#Thomas Rivales

[potential-fate]

Thomas pulled his wife in close in the shadows of the foyer of the Rivales house. They were finally alone. No guests or friends, no well-intentioned congratulations, or off-hand jokes about starting their family early. Even the rest of the family were still out celebrating, or at least they were squirrelled away in their respective wings of the house. Finally, Thomas had Pia all to himself. 

And he fully intended to take advantage of their solitude as soon as possible. But for the moment, he was content to half dance in the entry of their shared home. 

Pia pulled back slightly to smile up at him, and he couldn’t have been happier. This was exactly where he belonged, no matter how many people warned him against the small town. And people had. His friends or colleagues had tried to convince him to steal Pia away from the tiny town, and while he understood their concern; maybe he even agreed, he also knew that Pia would never have agreed to anything like that. 

[anonymousqualities]

Jason: cookie monster

Dick: kermit

Tim: elmo

Damian or Duke: recording the madness

Credit: @coolguyz.online on instagram

[mae-gi-writes]

Arch-nemesis . Gally (themazerunner)

There's a thin line between love and hate, especially when it concerns Gally.

A/N: I've re-watched the three Maze Runner movies and now I'm obsessed and getting back onto the TMR fantrain so bear with me and the future fics I've already got saved in my drafts TT 3 TT ------

You hate him with all your heart.

Truthfully, honestly. There isn’t anyone you hate more than this stupid asshole that thinks that he’s the centre of the earth.

You met him only when he’d been brought in by Lawrence and a few of his other guys, having been there just for a few weeks prior. Thinking that this might be your chance to make a new friend, you’d sidled over to him with a small smile as you asked for his name. That didn’t go as smoothly as you thought when he just grunted out his name in response and turned away from you like you were a pest instead.

But it isn’t just that. It’s the way he says your name in that really aggravating tone that grates at your nerves. It’s the way he always insists it’s your fault when you’re out on missions and come back with no updates. It’s the way he bullies you and calls you names whenever your paths cross and it makes you want to gouge his eyes out. It’s enough to say that you know Gally now and you know exactly what he’s made of. That, and the fact that you’d stay far away from him as you possibly could if that was an option.

“You’re loading it up wrong shank-face,” he’d tell you as you were re-filling your gun.

“Shut up Gally, I’m doing it properly.”

“Don’t come crying to me when the gun doesn’t work.”

“It’s none of your business if it doesn’t work.”

“It is my business if you’re gonna—“

“Right that’s enough,” your mentor and leader called Jared had to step in, like he did numerous times, to get you to cool off. You’d storm away in a fit of annoyance and irritation, hating how easily Gally got under your skin.

It’s been a few weeks since weird sightings of stray immunes have circulated the area and in reply to this, Lawrence had set you up for a mission with Gally to scout the outer walls of the Last City. That had only caused you to grumble about the unfairness of the situation.

“Why do I have to go?” Your eyes narrow at the familiar tall figure lingering in your peripheral. Gally is busy setting up his weapons as you try to plead your case, seemingly uncaring about your protests, “and with him of all people? We don’t work well together Lawrence—“

“Everyone else is taken or busy with other tasks. Meaning that only you two are free,” Lawrence cuts you off without a hint of sympathy, “so either you do as you’re told or you can leave Y/N. As simple as that.”

In the end you have no choice but to abide by his rules, strapping up your weapons and defenses before Gally calls out your name. You turn just in time to catch the water bottle he sends your way, yelping in the process.

“You’re looking a little distraught, shank-face,” he smirks at you from where he stands loading up the provisions, “scared of what you’ll find out there? If you ain’t good enough, just don’t come and waste people’s time.”

“Nobody asked for your opinion, ugly brows.”

“I’m just worried you might slow me down. I’m not a goddamn babysitter.”

“I didn’t ask for one, now will you shut up and stop talking?”

“I’m surprised these two haven’t killed each other off yet,” murmurs one of Lawrence’s men.

