Thread: Flassche’s house of perversion. (M/F, M/M, M/O)   Under maintanance

RE Flassches house of perversion. MF, MM, MO New Plots These plots are currently my favorites, choosing one of these, will surely peak my interest. Bloodlines See more And in other news, the charred bodies of three men were pulled Friday from a car that had been in Farport Harbor for hours after it plunged off a pier and landed on its roof, police said. Part of the burned out Hyundai Accent was sticking out of about 4 feet of water when it was discovered around 630 a.m. at the Farport Shipyard, a privately owned mara- The woman switched off the radio whilst staring at her husband, giving him her famous not around the kids look. The man merely sighed as he grabbed his little daughter and placed her on his lap, letting her have a better view from the trains window. The girl pressed both her hands against the glass while her mouth was slightly ajar. Slowly but surely the country side was changing from its cold northern climate to more greener pastures. While affection and warmth was heavy in cabin 23-a, the cabin next to it had a different aura. A tall broad male, possible six-three, give or take an inch, was hunched over. His dark hair, cut short and rough, matched the dark vibe he was giving off. The wounds on his fists were starting to heal, the once damaged skin now whole and of a pink color. He glanced to his right as he stared at his own reflection, the bright grey eyes so similar to that of a full moon. ---- Are these really accurate? A deep controlled voice called out, finally breaking the silence after what seemed hours. The man on his left nodded, his right finger tapping lightly on the old oak carved table. Around the table were nine figures, most of them wearing a certain attire that matched the mood in this room, dark and dreary. It had been a long time since a full meeting had been called in place, centuries even. The counsel of nine wasnt something of a frequent occurrence. That makes seven so far. Not to mention one was from lineage. He spoke the last word a bit harder, emphasizing the importance of it all. A woman at the end of the table nodded before she spoke, voice thick with an accent now long gone. Speculations and repeating the facts changes nothing. All of the bodies were burned, yet autopsy showed heavy amounts of internal damage and small traces of silver fragments around the fractured areas. I think we are dealing with a hunter, a skilled one. Seconds later a heated discussion took place once more, this time lasting longer, not stopping until the eldest of them all spoke up. Send out four seekers. I want thishunter.. found and brought before the counsel. His voice was cold, very cold. When he spoke the others listened, knowing full well that they ought to obey. A small smile crept upon his face, showing dazzling white teeth, two of them longer than normal. Let us see how long it will take. ----- Lore ----- See more Good and evil are two opposite poles that are present in an uneasy equilibrium. There is no coherent distinction between good and evil across all cultures, no clear definition that classifies the evil as being evil. Good and evil. Light and darkness. Nature needs opposites poles to function, to maintain a thin balance in nature. An example of this equilibrium was the epidemic that festered in the southern lands of the Elamite nation, 2135 BC, in what is now called Iran. Border skirmishes and internal strife were a constant threat, casualties on both sides heavy and numerous. In this collection of conflict and death, something horrible was born. A plague started to spread, striking out at all sides without prejudice. Thousands of people died, leaving only a shell of its former population alive. Most migrated north, seeking shelter and cleaner lands. The once that stayed were written off, although a few managed to survive the plague for a time, each in their own way. During the worst of it all a pregnant woman was found in a disease infected village. Her blackened skin and boils bore signs of some of the worst symptoms one could have from this curse, yet she was still somehow alive. In last minutes alive she birthed two children, twins. One was crying loudly, the other was completely still almost as if it was stillborn. Their father used what remaining life he had left to take them away from the doomed village and up north, he died upon reaching the city gates, two small bundles in his arms. These children were as opposite as could be, like darkness and light. The eldest twin was brimming with life, enjoying every sensation life had to offer and filled to the brim with an energy that was almost unhealthy. He was quick with his emotions, trusted his instincts above his rationality and was overly protective of his friends. The only illness the boy suffered was during a full moon when he would have feverish dreams and painful headaches. The younger brother was colder, in every way. He did not enjoy