https://youtu.be/d8D1jZ0VsWg?feature=shared
Fellow Doc Hudson simps and classic car lovers, come get y'all juice
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Okay here’s another Religious Hob post (because that’s apparently my niche, not that I’m complaining at all):
I don’t think Hob has given up his religion. And I could end the post there, because for those who grew up religious or have found a true faith in religion, my point has already been made. But I won’t, because I know most of us don’t fall into either of those categories, so here’s what my true point is: people who truly have faith, a blind, all-encompassing, trusting, and deep faith don’t give up on their religion. Anyone who has ever talked to a Jehovah’s Witness can attest to this; religious people are stubborn as fuck. And this comes from the very essence of what faith is; it doesn’t need proof. It’s a blind leap into a veiled chasm with only the word of an invisible entity to rely on that you will be caught at the bottom. If Hob was truly religious (which I think he was), then his blind faith, combined with his indomitable stubbornness, means that he hasn’t let go of a religious conviction even once in his life. The man cannot do it. Even in the face of every awful thing that has happened to him and those around him, his faith would’ve been a constant. He is convinced that he is going to heaven, that his everlasting devotion to the Almighty will grant him peace and perfection at the end of it all, whenever that may be.
And you know what? He’s probably right! The Creator exists in the DC universe; Dream mentions them in episode 4! God exists, Lucifer exists, Hell exists, so Heaven must exist too, right (logically, anyway)? And while Hob doesn’t need any reassurance (that’s how faith works) that his devotion will pay off, can you imagine how overjoyed he would be when Dream told him about the Creator, about the Creator’s absolute existence? He’s never had doubts, not enough to lose his faith, and with knowledge like that, he never will either. So no, I don’t think Hob ever lost his religion, I think he’s stubbornly and faithfully clung to it, knowing that all good things in his life have come from his inability to give up on them
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One day the kids wake up and they can’t find Steve. They search his house, the school track, the basketball courts, anywhere they can think of where they might find him and he’s nowhere to be found. When they go to Robin’s house, she’s missing too. Her parents haven’t seen her since she disgraced their family by proclaiming herself to be a lesbian.
Even Eddie hasn’t seen either of them and that’s particularly worrying since the three of them are always together.
Both Steve and Robin come back two weeks later with sunburns and matching tattoos on their wrists. They had been at one of the Harrington vacation homes in Florida getting drunk, checking out girls, and getting tattoos. It’s also when Steve realized he was interested in Eddie and plants a smooch on him as soon as he gets back to see Eddie checking out his ass.
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how does mafumafu do it? truly even after seeing his face i still dont think hes a real person
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calling harry a “can opener” was SUCH a good play for so many reasons i think about it every day.
in the context of his work, it makes him a tool. as many people have pointed out, including martin luiga, part of the hdb tragedy is that he simply cannot leave the force, and his superiors know that and are using it to their advantage. no matter what happens, even if harry hated every nanosecond of every bit of the work and wanted to leave, he can’t and won’t leave. they can leverage anything they want against him and then reel him back in with a facade of kindness when they “allow” him to keep his job, as long as he does what they want him to. the 41st knows he has this inexplicable talent with people and they use him for it. he’s a cop: that talent can be used in so many awful ways, to push so many different agendas. and they won’t even be his own. a can opener has no particular desire to open a can, aside from maybe the satisfaction of fulfilling a purpose. a can opener has no agency, it’s just a tool for someone else to use to get what they want. and he’s learned to be okay with being used as long as it means he gets to stay. his complacency with this system makes him guilty even if he’s also being harmed by it.
but in the context of his personal life you kind of... flip it. the people around him are going to be opened up whether they want to be or not, and it’s terrible for his relationships. it’s shown that the questions, the prying- the can-opening- it’s become inextricable from who he is as a person. it’s like he doesn’t know how else to communicate, except it’s hardly communication when you’re just ripping people open. he’s invasive as all hell, although whether he means to be is debatable. he’s the kind of person that wants to take things apart to see what makes them tick. he dissects people, but really that’s too delicate of a word for what he does; if he doesn’t get what he wants right up front, he’ll abandon all subtlety and go for brute force. if he can’t get your screws loose he’ll just smash you on the ground and pick through your pieces until he’s satisfied, and if what he did to you isn’t fixable? oh well, there are other cans to open.
and he’ll use it for personal gain: we already know he is (was?) manipulative. once he knows how you operate, he knows how to make you keep him. he can yell or he can cry; he can threaten you or he can threaten himself; he can be completely suffocating or he can withdraw completely; he can be an incorrigible liar or brutally honest; he can present himself as a threat or a joke or a talent. he’s a chimera- that’s why he’s got this inexplicable magnetism, even when people know they shouldn’t like or trust him. fidelity of character means nothing to him. he’ll be whatever he needs to be as long as it gets him what he wants. the can-opening is just his way in.