“Killed or kissed you mean,” Jared lets out a chuckle.

These words are enough to cause the others to look at him with shocked faces, “what do you mean?”

“Isn’t it clear?” Jared motions towards the two currently bickering, “bet that by tomorrow night these two will get together.”

“I bet they last a week before they kiss.” Another says.

“Oh come on, I’m betting two weeks. Gally isn’t that type of guy.”

“What about me?” Gally’s voice causes them all to shut up, looking at him with guilty smiles and with shakes of their heads.

“Nothing to worry about Maze boy,” Jared flicks him off with a wave of his hand, “now off you go, both of you. And I expect some good news when you return.”

“Of any kind,” someone adds quietly, to which they all cackle.

You’ve toured the city a million times before in search of any kind of entrances that might lead to the inside, where all of Wicked laid. So it’s nothing out of your depth to follow Gally around as you survey the area and scout for more sources of information.

In all honesty, touring with Gally isn’t that much different from anyone else. On the contrary, Gally’s determined nature conjoined with his natural physical ability to excel just renders him an even more ideal battle partner. Not that you’ll ever tell him that. It will surely come bite you in the ass later when you least expect it.

You’re almost at the perimeter when you notice something off about one of the citizens. It’s a little girl, her face contorted in a grimace as she holds her hands in front of her tummy. For a moment, she sways in the middle of the crowd and you’re about to dismiss it, when another figure stalks in and takes a swipe at her with a stick.

The girl yelps as the stick hits her knees, crumbling to the floor like a sack of bones.

Before you know it, you’re sprinting towards her, anger flaring through your chest as your hands steady themselves on the gun. You barely hear Gally’s voice as you stumble in front of the kid just in time to point your weapon at the older man.

“What do you think you’re doing?” You hiss at him.

The man’s eyes widen. He takes a step back, “no no, get away from her, you don’t understand—“

“Understand what? That you were going to beat her to death?” You click your gun into place, “nice try old man, now tell me—“

“Get away from her!” He yells at you, “she’s not normal! She’s—“

And a growl erupts from behind you. You swivel around in panic, eyes going wide upon noticing for the first time the dark patch close to her eyes.

The Flare.

The girl twitches. A small sob falls from her mouth. Your heart jumps to your throat, stumbling back half a step as weird animalistic noises echo from her mouth.

And then, she pounces.

You yell out something— you’re not too sure what — and are about to knock her on the head as she throws herself at you—

A bullet explodes on the right side of her brain and she falls to the ground like a puppet.

You stare at her for a minute. One more.

Your gaze slowly trails up to see familiar booted feet.

“What were you even thinking?”

Gally’s voice is usually deep. But this time, even you can’t stand up to the anger simmering in his voice. It’s dark and holds some kind of laced savagery that makes your toes curl in apprehension.

He takes your silence as guilt before grabbing onto your arm and roughly pulling you out of the crowd. He doesn’t stop and for once you don’t fight him, still not over the shock of seeing that poor girl’s face, the crazed look in her eyes. You’re so deep in your thoughts that you don’t realize you’re at your truck until Gally practically throws you against its side.

Your back digs into the metal and you grunt at the impact, the ache stinging your spine. But before you can do anything else, huge palms come to a rest on either side of your head.

Gally leans into you, so close that you can feel the heat radiate off him in waves.

“What the fuck was that about?” He growls, voice dropping even lower.

Somehow, it causes a shiver to run up your spine. Not one of fear, something else. Something that makes your stomach squeeze into knots.

“I—“ for once, you don’t seem to have any words. Instead your head turns away from Gally’s eyes as you bite down onto your lower lip, “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? You’re sorry?” He scoffs, laughs to himself before his gaze hardens once more, “sorry for what Y/N? For almost getting yourself killed? Are you insane?! She could’ve literally infected you and you—“

“I didn’t know she was infected.” You tried to protest.

