Jess

I don't know if this has already been proposed by one of my brother-in-arms, but i figured it's worth a shot. Let me be frank. Right now, neither of our blorbos are winning and that is saddening, BUT this can be fixed. I suggest that since both of our fandoms are being put against sexymen with giant fandoms, we team up. We, the Cinderella Boy fandom will vote for Commie if you agree to vote for Deacon Hollow. I hope that you agree to this alliance. For further incentive, gaze upon our baby boy nerd Deacon

I don't know if this has already been proposed by one of my brother-in-arms, but i figured it's worth a shot. Let me be frank. Right now, neither of our blorbos are winning and that is saddening, BUT this can be fixed. I suggest that since both of our fandoms are being put against sexymen with giant fandoms, we team up. We, the Cinderella Boy fandom will vote for Commie if you agree to vote for Deacon Hollow. I hope that you agree to this alliance. For further incentive, gaze upon our baby boy nerd Deacon

Ancap’s sunglasses aren’t just style—they’re ideology in object form.

They symbolize **detachment**, both physical and philosophical. By hiding his eyes, he hides himself—cutting off empathy before it can take root. The lenses are mirror-smooth, cold and reflective: you don’t see *him*, you see only your own warped image bounced back at you. Fitting, really—under capitalism, all human interaction becomes a kind of funhouse mirror: distorted by self-interest, stripped of sincerity.

He wears them always—in dim rooms, under flickering fluorescents, never taking them off. Not because of light—but because visibility is vulnerability. To be seen is to be known; Information is power.

“It’s just business,” he’ll say with a smirk. “Nothing personal.”

The shiny capitalist exterior masking who he really is—total anonymity as an armor.

But the truth cuts deeper: those sleek black frames aren't just armor against feeling—they're also… medically necessary.

Ancap can’t actually see worth a damn without them. He's short sighted, just like capitalism is.

His sharp gaze is entirely dependent on corrective lenses masked as fashion statements. He’d rather die than admit it though. Because needing help? That implies dependence—a flaw in the free-agent fantasy. And nothing threatens capitalist mythology more than the quiet truth that *none* of us are truly self-reliant.

If you take them off, Ancap will be rendered fragile and weakened, losing part of his powers.

He also hides deep dark circles, because I said so. Fuck you. We're going full in.

Ancap’s sunglasses aren’t just style—they’re ideology in object form.

They symbolize **detachment**, both physical and philosophical. By hiding his eyes, he hides himself—cutting off empathy before it can take root. The lenses are mirror-smooth, cold and reflective: you don’t see *him*, you see only your own warped image bounced back at you. Fitting, really—under capitalism, all human interaction becomes a kind of funhouse mirror: distorted by self-interest, stripped of sincerity.

He wears them always—in dim rooms, under flickering fluorescents, never taking them off. Not because of light—but because visibility is vulnerability. To be seen is to be known; Information is power.

“It’s just business,” he’ll say with a smirk. “Nothing personal.”

The shiny capitalist exterior masking who he really is—total anonymity as an armor.

But the truth cuts deeper: those sleek black frames aren't just armor against feeling—they're also… medically necessary.

Ancap can’t actually see worth a damn without them. He's short sighted, just like capitalism is.

His sharp gaze is entirely dependent on corrective lenses masked as fashion statements. He’d rather die than admit it though. Because needing help? That implies dependence—a flaw in the free-agent fantasy. And nothing threatens capitalist mythology more than the quiet truth that *none* of us are truly self-reliant.

If you take them off, Ancap will be rendered fragile and weakened, losing part of his powers.

He also hides deep dark circles, because I said so. Fuck you. We're going full in.