life the same as his brother did. Where one would find happiness and enjoyment, the other found opportunity and knowledge. He was smarter and more slender than his brother, preferring to use his intellect to solve any childhood disputes. His skin was pale, preferring the night more and more than the scorching hot sun during the day. Although he could stand day light just fine, it gave him a nauseating feeling that something was off. Over the years this only increased. For years and years the brothers stayed together as brothers, although it was a thin bond. One married and started a family, three strong boys and two girls. The man was blessed with love and warmth. The other brother became a talented merchant and quickly began to amass wealth that raised his position in court. He married like his brother, although it could hardly be called love. His marriage did not bring the joy of childbirth, something he blamed his wife for. For years they live like mortal men, both finding a reason to exist in their own way. While other men quickly began to show signs of aging, the two brothers did not. The one who embraced light only aged slowly, at his sixtieth year he could have passed for a man in his late twenty. The brother who embraced darkness showed even less signs of aging. At first it was hailed as a gift of god, yet overtime people became suspicious, claiming that something unnatural was at work here. It all finally ended in a great cleansing fire during a full moon. A mob had gathered to force these two families out, fearing that the evil was at work here. At first it was just shouting and weaving a torch or pitchfork angrily, yet it quickly escalated. The older brother gave into rage when the mob stabbed one of his grandchildren. He and his offspring roared out in anger and attacked the mob with such ferocity it literally paved the street in blood. Limbs were torn off and skulls shattered as if made from glass. During this time of madness most of his family managed to flee the city and spread out in every direction. The younger brother solved things on a different way. During his years in this life he had amassed a great deal of wealth and employed a few people. He bought caravans and secretaries to trade for him and to manage his company during the day. Over time he hired guards and mercenaries to protect his caravans. So when the plebe came for him, he retaliated with his own personal army, him at head of it. He had never fought in his life before, always using rationality to do his work for him. Yet, when he took his first life with his sword and felt the blood splatter on his face and tongue, he felt more alive than ever. He carved a bloody path through the streets to his older brother, hoping he could reach him in time. The two families joined up and destroyed the city entirely. The younger brother began to move faster and faster the more blood he drew, eventually even clawing and biting at people when his sword was stuck inside someone. The elder brother and his son were like feral beasts, throwing people farther than was possible and even tearing iron hinges clean off walls. When morning dawned half the population of the city was dead, corpses littering the streets. The elder brother and his sons and daughters that had stayed with him were heavily injured and most of them unconscious. The younger brother displayed almost no injury, the deep cuts and dark bruises now only appearing as minor scratches and marked skin. What happened after this terribly night is only speculation. Some claim that the youngest brother fully embraced darkness and found a way to infect those close to him as well while the older brother and his blood kin were now cursed to suffer the same rage every full moon. Others claim that from that night on they had become monsters, although stories now refer to them as vampires and werewolves. The only that is reported as truth is that days later the younger brother killed the older with his bare hands and teeth in some mad rage. The still injured sons and daughter of his older brother were quickly imprisoned and guarded at all times. And nine months later the younger son and one of his new wife's gifted a child, as if the act of taking light had given him live in return. See more Description of the supernatural and natural creatures listing all of their pros, cons and given a rating to them. Blood Vampires Lineage or Full bloods. See more The true vampiric race that is a direct descendant of the first. Immune to aging from a certain age. Highly intelligent creatures. Increased strength. Incredible speed. Incredible Sight. Incredible regenerative ability, increased further by feeding. Ability to turn humans into lesser Vampires. -Weakness to sunlight. -Weakness to silver. -Inability to procreate without the blood of a werewolf in their veins. The stronger the wolf the stronger the offspring. -Inability to feel, smell or enjoy without a regular doses of blood. Werewolf blood enhances