That seems to aggravate him even more, “You didn’t even bother to check!” His nostrils flare.

“Well I said I’m sorry!”

“Sorry’s not going to cut it if you turn into one of those Cranks you stupid slinthead! You need to be more responsible! I literally turn away for one minute and you’re—“

“Oh stop exaggerating Gally. I was trying to protect her—“

“Yeah and look how that ended!”

You snap, “why are you so pissed? It was an accident and I already said sorry!”

“It’s not just that Y/N!” He yells with such emotion that his face flushes red, “What if I wasn’t there? What would you have done then?!”

“Why the fuck do you care? You wanted me gone—“

Your words cut off in mid-conversation when his large hands suddenly cup your face before pulling you in to crash his lips against yours.

Your eyes widen, brain freezing, as butterflies erupt through your stomach.

Wow.

Is this what a kiss is?

And this is Gally, kissing you like he means it.

It's almost like time has stopped.

Heart pounding, your body slowly melts against his. You’re in a trance-like state, watching yourself crumble under his fingertips that he places right under your jaw, his other hand sliding down to your hip to pin you in place.

The kiss is surprisingly gentle yet firm. His mouth moves slowly, hesitantly, almost like he fears breaking you. And yet, when you respond with a soft movement of your own, the rumble of his chest has your stomach squeezing with adrenaline.

You’re not too sure what’s happening. Here you are, with the world’s biggest dick, kissing him like he’s your lover when all you’ve ever wanted was to kick him in the face for being a class A asshole.

But it’s weird because this, however, feels so right. Like you’re meant to be locking lips, like he doesn’t want anyone else in his arms but you. And when he cages you in his hold with even more intensity it makes you gasp, causing him to slip his tongue into your mouth with an ease that has you parting like melted butter.

Slowly, your hands trail up to his chest, grabbing hold of his dark tunic and tugging slightly as his teeth suckle onto your bottom lip. A noise echoes from the back of your throat and he growls in response, pressing you even harder so that your head tilts back against the truck’s surface.

You need air at some point and so break away from him with a small gasp, chest heaving.

Gally doesn’t hesitate. He dives down to press a kiss to the side of your jaw, down your neck, imprinting his mouth over your skin over and over again in a way that has your body shuddering with delight. Big hand sliding down to the back of your neck to pull you even closer into him, the young man’s lips find a soft spot at your pulse point, causing a whine to fall from your lips at his action.

His chest rumbles in satisfaction and before you know it he’s back to kissing you. This time it’s more heated; mouths clashing and teeth clicking and tongues battling.

And then, the reality of the situation hits you straight in the face.

You freeze. What in the shucking world are you even doing?

You’re making out with Gally, right beside your truck. In broad daylight.

The thought alone makes your hands push him away and your lips disconnect with a small ‘pop’ sound.

You’re gasping for breath at this point, eyes wide as they flutter up to lock onto his own and you’re surprised at what you find there.

There’s some sort of softness, genuine care and something more, something darker that you can’t really put your finger on.

It makes you want him.

You want him.

Shuck’s sake.

“Y/N—“ Gally starts but you’re already moving out of his hold, slipping away from his warmth and suddenly it feels a little too cold.

You shake your head at him, decide it’s best to keep your eyes away as you open the door to the passenger seat, “let’s go. We have a mission to finish.”

You don’t want to talk about it.

————

It’s been days.

Days since the incident.

Days since you’ve been trying to get Gally out of your head.

You don’t understand why he’s having such an effect on you. Theoretically speaking, you should’ve bashed his head in and turned him over to Lawrence for sexual assault.

But you haven’t, and he’s also probably questioning why.

As a result, you’ve done everything in your power to avoid him. You wake up thirty minutes earlier to eat your breakfast so that you don’t have to bump into him at the table, you take the first errands that come to you — the boring ones like refilling tanks and getting the food supplies and guarding their premises. All that so that you don’t have to deal with Gally’s bullying.

Well, not that you’ve heard from him much either.

“What happened between you two?” Jared asks one evening as you help him move the supplies fresh from the last raid from the Last City.

“What?” You stare at him blankly, “what are you talking about?”

“You and Gally. You had a fight or something?”

“When are we not?” You snort, though you can’t deny the flush creeping up your neck as the memory of Gally’s body against yours resurfaces.

“Well I know you fight, but you’ve been ignoring each other.”

“And? Why is that a concern? Shouldn’t you be glad there’s less noise?”

“You’ve got a point I suppose.”

You don’t tell him it’s because you’re nervous of all the things that keep flashing through your head. You don’t tell him about how you keep on thinking of Gally’s mouth on yours, the lingering taste of him like a ghost along your lips. You don’t have to and you don’t want to, because you know that it’s going to entertain an idea far too surreal and ridiculous for you to think about.

It isn’t until a few days after your little mishap that Gally finds you in the storage room. You’ve woken up early to help the newest recruit unpack the food supplies just loaded into the main building dock, only to find out that he had this massive crush on you.

So you’ve been trying to bat him off all morning despite his most desperate attempts.

“Just give me a chance Y/N,” he says as he takes a box from your hands with a wink, “I promise I won’t make you regret it.”

You snort, “no thanks,” and turn back to keep unloading.

But he makes a grab for your hand. You yelp, pulling it out of his grasp, “what do you think you’re doing—“

“You think you’re so tough huh?” He makes another grab for your forearm this time and cages you into his grip. You try to wriggle out to no avail, his fingers squeezing so hard that you let out a cry of pain, “ow—“let me go, asshole.”

“Not until you agree.”

Your glare deepens, “I said no.”

He pulls you closer, stinky breath washing over your face and making you want to barf, “did I tell you how sexy you are when you try to act all tough and shit? I mean that’s literally—“

“Get your hands off her.”

He freezes. You do too. You recognize that voice. You could've recognized that anywhere. Your head tilts over.

Gally.

Oh.

Eyes widening at the sight, you quickly pull your arm away when the newbie drops it in shock.

“Move away,” Gally’s voice drops an octave and causes a string of butterflies to erupt through your chest, “now.”

The newbie frowns, “Who’re you to boss me around?”

“I said: Now.”

And maybe it’s the fact that Gally seems to straighten when he says it so it looks like he’s towering over the other boy, but the latter mutters a curse word under his breath and finally relents, throwing you a scowl in the process as he ducks out of the storage room.

You can’t help but lock eyes with your savior, though quickly averting your eyes in embarrassment as you resume stacking boxes after boxes. You hope that he’s just going to turn around and act ignorant, just like these past few days.

“Y/N.”

You don’t answer, resolutely trying your best to act busy.

“Y/N.”

Maybe it’s the way he says your name that makes you turn impulsively. Your eyes flit to his face, then look back down to his chest. A safer bet, “what?”

He takes a step closer, and another, and another. You swallow thickly, feeling your throat clog up with emotion as you stumble back against the boxes until no escape seems available.

Why is it that you’re always getting trapped by him?

“W—What is it?” You stammer out in hopes he can’t hear how wild your heart is beating, "What do you want?"

He lets out a soft sigh and seems to drop his shoulders in defeat, opening up his palms in a sign of defeat, "I just--I think we need to talk."

"There's nothing to talk about."

"Y/N--"

"No Gally," you whip around then with eyes narrowed into slits and your fists curled beside you, "if this is about what happened in the Last City, I don't want to talk about it. It was a stupid shucking mistake and--"

"Stop using Glader slang," he interrupts like a smart-ass and you all but growl at him in irritation, "it doesn't suit you."

"Oh shut up already," you whip around and decide that it's useless to try and have a civil conversation. You'd rather focus your energy on finishing off your task.

But seems that he's determined to bug you, for you feel the warmth of his hand imprint itself on your forearm before he's tugging you. Not too harshly, gently enough that you could've stopped if you wanted to.

You let yourself turn around, cursing inwardly at how the closeness between your two bodies is rendering you a little breathless, a little weak in the knees. He's so close that you have to tilt your head up to look at him, and what you see in his gaze makes your heart skitter.

"It wasn't," he murmurs, "a mistake."

"It was a mistake," you shoot back straightaway, "we can just forget about it--"

"I don't want to. I--" he clears his throat, looks away for a second. And when his eyes find yours once again you feel your breath catch in your throat because he's looking at you in a certain way. That way. With the same kind of tenderness that makes you want to wrap your arms around him and bury your face into his chest and smell the earthly, Gally scent that had wrapped around you back when you'd kissed--

No.

You almost smack yourself, horrified. What in the world are you thinking?!

"I like you, Y/N." Gally’s voice jerks you back to reality, “I like you a shuck lot and—“

“Don’t,” you press a finger to his lips as you try desperately to put some distance between, shaking your head in horror, “no no, you don’t like me. You like me ‘cause I’m the only girl around here and it’s just your hormones talking—“

He shakes you off, “what are you on about?” He frowns before grabbing both your hands to cage them in his grip, “I know what I feel Y/N. Don’t tell me otherwise—“

“Gally please,” you scramble for coherent thought but logic is slipping away by the second. Even more so when he’s tugging you gently to him, even more when his face is a picture of softness and affection, “we hate each other’s guts—“

“I never said that.” He pauses to read your expression, fear suddenly flickering in his expression, “do you hate me?”

“I—“ the words get tangled in your mouth. You want to tell him you hate him, loathe him with all your heart and that you just want him gone and that you hates his kiss.

But you can’t.

Because it’s a lie, the truth is that you think your heart beats for him. You’re not sure since when, but that kiss had confirmed it surely enough: you like Gally more than you think you do. And that thought is terrifying.

You’re so close to him that if you let your hands drop they’ll brush against his chest, so close that you can feel his warm breath fanning across your skin and the heat of his jody permeating to yours.

Ducking your head in embarrassment, you bite down onto your lower lip.

“Answer my question, Y/N.”

You swallow thickly, “I—I don’t know.”

Gally looks down at you still, not giving you the easy way out you would’ve preferred and you find yourself crumbling under his stare.

“No,” you whisper, “I don’t hate you.”

He shifts a little closer still, eyes flitting down to your lips in a silent question.

Your breath catches. Your mouth parts. His scent wraps around you like a soft cocoon.

And then you’re lifting yourself up to kiss him.

He makes a noise of surprise at the back of his throat and you grin to yourself, loving that you caught him off guard. But that doesn’t last, for his big hands quickly drop yours to wrap around your waist before pulling your body to his and kissing you like he hasn’t seen you in ages, like he’s missed you, like he wants to do this forever.

Gally, you soon realize, kisses with his entire intention, not leaving one part of your mouth untouched and adamant on making you go pliant in his hold. You allow yourself to back up as he prods you, until your back hits one of the storage boxes hazardly stacked one atop the other, and Gally doesn't hesitate to press his chest against yours as a soft moan echoes from the back of his throat.

As his lips curve against yours in the most intimate of manners, your hands seem to take on a life of their own as they travel up his chest, caress the broadness of his shoulders, before wrapping around the back of his neck and teasing the soft baby hairs found there. You feel him grinning into your mouth and soon enough you're grinning too, foreheads pressed together as you catch your breath.

"Not bad at all," Gally murmurs, stealing a kiss from you and causing your face to flush deep red, "for someone who can't load a gun properly."

"I can too load my gun properly," you pinch him playfully and he responds with laughter.

That's when you hear your mentor's voice booming with surprise from the front entrance of the storage room:

"Well look what we have here! I told you guys they wouldn't last a week!"

[bruciemilf]

Can you please drop some of your oliver queen thoughts for someone dying for more oliver content (can't wait to read for him soon) 🥹🙂‍↕️🥹🥹🥹

OLIVER MY BELOVED—-

Listen.

