Your support makes Blue Moon possible (Patreon)
Faceless King
Moon
- Joined
- Nov 2, 2021
- Location
- Colder part of Europe
Hello and welcome!
STATUS: Open (last update: Oct 2024)
About me and my writing style
⁕ 3rd person, past tense
⁕ 400+ words, with starters significantly longer
⁕ paragraphs / novella-style writer
⁕ PMs preferred, I might be convinced to do threads/Discord
⁕ posting frequency varies
⁕ ghost-friendly; I won't chase you for replies
⁕ I write male mains only, but can write any gender for support characters
⁕ story over smut
⁕ strong preference for long term
⁕ I can't write sub characters
⁕ I prefer light planning, but can be flexible
⁕ not a native English speaker; I might miss some of your jokes, bear with me
⁕ closer to 40 than 30
⁕ he/him
⁕ OOC chatter is fine, but not mandatory
YES / NO
YES
⁕ flaws / imperfect characters
⁕ multi-dimensional characters
⁕ emotions
⁕ drama
⁕ plot twists
⁕ collaboration / advancing the plot
⁕ music inspirations
NO
⁕ replies that are 99% rehashing
⁕ pure smut
⁕ scat / vore / necro
PAIRINGS / TROPES / GENRES
PAIRINGS
⁕ protector x protege
⁕ knight x commoner / royalty
⁕ parent x babysitter
⁕ artist x muse / fan
⁕ teacher x student
⁕ rival x rival
TROPES
⁕ Enemies to lovers
⁕ Opposites attract
⁕ Power struggle
⁕ Subversion of expectations
GENRES
⁕ Modern, slice-of-life with or without some magic
⁕ Fantasy / Isekai
⁕ Cyberpunk
I do have a lot of plot seeds available upon request, but I'm always happy to figure out something custom for the specific roleplay and the wants from both sides.
WRITING SAMPLES
It was that time of year again. All departments were required to submit their plans for the next year, and Lukas, as Head of R&D, was no exception. He had been working on this for the past month, gathering and compiling data, and having endless heated debates with his managers. Now, the result was displayed on the screen before him: a forty-slide presentation, full of data and global trends. The last third focused on their own proposal: heavy investment in embedding AI into their products, from phones to simple kitchen appliances. The whole industry was talking about it, but so far nobody had been brave enough to make this move. Lukas believed that if they were the first, they could conquer the market before their competitors even realized what was happening.
There was, however, one slight problem with the plan. The global crisis that had persisted for the past two years had already caused massive layoffs among big corporations, and Siemens was no exception—every penny they spent was carefully evaluated and questioned. That's why the 36-year-old was preparing for the inevitable comments from those who would be present at the board meeting.
Leo, the Head of Finance, would be the hardest to convince. But Lukas knew the cheat code to sway him. If Leo came to the meeting in a good mood, it would be easy to use the old argument that one had to invest to earn big money. Smiling, Lukas made a note for his secretary to send a package of the finest coffee beans to Leo's office the day before the meeting. As a creature of habit, Leo was sure to have a cup of his favorite brew before heading out, and that would make the challenge much easier to handle.
Handling Frank, the Head of Engineering, required a different approach. Frank was known for his meticulous attention to detail and his penchant for data-driven decisions. Convincing him meant ensuring that every aspect of the proposal was technically sound and backed by solid evidence. Fortunately, Lukas knew Frank's weak spot: his ego and love for recognition. He decided to subtly play to this by involving Frank in the final stages of the proposal. Lukas arranged for a series of "consultative meetings" where he sought Frank's expert opinion on the technical aspects of the AI integration. This not only flattered Frank but also made him feel a sense of ownership over the project.
To seal the deal, Lukas planned to present a special slide during the board meeting highlighting Frank’s invaluable contributions and insights. He also drafted a brief acknowledgment to be included in the proposal document, giving Frank public credit for his role. That should be enough—there was no chance Frank would ever veto a project he was part of.
Methodically, Lukas crafted a plan to handle all the other Heads too. There was no room for error, so he had to ensure there would be no variables to get in his way. It had to succeed so that people would finally acknowledge him for his achievements and not just his father's influence. It was his biggest pet peeve—being seen as someone who had things handed to him rather than having worked hard for them. If—no, when—he took Siemens to the next level, those talks would end once and for all. At least, that’s what he hoped for.