this further. Vampire Children or Lesser bloods. See more Those that have been granted the dark gift of a true vampire. Immune to aging. Increased strength. Increased speed. Enhanced Sight. Enhanced regenerative ability, although scarring will remain. -Deadly reaction to sunlight. -Extreme weakness to silver. -Inability to procreate. -Inability to feel, smell or enjoy without a regular doses of blood. Werewolf blood enhances this further. Werewolves Bredlings or blood servants. See more Direct of springs of the first werewolf. For centuries they have been kept as blood vessels, servants and fodder. Slower aging. Can live up to be a hundred and fifty years. Slightly Above human strength. Equal to lesser one in strength during a full moon. Slightly Above human speed. Near lesser one in speed during a full moon. Enhanced Sightsmellhearingtouch. -Health centuries of inbreeding and enslavement have made this race weak and unhealthy. -Weakened after each full moon. -Quick to frustrate. -Frequently to conceive or completely sterile. -Broken race, both mentally and physically.. Direwolves Demons or Cursed ones.. See more Direct of springs of the first werewolf. Usually staying in pack form. They encourage the strongest to mate and keep the bloodlines healthy and strong. Extreme slow aging. Can live up to be two or three hundred years. Above human strength. Much stronger than lesser one in strength during a full moon. Above human speed. Above lesser one in speed during a full moon. Enhanced Sightsmellhearingtouch. Endurance. They can literally take quite the beating. Above human recuperation. A bit quicker to heal. Instinct. Trusts instincts above rationality at times -Quick to anger. -Weakened after each full moon. -Loyal to their first and only mate. -Sporadically going in heat. -Almost berserk like behavior during a full moon causing almost feral like behavior. Looking for a Vampire coupled with my Werewolf Malemale, Malefemale, MaleOther, immortality, Heavy character development, Humanity play, age gap, supernatural, drama, psychological twists, twisted romance A god of passion. See more RUYIN!! RUYI- How does it feel to- OVER HERE, CAN I TAKE A PIC- What are you wea- RUYIN!!!- Can we see your face!!- OH MY GOD, MARRY M- Is that the outfit from the concer- Youre a god- I'M NOT WEARING UNDERWEAR! Suddenly there was only silence, the thick car door cutting off the man from the outside. It took him a few seconds before his vision was completely restored, a side effect from the constant flashing lights. He knew the photographs and cameras were part of the whole lifestyle, yet a eye could only withstand so much. His long digits caressed the grey mask he was wearing, slowly tracing the edges before he took it off, throwing it in the seat next to him. He stared at the mask for the longest time, thoughts crashing inside his mind as if the tide was coming. He was wondering what the real mask was, Ruyin or himself? The car quickly left the scene, tearing the god like presence away from the stage. That night the media went wild, speculating on everything. Who was Ruyin really, where was his inspiration coming from, was the man single even his sexuality was discussed over and over again. The man had risen to stardom in a matter of months, now raining as a god like presence in music, modeling and even other fields. The mans music could best be described as chaotic and schizophrenic. He could mix classical with dance, mix Latin with rock, even conjure up new forms of music that were becoming harder and harder to properly categories. He sometimes simply stayed in his booth, mixing up the tracks and fine tuning his artwork from afar. Yet, sometimes he went for a more personal touch, wielding a classical instrument and simply blowing the audience away. Once he even went as far as to sing himself, a thing that now was constantly being watched online. The man could play pieces from Mozart as if he himself had written the pieces, yet at the same time hinting as if he knew of older pieces, much older. From classical to electro, the man did it all. Yet for all the fame and stardom that followed this man, very little was known about the man in question. Every contact went through his manager, no exceptions. His real name, age, even basic things like eye color were unknown. The only thing people knew were from guessing. He was roughly six feet tall, give or take a few inches, looked to be in his mid twenties and had the most unnatural grey eyes, almost silver like. His hairstyle and color were as stable as his choice of clothing, constantly changing. The paparazzi proof lifestyle and air of mystery only added unto his already rising stardom. On stage, that man, was a legend. He looked and acted like he was something more than mere human flesh, as if passion and the supernatural had come together and given him these gifts. Either vampiresupernatural musician or a endlessly talented male musician. Looking for a femalemale to be coupled with him. Looking for unique or interesting partners. Malefemale, Malemale Statusposition difference, Deep plot, Forbidden desires, Supernatural, Music, Dance, Celebrity. Depressed immortality. See more Allow me, dearest reader, to tell you the tragedy that is my life. Be assured that my life was not, by any means, a dull one. My father, the chieftain of my native lands, was brutally struck down when I was just five years old. His murderer systematically raped and slaughtered my kin, whilst selling me and my older brother into slavery. At the young age of five, my brother being only three years my elder, we were cast out from normal society and forced to entertain the lowest cesspool that mankind had to offer. This was my harsh punishment for surviving. It ultimately led to my induration and I finally became stone. My owner was satisfied, but not sated. He was almost a demon, indeed. Watching me, cultivating me, from the sidelines with eyes of greed and death. He still haunts the security and safety of my subconscious. When I came to Byzantine a decade or so later, I found my craving. Revenge. To this day I still do not know if I had found it myself, or that it was indeed, all but forced on me. It must all be some kind of sick twist of fate. When I drove that blade deeper inside my brothers, now decayed frame, I watched in awe as his eyes lost it blessed light. The next thing I remember was pain and red water, so much so that I consider it my second birth. It seems appropriate seeing as I was born anew. In the years that followed I shrugged off every last bit of humanity I could find in myself, killing every opposition and sating every desire I had. The smell and sight of blood became like an aphrodisiac to me, burning my soul with passion. Although looking back at how I was then, I lacked the elegant grace I do now to cope with it tactfully. In those decades I found myself wondering battlefields killing whoever was closest to me. At first by luck and suprise, yet soon I found out that my mind and skill became more efficient and exhilarating. I watched nations rise and fall, while doing my best by slaughtering key figures. Life started to become less exhilarating and passionate. The joy of a kill was decreasing, only finding some pleasure in assassinating strong and powerful men and women. Yet even that quickly started to lose the thrill. Finally I stopped killing.. or caring for that matter. I became reclusive and for years denied myself the pleasure of blood and death. In those years I finally came face to face with my own humanity. My humanity that I had raped and tortured for the entire duration of my second life. I felt regret and shame, seeing as I was the cause of my pain and loss of my last kin. I could still feel the warm blood on my hand as I slowly buried the knife deep inside the flesh of my brother. During those times of abstinence I met a woman almost as strong and as cold as I, albeit in a different way. She too had seen the horrors of war and mistook me for a deserter or retired soldier. Unsure and unsteady at first, we slowly opened up to each other, sharing each others pain and joy. I loved her, even more so when she fully accepted my past when I told it to her. We had a son and a daughter, both of whom we loved deeply. And my life was suddenly tranquil. But humans were not made to last. My daughter went first. I watched, confused as her little form melted away. Her skin turned pale and her chest heaved slowed its pace with each labored breath. I stayed by her side for four days as the fever took her from our lives. Not long after her my son also succumbed. Looking back in the history books, people called it the black plague. I simply call it death, pure uncaring brutal death, similar to life. My wife went a twenty years later, grief and age mostly being the catalyst for her sudden death. Her hair drained of color and her skin sagged. Her hands shook and she grew thin. She died in her sleep. One morning I just could not wake her up, and I couldn't understand why. Dying in your sleep is a luxury I was unfamiliar with. She was fifty two years old when she died. I stopped counting how much older I was than her a long time ago. Ones age seems less important with each passing decade. She was like a dried up leaf. I hadn't changed at all, and was beginning to fear that I never would. Death became a distant friend to me. How I hunger for its cold silence, yet sadly never able to feel his embrace. In my many years on this plain of existence I have tried many ways to embrace death. Both steel and fire did no good, although fire did take many years longer to recover. I have fought mortals and monsters alike, offering them the chance to slay and kill me, yet not succeeded. So now I stand in this age, trapped in immortality, with no purpose in live. Yet the threads of fate are numerous, entangling even the darkest souls. looking for a supernatural creature to be coupled with me immortal human