I’m partially clueless about him as well, BUT. I did start to read more comics and consuming him more from random tumblr posts, which is more than anything DC writers can say for themselves SO—-

Girl dad but for boys. LOOK AT HIS BOYS LOOK AT THEM— have you seen his sons. Now you have.

Roy has to beg him to shut the fuck up about his smallest accomplishments, actually.

Connor is passively accepting this. Yeah, my dad’s cool. Not as cool as me, thought.

Is competitive as fuck. Oh oh, Red Hood drop kicked Bane so hard his knees broke? That’s cute. Roy has a DAUGHTER, BITCH. “You wish that was you, huh”

Clark can hear Bruce’s teeth gritting because yes, yes he does.

I feel like Oliver would embody the “got rich by accident” persona Keanu Reeves has going on. Thus, became Bruce’s first real friend because he was deeply unimpressed with him.

As children, he’d steal Bruce from galas (as in physically pick him up and drag him because Tiny) and make him steal deserts with him. (Alfred would see them and say nothing)

Bruce quietly asking him why he picked him. And he expects “because you’re Bruce Wayne.”

But Oliver shrugs, once, handing Bruce his half eaten pistachio cake. It’s been their tradition.

Bruce only orders it when he knows Ollie will attend. “Because you were a kid. And you were scared. Why else?”

Only one who knows Alfred’s secret cookie recipe.

He and Bruce were not only collage friends, they were ROOMATES. I specifically think Oliver saw his goth turtle of a best friend got accepted into GA and thought I have GOT to watch out for this idiot

Bruce’s comfort clothes include Ollie’s old collage jersey

When Bruce drops out of med school, Oliver’s incredibly pissed off at him. “Do you have any idea how privileged ‘I don’t want to do it’ is?“

And Bruce, shakily, says he does.

“So what the hell are you doing this for?!”

“Because I don’t want them to suffer just to be like me.”

UNCLE OLLIE RIGHTS. Whenever Dick was pissed at Bruce, he’d steal one of his cars and drive to Starr City, fully allowing Bruce to think he was kidnapped.

Convinced Ollie to take pictures of him tied up and send them to Bruce for ransom money.

Bruce and Oliver are “hasn’t seen a single movie since he was 8” bff vs “physically incapable of not quoting his favorite movies all the time” bff

Sends 2000’s memes to the JL group chat and only Clark likes them

He has Dinah’s name tattooed like a trampstamp

[deadpresidents]

What was Alexander Hamilton's relationship like with the presidents he knew?

Hamilton was very close to George Washington, but had significant issues with John Adams, Thomas Jefferson, and James Madison. And, in 1797, Hamilton very nearly fought a duel with James Monroe but, believe it or not, they avoided bloodshed because an acquaintance helped squashed their beef. Who helped broker the peace between Hamilton and Monroe? AARON BURR. History is amazing, isn't it?

(We can all admit that Alexander Hamilton's issues with...you know...basically EVERY Founding Father suggests that maybe HE was the issue, right? I'm an Aaron Burr Guy, so I might be biased, but where I come from if multiple people want to kill you, you are probably the problem.)

[winterzz7]

these mfs be slacking off during work hours 😒

[thealdersgateoffice]

Saskia Reeves and Kristin Scott Thomas watching telly together on Celebrity Gogglebox 📺

[halliewriteshockey]

The Seattle Thunderbirds have Luke Prokop, the only openly gay hockey player in pro or semi-pro hockey right now, but they chose not to hold a Pride Night this year. So fans said fine, we’ll hold our own.

Luke promoted it on Instagram but because it was unofficial, I didn’t expect anything from the players.

Except.

Every. Single. Player used Pride tape in some way for warmups. ALL OF THEM, stepping up in a way grown-ass men are afraid to do.