Suddenly, his thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door opening. "Who the..." he started, but the answer to the unspoken question revealed itself immediately. It was none other than his wife, Charlotte. Lukas's nose flared, annoyed that she dared to enter his home office—his sanctum—uninvited.
"What gave you the idea you can just come in here as you please?" he asked angrily.
"I... I thought that—" Charlotte began, stammering.
"Thought? You? Don't make me laugh," Lukas commented sarcastically. "You seem to be forgetting your position here. I might have been whored out to become your husband in exchange for some political connections, but you're nothing more than an armpiece. One that's getting older and older, too."
His words cut deeply, but Lukas didn't care. He hated Lotta—not even as a person, but for everything she represented in his life. Their marriage eight years ago was arranged by his father because Charlotte was from House Windsor, a distant relative of the royal family. She tried her best to make the relationship work, but Lukas quickly replaced her with his work. This visit was probably another attempt to show him she still cared, but Lukas simply wasn't interested in any of it.
With a few swift steps, he crossed the room, pinning Lotta against the wall. Compared to him, she seemed so small. "Never interrupt me when I'm working again. Is that too hard for you to understand, you dumb cunt?" he snarled, snatching the glass of his favorite drink she had brought him. "And I never fucking drink when I'm working, idiot," he continued, spilling the expensive alcohol over her head. "Get lost."
Charlotte couldn't stop herself from crying. "S-sorry," she managed before turning away and running from the room.
"...And that's why AI is the future for the world, and why Siemens needs to seize this opportunity right now. We will rise again and reclaim our rightful place," Lukas said, concluding his presentation. He looked around the room, seeing a lot of nodding heads. Everything had gone smoothly, just as he had planned.
"Any questions?" he asked, though it was more rhetorical. He anticipated a few questions out of politeness, but Lukas was confident that the hardest part was over. His thorough preparations and meticulous planning had paid off.
As expected, a few hands went up. Sarah, the Head of Marketing, was first. "Lukas, can you clarify how we should position this AI integration in our marketing strategy? What key points should we emphasize to attract consumers and stay ahead of our competitors?"
Lukas smiled, pleased with the question. "Absolutely, Sarah. Our focus will be on highlighting the innovative edge and convenience that AI brings to everyday products. We'll emphasize how our AI-enabled devices not only improve efficiency but also adapt to the user’s habits, offering a personalized experience that competitors can't match. Additionally, we’ll leverage our reputation for quality and reliability, positioning Siemens as the leader in smart technology."
Sarah nodded thoughtfully, clearly satisfied with the response. Lukas continued answering questions with precision, his confidence growing with every nod of agreement from the board members. The past month's relentless effort was about to pay off, and Lukas could feel the tide turning in his favor. This was his moment to shine, to prove his worth beyond his father's shadow, and he wasn't going to let it slip away.
There was, however, one slight problem with the plan. The global crisis that had persisted for the past two years had already caused massive layoffs among big corporations, and Siemens was no exception—every penny they spent was carefully evaluated and questioned. That's why the 36-year-old was preparing for the inevitable comments from those who would be present at the board meeting.
Leo, the Head of Finance, would be the hardest to convince. But Lukas knew the cheat code to sway him. If Leo came to the meeting in a good mood, it would be easy to use the old argument that one had to invest to earn big money. Smiling, Lukas made a note for his secretary to send a package of the finest coffee beans to Leo's office the day before the meeting. As a creature of habit, Leo was sure to have a cup of his favorite brew before heading out, and that would make the challenge much easier to handle.
Handling Frank, the Head of Engineering, required a different approach. Frank was known for his meticulous attention to detail and his penchant for data-driven decisions. Convincing him meant ensuring that every aspect of the proposal was technically sound and backed by solid evidence. Fortunately, Lukas knew Frank's weak spot: his ego and love for recognition. He decided to subtly play to this by involving Frank in the final stages of the proposal. Lukas arranged for a series of "consultative meetings" where he sought Frank's expert opinion on the technical aspects of the AI integration. This not only flattered Frank but also made him feel a sense of ownership over the project.
