The backstory
exactly whose wild cheeks are these?
You won’t find a name or a face here—just the stuff that matters. I keep my identity under wraps, not because I’m mysterious (though I won’t deny the appeal 😉), but because some of my content isn’t exactly for the faint of heart. Don’t get me wrong—the spiciness doesn’t detract from its worth in any way, and I’m not ashamed of a damn thing. But my partner would never recover if any of his friends found out what we get up to behind closed doors, and there are just some things family members should never know about each other.
to summarize:
my thoughts, actions, and ~wanton~ desires don’t always play nice with polite society, and anonymity lets me be as wild & cheeky as I want
But here’s the thing—I’m not hiding the important stuff. The raw opinions, the deep dives, the dumb quips, the occasional bad idea that somehow works out—those are all me, unfiltered. And I won’t use my anonymity as a free pass to cause harm without consequences. I’ll be as transparent as possible and stay receptive to open discussion and constructive feedback (though our definitions of “constructive” might not always align). What I look like? Irrelevant.1 Where I live? A place where the Wi-Fi is (mostly) reliable. What I do? Write about my life and whatever the hell else I feel like. 😎
I’m baring a lot, but I’m not baring it all
😘
So, if you’re here for the polished and the palatable, you might want to click away. But if you’re into sharp takes, a little chaos, and the kind of honesty that only comes with a hidden face (and a little AuDHD), then welcome—you’re exactly where you need to be.
- I love hearing descriptions of people from history that we have no certifiable visual likeness of. My current favorite is Cassius Dio’s description of the warrior queen Boudica:
“In stature she was very tall, in appearance most terrifying, in the glance of her eye most fierce, and her voice was harsh; a great mass of the tawniest hair fell to her hips…”
Writing about 140 years after Boudica’s death, Dio added some lurid details to Boudica’s story that have been largely proven fictitious; however, we don’t know whether this description was one such detail.
Nevertheless, in the unlikely event that I might one day make it into the annals of history—and since you’ll never be getting a photo of me—I thought I might offer some descriptions of myself, collected from friends, fae, and former lovers, in an attempt to prevent whatever scribe is put in charge of telling my story (probably an average white man) from painting a wholly inaccurate and unflattering image:
“Her body was carved from myths—strong, supple, and full of stories whispered through generations. When she moved, it was with the grace of something untamed, something that could never truly belong to anyone. And yet, when she chose to kneel, it was not submission. It was conquest.”
“Legs too short for bartop seating. Wasted on cross-country. More of a natural sprinter—very dangerous over short distances. Came with no instruction manual and a deeply concerning sense of humor.”
“Eyes full of wisdom. Or mischief. Or just sleep deprivation. Skin glows like moonlight—unless she forgot sunscreen, in which case it pinkens and peels like a tragic fruit. Angry when hot. Or hungry. Or humid. Terrible playlists.”
“Creatures great and small trembled before her sublime visage. A force without mercy, a hunger without end. No one knew what fueled her relentlessness, only that it was cold, creeping, inevitable. A terror you saw coming and could do nothing to stop.”
“Her face? I mean, it’s fine. Looks like a person. Two eyes, a nose, and a mouth, all in the right spots. She’s got a habit of staring off into the distance like she’s ponderin’ the mysteries of the universe. Probably just forgot what she walked into the room for. Joints make noises they probably shouldn’t.”
“The flush in her cheeks, high and wild, spoke of reckless joy, of moonlit dances and whispered confessions. Her hair spilled over her shoulders like the first rays of dawn—warm, golden, inevitable. And when she laughed—low, throaty, knowing—it echoed in your bones, a reckoning that turned your devotion into worship.”
*please send me any fun descriptions of historical people that you know of or stumble upon! I’m always keeping an eye out for a potential new favorite 👀❤️
↩︎