(Yes, that’s Dylan Guenther)

Several of them kept the tape on either their stick or socks for the entire game, including their goalie, Thomas Milic (who grinned at my kids shaking a huge Pride flag at him and flashed them a peace sign)

A couple more pictures under the cut, including Luke himself

THEY’RE GOOD BOYS, BRENT

[13o7billionyearsinthemaking]

Aight , since I'm beginning to have free time again with more knowledge on arting , I'll start with a warm up before I get into the bigger projects.

One of them cuddles nicely :) and the other has a mugshot <3

[lit-vocabcards]

Loceit academic rival fanfic I’m working on 😼

[seirei-bh]

The most surreal and funny thing that happened to me in episode 6 was seeing Devon and Roy fighting over having a date with my Candy while I just wanted to get out of there to find Jason! 😭

And then after that, seeing Devon confronting Jason too because he thought Jason was harassing my Candy, when in fact, those two were having some kind of playful flirting.

It seems I'm playing a poly route and I WASN'T MY INTENTION! Help~ 🤣

[potential-fate]

“Congratulations Pia,” Abe said. She pulled him into a hug while Thomas and Callum stood idly on the side. All things considered, he was happy for Pia. She was the closest thing Abe still had to a friend, minus maybe his sister. And since Lucy was a menace on a good day, and still best friends with his ex, he’d much rather pretend his social life wasn’t that depressing. 

“Thank you,” Pia smiled serenely at him, “As much as I’d love to catch up, I have to hear about 50 more ‘congrats’ comments before the day is up.” 

Abe gave her an apologetic look, and waved her off. Thomas didn’t say much to either of them as he followed his new bride across the room to greet other people.

[cosmic-walkers]

I think the best way I could describe this episode is 'fear'. The absolute fear that Thomas feels after Jane's death when reality begins to weigh on him. The complete devastation in his eyes when Mary told him that Stephen had returned, the way that his relationship around Henry is different. Henry isn't a friend to him, he's a dangerous person, but now he realizes he's stuck. The way he accidentally let it slip that he would retaliate against Henry, in front of Risley, and the cold fear that we see in his face.

Thomas is genuinely terrified. I don't think he believes death, is looming in the air, but he knows that something is going to happen. And i mean, the fear he is feeling was enough to get him sick, and nearly die. It brought back his Italian fever but this time, it was worse, much much worse.

He can't even talk straight, he can't walk straight, he can't think. Thomas, a man who has been nothing but brave and resilient his whole life is finally being broken down, and finally succumbing to fear. Which is something he truly, truly, never thought he'd be able to feel fully.

What did Anne say in the first season, "Fear can unmake a man" , and well...it's happening.

[catenary-chad]

Tinplate trains would be a VERY fun non-rep Stex look. Very bright and cartoony in a distinctly dated way that seems to be surprisingly widespread around most of the industrialized world. They’re inherently flatter and painted vs realistically detailed so it’s a bit cheaper/easier to physically design around. You also get some very different basis choices vs later toy trains. Being pre-WWII almost forces you to flip Electra and Greaseball’s roles because just one look at the toys of the era, and it’s clear diesel trains were the new thing and mostly depicted as light, high speed trainsets, and there’s almost as many electric as steam engines. Lots of now-obscure models that really fell out of public memory 80+ years later (Milwaukee Road Bipolars, New York Central S-motors, boxcabs in general, even the M10000 style diesel trains). I think you can just about cover all the replica Nationals with countries I’ve seen toys from on google too.

[bruciemilf]

Okay so this depends on what backstory for Lex Luthor you prefer, but assuming that it’s a family business- have you ever thought about Lionel and Thomas interacting/what their dynamic would be? Or what they thought of each other

I like to think Lionel stubbornly tried to be Thomas’ business rival and Thomas intentionally got his name wrong at every possible time. “Lex Corp? That a marine protection company? Oh Leopold you’re so funny, pal”

[deadpresidents]

I’m curious about the friendship between Gerald Ford and Jimmy Carter (and presidential friendships in general,) I’d like to know what that looked like for them. Would they go and do things together or was it just a few phone calls a year?