To seal the deal, Lukas planned to present a special slide during the board meeting highlighting Frank’s invaluable contributions and insights. He also drafted a brief acknowledgment to be included in the proposal document, giving Frank public credit for his role. That should be enough—there was no chance Frank would ever veto a project he was part of.
Methodically, Lukas crafted a plan to handle all the other Heads too. There was no room for error, so he had to ensure there would be no variables to get in his way. It had to succeed so that people would finally acknowledge him for his achievements and not just his father's influence. It was his biggest pet peeve—being seen as someone who had things handed to him rather than having worked hard for them. If—no, when—he took Siemens to the next level, those talks would end once and for all. At least, that’s what he hoped for.
Suddenly, his thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door opening. "Who the..." he started, but the answer to the unspoken question revealed itself immediately. It was none other than his wife, Charlotte. Lukas's nose flared, annoyed that she dared to enter his home office—his sanctum—uninvited.
"What gave you the idea you can just come in here as you please?" he asked angrily.
"I... I thought that—" Charlotte began, stammering.
"Thought? You? Don't make me laugh," Lukas commented sarcastically. "You seem to be forgetting your position here. I might have been whored out to become your husband in exchange for some political connections, but you're nothing more than an armpiece. One that's getting older and older, too."
His words cut deeply, but Lukas didn't care. He hated Lotta—not even as a person, but for everything she represented in his life. Their marriage eight years ago was arranged by his father because Charlotte was from House Windsor, a distant relative of the royal family. She tried her best to make the relationship work, but Lukas quickly replaced her with his work. This visit was probably another attempt to show him she still cared, but Lukas simply wasn't interested in any of it.
With a few swift steps, he crossed the room, pinning Lotta against the wall. Compared to him, she seemed so small. "Never interrupt me when I'm working again. Is that too hard for you to understand, you dumb cunt?" he snarled, snatching the glass of his favorite drink she had brought him. "And I never fucking drink when I'm working, idiot," he continued, spilling the expensive alcohol over her head. "Get lost."
Charlotte couldn't stop herself from crying. "S-sorry," she managed before turning away and running from the room.
"...And that's why AI is the future for the world, and why Siemens needs to seize this opportunity right now. We will rise again and reclaim our rightful place," Lukas said, concluding his presentation. He looked around the room, seeing a lot of nodding heads. Everything had gone smoothly, just as he had planned.
"Any questions?" he asked, though it was more rhetorical. He anticipated a few questions out of politeness, but Lukas was confident that the hardest part was over. His thorough preparations and meticulous planning had paid off.
As expected, a few hands went up. Sarah, the Head of Marketing, was first. "Lukas, can you clarify how we should position this AI integration in our marketing strategy? What key points should we emphasize to attract consumers and stay ahead of our competitors?"
Lukas smiled, pleased with the question. "Absolutely, Sarah. Our focus will be on highlighting the innovative edge and convenience that AI brings to everyday products. We'll emphasize how our AI-enabled devices not only improve efficiency but also adapt to the user’s habits, offering a personalized experience that competitors can't match. Additionally, we’ll leverage our reputation for quality and reliability, positioning Siemens as the leader in smart technology."
Sarah nodded thoughtfully, clearly satisfied with the response. Lukas continued answering questions with precision, his confidence growing with every nod of agreement from the board members. The past month's relentless effort was about to pay off, and Lukas could feel the tide turning in his favor. This was his moment to shine, to prove his worth beyond his father's shadow, and he wasn't going to let it slip away.
321 NEA (New Empire Age), Oenaris, Askios
Flavius Volusenus Cicero had served as a legate for more than ten years under three different emperors, but his loyalty belonged only to two things: his family and the Thalyra Empire. His ancestors had fought and bled for it, so it was only natural for the 37-year-old man to do the same.
The years of battle had shaped his appearance—he was fit and muscular, his naturally pale skin tanned by the sun, and the harshness of war had left its mark on his face. Still, the tall man was considered quite handsome, with short blonde hair and sharp green eyes. His position and wealth made him a frequent target for political marriage proposals, but he'd managed to avoid being caught by them so far, unwilling to settle down just yet.
He opened the letter from Imperator Septimus Octavius Caldus, though rereading it offered no new comfort.
"Dear Flavius,
We, the Imperator Septimus Octavius Caldus, order the III Legion to set out immediately and conquer the land of Askios so that it may serve the great Thalyra Empire.