Malemale, Malefemale, MaleOther, immortality, Heavy character development, Humanity play, age gap, supernatural, Older maleyounger male, older maleyounger female, Older male younger other, drama, psychological twists, twisted romance, supernatural Burning dog tags See more Day one The last thing Lance remembered was the light, the terrible, stabbing, insistent light that blurred everything in his vision. There had been smoke in it, and fire, and the terrible, terrible torn limbs and spewing human blood but most of all there had been the light, and that was all he could remember for sure. Everything else was pain-tainted. Impossible to recall. He rubbed his temples as he sat back up, his 62 tall frame pressing back at the seat. He could hear the plane engines roar to his right side. A vast metallic bird bringing him once again back to the embrace of war and death, home. He placed the notes he was reading earlier back in his backpack, glancing quickly once more at the names on the list. It had been three years since his last command. Three years since he had to juggle with the life of his comrades. He had once been a fine officer, committed and honorable. That all had changed since the He shook his head again, shaking the thought from his mind. The doc told him the guilt would fade in time. Alcohol helped though, if briefly. He was to be stationed in some god forsaken second class , close to an urban settlement, yet small enough to be called a piss hole. He knew the type of terrain, feared it even. Standing up straight he arched his back once more before grabbing his gear. As he stood up to walk to the door, he glanced at his left side. One of those paper pushers was watching him, like a hawk one might say. The mans nose had healed quite nicely since he last met him, incredible what todays medical treatments could do. In the three years since the platoon incident he had been working AR missions. Advance Recon was typically a high risk low success situation. The men called it suicide tours. For three years he did those, until finally the higher-ups decided it was time to lead a team again. The docs even spoke of positive effect a team might have on one. Fucking paper pusher. He mumbled as he got out of the plane, quickly making his way towards the HQ. A few handshakes and a brief, not to mention horrible, speech later and he was standing in front of another pencil pusher. They must have grown them here or something. The man eyed him wearily, glancing at him and back at the paper several times as if he did not trust him. Twice he was asked to state his rank and full name, as if the idiot could not see the captain Insignia on his shoulders. Yet twice he had calmly stated his full name. Captain, Lance Carther. His doc would have been proud to see him cope with his anger so professionally. He even flashed the man a brief and warm smile, thought that probably would have been lost due to his hard gaze radiating ice and death at the man. Grabbing his bag once more, the twenty seven year old made his way towards the mess hall. Compared to airline food, the military mess hall was a 5 star French restaurant. He dumped his bag next to his table and made his way towards the kitchen, running his long digits through his short dark brown hair. He smiled politely at the woman standing at the other side of the table. That was one rule he always kept Dont anger people who handle your food. He had seen tougher men than him cry pathetically on the toilets. If marines where tough, lunch ladies were tougher. Imagining the fat woman holding a machete whilst storming up a hill produced a small smile on his face, one she apparently mistook for flirting. Grabbing his plate and a can of milk, he moved towards his seat. He placed the items on the table carefully, only sitting down once he was sure the lunch lady stayed where she was. Stuffing the first bite in his mouth he savored the warm liquid. A bit salty, yet the soup was good. He was just about to bring the spoon to his mouth again when a pair of soldiers entered the room. His expression never changed, yet he eyed them wearily. They seemed to walk. Stiffly. The two of them laughed casually as they passed a small rugby ball. Closer and closer they got, apparently walking towards the kitchen. Lance sighed as he recognized one of them from the documents he had studied in the plane. A few more soldiers walked into the room, taking seats left en right. Some looked relax, yet one or two appeared to be watching the two ball throwing soldiers too intently. Then it happened. The ball accidently changed course and sped towards the table Lance was sitting at. He felt his right hand twitch as he almost reacted on impulse. Forcing his hand to stay where it was, he closed his eyes as the ball hit his trey and smashed the bowl that contained his soup. Part of him wanted to grab his knife, yet he inhaled calmly, faking shock even. The room quickly erupted in laughter whilst the two soldiers pretended