath her. Angel laid there, wheezing and seeing stars, blinking tears out of her eyes and spitting blood out of her mouth.

A rifle barrel stared her down.

"Don't move." He said, his voice muffled by his mask.

Well. . . shit.

[[ Heavily inspired by Titanfall. Also up for discussion, the above was just to help set the mood / tone. Inspired by Titanfall, but has next to nothing to do with the game (though I will be getting TF2 in November!) Let's talk about the plot! ]]

MAY CONTAIN: Military, death, blood, gore, violence, language, sentient mecha, medical torture, bodily torture, and more.]

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« Last Edit: April 30, 2017, 08:03:02 AM by Lowfoam »

Offline LowfoamTopic starter

Re: Lowfoam's Coffee Shop || [ F for M ]
« Reply #7 on: June 25, 2016, 03:27:39 AM »

Below the cuts you will find plots for comic-based roleplays.



She doesn't know how she got there. Her memories are in tatters, her clothes are ripped. Fear is blasting through her, it's practically all she knows at this point. She's gotta run, she's gotta escape, get away. The night club pulses and pounds around her. She can feel things, hear things underneath the heartbeat of the crowd but it's terrifying and she doesn't know what to make of it. She just knows that to stop, to give up, is to go back to being in a gilded cage. She's something that's not supposed to be contained. She doesn't even know if she's supposed to exist.

She manages to escape and flees to the back alleys of the streets, just barely one step ahead of whoever wants her. She doesn't even know what she did, why they want her. But she keeps running. There's something here, something that's promising her peace. Eventually, exhausted and scared half-witless, she collapses into some tight little corner between two buildings and stays there. She doesn't move until there's something brushing up against her ankle.

A red, tattered piece of cape. Before she knows it there's chains dripping in the air around her, the cape is wrapping around her ankle and calf possessively, like it wants her. He's just as confused about it as she is. The costume's never shown an affection for anybody but himself before. He tries to help her up, and as soon as she does, the costume plasters her to him and acts like it's some long lost lover to her.

Neither are expecting the sudden wash of heat, or the odd bolt of lust. He's just as utterly confused by it as she is. Eventually, the mysteries start coming to light. She's not a human. Not exactly. And both heaven and hell are incredibly interested in Spawn's new little bird.

[ Plot can be discussed. I'd like you to play Spawn - you can be Al or an OC if you'd like. ]

MAY CONTAIN: Rape, non-con, dub-con, size differences, bondage, and more. ]

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« Last Edit: April 30, 2017, 08:03:26 AM by Lowfoam »

Offline LowfoamTopic starter

Re: Lowfoam's Coffee Shop || [ F for M ]
« Reply #8 on: September 10, 2016, 05:36:43 AM »
Video Games

Below the cut you will find plots detailing characters in a variety of different fandoms.

Welcome to Silent Hill

Welcome to Silent Hill

"Don't leave me!" She cried out. "Please! Please, don't-"

But he did. Eight years ago, he left her. The memory is still burned fresh into his mind, and he can still hear her crying out his name as he's sprinting as fast as he can out of that evil place. He can still smell the fog and ash, the heat from fires below licking his feet, he can still hear the gears and machines turning and conjuring into a contraption that would surely grind him into a place.

But he had to get out. He had to escape. He'd been dreaming of it since the moment he could talk.

Eight years ago, he'd left her in Silent hill.

He'd tried to forget, and he managed to, a little. . . until eight years later. It was three weeks until the anniversary that he escaped Silent Hill and managed to carve out a meager life for himself. But the nightmares always started just about then. One night, while he's asleep, he has a dream that the door swings open to his room. Ashy, quiet footsteps track into the house, black streams left on the wall as fingers trail along it.

As he's sleeping, someone stands at his bedside and waits. He wakes up, and a finger reaches over, touching his lips. He's paralyzed, as though lead weights ahve suddenly replaced the entirety of his blood.

"Shhh." She says, stroking a hand over his face. She brushes it through his hair, trails it down his neck, over his pulse, down his chest, and then to his arm.

She slips a card inside his hand and bends over, eyes piercing him. She smiles for just a second before she reaches down and kisses him, roughly seizing his hair, biting down on his lip hard enough to draw blood.

And then she disappears in a flurry of ash.

He wakes up hours later, thinking it was all a dream. But then he stretches. . . and a card crinkles in his hand. And his lip stings from rough treatment. The card is gray, stained with soot and ash, and inside is a single piece of paper.

It's a letter, penned to him, and looks as though it had been written in blood. 

'You're invited to my birthday party in Silent Hill. Come if you dare, coward.' There's a heart penned in blood, too. He looks through his house and sees the ash, the footprints that stop just at his bed.