You have been supplied with provisions to last a year and will be accompanied by one of my most skilled young tribunes, Marcellus Oranius Pulcher, to support you in your campaign.
We look forward to hearing of the victory of our glorious army over the barbaric people of Askios.
Fail us not, and you shall be rewarded.
Imperator Septimus Octavius Caldus,
The First Citizen of Thalyra"
The letter boiled down to this: the Imperator was sending him and his legion into another war, barely a year after their last victory, and worse, he had also sent a spy—Marcellus—to watch him. This display of mistrust irritated Flavius, especially given his unblemished record. Or perhaps it was because of that record? Maybe the Imperator found it hard to believe that someone could remain truly loyal to the Empire, rather than merely using it for personal gain.
Whether he liked it or not, Flavius had been forced to appoint Marcellus as a military tribune, second only to him in command. And now, he was paying the price. While others celebrated the so-called Massacre of Oenaris, Flavius sat with a fake smile, his mood dark. He had given Marcellus explicit orders to capture the city without unnecessary bloodshed. The arrogant tribune from the capital had ignored him.
Flavius closed his eyes, replaying the horrors of the day. He had arrived with his full forces just two days after the first cohort had been sent ahead to seize Oenaris. When he entered the city, he found the streets littered with corpses. Marcellus reported that the city's officials had refused to surrender, so he had ordered the slaughter of its inhabitants as a message to the rest of Askios. The decision infuriated Flavius. He had hoped for a more peaceful path to victory, one that would avoid provoking the people into resistance. Instead, Marcellus's brutality had roused the Askians into raising an army in response. If it were within his power, Flavius would have executed the rebellious tribune, but he dared not move against the Imperator's man.
"Why is our handsome leader so gloomy tonight? Would a girl brighten your mood, or perhaps you’d prefer me to massage those tense muscles?" a familiar voice broke through Flavius’s thoughts. Without looking, he knew it was Octavius, one of his most trusted centurions. No one else would dare speak to him so casually.
"You know I don't enjoy men," Flavius muttered, irritation seeping into his tone.
"Then pick a woman, legate. Everyone’s watching you sulk. It'll dampen their spirits, and we’ll need them ready to push hard if we want to avoid being trapped by the winter," Octavius suggested.
As much as Flavius disliked it, the centurion was right. He had a public image to maintain. Standing, he ran a hand through his short blonde hair. His scarlet paludamentum stood out vividly against his tanned skin. "You," he called out, pointing at one of the dancers at random. She was as good a choice as any. It wasn't as though he planned to bed her; this was only to satisfy the crowd.
Flavius Volusenus Cicero had served as a legate for more than ten years under three different emperors, but his loyalty belonged only to two things: his family and the Thalyra Empire. His ancestors had fought and bled for it, so it was only natural for the 37-year-old man to do the same.
The years of battle had shaped his appearance—he was fit and muscular, his naturally pale skin tanned by the sun, and the harshness of war had left its mark on his face. Still, the tall man was considered quite handsome, with short blonde hair and sharp green eyes. His position and wealth made him a frequent target for political marriage proposals, but he'd managed to avoid being caught by them so far, unwilling to settle down just yet.
He opened the letter from Imperator Septimus Octavius Caldus, though rereading it offered no new comfort.
"Dear Flavius,
We, the Imperator Septimus Octavius Caldus, order the III Legion to set out immediately and conquer the land of Askios so that it may serve the great Thalyra Empire.
You have been supplied with provisions to last a year and will be accompanied by one of my most skilled young tribunes, Marcellus Oranius Pulcher, to support you in your campaign.
We look forward to hearing of the victory of our glorious army over the barbaric people of Askios.
Fail us not, and you shall be rewarded.
Imperator Septimus Octavius Caldus,
The First Citizen of Thalyra"
The letter boiled down to this: the Imperator was sending him and his legion into another war, barely a year after their last victory, and worse, he had also sent a spy—Marcellus—to watch him. This display of mistrust irritated Flavius, especially given his unblemished record. Or perhaps it was because of that record? Maybe the Imperator found it hard to believe that someone could remain truly loyal to the Empire, rather than merely using it for personal gain.
