#does it even make sense like what

[electricabsolution]

twin mirror selves of seeing: an essay (?) about sharkboy and lavagirl

this has been taking up a lot of valuable space in my brain for at least 3 years so im writing it down. no i dont remember most of this movie but ive decided im qualified to talk about it anyway.

everyone knows Sharkboy and Lavagirl. come on. right? George Lopez and that guy from twilight? the CGI is fucking abysmal but it was everything to 10 year old me. rivaled perhaps only by spy kids. i have many thoughts about it.

LONG POST. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

[the title is from the poem If Man Is Dead, Then God Is Slain by Ray Bradbury.]

i don’t really feel like summarizing the movie because i’m not focused on the plot. the gist of it is, max dreams up shit and it comes to life. he makes a cool planet just for kids, but oh no! his class bully Linus fucks it all up and he has to travel to planet drool and make it all better.

this isnt an essay really. more of a collection of thoughts because? ??? what the actual fuck is this movie. moving on.

max as the author ≠ max as the god

ok, max is a lonely and aimless kid. to him, real life is the Adult's World. hes out of place, so in his dreams (and daydreams) he makes up friends. friends with superpowers. normal kid stuff. they live on planet drool, basically a paradise for kids. but when dreams become reality, so do all of its flaws. because a god can only create in it's own image, sharkboy and lavagirl are equally as purposeless as max is. sharkboy grieves his dad and lavagirl longs to be around people without scalding them. They both feel uniquely isolated (which they are. main character syndrome) and take it out on max because he caused these problems by making them exist.

this concept is par for the course regarding the morality of authorship. to create a story is to have your characters suffer; little playthings with no say. naturally, sharkboy and lavagirl don’t like this. but i doubt this even occurred to max before they brought it up, considering he didn’t actually create them to Exist in a narrative. more on this later.

on the topic of gods, the biblical themes in this movie are pretty heavy handed, honestly. what with max's bible - the dream journal - and his very own adam and eve in the form of cool older kids with shark and lava powers which are like definitively two of the sickest things for a preteen. his Eden is corrupted, though (as Edens are wont to do), and therein lies the beginning of the story. the line between creator and author begins to blur.

the dream journal

The dream journal is the wellspring. its easily the most important part of the movie to me. its the fount of Max's power.... for a time. everything he's dreamed has been recorded in the bible. There's one scene where Max reads aloud that he once dreamed that Lavagirl had a motorcycle, and instantly it comes into being. But... didn't it exist before he read it? He wrote it down, didn't he? This scene shows us just how godlike Max really is - he needs to be believed in. At least here, interacting with his creations, ideas just existing in his head are functionally useless. Well, more specifically, existing to a singular being rather than many. the act of reading the journal to Lavagirl* is what causes the words to exist, a conjoining of consciousness i guess.

In this case, we have to assume nothing in his dream journal exists without a second party to believe in it. which makes sense.

but then they lament that max forgot to write down a full gas tank... and the bike becomes useless. Lavagirl accidentally takes the dream journal, and destroys it. (de-storys it, to borrow the phrase from that one tumblr post.) this is to show that his control of the universe comes from the writing, i guess? the act of putting to page is the power, and the next act of speaking the words makes the power real. this is why it's interesting to me that the movie itself opens on a monologue about sharkboy and lavagirl themselves. Max is reading from his journal to us, the fourth wall*, thus the characters come into being because we believe it.

max as the child

yes, he is the Dreamer or whatever the fuck and created a whole planet, but it was only because he felt so alone. he is still a kid. behind the dream journal, he just wanted friends. people who saw him. It's clear from the beginning of the movie he was bullied and we didn't see any friends to speak of. and his parents, well. your average fraught relationship. There isn't much to talk about regarding their scenes except (!) how they're portrayed on planet drool.

in the land of milk and cookies, literally a childish, comforting place, his parents, two giants, roam the area. their size indicates how max feels: small and hardly noticeable. but this is Max's dream world. exactly what he wants. his parents are madly in love and perfectly content. counter this to real life, where they don't notice max because they're too busy arguing. here, they're too lovey-dovey. but even in his garden of eden, he's still not... a part of their life. he's just too small. i dont even think max has conceptualized this because its so normal to him - and probably the way a lot of kids feel in real life, like being detached from the unified front of their parents. its actually really sad to think about, poor kid :c

linus as the author; max as the god

so it turns out that the corruption spreading through planet drool is due to the influence of linus graffitiing the dream journal.

so i mentioned previously that max's dreams don't exist until there's someone to believe. once that motorbike scene happens, it recontextualizes a fair bit of the story. so… when, exactly, did planet drool come into being? was it just out there somewhere in space ever since max had the first inkling? i doubt it.

i believe that it was Linus who really created planet drool. he stole the journal. thus, by reading, it came into being. in-universe and in, um… our universe. real life i mean. he's an active, hostile audience as opposed to the viewer who is utterly passive. he defaced what was a private sanctuary of one person’s mind both literally (editing the story) and figuratively (creating conflict creates narrative. it isn’t private anymore. it’s worthy of an audience, now.)

by doing this, though, it's Linus who gives the power to max. he’s the reason Sharkboy and Lavagirl come down to get him. like, he believes in max and his stories just to be a hater about it. respect??

i’m unsure what to make of linus having powers too, though. maybe it’s the fact that he wrote in the dream journal and even though he messed it all up, believers (i.e sharkboy and lavagirl, plus linus to some extent.*) can’t pick and choose what to believe in. it’s all or nothing. or maybe it’s supposed to be a kid thing, like anyone can make their dreams real but you grow out of it as you become a boring adult. that was probably the message.

anyway, all this is to say that if max is the Dreamer, this makes linus the Actor. the Enactor. (the subtractor. because… minus. get it?? ok sorry.) to return to the title quote (which is more explicitly applicable to sharkboy and lavagirl, but i digress), linus and max are mirrors of seeing. seeing=reading=existing. max creates the world, linus makes it real. yes, there is a difference.

i don’t think planet drool ever existed in its perfect state because it didn’t need to. any memories of it were created by the narrative, the bible / the journal, to give our protagonists a goal to work towards. getting the planet back to ‘how it used to be’ is easy for them to understand because there’s a clear divide between how max writes in the journal and how linus does. erasing his scripture is to erase all problems, and fade back into irrelevance (for all but max). the author-slash-editor has been defeated and the characters can go back to existing in the utopia of Max's mind. there might be a discussion to be had regarding the purity of non-existence, and once it becomes real it’s tainted. hmm.

*[all this talk of gods and authors and i've neglected to discuss the believers. its a bit scattered, theres the max–SB+LG relationship, max+linus–viewer relationship (which parallel each other), and the max-linus relationship. not very important, just notable. I just wanted to asterisk certain places because I wonder if those people are just extensions of the viewer at that point in time. the first time he ever reads the journal, it's to us. so, maybe, when i said the motorbike became real because he read it to lavagirl, it was still just us? maybe im just being overly literal. i mean of course it's us.]

not sure what all this means in the end, though. from this perspective, the author (linus) and the god (max) are evil and good respectively despite doing basically the same thing. but i guess it's the intent that's important - max, the god, had innocent intentions. he wanted his planet and Sharkboy and Lavagirl to be happy, it's just that by creating them at all he imparted his anxieties onto them. Linus, the author, had ill intent, creating secondary problems on purpose. the desire to share ideas, to have it exist in many minds, is what seems to be the issue.

they grapple for ownership over the universe but of course Linus can't win, he merely wants it. Max needs it. Max is it.

And which is God, which Human, God now must truly say: We fly much like each other, We walk a common clay. I dreamed Man into being, He dreams me now to stay - Twin mirror selves of seeing, We live Forever's Day.

[inkskinned]

i love when words fit right. seize was always supposed to be that word, and so was jester. tuesday isn't quite right but thursday should be thursday, that's a good word for it. daisy has the perfect shape to it, almost like you're laughing when you say it; and tulip is correct most of the time. while keynote is fun to say, it's super wrong - i think they have to change the label for that one. but fox is spot-on.

most words are just, like, good enough, even if what they are describing is lovely. the night sky is a fine term for it but it isn't perfect the way november is the correct term for that month.

it's not just in english because in spanish the phrase eso si que es is correct, it should be that. sometimes other languages are also better than the english words, like how blue is sloped too far downwards but azul is perfect and hangs in the air like glitter. while butterfly is sweet, i think probably papillion is more correct, although for some butterflies féileacán is much better. year is fine but bliain is better. sometimes multiple languages got it right though, like how jueves and Πέμπτη are also the right names for thursday. maybe we as a species are just really good at naming thursdays.

and if we were really bored and had a moment and a picnic to split we could all sit down for a moment and sort out all the words that exist and find all the perfect words in every language. i would show you that while i like the word tree (it makes you smile to say it), i think arbor is correct. you could teach me from your language what words fit the right way, and that would be very exciting (exciting is not correct, it's just fine).

i think probably this is what was happening at the tower of babel, before the languages all got shifted across the world and smudged by the hand of god. by the way, hand isn't quite right, but i do like that the word god is only 3 letters, and that it is shaped like it is reflecting into itself, and that it kind of makes your mouth move into an echoing chapel when you cluck it. but the word god could also fit really well with a coathanger, and i can't explain that. i think donut has (weirdly) the same shape as a toothbrush, but we really got bagel right and i am really grateful for that.

grateful is close, but not like thunder. hopefully one day i am going to figure out how to shape the way i love my friends into a little ceramic (ceramic is very good, almost perfect) pot and when they hold it they can feel the weight of my care for them. they can put a plant in there. maybe a daisy.

[mobblespsycho100]

smth so good abt labru besides the obvious thing (narrative foils) is also the fact that laios is such an open book / wears his heart on his sleeve and honest down to earth guy that he just loops back around to being unpredictable . like the fuckin, “its not even a monster??” laios fav food reveal is such a funny bit because like . okay. its hilarious that kabru who’s whole thing is being able to read people super well and remember all these details abt them is just so utterly blind when it comes to laios. hes like shooting a dart everywhere and it hits the general direction but at the same time the trajectory is just so off because laios does something bizarre that kabru has to reorient his chart of “stuff abt laios touden” and scramble things around. its like a game. a flow chart of . whatever the fuck

basically Kabru, the guy who knows everything there is to know about everyone. V.S this enigma who isn’t even that mysterious just autistic and easily misunderstood

[ozuzo]

🎮 Multitasking 🎮 (my part of an art trade with @hivepixels 🖤)

[aardvaark]

the leverage team would have had a games night… once. everyone cheated so much and in such increasingly extreme ways that all mentions of monopoly are banned in their headquarters (this makes talking about marks who monopolize the market very confusing)

[egophiliac]

LEON

LEON YOUR EYEBALLS

[twigsyy]

[vwoop-prince]

YJ S3 Dick, still in the midst of his fever dream, hides underneath the 'souvenir' instead of behind some boxes, and accidentally opens the airlock trying to take care of the Parademons. The others get it to close... but not before Nightwing is thrown into space.

There, he stares at the ship holding his friends and mentors. There, he wishes more than anything that he can, somehow, survive. There, he tries to live, if only so his family don't have to bury him like Jason.

There, Nightwing dies, wanting to save everyone, even with the cold seeping into his bones far too quickly for a regular section of space.

Then, Dick opens his eyes to... Earth? There's a little house, and grass, and trees, but there's a bubble of green over it all. Outside of that green was an entire castle, one that looked like it should have far more support beams than it does for even a hope that it stays standing.

And the sky was swirling shades of that same green. It makes him think of Lazarus.

"Well, that's something you don't see every day." He whips his head behind him, a bit too fast for Earth's atmosphere, but it doesn't hurt him. Past the bubble of green was a blue-skinned adult in purple robes, the insides of a grandfather-clock fitted inside their torso, and a black staff with a stopwatch on its top. Beside them was a man with snow white hair, glowing green eyes, a crown of frozen fire dancing above his head, and the most galaxy-like cloak Dick's ever seen clasped to his shoulders. He's wearing... a hazmat suit? Maybe? The twinkling stars and odd lighting of wherever he is were giving him a bit of a headache.

But in front of those two, within this bubble, was...

"DICK!" Wally shouted with unrestrained glee, a blur overtaking his spot for barely a heartbeat before Dick's stuck in a crushing hug that he reciprocates once his brain stops feeling like its melting.

He doesn't know how long it took for them to calm down, but the man with the crown spoke up after a time, as Wally was still wiping their faces free of tears. "Welcome to the Infinite Realms, Nightwing." Dick barely even registered that he was still wearing his suit, but now it felt suffocating. "I suppose you're the one Clockwork was holding out for; There shouldn't've been enough Ectoplasm around you to form a Ghost, and your physical body's still in space. I can see why you like this one, though, Clockie," he states flippantly, turning to his companion. Almost like he didn't expect Dick to pay too close attention to what he was saying.

"Either way, there's two options for you." The man didn't let Dick swallow his tears and question anything. Dick's not sure if he's grateful or not. "First: Stay in the Realms permanently. You'll see Kid Flash whenever you want and learn to be a Ghost with the denizens of the Realms. Maybe find your parents."

"But..." Dick pulls away from Wally, keeping him at arms length, eyes flitting between them. The two outside the bubble were distinctly... ghost-like, so the mentions of 'Ghosts' make sense. But Wally looked... alive. A bit pale, a bit thin... but alive. Dick can't see any of his own skin to see if it was blue or tinted that way, but the Nightwing symbol on his chest kept flickering between its own blue and this 'Realms' green. "But--What about the others? What about you? Why can't you come home?" The last two, he focuses on Wally, because now he can feel a heartbeat beneath his gloves. Wally's alive. He's alive.

His friend just shrugs. "Something about their portals not fit for the living? I'm meant to wait for someone to figure out a permanent portal, but they won't tell me how long that'll take." Wally glares at the... 'Ghosts'? There was a heat to it, but it also seemed like this was a well-worn argument.

"The permanent portal was always an 'if', Wallace West. And that is entirely dependent on if Richard Grayson takes the second option," the clock Ghost--Clockwork?--speaks up. But instead of the adult Dick was expecting, there was an elderly Ghost in their place. Still with the time motif. Was that... more literal than Dick took it?

"Yes, the second option..." The crowned man glares daggers at Clockwork. The temperature dips below comfortable. Dick tries to blink the spaceship and stars out of his sight, withdrawing his arms from Wally to try and warm himself. Tries to remember he's not in space. "The second option is that you return to your body... changed. You'll be able to protect Earth better, stay with your alive family, save the Lost Ones... for a price."

Dick doesn't know if he should ignore the plural in 'Lost Ones'. He doesn't know if he's reading too much into how, in this Realm, apparently only his parents were able to be found. Where's Jason? He doesn't dare hope, but...

"What's the price?"

The man smiles and a ring of blue forms around his waist. It splits in two and travels up and down his body, replacing the cloak and whatever clothes he was actually wearing with a NASA shirt, worn jeans, and red sneakers actually duct taped together. The blue tint to his otherwise tan skin fades completely. His hair turns black. His eyes turn blue.

He was like a taller, slightly slimmer, way hotter version of Bruce.

The man walks through the bubble, but doesn't disturb the grass beneath his feet. "You become the Ghost King's vassal." Dick flinches away and almost hides behind Wally. "Not my idea! But, well... it is either this, or your permanent death."

"What does becoming a vassal do to him?" Wally asks, gently trying to stop Dick from breaking his ribs with how tightly he was hugging himself. Does he even have ribs?

"He gains my powers. Ice, electricity, invisibility, intangibility, flight... He becomes a Halfa. He becomes what I was, in life. Just... needing to make offerings to me, now and then. Something like that, at least. I give him powers, he gives me a chunk of, I don't know, chocolate once a week. Like a warlock."

Wally keeps talking to the man, keeps getting information that he knows he should pay attention to, but something in his chest screams to accept this deal, and he can't focus on anything else.

Nightwing can protect. He can return to life and go back to Blüdhaven, be the Vigilante they need. He can visit Gotham every now and then, help with cases and stop criminals from harming others. He can see his brother. He can see his friends. He can eat Alfred's cookies, and have little get-togethers with Babs and the Team--hell, he can argue with Bruce.

And all he has to do is... give an offering to this guy? The Ghost King? Every once in a while?

"There's no other price?" The King turns his attention to Dick. His eyes had shifted to a blue-green that almost hypnotize him. The green swirls, the blue forms and melts like snowflakes, and he can't look away.

He takes another step forward and Wally steps to the side. There was familiarity between them. Wally deferred to him. Dick can't quite tell why. Though, with how Wally hasn't once looked at Clockwork, maybe it's because he's... grounded? Are all speedsters in trouble with, what, the Ghost of Time? That... actually makes perfect sense.

"I'll be honest, Nightwing: You've impressed me." The weight behind the King's words lifts the ones that've been on his shoulders since he was nine. "You remind me of myself. Maybe, if I wasn't a Halfa... If I had a mentor... I could've been like you.

"Despite Clockwork's insistence over the years that I get back in touch with the living, I've held off. When he eventually suggested that I help create another Halfa, I locked him in his tower for twenty years. I didn't want anyone to go through what I had. But, now... I see that you won't. You can't. Even if you hide this deal--our shared powers... You'll still have people by your side. Strong people. Smart people. You can already handle yourself. And I'd love to see what you can do--who you can save--with my help."

There was maybe two inches between their faces when the King finishes speaking. Dick roves his eyes across the other's face, trying to find the common and familiar ticks that show lies and deceit and manipulation. All he finds is sincerity and genuine care.

Wally plays with his fingers from the corner of his eye, gaze hopeful as he looks between the two of them. Wally, who was alive and breathing and able to leave if he accepts. Eventually. Somehow.

Dick Grayson sends a quiet apology to his parents and hopes they will forgive him for being a little bit selfish.

"I accept."

He flings his eyes open. Above him, domino mask too wobbly to be properly secured anymore, was Robin crying and begging him to wake up. His hands were sloppily placed over his heart. Batman was trying to drag him away, the firm set of his jaw screaming grief.

Nightwing gasps once he registers his lungs burning.

There's a large cacophony of noise, multiple bright suits and people hounding over him, and the distinct artificial taste of slightly-too-much oxygen that the ship with the Parademons had. That he flew out of and died. He was still too cold.

Someone moves their arm beneath his knees and shoulder and Dick passes out.

(Dick 'Nightwing' Grayson dies in space. Ghost King Danny Phantom likes this too-human Hero. They split their souls in half, take one piece of the others, and all they know is that Phantom is now Nightwing's Patron Deity. Danny uses ice, for electricity killed him. Dick uses electricity, for ice killed him. They are opposites, and yet so incredibly similar. Clockwork was looking forward to when Danny starts putting off his paperwork to hang out with his new 'friend'.)

[tubbytarchia]

gg buddy am I right (ethubs doodle that I don't know what to do with)

[tennant-davids]

LOKI 1x05 Journey into Mystery // 2x01 Ouroboros

[sysig]

Ah, childhood memories (Patreon)

[inkskinned]

i love my therapist but i hate being in therapy. 10 minutes before my appointment, i'm in a meeting with my boss - we discuss my artistic choices; my boss recommends i artistically choose less. 10 minutes after therapy, i wash my hair and think about everything that was said, and then i have to switch it off, like a lamp, and go back to work again.

i was on a walk the other day and someone had the perfect combination of his cologne and whatever-else. it was almost exactly his scent. i fucking hate that. after all these years, i remember that? i tell my therapist - i feel like a fucking wolf. try telling a middle-aged blonde lady. oh i scented him on the air. i'm 30, and i'm having a panic attack over something that would be a plotline in the omegaverse.

what they don't tell you about mental illness is that if you are lucky enough to survive it into adulthood; it becomes a weird slice of your life. because you do, eventually, have to build a life. i realized in a panic somewhere around 22 - oh. i don't know what i'm fucking doing, because i always assumed i'd just go ahead and die. i didn't die, and i'm grateful for that, and i'm very happy about that choice. but it does mean that i am an adult in an apartment, living with my conditions side-by-side like. oh, that's my roommate, adhd. ignore the glass, bytheway, that's ocd.

so you pick your stupid life up by the scruff of the neck and you're, like glad for it (so much laughter and light and friends you would have never thought possible, when you were in the worst of it). but it feels so strange to be dancing around these odd little microcosms, these patchwork moments of your symptoms. if you have a panic attack at night, you still need to wake up and walk the dog in the morning. if your depression is making everything boring, well, you don't have any sick days left, and a job's not really supposed to be that exciting anyway. your ocd tears out each individual leg hair, and then, an hour later, you sigh, patch up the bloody bits, and go get dinner with friends. and the life is kitten-quiet, mewling and pathetic, but it's also like - it's yours, so you're fond of it.

and it's like - you're real. so you still enjoy pushing the shopping cart really fast and then riding on the back of it down an empty aisle. and you're not, like, so sick anymore that when you accidentally drop a mug you burst into tears (except for the days you do that. which are bad). and no, you're not allowed around certain items anymore. oops! but you've learned to be good about brushing your teeth most days of the week. and yeah sometimes in the middle of the day you have a little freak-out about how fucking unfair it all is, how fucking hard, how other people can just do this without having to fucking hurt the whole time. and then you sigh and force yourself to sit down and fucking journal about it so you can tell the nice middle-aged blonde woman yeah i had a hard day but i practiced grounding. you still sometimes want to burst out of your own skin, but you force yourself to eat kind-of healthy and to take your vitamins. you let yourself chop off all your hair in the sink in a dramatic poetry of control and relief - and you also have developed good hobbies that help you move your body more frequently. you feel helplessly behind, lost in the shuffle - but you also practice gratitude, taking stock of what you have garnered. because you're trying. even if you're never gonna be normal, you have something... close enough.

and the little kitten of your life, this mangy, starlit tigercub, this thing you expected to rot so young: in your arms, it turns itself over, belly-up. exposing this new soft part, all the organs and guts. like it's saying i trust you now. you won't give me up.

[emry-stars-art]

Jellyfish, specifically JellyNeil has no concept of gender nor does it remotely care about its gender until a very specific series of events

Find the mer au masterpost here 💕

[siriusly-the-best-bi]

wow so I have like 3 analysis in progress that touch on this topic but I really need to just talk about it rn with its own spotlight.

Aziraphale has this entire life that he's built for himself on earth, after armageddon he's thriving. When we catch up with him in Season 2 his first scene is literally him going to check in with one of his tenants, and throughout the season we see that he has a decent relationship with nearly Everyone on the block. He has an entire life for himself all hashed out and pretty.

Crowley... does not. His cold open in Season 2 is back in St. James park, checking in with Shax, finding out the gossip on Hell. He doesn't have his apartment, he only has his Bentley and the few plants he could fit in it. He doesn't have any other human friendships. His entire life and everything he loves to do is built entirely around Aziraphale.

This is something that I just find so fucking thrilling because when it comes to their characters and where exactly they are in their arcs right now, it's essentially like looking into a mirror.

Aziraphale knows exactly who he is when he's on his own. He nurtures his own relationships with humans he sees often, he's a nice landlord, he loves books and classical music, and hot cocoa. But, Aziraphale still holds onto the ideals of heaven. He still cares about doing good and being forgiving. He still cowers and jumps at the opportunity to help heaven, not because he wants to but because he's supposed to because he's still an angel.

Crowley has nothing. He has his car, which he drives to a secluded location to park every night, only to drive it right back in the morning. He's only even vaguely recognizable because people associate him with Aziraphale and this is fine for him, he could care less. He doesn't really need to know who he is or process his traumas, why would he when he can put all his attention and focus and love and care directly into Aziraphale? His friend, who has always been his friend, the one person who has always stood by him. Who cares about heaven and hell, he has Aziraphale.

When we finally see them on their own and without the influences of their head offices, we see the opposite of what we'd expect, and nearly the opposite of the outcome we see in episode 6. Crowley is the one constantly checking in with Hell (wether he likes it or not), and Aziraphale is the one who's living care free without even thinking about heaven. When he does something good that he wants to report, he just calls Crowley.

this whole dance of Crowley not knowing who he is without Aziraphale and Aziraphale knowing who he is fundamentally but not knowing how to break free from the confines of Heaven that stop him from truly embracing Crowley in the end, it's just so delicious.

[pizzaqueen]

Steve being indignant over the girls in Hawkins not being interested in Eddie and Eddie's like I mean, it's fine, I'm gay, I'm not interested in them, and Steve's like that's not the point! You're hot! What's wrong with them?

[bitchslapblastoids]

Was thinking about how much of a normo I come across as irl, how I’ve felt a lil odd person out at their shows bc of being a bit older (29) and looking so aggressively normal, how generally confused people in my life would be if they knew about my d&p obsession, how thoroughly i mask weirder traits and essentially codeswitch to suit the mainstream, etc.

i feel kind of fish out of water when I imagine how all the people that populate my tumblr phandom ecosystem are likely presenting to the world irl (I.e. more visibly queer, counterculture, and so on). But then I think maybe the most visible phannies are the ones with the most curated, alt, deliberate daytoday lewks/style? So maybe what I’m picturing is off base? But then I’m also basing this off of what audiences look like in audience footage, m&gs, etc.

Sooooooo i would like to know… do you guys feel like you present as someone who may be Deeply Online and obsessed with two gay nerds from the internet? Or do you hide it and fly under the radar, masking as a total normy and living a double life?

(To clarify I don’t mean you’re like out and about wearing the fringes boob sweatshirt lol I more mean vibes and overall lewk yk?)