He doesn't have a choice. He has to go back to hell. It's time for her Ascension.

[ This plot would require some discussion before hand. It's kind of a Chosen One plot. . . but your character is also a Chosen One, too! Tons of fun all around. To be honest, this one might be a bit sex-heavy. I'm okay with that, though. ]

MAY CONTAIN: Incest (plot kind of works better with it), rape, blood, gore, mind games, xenophilia, monsters, torture, blood, gore

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Destiny is my bread and butter. I've read most of the Grimoire inside and out and I love the lore of this game. My primary is a Hunter. Her name is Cyra, and her face can be seen here:

This is Cyra.

She's a Hunter. And a semi-young one at that. Cyra is about 24 years old, and has only been Reborn for approximately ~12 years. While she may seem inexperienced, rest assured, she's very skilled. But sometimes she can - and will - fuck up in the battlefield. You know how it goes. Hunters sometimes really don't know how to control their egos. . .

For this scenario, we'd have to plot something. There are many, many story arcs in Destiny. But I'd be willing to throw down for anything. I fucking love this game.

For a more detailed analysis, please see Original Characters section for an in-depth breakdown on Cyra's biography!

[ MAY CONTAIN ] : Torture, war, angst, blood, gore, cursing. . . the list goes on.

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I rather like the idea of my Tenno being the original Ember. There's not a whole lot we know, of course, about what exactly transpired in the Zariman 10-0. But my little Tenno, a 12-year-old Nike, was onboard the Zariman 10-0 when it made its maiden voyage. And for years, she was lost in the Void. It twisted, changed, and corrupted her. . . Until she was brought back, and kept in quarantine along with the other children. The Void had warped and changed her, made her very violent and prone to rages - she was the epitome of a wild animal. . . but then again, all of the Zarmian children were.

Nike - and the other children - had drifted in the Void for years.

Aboard the Zariman, Nike had had a younger sister, and though Nike is very tight-lipped about her personal experiences in the Void, it was documented that her younger sister had been lost amidst the conflict in the Zariman. And Nike was left scarred and angry from it.

It wasn't until much later that a certain Sentient woman bore through the brunt of her fury, wrapped her up in her arms, held her close, and whispered that she was safe, that nothing would hurt her, that she was loved did Nike's rage finally subside.

It was given shape. Form.

And Ember was born.

Nikita will not be played under the age limit. She will be played at a minimum of 18 - 19 years old.

Note: I'm avoiding spoilers for those who haven't completed the game. We can do this at any number of points during the plot. During quarantine after she's been recovered from the Zariman, during a mission, years later. . . etc. Up for grabs. Let's talk about it.

[ MAY CONTAIN ] : A bajillion things depending on what we want.

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Standby for Titanfall

Cassie Mills was supposed to be a farmer, believe it or not.

Like most people in the Frontier, she wasn't exactly supposed to have a grand life. She was quite happy on her parent's farm on her little homeworld of Anthia. It wasn't a planet of consequence, believe it or not. It was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. The IMC infiltrated it and a few surrounding planets, demanding ransom from the Militia. A ransom the Militia couldn't pay up. And so the IMC took these planets into their fold.

Cassie's family was killed in the crossfire. She was injured heavily, but managed to run. She was clipped a time or two before she fell down some ship wreckage and met a Pilot-less Vanguard-class titan. He shoved her into the cockpit, and half-dead from bloodloss, Cassie enacted her revenge on what IMC soldiers she could find. She was only eighteen. She passed out. The titan administered emergency aid, and was quick to evac his new Pilot off-world.

From there, Cassie was taken into the Militia fold and trained as a Pilot. Normally the Militia would've booted her ass to the curb, but the Titan refused another Pilot. And as she grew older, more trained and versed in the ways of war, she was taken into the SRS.

And now they have quite the extensive war record. . . off the books, of course.

She knows there will come a day when she, an Unstoppable Force, meets the Immovable Object.

It's only a matter of time.

(( Can be during her training days during the Militia, my partner could play one of her squad members, or even an IMC soldier. Tons of options and I'm up for anything!))

[ MAY CONTAIN ] : Cursing, blood, gore, war, PTSD. . . the list goes on. This one can get pretty wild, I imagine.

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Make us Whole

Welcome to the Convergence. Altman be Praised.

Convergence is coming.

And soon.

Where will you be?

Hopefully praying at the altar of Altman, of course. D̜e̞̹̺̼͚a̶̯̤̣t͕̣̲̝̟̠ḩ̱̺̪̹̮ ͜i̖͡s͎̻̝ ͏̣͎̠̤̱b̳̟̞u̙͉̹͙͉͈͜ͅt̜̱ͅ a̷̼͉̭̞̤ ҉̪d̺ǫo̸̻r̩̩̭̬w͓̫̬͍̟͉a͖̩͔̼͖͇͘y̮̣̠,̨̼̫͓͕͔̝̺ ̱̗̯͍̬̼̪a͈̖̖s̼͈̤̜͉ ̦̬̫̭w͕̘͇è͇̟͙̰̭̰ ҉̦̞̜͍̭h̶͕̘̹̼̥ͅa̪̩͚̟̫ͅv̦̼͇͔̗̗̳͝e̲ ̴͖t̥͖̖a̩̮̬u̯̼̫͓̮͞g̡͔h̶͓̤̯̤t͔ ̮̠͍̟̺y̢͇o͍͘u̱̕ͅ. ̝̀Ve͓̟͓̮s̯̬̖̹͕t͈é̼͎̺̪̹ḏ̣̺̯̖ U̺̜̘̹n̼̪͟i͉͍͍̠t͚̬ǫ̖̯̬͚̯l̮̖o̳͕̖͞gi̮̦̻̝̣s͎̗̥̳̹̘͚̕t̝̮̹͙͈s̫ ̖̝̥̪̱͚͟k̥͎̦͜ņǫ͔̥͕̻̯͎w̠̻͍̘̹ ̨̬t̪̼h͟e ̘̻͙̺̖͖̳͟t̰ru̙͜e̳͕͈͓͍̕ ̶̙ͅs̗̣̻̯̥͖͟e̟̖͜c͉̥̼ŕ͙͎͙͔e҉̥̤̟̫̲̱̟t̬̟ ̸̜͙̹͚͉̫̯w͉͉͇i͙͙̣̬͢t͎̣̞̮̯h̶̼ ̨̘̤̖̳̩̦w҉̻͙̥̩h̨̩̮̺a̞͓̟͢ṭ̥̯͈̘͍ͅ ̜̙̰́a̩ẃ̳a̗͖̯̝̞̟͞įt͕͍͖̪͇̞̺s̨̺͖ ͡


. . . // Hello? Ca. . . . n yo. . . u. . . elp. P-Please. I can't last. . . . much. . . . //


That was all that was on the comm feed. There was nothing else. On Zeta-253, a woman had reached out and launched the weakest emergency signal known to mankind. But somebody had picked it up.

The Church is not pleased. Their test site on Zeta should not have leaked. She should not have been able to resist the signal for so long, especially for being chosen as a Prophet, no less.

Claire is nothing if not hardy. . . though she's not quite there mentally anymore.

[So this can be a lot of fun, quite honestly. I toyed with the idea of Prophets - essentially, people the Church picked due to their DNA or their psych scans that show they'd be good at replicating the Marker's signal or what-have-you. Claire is one such Prophet, but your character can definitely be one too. The more, the merrier, I always say. Your character happens upon Claire's distress signal and touches down to find the hellscape that is Zeta-253. Claire needs help grounding herself and separating her mind from the Marker's influence. But after the Church got their hands on her. . . working up some trust will be a bit of a challenge. A fun one, though! Nothing like a crazy (literally) hot chick! ]

MAY CONTAIN: non-con, dub-con, blood, gore, monsters, torture, blood, gore

« Last Edit: May 19, 2018, 07:57:01 PM by Lowfoam »

Offline LowfoamTopic starter

Re: Lowfoam's Coffee Shop || [ F for M ]
« Reply #9 on: December 11, 2016, 05:13:59 AM »
Movies and TV

Below the cuts you will find plots for movies and TV-based roleplays.

False Deity

She was taken in by the tribe leader at a very young age - and it was all entirely willing. He was a strong, compassionate man, a very charismatic leader, and although his flock was small, he had them wrapped around his little finger. He'd created an entire religion where only he, the strong and powerful leader, could commune with their only god. And that god whispered to him in the night, told him which of the villager's girls he required to join his private priestess order to remain pure and chaste. In due time, he would marry them off to his chain of command. She was raised to believe that the tribe leader's god had "chosen" them - as he had all of the girls - to be his holy  Proxy. To act as its  hand in the mortal realm.

Silly girls. Gods don't exist. And she certainly is no demi-god. But she was seduced with delusions of grandeur all the same.

She'd been taken in when she was little, groomed and instructed to always keep her hands soft, her mind pliable. But in the dark of the night, her older sister would hold her close, even as they grew older, and whisper to her cruel truths that were transpiring. The rapes. The murders. But surely, the kind man who led the tribe could never be responsible for such things?

And one day, after enduring many days without food and water, when the people began to grow restless, it was decreed that a sacrifice was to be made. But only the best for their god, the tribe leader spoke.