Whether he liked it or not, Flavius had been forced to appoint Marcellus as a military tribune, second only to him in command. And now, he was paying the price. While others celebrated the so-called Massacre of Oenaris, Flavius sat with a fake smile, his mood dark. He had given Marcellus explicit orders to capture the city without unnecessary bloodshed. The arrogant tribune from the capital had ignored him.
Flavius closed his eyes, replaying the horrors of the day. He had arrived with his full forces just two days after the first cohort had been sent ahead to seize Oenaris. When he entered the city, he found the streets littered with corpses. Marcellus reported that the city's officials had refused to surrender, so he had ordered the slaughter of its inhabitants as a message to the rest of Askios. The decision infuriated Flavius. He had hoped for a more peaceful path to victory, one that would avoid provoking the people into resistance. Instead, Marcellus's brutality had roused the Askians into raising an army in response. If it were within his power, Flavius would have executed the rebellious tribune, but he dared not move against the Imperator's man.
"Why is our handsome leader so gloomy tonight? Would a girl brighten your mood, or perhaps you’d prefer me to massage those tense muscles?" a familiar voice broke through Flavius’s thoughts. Without looking, he knew it was Octavius, one of his most trusted centurions. No one else would dare speak to him so casually.
"You know I don't enjoy men," Flavius muttered, irritation seeping into his tone.
"Then pick a woman, legate. Everyone’s watching you sulk. It'll dampen their spirits, and we’ll need them ready to push hard if we want to avoid being trapped by the winter," Octavius suggested.
As much as Flavius disliked it, the centurion was right. He had a public image to maintain. Standing, he ran a hand through his short blonde hair. His scarlet paludamentum stood out vividly against his tanned skin. "You," he called out, pointing at one of the dancers at random. She was as good a choice as any. It wasn't as though he planned to bed her; this was only to satisfy the crowd.
Alex yawned and stretched his arms. It was getting late, and he'd spent the last few hours glued to his laptop. Glancing over the screen, he admired the view outside the window. Seven years ago, he'd made the decision to leave the hustle of city life and move to the middle of nowhere. He'd been lucky—the nature of his work allowed him to continue remotely, as long as he had a stable internet connection and access to electricity.
Despite the impressive sums of money landing in his account each month, the 33-year-old lived a simple life. Sure, his home was built with modern, expensive materials, but that was just to ensure it would last a lifetime. The furniture was comfortable but modest; nothing pretentious. He didn't indulge in the typical luxuries his colleagues did—no swimming pool, no pool table, no collection of century-old wines stashed in a fancy cellar. His cabin was simple: a kitchen, bathroom, living room, two bedrooms, and an attic where he stored most of his things.
There was, however, one indulgence Alex was passionate about: smart home technology. Most of his devices were connected to a central system. Cameras monitored every corner of the house, both inside and out. Sensors kept the temperature and humidity perfect in each room. Electric locks and a high-end alarm system made his home feel like a fortress. He didn't even need to get up from his chair to check if there was milk in the fridge.
Alex ran a hand through his short, dark blonde hair, wondering if he was hungry. The code he'd been trying to crack for the past two weeks had made him skip more than a few meals, but he felt he was close to a breakthrough. The once-random strings of code were finally starting to make sense. Maybe a few more hours would do it, and he could definitely last that long without eating. It wouldn't be the first time. With a sigh, he turned back to his work.
At first, he ignored the notification that popped up on the side of his screen—another motion detected by the cameras. It was probably just a wild animal; there'd been a lot of foxes around lately. But then a loud noise broke his concentration, the unmistakable sound of something falling outside. Annoyed, he brought up the camera feed, curious about what had happened. That's when he saw her—a woman, lying on the stairs leading to his front door, some strange contraption strapped to her head.
Zooming in, Alex noticed how dirty she was. It took him a moment to process it fully—there was a woman on his doorstep, and she needed help. He quickly locked his workstation and rushed to the door.
Her eyes were open, though barely. "Hey, let me help you inside," Alex said as he reached her. She wasn't particularly heavy, but the bizarre cage-like device on her head made lifting her awkward. He managed to get her arm over his shoulder and, with a strained groan, dragged her inside, placing her on his sofa. He ignored the dirt stains she left behind.