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jaime lannister enjoyers are fascinating creatures to me because there is exactly four types of them with no overlaps between them. i‘ve never seen a jaime stan who wasn’t invested in him in more than one of these four very specific ways. every jaime enjoyer is either a jaime azor ahai and valonquar truther who thinks that he is grrm‘s magnum opus, a middle aged white woman who just thinks nikolaj coster waldau is hot, a self diagnosed sigma who wildly misinterprets him as a character and views jaime lannister as the very picture of desirable masculinity, or an insane teenage girl who writes the best and deepest analysis of him you’ve ever seen but also regularly refers to jaime as a poor little meow meow and as so deeply pathetic it makes him fuckable again.
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Okay so a couple of days ago, I made a post about making an enjoyable afternoon out of scrolling through Neil Gaiman’s tumblr likes (and I stand by that; if you choose to do so, it will be an afternoon filled with wonder, education, laughter, and not a small amount of confusion as to why he’s liked certain things) and I made the joke that I wasn’t sure if he knew that his likes were public for the world to see (I partially stand by that too; I’m also pretty sure that he just recently learned about tagging, since I’ve never seen him tag anything up until that head pat ask, but I could be very wrong; he’s been on the internet longer than I’ve been alive), but I think there’s more to it than that.
I think he has his likes public for a reason, a very specific, very meaningful reason. You see, tumblr doesn’t have an algorithm. It’s one of the (many) things we tumblr users love about tumblr; it won’t collect your data, it won’t pander specifically to you (leading to an infamous reputation for downright yet hilariously horrible ads), and it sure as hell won’t spread your posts outside of your circle of followers (at least not until recently, though I have fully embraced the new tumblr tabs; they provide enrichment and new genetic material for my pool of mutuals). For the vast majority of us (roughly 98% of us), liking a post does absolutely nothing. Sure, it lets the author or artist know that you enjoyed their work, but it doesn’t spread the word, and tumblr’s entire function revolves around spreading the word. Liking is useless in that regard.
But for people like Neil Gaiman, who have a sort of power here (he’s our resident celebrity, a fact that never fails to make me smile because it means he’s the same sort of weird as us) (some of us, at least), who have a recognizable name and a massive fanbase and holds the adoration of countless, liking posts (and making those liked posts visible for anyone to see)… well, suddenly it starts to mean a little bit more. He doesn’t like a whole lot, sometimes just a few posts a week, sometimes even less, but scrolling through what he does like is a heartwarming experience (one that I fully encourage people to undertake themselves, paying particular attention to the number of notes that certain posts have) (no seriously, how does he find these posts sometimes?? they have single-digit note counts and he’s among the first to like completely untagged posts, it’s baffling) because they’re things that boil down to (what I can only assume to be) the essence of Neil Gaiman. They’re funny comics about reading. They’re gut-wrenching news articles about current global politics. They’re stories from fans about meeting him, or wanting to meet him, or not being able to meet him. They’re pictures of barbecues and famous actors and movie posters. They’re trans-positive and queer-supportive and riot-encouraging (because the first pride parade was a riot and queer means fuck you). They’re artworks done by fans featuring his characters and meta posts about his works and raving reviews about his shows. They’re wholesome and alarming and lighthearted and important. And for someone like Neil Gaiman, who uses his blog almost solely as a way to connect with his fans, as a way for his fans to be able to see him for who he is, making his liked posts public is… shockingly refreshing.
As a trans person, I have had many idols in my life, especially authors (*cough, cough, you know who I’m talking about*) who have written fantastic works but have let me down with who they are as people and their beliefs. Too many times have I dug deep into an author only to find that deep down, they’re just shitty people. Imagine my surprise when, as I dove down the rabbit hole of Neil Gaiman, unearthing everything he willingly offered to the public to find about him, all I found was support. All I found was righteous anger and encouragement and an all-encompassing compassion. All I found was Neil’s steadfast belief in me, in everything I am, in everyone like me who came before me and who will come after me, in my brothers and sisters and siblings, in my community. And above all else, I found love. For myself, for my community, and for the author who isn’t afraid to show up, to be loud, to put his money where his mouth is, to come to the defense of a community that (to my knowledge) he is not a part of, and to stand firm in his support even when he’s under fire for it.
So yes, his likes are public, because for him, it’s not about an algorithm. It’s not about spreading word or creating a ruckus or drawing attention. When Neil Gaiman likes posts, he is simply saying “I’m here. I hear you. I see you. I support you.” And he isn’t afraid to show the entire world that he does so. And I, for one, respect him as an author, as a personal inspiration, and as a human being all the more for it
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