to be shocked at the events that had transpired. Lance kept his expression blank, his facial features not giving away anything. God was he pissed! He looked down at the plate in front of him and noticed the broken bowl. His shirt, hair, hell the entire table was completely covered in soup. He grabbed his spoon again, forcing his right hand to move the eating utensil to his mouth and back again. A small puddle of soup was still salvageable at the bottom of the bowl. He heard the laughter surrounding him, infuriating him further. He knew it was simple probing, trying to root out weakness and bad personality traits. The way those idiots where staring at him, this was probably the beginning. He opened the lid on his milk bottle, pressing it to his mouth and drinking generously. He liked milk, a lot in fact. When he finished the milk he placed it down on the tray, carefully placing his spoon on there as well. He casually made his way over to the lunch lady, offering his thanks for the splendid meal. He made a polite comment about how clumsy he was in breaking the bowl. He would help her out tomorrow. He meant that. Again rule number one, dont piss off the food people. He let his gaze fall upon the room, searching for people from his own squad. Five He told himself over and over again as he made his way over to his bags. He grabbed his bags, leaning forwards as he did that. The chain holding his dog tags flipped out, revealing three pairs. He flicked the bag back on his shoulder and placed the chain back behind his shirt, almost delicately. Picking up the ball he slowly made his way over to the two men, who were now laughing hard. Try to smile more, his doctor had told him. He forced a soft smile, lacking any emotion, as he walked passed them. The second he passed them he rammed the tip of the ball in one of their chests, making sure he drove it hard against the mans plexus. He heard the satisfying grunt and heaving for air as he walked passed them, followed by the delicious sound of somebody crashing to the ground. As soon as he was outside he began thinking about his action. He should have remained calm, not show emotion or rage. Grasping the chain around his neck without him realizing it, he made his way over to the barracks. He was going to need some new clothes if he was going to defend himself tonight. No doubt those thickheads would want some payback. God the army reminded him of a kindergarten. Worst of all was the fact that he was going to have to lead these. Idiots. Malefemale, officersoldier, squad mates, war, Forbidden desires, fight scenes, slight gore. Fueling the mech. See more The year is 2034, a time of battle. In the late twenties a new type of warfare was established the mobile suits. These hulking machines at first were clunky and slow, usually operated by a dozen men. Yet, in time they began streamlining it, making controls more efficient and smart thinking. In this age Mobile Suits are as agile as the average infantry and three times as strong as your average missile strike. Controls and buttons have lost their purpose due to the new AI and AOS. The Adrenaline Operating System. Now only a single pilot is used per suit, making it that much more efficient. The pilot is hooked up to the suit by means of a series of cables and submerging itself in the Suits inner core. The core is a flesh like material that surrounds the user, feeling every heartbeat, registering vitals and slowly ciphering a portion of the users Adrenalin to react according to the pilots wishes. The mech is a constantly evolving entity, learning and adapting for its own survival. The current v.4.02 system is even stranger, allowing it to even learn from its host. In recent tests it has demonstrated itself usefulness by increasing the users adrenalin level, making the suit that much faster and stronger, all the while keeping a constant check on the users limit. Sometimes by shocking, other time by hyping it up, even massaging and vibrating has been used to increase its users capabilities. The pilots are handpicked young men and woman, all with strong bodies and sharp minds. Yet, their most important function is their Natural hormone levels. Now with the new test prototype for the v.5.07 ready and the graduation of their latest test pilot, a man with an almost unnaturally high base hormone level, military minds have decided to combine these two and see what they can do. The fleshy core in the center of the mech would be the most important bit of it. It would be the brain and heart of the device. Should the suit become damaged or need maintenance the Core is capable of removing itself or ejecting itself from the suit, able to reshape itself to better serve or protect its user. Should the mech be destroyed entirely, the core would simply alter its state and form a smaller mech or body armor. looking for a person to play as the suit Malefemale, Malemale, Maleother, Artificial intelligence, war, Sci-Fi, fight scenes, Sex toys.