Their relationship is really interesting because during the 1976 campaign and in the years right afterward, Ford and Carter genuinely did not like each other. It wasn't a normal, opponent vs. opponent rivalry, either. They straight-up disliked one another, and that was extremely unusual for Gerald Ford, who got along with practically everybody he met throughout his life, rarely had bad things to say about other people, and was almost physically incapable of being unkind to others, no matter what side of the political spectrum they belonged to.

What changed was when President Reagan sent all the living former Presidents -- Nixon, Ford, and Carter -- to Cairo in 1981 to attend Anwar Sadat's funeral following Sadat's assassination. The three former Presidents all flew together on one of the planes normally used as Air Force One, and there was some tension at the beginning, but the person who broke the ice, oddly enough, ended up being Richard Nixon. Ford then suggested that the former Presidents should drop all formalities and just refer to one another as Dick, Jerry, and Jimmy. As Ford remembered, "I guess we figured we were gonna be in a plane together forty hours, more or less, and in order to be pleasant, it was a good idea to just wipe the slate clean, which we did." Ford and Carter eventually started bonding, partly over the fact that Ronald Reagan was a major reason why each of them ultimately lost their respective bids for re-election.

At the time, Carter was having trouble building his Presidential Library, and he asked Ford for some advice since Ford had just recently opened his library. When Carter mentioned he was having some issues raising money for the library, Ford offered to come down and appear at fundraisers for him, and asked Carter to return the favor and visit the Ford Library for an event.

As Thomas M. DeFrank writes in his 2007 book, Write It When I'm Gone: Remarkable Off-the-Record Conversations With Gerald R. Ford (BOOK | KINDLE | AUDIO):

"Carter accepted, triggering a Jimmy-Jerry tag team match extending over several years. These back-scratching appearances didn't convert them into friends, but the relationship was notably friendlier. They began staying in regular contact, talking on the phone, and exchanging birthday greetings. Their contacts were sufficiently public that some of Ford's closest political allies grumbled that he was spending altogether too much time with Carter -- not unlike similar complaints from [George H.W.] Bush 41 partisans today that he hangs around Bill Clinton too much. Ford brushed off the complaints. Beyond their shared practical interests in Presidential Libraries, another unifying bond was at play. Both ex-Presidents had strong reasons not to like Ronald Reagan, which helped cement their ties even though neither one would ever admit it publicly. To one old Ford friend, the calculation was simple: 'Once you did something for his library or museum, you were a friend for life.'"

As they got older, Ford and Carter would sometimes make joint appearances at Presidential Libraries or universities, or events for important causes, and they even wrote a joint op-ed during the Monica Lewinsky scandal urging Congress to censure President Clinton instead of impeaching him. They felt it was a bad precedent (which it has clearly turned out to be) and would be bad for the country. Unlike Ford, Jimmy Carter wasn't very easy-going or personable, so there were times when their friendship would get a little frayed. Ford once told a friend, "Well, you know Jimmy. He can be a real pain in the ass, but we get along."

Eventually, they promised one another that they would deliver the eulogy if the other former President died first. President Ford died first, on December 26, 2006, and Carter attended every event during the several days of ceremonies, from Ford's lying in state at the U.S. Capitol, to the national funeral service at the Washington National Cathedral, and traveled with Ford's family and the former President's remains to Ford's hometown of Grand Rapids, Michigan. At the church service in Grand Rapids, Carter delivered his eulogy, and also attended the private interment service when Ford was buried as at his Presidential Library. In his eulogy, Carter repeated the gracious first words he had said when delivering his Inaugural Address on the day he took over the White House from Ford in 1977, "For myself and for my nation, I want to thank my predecessor for all he has done to heal our land." It was a remarkable relationship between two former Presidents who, again, genuinely disliked one another for quite some time.