And so it came to pass that her older sister was stretched out before her, violated, and then executed.

It was that day she realized that her sister had been telling the truth the entire time. She'd just been too deaf to listen. The next day, as they relocated camps, their raid was successful, and the tribe leader was so pleased, he offered the sacrifices's sister to his second-in-command. And she waited for night to fall before she ran, running far, far away into the night. But she was stupid and utterly infantile, she did not know how to fight. Slavers picked her up, marveling at her soft hands and mostly-unscarred body. She was taken to the Pits, and trained to be an Priestess.

So she met him. The Gladiator who fights for his freedom. She's deemed to serve him however he sees fit - she is his reward for winning in fights, for pleasing his masters. She cleans his armor, she dresses him before his fight, keeps him company in the hours of the night. From one role of 'priestess' to another, she can't escape this vicious cycle. And either can he. But she begins to whisper tales of escape, of freedom.

She tells him tales her sister told her, so very long ago. Stories of salt in the air, and blue glittering like gems in the sunlight. Such a place exists, she's certain. But she has to convince her 'Gladiator' of that. And hell knows if she knows how to fight. . .

[ Credit to DarkPrince for helping me brainstorm this idea. Heavily inspired by Mad Max: Fury Road. Plot open to interpretation and discussion. ]

[ MAY CONTAIN: Gore, rape, non-con, dub con, grooming, mind games, and more ]

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Hell's Angels

(Slight AU: I came up the idea of Mini-Cats and Prometheans. Also sentient Jeagers just because. Feel free to ask me to explain, because I can edit these ideas if my partner chooses).)

She was eleven when the Kaiju attacked, and just like everybody else, tragedy and disaster struck. She lost her parents, and without an extended family, she drifted into the foster care system, like so many others had. She wasn't special, and her story was like millions of others. Three years later, however, at the tender age of fourteen, there came a certain. . . shift in the world. The population was slowly dwindling, and the Jeager program was beginning to lose steam. Pilots were becoming a rarity, adults who were drift compatible becoming less and less common.

It was, of course, entirely by accident that one of the researchers found their younger cousin in one of the drift practice rooms, successfully shaking hands with Sarah.
Upon discovering that younger children could bear the mental strain of piloting a Jeager, the PPDC began recruiting.

She applied, and was relieved to find that she was drift compatible.

Children take some time to prepare, of course. And she didn't see actual combat until she was a few weeks shy of turning fifteen. Since then, however, her record has been impeccable. If she's dropped, she kills. And with so much at stake, she can't afford not to. The population of Earth is slowly dwindling. The safety zones are slowly shrinking back from the coast, huge populous cities abandoned in favor of the higher mainland, away from the Breach.

She's been fighting for over five years now. Her Jeager, Hell's Angel, is ready to drop again.

But all good Jeager pilots need a co-pilot.

(I'm free to interpretation for this one. Is your character one of the new Jeager cadets in the training program? My girl can be an instructor. Do we want to rewind the clock in time a bit and have them go through the program together ((Site rules dictate 16 years is the youngest we can go, keep that in mind)). I'm open for a plot and ideas! I've seen both of the movies and the comic. I love me some Jeagers.)

[ MAY CONTAIN: Partner dependent. ♥]

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« Last Edit: March 25, 2018, 08:03:13 PM by Lowfoam »

Offline LowfoamTopic starter

Re: Lowfoam's Coffee Shop || [ F for M ]
« Reply #10 on: February 05, 2017, 04:12:45 AM »

Below the cuts you will find plots for anime-based roleplays.

There are no plot ideas currently. :c
« Last Edit: April 30, 2017, 07:25:01 AM by Lowfoam »

Offline LowfoamTopic starter

Re: Lowfoam's Coffee Shop || [ F for M ]
« Reply #11 on: March 10, 2017, 05:36:27 AM »
Monthly allocated bump! ♥

Offline LowfoamTopic starter

Re: Lowfoam's Coffee Shop || [ F for M ]
« Reply #12 on: April 11, 2017, 09:16:13 AM »
Monthly allotted bump.

New idea added in video games - most notably, Warframe.

I love that game.

Ember is waifu and laifu.

Offline LowfoamTopic starter

Re: Lowfoam's Coffee Shop || [ F for M ]
« Reply #13 on: March 25, 2018, 08:03:55 PM »
Boop bop.

Look who's bumping again~

Offline LowfoamTopic starter

Re: Lowfoam's Coffee Shop || [ F for M ]
« Reply #14 on: May 19, 2018, 08:12:58 PM »
Beepty boop.

Rehauled one story plot completely.

Then I decided to add one for Dead Space!