Stepping back, Alex took a moment to study his unusual guest. Whoever had put her in that device had intended for her to suffer—it looked like something straight out of a horror movie, like Hostel. So many questions flooded his mind, but they would have to wait. First, he needed to get that thing off her. "Hang tight, I'll grab some tools and get you out of this," he said, hurrying to the attic. He returned moments later with a battery-powered multitool and a toolbox packed with smaller tools. With any luck, she'd be free soon.
It was only then, with tools in hand, that Alex began to second-guess himself. Should he really be playing the hero? Maybe he should just call the police and let professionals deal with it. What if someone was following her? Alex didn't own any weapons—he wasn't a fan of them. And what if he had completely misread the situation? What if this seemingly helpless woman turned out to be dangerous? Could he defend himself if things went wrong after he freed her?
He hesitated, torn between conflicting instincts. "Hey, my name's Alex. I'm here to help, okay? You don't need to worry." He tried to sound as calm and friendly as possible, given the circumstances. "Do you want me to try to remove this thing, or should I call the police?" Even if she couldn't speak, gagged as she was, he hoped for some sign, some reaction, that might tell him what kind of help she expected.
Despite the impressive sums of money landing in his account each month, the 33-year-old lived a simple life. Sure, his home was built with modern, expensive materials, but that was just to ensure it would last a lifetime. The furniture was comfortable but modest; nothing pretentious. He didn't indulge in the typical luxuries his colleagues did—no swimming pool, no pool table, no collection of century-old wines stashed in a fancy cellar. His cabin was simple: a kitchen, bathroom, living room, two bedrooms, and an attic where he stored most of his things.
There was, however, one indulgence Alex was passionate about: smart home technology. Most of his devices were connected to a central system. Cameras monitored every corner of the house, both inside and out. Sensors kept the temperature and humidity perfect in each room. Electric locks and a high-end alarm system made his home feel like a fortress. He didn't even need to get up from his chair to check if there was milk in the fridge.
Alex ran a hand through his short, dark blonde hair, wondering if he was hungry. The code he'd been trying to crack for the past two weeks had made him skip more than a few meals, but he felt he was close to a breakthrough. The once-random strings of code were finally starting to make sense. Maybe a few more hours would do it, and he could definitely last that long without eating. It wouldn't be the first time. With a sigh, he turned back to his work.
At first, he ignored the notification that popped up on the side of his screen—another motion detected by the cameras. It was probably just a wild animal; there'd been a lot of foxes around lately. But then a loud noise broke his concentration, the unmistakable sound of something falling outside. Annoyed, he brought up the camera feed, curious about what had happened. That's when he saw her—a woman, lying on the stairs leading to his front door, some strange contraption strapped to her head.
Zooming in, Alex noticed how dirty she was. It took him a moment to process it fully—there was a woman on his doorstep, and she needed help. He quickly locked his workstation and rushed to the door.
Her eyes were open, though barely. "Hey, let me help you inside," Alex said as he reached her. She wasn't particularly heavy, but the bizarre cage-like device on her head made lifting her awkward. He managed to get her arm over his shoulder and, with a strained groan, dragged her inside, placing her on his sofa. He ignored the dirt stains she left behind.
Stepping back, Alex took a moment to study his unusual guest. Whoever had put her in that device had intended for her to suffer—it looked like something straight out of a horror movie, like Hostel. So many questions flooded his mind, but they would have to wait. First, he needed to get that thing off her. "Hang tight, I'll grab some tools and get you out of this," he said, hurrying to the attic. He returned moments later with a battery-powered multitool and a toolbox packed with smaller tools. With any luck, she'd be free soon.
It was only then, with tools in hand, that Alex began to second-guess himself. Should he really be playing the hero? Maybe he should just call the police and let professionals deal with it. What if someone was following her? Alex didn't own any weapons—he wasn't a fan of them. And what if he had completely misread the situation? What if this seemingly helpless woman turned out to be dangerous? Could he defend himself if things went wrong after he freed her?
He hesitated, torn between conflicting instincts. "Hey, my name's Alex. I'm here to help, okay? You don't need to worry." He tried to sound as calm and friendly as possible, given the circumstances. "Do you want me to try to remove this thing, or should I call the police?" Even if she couldn't speak, gagged as she was, he hoped for some sign, some reaction, that might tell him what kind of help she expected.
Last edited: