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#old tramcar
trainmaniac · 2 years
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LT tram No. 2045 (ex Walthamstow 54) @ old Town Hall, Greenwich by Frederick McLean Via Flickr: An old photograph of London Transport (LT) E/1 class tram No. 2045 running off conduit and showing '40 - Savoy St Strand via Kennington & Westr' destination blinds. The car is on Greenwich High Road, with the old Greenwich Town Hall (now Meridian House and converted to flats) on the right, just beyond the building is Royal Hill. Modern day google street view:- www.google.com/maps/@51.4784117,-0.0112994,3a,75y,102.69h... Old/new overhead side by side map view:- maps.nls.uk/geo/explore/side-by-side/#zoom=18&lat=51.... The photo reverse is stamped with the photographer and/or negative owner name W. J. Haynes. No. 2045 was ex Walthamstow Corporation Tramways (WCT) car No. 54 built in 1927 by Hurst Nelson seating 27/42 and running on Heenan & Froude (LCC class 4A) maximum traction swing-bolster type trucks. It had a truck mounted plough carrier plus two trolley poles from new. In 1933 its ownership transferred to the London Passenger Transport Board (LPTB) and in Jan 1935 it had driver screens/vestibules fitted. In Feb 1952 it was withdrawn from service and sent to Penhall Road Depot to be disposed of (broken up or sold), the parts of the London tramways system that had not already been withdrawn or transferred to trolleybus/bus operation closing in July of the same year. If there are any errors in the above description please let me know. Thanks. 📷 Any photograph I post on Flickr is an original in my possession, nothing is ever copied/downloaded from another location. 📷 -------------------------------------------------
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old-transport · 11 months
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Leeds 'Austerity' tram No. 275 @ Half Mile Ln.
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Leeds 'Austerity' tram No. 275 @ Half Mile Ln. by Frederick McLean Via Flickr: An old photograph taken in Half Mile Lane, of Leeds City Tramways (LCT) 'Austerity' car No. 275 showing a 'Corn Exchange' destination blind. The photo reverse is stamped with the photographer and/or negative owner name Robert F. Mack (Bob Mack). No 275 is interesting as it started off as car No. 104 and was the first of the 'Austerity cars'. The number 104 was originally on a Chamberlain car which was destroyed by fire in Jul 1942, a 'new' tram was built by LCT using recondition parts (traction motors, gears, wheels & axles) from the remains, and stock or scrap wood, metalwork, fittings, parts, seats, etc., being built in war time materials shortages were common. The new 104 seated 26/40, ran on a second hand Brush P35 truck, and was based in Bramley Depot where it first ran in service Dec 1943. It was renumbered 275 in Aug 1948, moved to Swinegate when Bramley closed in 1949, was withdrawn from service Sep 1957, and the following month was burnt at Lowfields Road Permanent Way Yard. The parts of the Leeds tramways systems that had not already been withdrawn or transferred to bus operation closed in Nov 1959. If there are any errors in the above description please let me know. Thanks. 📷 Any photograph I post on Flickr is an original in my possession, nothing is ever copied/downloaded from another location. 📷 ----------------------------------------------
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scotianostra · 2 years
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Rothesay tram No. 3 at Ettrick Bay
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Rothesay tram No. 3 at Ettrick Bay by Frederick McLean Via Flickr: An old photograph of Rothesay and Ettrick Bay Light Railway car No. 3 at Ettrick Bay on the Isle of Bute, Scotland. The photo reverse is stamped as it having been taken by (and/or the original neg is owned by) C. Carter. No. 3 was built in 1902 by the Electric Railway and Tramway Carriage Works Ltd. seating 32+18 (32 on its crossbench seats and 9 in each of the two end saloons) and running on Brill 22E reversed maximum traction bogies. From 1901 (electrified in 1902) until 1914 the tramway was owned by British Electric Traction, and from 1914 until the tramway closure in Sep 1936 it was controlled by the Scottish General Transport Co. who from 1932 had a name change to the Western Scottish Motor Traction Co. 📷 Any photograph I post on Flickr is an original in my possession, nothing is ever copied/downloaded from another location. 📷 ------------------------------------------------- If there are any errors in the above description please let me know. Thanks. Any photograph, ephemera, etc I post on Flickr is in my possession, nothing is copied from another location. The original photographer may have taken copies from their original negative and passed them out (sold them?) so there may be other copies out there of your (and my) 'original' transport photo, although occasionally there may be 'holiday snaps' type photos where there are not any other photos exactly the same in existence. If you wish to use this image (bearing in mind it may not be my copyright) or obtain a full size version (most of my uploads are small size) please contact me.
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rexxdjarin · 11 months
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Unwritten
The Captain’s Log Prequel
A Captain Rex x OC: Mari Vontas Origin Story
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Chapter 3: Collisions of Fate
Series Summary: Mari Vontas has spent nearly twenty years of her life rising to the surface of the bustling ecumenopolis of the Republic Capital planet of Coruscant. Now, about a year into the conflict known galaxy-wide as the Clone Wars, Mari finds herself on a Civilian Rights Committee serving closely under none other than Senator Padmé Amidala. Though her passion for justice fuels her professionally, her personal life has yet to catch up. That is, until a night at the clone bar 79s changes her passion for her job, her historically rocky love life and the trajectory of her destiny forever.
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Pairing: Captain Rex x OC Mari Vontas Word Count: 15.4k Series Rating: Explicit (18+ only, Minors DO NOT INTERACT) Chapter Summary: Mari grapples with an exceptionally upsetting waiting game, a colossal new task at work and the idea that fate is often pre-determined. You never know what might hit you and when, but you’ll definitely know when it does. Chapter Warnings: 18+ Explicit, NSFW, P in V Sex, Oral Sex (M Receiving), Anxiety and Overthinking, Slight struggles with self-worth, Miscommunication, Language, Political References, References to Canon Plot, References to Canon, Mentions of the Ethics of War, References to Violence and Injuries
There was no caf in the galaxy strong enough to shake the exhaustion from Mari’s body. The warm cup she held firmly in her jittery hand certainly wasn’t doing the trick. Her hands shook as she tried to wake up, and her puffy eyes stung with every blink. She’d done her best to pull herself together to look presentable for work after a long weekend of sulking around her apartment.
It had been a long time since she’d been this upset over a guy. In all her years of dating, casual flings, and one-night stands, no man had ever gotten to her like this. She could’ve sworn she’d felt something different about him.
As she stepped inside the tram and took her seat, she leaned her head on the fogged window and tucked herself in for the ride to work. Normally, the ride took mere minutes, but, like everything else in her life at present, today there was a hiccup slowing everything down. A speeder had crashed through the tramline on her usual route forcing her to take the long way around. The route took her right over the top of the downtown levels in the nightlife district—past the last place she wanted to think about.
As if her morning wasn’t already going poorly enough, she closed her eyes just as the infamous neon sign blinked into view and the tram sped past the very spot she last saw him on the platform. 
This tram line was noisier and more packed than her usual one. Parents of all species were corralling little ones into their seats as they rode to school, slickly dressed banking representatives talked loudly into their comms about credit exchange rates, and a group of Dugs danced and writhed along the handrails to earn a few spare credits for entry into the podracing circuit. She usually hated busy tramcars–the extra few minutes she could close her eyes and rest on her route did wonders for her alertness at work. Today, she was grateful the ruckus could at least drown out her thoughts.
Pathetically, she’d cried a good majority of the weekend away. She hated feeling like she’d made a fool of herself in front of all those clones. They probably thought he’d taken her home and had his way with her. To his brothers, he looked like the man, and she looked unsavory at most. That hurt and made her stomach churn. 
She thought he was a better man than that, but maybe her intuition was weakening now that she’d spent over a year in her cushy job. The old Mari—who spent days out at clubs and partying with friends—would’ve been able to get a better read on him.
She’d tried reasoning with herself that maybe something had happened. He was a clone captain after all. He had a job to do and was called away for something important. It wasn’t personal. Yet, she knew of plenty of troopers who found the time to make an effort if it mattered that much to them. Maybe to him, she didn’t. 
The bitter sting of not meaning anything to anyone was what had gotten her so upset. She knew that feeling all too well, and she certainly hadn’t anticipated him being the kind of guy who would make that feeling rise in her again. She might be a confident girl with her life together now, but some wounds took longer to heal and she thought a soldier would understand that.
She was all cried out by the end of the weekend and she was not about to let herself fall apart again on a public Coruscanti tram. 
Mari had wanted to talk to Fox more than anything, but her calls to him went unanswered. She figured he was probably busy roughing up some thugs during typical security or reconnaissance patrol shenanigans on the underworld levels. The thought of that was the first thing to make her smile all weekend and she knew he’d get a kick out of hearing that. 
Fox liked to talk about the highlights of his days to decompress after exhausting assignments, reiterating tales of his well-trained troops’ battle humor and the punks he and the Corries busted. Mari loved watching the way his eyes lit up when someone cared enough to listen to him.
Rex’s eyes lit up the same way when they talked and flirted that night. She liked the way a real smile looked on any clone, but especially on him. His dark eyes twinkled and his lips quirked into an appreciative little smirk when listening to her and it gave her butterflies in her stomach so strong she could feel them even now. 
Although she was pissed about being stood up, she still hoped he was alright. She could look up his status report in the Republic data files when she got to work and pester Fox for whatever information she couldn’t find. She’d feel better about being upset at him if she at least knew he was alive.
As the tram finally rolled to a screeching halt at the stop located on the opposite side of the domed Senate Building, Mari let her feet guide her into the bustling crowd and drifted back into her thoughts. Maybe she had truly imagined the whole thing or severely misinterpreted Rex’s intentions. Maybe the interaction was nothing more than some drunken flirting. Maybe he was just another shitty guy in her long list of shitty guys hoping they could score, but when the alcohol-fueled haze lifted they forgot all about her.
Her heart told her that Rex wasn’t that kind of man. He couldn’t be—not when he held and kissed her like that, gazing at her like he was seeing the stars of hyperspace for the first time. But her quick-witted, traumatized mind told the soft yearning in her heart to quiet down. Hope was a dangerous thing for her sensitive little soul to have and if she didn’t fight every day to protect herself who would?
Mari had mindlessly walked all the way to the lift, scanning her badge to select her floor. Her chest ached as she watched who she was pretty sure was Commander Thorn and some shiny new Corrie trainees checking clearance badges at the security entrance to the ground level. The lift doors slid closed just before he could notice she was there and rocketed her up to her office. She was actually thankful for the start of the work week because she could spend time in the one place that didn’t remind her of Rex. 
As soon as she stepped into her office, she was greeted by every member of her team already hard at work at their desks. Senator Amidala had a flexible work policy, so it was very rare that everyone was at work at the same time. The entire office being filled with bustling senate staff meant only one thing: there was an event happening. Mari sighed deeply, not exactly thrilled about the prospect of having to put on a professional smile while her personal life was being flipped on its head.
She made her way over to her desk and noticed her datapad blinking with unread transmissions and overdue reports. Yeah, something is definitely going on. In her subdued state and rush to get to work, her caf had gotten cold and she reminded herself to make a fresh one before settling in to find out what the big to-do was. Just as she was about to sit down and type her code digits into her datapad, Padmé’s office doors wooshed open.
“Oh good. You’re here, Mari. Thank the stars!” Padmé smiled so wide her eyes crinkled into little sparkling half-moon shapes. “I have a sizable favor to ask of you and I’ll be more than grateful for your help.” She made her way over to sit in the chair on the other side of Mari’s desk and folded her hands onto her lap.
She looked happier than she had in quite some time like some large weight of worry had been lifted off of her petite shoulders. All the light in the galaxy seemed to gravitate toward her and she glowed with the kind of radiant positivity that made people want to follow her. 
“Yes, of course, Padmé. What can I do?” Mari replied, shoving her own personal turmoil further inside herself. Her anger at her dream man’s inaction would have to be dealt with some other time. This may be the type of distraction she needed after all.
“Well, as you might now be aware, my Jedi friends have returned from a few dangerous missions and they bring news about a need for relief supplies in the systems of the inner rim. They finally have the chancellor’s buy-in, but…” Padmé stopped, hesitantly looking up at Mari with an unanswered question likely coming next.
Mari had a sneaking suspicion that whatever she was about to disclose meant mountains worth of work for her to do in the coming days, which was not exactly what she had in mind when she thought work would be a welcome distraction after this weekend’s disappointment. 
“Well?” Mari giggled. “You’re going to ask me to make the impossible happen, aren’t you?”
Padmé smiled and looked down at her hands in her lap, her slender fingers fidgeting with the little white necklace she often wore. “You know me too well, Mari. I am sorry to ask this of you, but the chancellor suggested we hold a charity gala by week’s end in order to raise funding for relief supplies. We’ll need someone to organize much of the event and I trust no one more than you to handle something this important for me.”
The lightness Padmé seemed to exude was nothing short of infectious, and Mari was powerless to resist. Letting out a silent sigh, she agreed. “I will start making some holocalls. You’ll get the guest list to me as soon as possible, right?” Mari begrudgingly swiped up on her datapad to start researching catering menus from the senate kitchen droids as Padmé, utterly beaming, got up from her seat and turned to leave for her next meeting.
“Of course, already on it. Everyone who is here today is making calls to potential donors and celebrities to invite them personally. You’ll have a rough number of attendees by the end of the rotation. I cannot thank you enough, Mari. I don’t know how I would ever do this without you.” She trailed off as she rounded the corner and down the hallway out of sight.
Mari massaged her temples with the pads of her fingers and winced at the thought of all the transmissions she’d have to send in the next rotation in order to make this happen. It would be exhausting work on top of an already emotionally draining last weekend, but it was Padmé asking and it was for the greater good. She couldn’t say no even if she wanted to. Besides, she knew from experience just how helpful supplies and rations from kind, selfless supporters were for those who were suffering in this war.
She groaned softly to herself, taking an apprehensive look at her to-do list for the week and blocking out time for nothing else but this project. Weekly lunches with Siviee and her usual walks around the Senate District levels in the mid-afternoon would have to be cut from her schedule. At least there wouldn’t be any time to think about Rex.
Yet, as the hours went by and her fingers cramped from sending hundreds of transmission orders all over the holonet and senate private network, thinking about Rex was all she did–his day-to-day training, the way he studied her intently as she told him about herself, his slight side smirk whenever she did anything to amuse him, she could not get his buzzed blonde hair and those mesmerizing brown eyes out of her mind. Her stomach fluttered as she reminisced about his hands on her waist, his tongue sliding with hers as their centers brushed heated friction against each other.
She couldn’t deny how incredible her body had felt against his, no matter how much he’d wounded her heart. She hated that he’d affected her like this, especially if he didn’t care enough to reach out again, but she could barely think straight from the pressure building between her thighs.
It couldn’t hurt to check on him, right? 
Taking a brief break from her hectic typing, Mari found herself scouring the Republic records for any mention of his current status. She couldn’t remember his clone birth number, so she took to searching the holonet for articles about the 501st. Most just mentioned General Skywalker and his padawan, Ahsoka Tano, with no clone trooper names or numbers even discussed. Although, there was nothing in any of the holonet reports about tragedies occurring for that specific clone legion, which made her both hopeful that everything was fine and angry that it gave him no excuse not to call her.
It was nearing midday when Mari realized she had completely forgotten about her miserable excuse for a cup of caf sitting on her desk. She picked up the cup and swirled the cold liquid around, feeling her disgust for her entire situation boiling up in her all over again. 
With her anger bubbling up inside, a month's worth of preparation work on her plate, and a stale cup of caf in her hands, Mari shoved herself out of her chair and onto her feet, watching her coworkers militantly executing every holocall, and made her way to the wing of the Senate Dome occupied by the Corries. She snorted as she walked past them. Most of them had never known struggle and had never gone without necessities in their entire cushy lives–not like Mari had.
Growing up an orphan on the lower levels of Coruscant had its difficulties. Although she and Siviee had lived in the same support home for underprivileged life forms, they had rejected much of the help they were freely given purely out of spite. Neither of them wanted anything if it meant they had to accept handouts from people who helped others just to make themselves look better. Granted, they weren’t growing up on a battlefield during a galaxy-wide war like most were now. Still, the less time she had to spend around her coworkers that were only there to appease their rich families’ publicists the better.
Her head was swimming and all she wanted was to sit in her friend’s office and blow off steam. She marched down the corridor past the busy staff of other senators and senate guards escorting visitors around the maze of hallways. She could feel herself getting angrier as she remembered all the time she’d wasted waiting by her datapad all weekend.
Gods, I feel like such an idiot, she thought. She should’ve known she was just another guy’s fun little night out. She never meant as much to them as she wanted to, no matter how much her feelings made her hope otherwise. She huffed bitterly, holding back the steaming tears of anger as they welled up in her lash line.
She approached Fox’s door, punching in the passcode and bursting into the room without her usual announcement of her arrival or even so much as a courtesy knock to warn him first.
“You stupid men are all the fucking same, you know? Nat-born, clone, doesn’t matter. You all exceed in treating me like shit!” Mari shouted angrily, stomping closer to his desk and watching Fox’s graying temples emerge slowly as he turned his chair around to face her.
His heavy scowl raised in surprise at the sight of her roused and angry like a feral tooka. He held up his hands in mock surrender and scoffed jokingly, “Wayii… what the hell has gotten into you?”
He’d barely gotten the words out before she slammed her fists on his desk, her words tumbling out with the flood of emotion she’d been repressing. “Inconsiderate, that’s what it is. You don’t just talk to a girl all night at 79’s in front of your entire battalion and then never fucking call again. Like, who the ever-loving Sith hells does he think he is? I might know how to seduce a man, but I am not a piece of meat. I have feelings, and I don’t like to be toyed with, and–”
Fox jumped from his desk, realizing that she wasn’t joking, and moved swiftly to diffuse her like a triggered bomb. His large gloved hands caught her upper arms and he crouched closer to her eye level. In the deepest, most level tone he could muster, he spoke again, “Mari… hey… Mari, it’s alright. Take a breath.” He guided her closer, instructing her to match her breathing with his own. “Breathe with me. Then tell me what happened, alright? I can’t help you if I can’t understand you, ok?”
She could feel herself shaking, her body returning to the same state of breakdown she’d been in all weekend. She closed her eyes and listened to his breathing, grounding herself in the feeling of his firm, comforting hands. When she finally opened her eyes again, she was met with the same brown eyes she’d longed to see again but in the face of a completely different man. The sight of them brought the tears back, welling up much faster now and screwing her face tighter in anguish.
She shrank down into herself, the boiling conflagration she was mere moments ago now simmered down to embers. “I met someone,” she muttered softly. “Someone who made me feel something I never had before. Someone kind, noble… so different than every man I’ve ever met. It just felt special and meaningful, you know? And he said he’d call, but he never did.” She sniffled and felt a tear cool on her cheek, looking down at her feet where she stood uncomfortably in front of Fox.
He stiffened and worked his jaw in enmity. Anyone who dared to purposefully hurt one of his dearest friends would feel his wrath. “Give me his name and I’ll take care of it, Mari,” he offered, trying to maneuver to look at her face, but she couldn’t bring herself to look up again.
“You can’t, Fox. I mean… I-I can’t ask you to do that,” Mari groaned regrettably, shifting her weight between her feet as she skirted the inevitable truth.
“Oh, trust me, I’m not doing it because you’re asking. I’ve got to teach someone a lesson for my own peace of mind,” Fox chuckled darkly, moving to bring her closer and encircling her in a tight hug. He tucked her much smaller frame into his chest and rested his chin on top of her head, embracing her protectively as she finally relaxed into him. “So, I’ll ask you again. Name?”
Mari let a few beats go by as she accepted the embrace, prolonging the awkward conversation she knew she’d have to have the second she revealed it. Besides, some comfort from one of her closest friends was all she really wanted. She’d take as much of that from Fox as he was willing to give before he jumped into marshal commander problem-solving mode.
She let out a deep breath she didn’t know she’d been holding and mumbled into Fox’s chest. “It was your brother. Rex.”
Suddenly, Fox froze for a split second and backed her up, looking at her wide-eyed in utter disbelief and confusion. Mari finally met his gaze again and blinked up at him innocently. “I’m sorry, did you say, Rex?” Fox repeated, dipping his head closer to her as if he hadn’t heard her properly.
“Yes. Blond hair buzzed real short, blue jaig eyes on his helmet. The… the kindest brown eyes,” Mari recalled, running her trembling fingers along her bottom lip and letting out a dreamy sigh. “Really… really good kisser.”
Fox groaned in mock disgust, rubbing his tired eyes, “Alright, alright I get it. I just can’t believe this entire time we’ve been talking about my little brother.” He backed up into his desk and sat casually on its edge, folding his burly arms across his chest as he worked to process everything. “Spill. Everything. Tell me from start to finish what happened. There’s gotta be an explanation.”
Mari slowly sat down in the chair behind her and hugged her arms to her chest. “I went out with the girls to 79’s. Siv was bartending, so we got drinks on the house. The 501st was back planetside for the first time in a while, I think, and well… I was just drawn to him. We talked and flirted and kissed a little.”
“That’s all? I’ve heard much worse from you,” Fox chimed in, chuckling to himself but earning an irritated glare from Mari in response. “Sorry, go on.”
“We were just about to find a way home together when he got called in. And he promised he’d call me, so we could see each other again, but then the whole weekend went by and he never did. Still hasn’t.” Mari shook her head in disappointment, feeling suddenly stupid for having such hope for someone she’d only spent a few hours with. “I know it sounds stupid, Fox. I know. You can make fun of me. But with him I just… I really thought I felt something this time. That, for once, maybe he did, too.”
Fox let out a deep breath and bent down to her eye level. “Mari, I know Rex. He’s not the type to, well… he’s not your usual type, no offense. He’s a good man. Probably one of our best. If you haven’t heard from him, something must’ve happened. He’d never leave anyone high and dry. That’s not his way.”
“Well, I figured I could come here and have you check on him. You have military clearance that I don’t. Plus, I can’t remember his birth number. That’s the only way someone from the senate can locate a clone.” Mari grimaced, letting her shoulders fall somewhat hopelessly. She muttered softly, “I haven’t cared this much about someone in a long time… maybe ever.”
Fox hummed deeply, reaching over his desk for his datapad and shifting into the chair beside her. He tapped a few buttons and studied Mari’s face for a moment while the information loaded, reaching over and brushing a tear track from her cheek. “I can see that. You don’t come in here ranting and raving about just any guy you’ve victimized,” he joked lightheartedly, doing his best to make her feel better.
Mari laughed gently, rolling her eyes at him expectedly. Not many people realized just how snarky and cheeky Fox could be, and it warmed her to know that she was one of the few he let his guard down with.
“Fox, I come in here ranting and raving all the time. That’s kind of our thing.” She waved her hand and shrugged, “Though, usually you have caf for me.”
“Hey, had I known you were coming I could’ve made you one. Instead, you just burst in here. Didn’t even knock. What if I had company?” Fox argued playfully, raising his brows suggestively.
Mari actually laughed this time, “Oh please, when’s the last time that happened?”
Fox tapped his comm a few times to signal something and then narrowed his gaze, a smirk slipping onto his scarred lips, “Gentleman never tells.” 
His blast doors opened mere moments later and a pair of shinies walked in with two fresh cups of caf, handing both to their commander and saluting formally. “At ease, boys. Thank you. You’re dismissed for the day.” 
They both rushed out an excited “Thank you, sir,” before practically tripping over each other to leave the room.
Mari smiled for the first time all day at the gesture and carefully took the cup from his hand. “Thank you, Fox. I guess you do have your moments.” Before Fox could form a reply, his datapad beeped to signal his search was complete and he quickly opened up the file he requested.
“Right, so… Captain Rex, CT-7567, his birth number by the way. You might want to jot them down so you can remember, Miss Nosy.” He pointed to her holocomm and continued reading. “Nothing out of the ordinary that I can see here. I do see he’s been on an assignment the last few rotations for a mission off-world, so it’s not like he was intentionally avoiding you.”
Mari took a long swig of the steaming hot caf, letting it warm her to her bones and settling her nerves a bit. Fox had even remembered to have the shinies add cream and sugar to it for her. “I guess so. Still not a great excuse, but at least nothing’s happened to him. Can you keep tabs and let me know if anything changes?”
Fox smiled, taking a sip of his caf and smacking his lips. “Sure. I’ll let you know when he’s planetside again. However, if he doesn’t tell you himself first, rest assured that I will kick his ass. It’s been a while since I’ve made him eat the mats.” 
He set down his datapad and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “But, hey, I’d like it to go on record that this is the first guy I actually like for you, and I’m not just saying that because he’s got my good looks. Give him some time to explain himself before you go all rhydonium explosive on him. I’m sure he’ll make things right. He always does.”
“Thank you, Fox, for putting up with me and for caring.” Mari grinned at him, Fox’s approval wasn’t a requirement by any means, but it was appreciated after all she’d been through with men. He had seen her at her worst and had done his best to look out for her whenever he could. She didn’t usually listen to him, as following her feminine desires always came first, but she was grateful for his support.
It made her think twice about her anger, though. If Fox approved of her choice and everything he was saying about Rex was true, he might be the one man worth giving a second chance to. Although Rex had seemingly done a lot already to severely jeopardize his chances with her, maybe this was the one time Mari would follow her heart instead of her head. She could be mad at him and let him work overtime to prove himself and earn her trust. Hell, they’d barely even gotten a first date.
The rest of the week went by in a snap. Mari spent every waking second working to carry out the seemingly impossible task of preparing an entire charity gala on a moment's notice. She had been able to nail down nearly every aspect of the event, from the food and refreshments down to the holonet reporters on the crimson carpet that would publicize the event. 
The only task on her list left unchecked was assigning the clone security team, which she couldn’t bring herself to look at right away. She had hoped with all her power that Fox and the Corries would be the chosen forces. It was the logical choice being that they were already stationed within the Senate Building. Yet, the final decision rested with Padmé, and the second that General Anakin Skywalker himself walked through her office door, Mari knew there was no way he’d allow anyone but his men to take the assignment. Even though she still hadn’t heard from him, it seemed she wouldn’t be able to avoid Rex forever.
When she received the notice that the 501st was indeed taking up the security detail assignment, she found herself rummaging through her closet for a dress that would make her look irresistible. The form-fitting satin in sparkling sapphire blue was sure to capture his attention and this time she wanted to make sure that he was the one left alone on the platform desperate for more.
Her head screamed at her to roll her eyes and treat him with the same evasion he’d shown her, but her heart leapt out of her chest at the news allowing those butterflies she’d felt for him to swoop in, in its place. Mari decided she owed it to that little flutter in her chest to follow that feeling as far as it would take her. She hoped that would be into his arms or bed, whichever presented itself first.
–-
The crowded hallways of the Senate Building swelled around Mari as she made her way to her office. Everything had been transformed with glitzy decorations. If she hadn’t planned every minute detail herself, she never would’ve recognized that this was the same place she came to work every day. Giving herself due credit, she admitted it was not a bad job for having only four rotations of planning time.
She checked her reflection in a transparisteel art piece hanging on the wall outside Padmé’s office, smoothing out any wrinkles in her dress and reapplying lipstick to the plush of her cupid’s bow. She had to look absolutely flawless. Both because it would be political suicide if she didn’t and because she’d already seen dozens of 501st troopers patrolling the halls. She had to be impossible to miss for the captain she’d dreamt about and cried over all week.
Her dark curls swept over the glowing tan of her shoulders and her long, dark lashes drew in the admiration of nearly every man she passed by. A few of the troopers had even stopped to watch her pass, knowing full well they weren’t supposed to. She was knocking them out plenty already. All she had to do now was find her intended target.
She held her small clutch purse close to her as she entered Padmé’s office, finding her boss and her Jedi security detail already inside. A shining copper protocol droid promptly nodded at her and offered a tray of glowing gold champagne. She accepted it carefully, taking a small sip as her boss waved her over excitedly.
“Mari! Welcome, welcome!” Padmé called, rushing toward her in an elegant, backless purple gown and hugging her close. “Stars, you look gorgeous in this,” she complimented, backing up to take in the full look.
“Thank you, Padmé.” Mari spun around slowly, stopping for a mock pose and laughing. “So do you. What kind of magic is holding that dress up?” she pointed out, noticing the lack of straps or even lines of underwire keeping everything in place.
“Force willing, I’ll duratape it up if I have to,” General Skywalker joked, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms as he inched closer. He’d been keeping a protective and cautious eye on the senator since Mari had walked into the room. She’d never seen a Jedi take their mundane security job this literally.
“Oh hush, Master Jedi. It’ll stay just fine. Plus, you’d never let anyone get too close anyway, right?” Padmé argued playfully, winking at Mari as the general huffed his tentative agreement beside her.
He narrowed his eyes at her as if this was continuing an earlier conversation that Mari wasn’t privy to. “Right. Well, uhm, I’m Anakin Skywalker. We’ve never actually met, but I’ve passed your desk lots of times. Mari, right?” He reached out a hand, the argumentative energy between himself and Padmé dissipating as he greeted Mari instead.
“Yes, I am Mari Vontas… but I know who you are. You steal all our visitor’s passes and never bring them back,” Mari teased, tipping her glass at him in jest and laughing. “Padmé talks about you all the time.”
General Skywalker smiled courteously, like he was truly pleased to hear that, and tapped a few buttons on his comm. “You know how it is with old friends.” He looked between both Mari and Padmé and opened his comm channel as it clicked on. “Lots of history. If you’ll excuse me, ladies, duty calls.” He nodded, brushing past the two of them carefully to answer his holocomm.
“So how are things going so far?” Mari asked, surveying the room and finding everything going exactly as planned. The droid servers were offering drinks and hors d’oeuvres to guests popping into the senator’s office before heading off toward the banquet room down the hall, and clone troopers dotted the hallway to monitor and guide the crowd. She was impressed by the intricate strategy and discipline of these boys. If she ever managed to locate Rex, she’d make it a priority to thank him for being so efficient on such short notice after stunning him into silence.
“Very well,” Padmé confirmed, sipping her drink as she pulled a flimsi with her speech notes from her desk. “The general and his Padawan are handling everything. Should be all set to make a quick toast to the VIP attendees in just a little while, and Captain Rex is doing a great job with patrols as usual.”
“Have you seen him yet?” Mari asked hesitantly, trying to be as innocuous as possible. Her eyes scanned over the plastoid buckets of every trooper she watched walk by, secretly hoping one of them was him.
Padmé smirked, noticing the unusual apprehension from her notoriously confident assistant, “Yes. He was here earlier. I didn’t know you knew him.” She cocked her head, trying to get a read on Mari.
Mari shrugged cooly, trying to play off her interest in him, and took another sip of her drink. She wiped her lipstick off the rim and spoke as matter-of-factly as possible, “I don’t. Not really. But I’d like to.” Her eyes went wide as she realized how the unfortunate choice of words made her look and Padmé did not let it go unnoticed.  Mari stumbled in an attempt to disguise her obvious interest. “You know, t-to thank him for this. For all this. They’re doing great. I agree.”
Padmé giggled, “Well, Mari, a girl doesn’t put on a dress like that for no reason. He is quite handsome and I know him very well. I could put in a good word for you. Unless of course there’s more to this story. ” She smirked, stepping closer to keep their conversation more private. “I always thought there was something going on with you and Commander Fox, personally.”
Mari shook her head, looking around the room once to make sure any clones were out of earshot before whispering. “No, nothing with Fox. He and I are just really good friends. There is a lot more to the story, but I don’t think now’s a good time.”
Before Padmé could answer, a soft alarm chimed signaling the time for her evening toast. She patted Mari on the shoulder and nodded her head. “Find me later. I want to hear everything.” With that, she lifted her drink and stepped to the front of the small platform her desk sat on.
Mari moved off to the side, quietly greeting both Bail Organa and Mon Mothma with a smile as they emerged from the crowd. As Padmé began her speech, Mari let her mind wander, watching the faces of some of the most affluent and powerful people on the planet absorb her boss’ words. 
Tonight would be a make-or-break moment. If she saw Rex again then it was because she was meant to and if not, she’d move on with her life like nothing ever happened. There were other men out there and Mari wasn’t going to lose any more sleep over someone who wouldn’t make an effort. As much as she appreciated Padmé, she didn’t necessarily want anyone else to have to force something to happen between her and Rex. She was special enough that he should want to find her on his own.
As soon as she pondered that thought, her gaze was drawn to a pair of unmistakable eyes. Blue jaig eyes carefully painted on a white plastoid bucket. Finally. she thought as her heart leapt into her throat. 
He stood with his arms locked behind his back and legs shoulder width apart as he surveyed the room beside a small, teenage Togruta in all maroon with a silver lightsaber attached at her hip. His Jedi commander is a Padawan. Mari smirked to herself as she imagined how spunky, confident, and probably bossy she would have been if she got to be in charge of so many warriors at that tender age.
She took in the sight of him for the first time in more than six rotations. All the emotions she’d felt for him came flooding back, and she couldn’t believe she’d thought about moving on for a single second. His shoulders were so broad it was intoxicating and all she could think about was how they had felt under her palms as she’d ridden his lap torturously in the bar. She could practically feel his strong thighs flexing as they held her weight on top of them with ease and his trim waist between her legs as she wrapped them around him.
Gods he is beautiful. What a man. she thought to herself, trying to keep from pouncing on him from her place on the small platform. More than anything she wished he’d take that damn helmet off so she could see his crooked little grin and the burnt umber warmth in his brown eyes that she’d fantasized about. She wanted to see his face desperately and for him to see hers.
“I want to thank my incredible junior senate assistant, Miss Mariella Vontas, for helping organize this wonderful event tonight. Mari, we couldn’t have done this without you.” 
Padmé calling her name tore her from her dream state and she looked around in surprise as every sentient life form in the room had their eyes on her. She smiled graciously, bowing her head as she took a look around the room, raising her champagne flute humbly at being so publicly recognized for her efforts. When she turned back to look for her helmeted heartthrob, she was no longer met with the darkened visor set in his white helmet. Now her seductive gaze locked with his, eyes opened wide in utter shock and awe at her standing before him once again.
It felt like someone set off a seismic charge inside her. She blocked out all sound apart from the thumping in her chest rapidly increasing. Her heart raced with excitement and adrenaline pumped through every last vein as she could feel his desire for her burning into her very soul. 
He stared at her with a dopey grin on his face and she smiled at how endearing it was for a man that incredible to be so awe-struck by just a regular girl like her. She had to find a way to get him alone, so they could talk about whatever this was. If she had to yell at him for waiting so long, she would. If she had to talk to his general to get him excused from duty for the night, she would. She was ready to confront every obstacle just to have him in her orbit once more.
Maybe he didn’t know who she worked for or that she was going to be here, but it was like every planet aligned to bring him here before her. However, she was prepared to make him work for her attention this time. She could still feel the bitter sting of anger from the supposed rejection, but she was glad fate brought them together again. She’d never been more sure that her heart was right, no matter what logic and reason told her.
She could hear Fox’s words in her head. Give him time to explain himself. He’ll make things right. He always does. She was ready for a man who would prove himself to her and who wouldn’t fail to be everything she wanted.
With her drink in hand and unbelievable confidence in the sway of her hips, she stepped into the crowd, heading for the door and hoping to all the stars above he’d follow her lead. She made her way to the banquet hall a few doors down, locating her seat at the table along the back wall set aside for the senator’s aides. Luckily, it gave her a perfect view of the entryway and she waited with bated breath for him to follow in her footsteps. Hopefully, he’d find time to quickly talk to her before duty called again.
Sure enough, he practically burst through the doors with the Padawan in tow. His helmet was tucked under his left arm and he turned to speak to the Togruta girl hurriedly, her large blue eyes peeking over his shoulder to stare in Mari’s direction briefly. Mari picked up her flute to take another sip, anxiously trying to find something to do to make her look casual as she waited for him to make his move.
Suddenly, he spun on his heel, marching toward her with purpose that slowly tapered off the closer he got. Mari watched him intently with her siren’s stare, beckoning him closer to her with every blink. She arched her brow at him in mock annoyance and pursed her lips, challenging him to do his absolute best to earn her attention again. 
Just as Rex went to sit in the seat beside her, a few of her colleagues brushed him aside to take their seats, barely acknowledging his presence. Mari glared at them for their rude intrusion, not wanting them to treat any clone like a second-class citizen, even if she was mad at him. Crowds of people flooded into the room and Rex had no other choice but to take his place against the wall behind her.
She spun around in her seat, drink in hand, and glowered at him expectantly. He glanced over at her and nodded politely, the rush of people probably scaring him into silence. Hoping he would overcome his fear, Mari worked her jaw in anger and turned back around, as if to ignore him. Almost sensing his panic prickling up her backside, she heard a gentle hiss from behind her.
“Psst… hey… surprised to see you here, brown eyes,” he whispered, his voice fading behind a crowd of people passing between them to get to their table. Mari leaned back in her chair subtly, brushing her long hair behind her back in order to hear him better.
“Can I help you, trooper?” she shot back, peeking at him over her shoulder and giving him as much attitude as she could muster to signal how much he had upset her.
He sighed deeply, “Mari, c’mon, don’t give me that. I-I’m sorry. I can explain.” He sounded apologetic, but even risking one look at his big, pleading eyes would weaken her resolve way too much. She had to make this at least a little difficult for him. He had to know he couldn’t have her that easily.
“I’m surprised you remember I have a name. I thought since you didn’t call me you might’ve forgotten it,” she jabbed, downing the rest of her drink in one sip and turning around to scowl at him. She tried her best to look angry, especially since she didn’t want to cry in a dress this nice and makeup this perfect.
When she finally made eye contact with him again, she could tell that he saw right through her pout. He saw the pain behind her eyes that no one else usually noticed, sometimes not even Fox. 
His brows knitted together and his lips tightened in anguish, immediately feeling immense guilt for ever hurting her. He stood there studying her, opening his mouth to say something, but failing to find the words to explain himself.
Another small group of people passed between her and Rex, the awkward tension between the two of them building with every second he didn’t respond to her. Mari rolled her eyes and scoffed, “Whatever. Excuse me, CB-18, another drink, please?” She choked down the fluttering in her chest as she called to the copper protocol droid serving drinks at a nearby table, smiling at them graciously as they made their way over.
“Yes, Miss? What would you like?” CB-18 asked pleasantly, offering her a platter filled with frothy, bubbling drinks of every flavor and color imaginable. 
“Champagne is fine. Thank you,” Mari smiled, waiting patiently for the droid to fill up another flute. From behind her, she could just make out the unmistakable sound of armor clattering as he approached, the crowd of people milling about giving him enough cover to go unnoticed.
The droid raised its metal hand to pick the now completely full flute off the tray and leaned down to hand it to Mari. “Here you are, Mistress. Enj–”
Before Mari could accept the drink, someone bumped the protocol droid's arm, sending its entire fluid contents spiraling out of their hand and directly into Mari’s lap. Everything from her chest down was soaked, the liquid bleeding across the threads of blue satin perfectly fitted to her midriff.
“Oh dear, Mistress, I am terribly sorry,” the droid trailed off with their programmed pleasantries. 
Mari completely ignored them to whip around in anger at the person who knocked into them. Of course, it was none other than the captain himself, standing as rigid and stiff as before with his eyes wide in horror at what he’d done.
“I-I can explain! I didn’t mean to… fuck, I’m so sorry,” he stumbled, reaching for a thick, cloth napkin on the table, but Mari moved away from him.
Mari was ready to explode. After everything she’d experienced the weekend before, all she’d done to prepare herself to hopefully see him today, this was what she got? No explanation, no compliments on how she looked, nothing but a half-baked, nervous conversation and champagne dumped down her dress. 
All she wanted to do was run. “Excuse me,” she huffed, tossing her napkin on her table and storming off. As soon as she left the banquet room and entered the much quieter hallway, she groaned loudly in frustration. Hot tears began running down her face before she could even process what she was feeling. 
She marched down the hallway, away from the noise and toward more offices she wasn’t very familiar with. Most of the rooms up here were occupied by those from the other side of the political aisle–those who benefited from and profited off the war, which meant there was no chance any of them would be attending this gala. She could, at the very least, get away to feel sorry for herself in peace.
Further down, she could just make out two helmeted clones patrolling the hall. She didn’t recognize them, but one of them called out to her the second she was within earshot. 
“Hey, I know you! Little minx from the bar… how are you?” 
Something about that velvety tone was so familiar, but she couldn’t exactly place him based on voice alone. He had the patterning of a Rishi eel carefully painted on his helmet and was flanked by a second clone who donned a perfectly crisp arc in blue on his.
“Fives, you di’kut, she’s clearly not in the mood.”
Oh right. Fives. The smooth-talking, handsome, cheeky clone she met sitting at the bartop that weekend. Of course, he was here, too. She rolled her eyes, trying to avert her gaze to walk by without them seeing her tears.
Before she could brush past them, the second clone stepped in front of her, cocking his head as he assessed her body language. “Uhm, sorry for prying, Miss, but are you alright?” he asked gently, removing his bucket with one hand. His eyes, crinkling with lines he was too young to have, teemed with worry as he inspected her. 
She remembered this clone, too. Pacifying his brother and quietly taking control to diffuse the tension of the situation. Echo. His name was Echo. She blinked her tears away as much as she could and smiled meekly up at him. “I’m fine, Echo… it’s just my dress–it’s ruined.”
“You… you remember my name?” he asked quietly with a shy grin, mostly to himself and very clearly not used to anyone outside the battlefront addressing him by name. “What happened?”
“Yeah, tell us who did this to you. They’ve got a very serious ass-kicking coming their way,” Fives snickered, removing his helmet and cracking his knuckles to prepare for the hypothetical fight he was having in his mind.
“That’s gonna be kinda difficult for you,” Mari started with a scoff, looking up at both men doubtfully. Echo shrugged, searching the hallway for the nearest refresher and nodding as he located the closest private one only a few steps away.
“Let’s get you dried off at least,” Echo offered, carefully ushering her forward with a nod, but without touching or pressing her in any way. Fives darted into the refresher and started pulling handfuls of towelettes from the dispenser.
They were both incredibly respectful of her space, to Mari’s surprise. She wasn’t used to being treated so graciously when she was so vulnerable. It allowed her to relax and follow Echo to the fresher door, becoming less bristled by the second.
“Thank you, both. I just–can’t believe he did that,” Mari muttered, her voice quiet as she took a bundle of towels to dab herself off. “I thought you guys were better behaved than that,” she joked sarcastically.
“Wait, what?” Echo’s friendly eyes darkened quickly, turning to Fives for support and finding an equally outraged look on his identical face.
“Which one of our idiot brothers do we have to fight?” Fives practically growled, leaning forward to brush one of Mari’s dark, loose curls away from the wet fabric.
First Fox, now Fives and Echo. I wonder how many ass-kickings Rex will have lined up for him by the end of the night. Mari thought amusedly, remembering how Fox had once told her many disputes between brothers were typically solved with a supervised sparring match, regardless of rank. They had been raised to fight after all.
Mari gulped. “I don’t think you want to know,” she smiled nervously, her eyes catching a figure barreling down the hall from where she just came. Fives caught on before she could say anything else and stepped further out into the hall to stop his CO from coming any closer. 
“What the hell did you do?” Fives challenged bravely, shoving Rex slightly as he pressed him back away from her. 
Rex looked panicked. His shoulders sagged in an unusual admittance of defeat, his expression woefully apologetic, and his brow wrought with worry. It was probably an accident and Mari certainly had succeeded in making him feel bad enough about everything he’d done if he was chasing her down the hallway.
“Easy, Fives. It’s alright. I’m alright,” she said, not wanting them to start a scuffle in the hallway. “Dress is probably ruined though. Not the way I was expecting it to be,” she added under her breath, making Echo smirk knowingly beside her as he caught on.
“Mari, I am so, so sorry. It was an accident. Can I just… I mean, you don’t owe it to me. I’m an idiot… but can you please just let me explain?” Rex rambled from over Fives' shoulder, ripping the towelettes from Fives’ hands and offering them to her.
Mari looked between the three identical men and sighed, “Alright, fine, blondie, but you have a lot to answer for. Can you both give us a minute?” She motioned between herself and the captain and crossed her arms as Rex approached her side. She turned and waved for him to follow, squaring her shoulders and trying to regain the confidence she’d had before. “We’re going to one of these spare offices, ok?” 
He nodded curtly, starting to walk beside her, “You two, stay here at your position. Cover for me. Comm me if there’s an emergency. Got it?”
“Yes, sir,” they replied in unison, straightening up and taking their positions against the hallway walls just outside the office doors. Mari could hear Fives complaining the second he thought they were out of earshot, probably grumbling about how unfair it was that he had to be stuck out here.
She and Rex walked awkwardly inside the unoccupied room, and the few feet they stood apart felt like miles. The office was once utilized by senators from a planet that had since left the Republic to join the Separatists and was left empty until a better use for it could be found. Well, empty except for pieces of spare furniture other senators evidently had no better place for.
Mari propped herself up on the side of one such desk, probably recently placed since it hadn’t accumulated any of the dust coating the rest of the furniture. Rex did the same across from her, just barely leaning on the surface, his body language was screaming his desire to be closer to her again. From their distance apart, Mari finally met his gaze with her big doe-eyes, still glossy with some leftover tears.
“I can only imagine how upset you are with me, and, for the record, I’m not crazy about myself right now either, but I am so fucking sorry. It was an accident, I swear. I was just stepping closer to explain myself and  I must’ve bumped the damn shiny droid. I would never do that to you,” he started, rambling in his attempt to explain himself.
She raised her hand and shushed him. “Rex, that’s not why I’m upset. Though it doesn’t help that you ruined my carefully crafted look.” Mari folded her arms and sighed, “I’m upset because you ignored me for a week. Makes me feel kinda cheap, you know?”
“That’s why I wanted to talk to you.” Rex closed his eyes and unclipped his repaired shoulder pauldron to reveal a sizable blaster burn in the white plastoid of his chestplate. “I got shot in the chest on our last mission. Almost didn’t make it. Spent the last five rotations in medbay with my CMO, Kix. I was pretty out of it for the first few hours. According to him, I wouldn’t shut up about needing to comm you actually.”
Mari’s jaw dropped in surprise, her heavy brows knitting together in shock. All of a sudden, she felt a sizable pang of fear and sheepish regret flood her chest. He hadn’t been avoiding her. He wasn’t trying to hurt her at all. In fact, he was the one who was hurt. He could’ve died while Mari was sulking around her apartment feeling rejected like a baby. 
“Oh, stars above, Rex.” She clutched her hands to her chest and felt guilty about how she acted. “I feel like such an ass.”
He shook his head and laughed, a wry smile drawing across his face. “No, no. It’s fine. I deserve it. I should’ve commed you as soon as I could. I’m sorry if I made you feel like I didn’t care. That’s the farthest thing from true after what I’ve been through this last mission…” he trailed off like he was recalling a past conversation or memory. 
Mari felt herself being drawn into him exactly like she was the night they met, even more so now that she knew he was almost fatally wounded in the field. She gripped the edges of the desk, resisting the urge to run across the room and throw herself on him. She wouldn’t have been able to live with herself if something had happened to him. “Are you… alright now? Nothing a little bacta couldn’t fix right?”
He shrugged, quickly scanning down her body to admire the dress on her before speaking again, “Yeah, but it was awfully close. Thought about you the whole time, you know–how much I would have regretted it if I never got to see your face again. I just can’t believe you’re here. I didn’t know you worked for Senator Amidala, and I really am sorry about your dress, you look incredible.”
Mari shoved herself off the desk and moved a few paces nearer to him to close the gap between them. She had heard enough apologies to know he meant it, and she didn’t have enough willpower to keep herself away from him any longer.  “Oh yes, she’s my boss. I’m on a special interest committee, human rights, activism, etcetera. I planned this whole thing.”
He clutched the edge of the desk he was leaning on and his eyes flicked down to watch the sway of her hips as she sauntered over to him. “You’ve done a pretty good job. My boys working security should keep things running smoothly. Hope they impress you.” 
A few steps closer and she was finally within arm's length of him, and his mouth quickly went dry. She tossed her hair back behind her shoulders and stepped in front of him. Even with all 5 feet 2 inches of her staring up at him, he was still taller than her from his seated position. 
Mari reached out to rest her hand on his bicep and traced it slowly up his arm, “They’re not the ones I want to be impressed by, Captain. I think you owe it to me twice over now.”
Rex’s gaze narrowed in determination, the nervousness melting away from his body as the adrenaline kicked in. He took a few moments to let the building tension thicken in the space between them and studied the features on her face intently–committing her to memory all over again. The corners of his mouth quirked into the little sideways smile that was all his own despite his familiar clone face. “There she is. That’s the little spitfire I remember.”
Her desire for him ignited under his stare. He was focused solely on her, keeping his hands to himself as he let her take the lead. She wanted to tear the armor off of him, to reward him for being so sweet and thoughtful when he was literally mere moments away from certain death. Was there anything more romantic than his admittance that she was who he thought about while he was trying to heal? 
Mari smiled happily and eased forward to settle herself between his parted thighs. She rested both hands on his shoulders and muttered, “I’m so sorry I was being so cold before. I misunderstood everything and I was just trying to protect myself. Not every man is as noble as you.”
Rex swallowed hard, caging her in with one arm around her waist. Carefully, he moved to rest his other palm on her cheek, “It’s alright. You’re kinda cute all pouty. You can be a little bit of a brat, huh?”
Mari bit her bottom lip and grinned, “You have no idea, Captain.” She slowly guided his thumb to her lips and suckled it into her mouth, giving him a teasing look at what she might be willing to do for him very soon. 
He moaned softly, his brows raised in surprise at her boldness. The way her dark eyes peered up at him under her long lashes sent a shot of arousal straight to his cock, but he shook the stunning lewd gesture off to make his own bold move to give her a taste of the tricks up his sleeve.
“I–uh… I mean it when I say I thought about you every day,” he admitted, slipping his thumb from her mouth and tipping her chin up toward him with his knuckle. His touch was slow and delicate, precariously balancing the tension between them like he was walking a tightrope. He leaned in closer, his darkening gaze jumping between the desperation in her big brown eyes and the plush of her parted lips emanating shallow bated breaths. “Every time I closed my eyes, I saw yours.” 
Mari could feel any semblance of composure she had left dissolving under his touch. She hiked her dress up and climbed onto his lap, just like she had at 79’s, and sank down just enough to rest her center on his. She moved her hand up to pull his face closer, but he caught her fingers with his own and entwined them together.
He let out a weighted exhale, clearly affected by the brush of her core, but maintained intoxicating eye contact. 
“I dreamed about having you in my lap again, feeling you all over me.” He glanced down at where her dress had now bunched up and let his tongue wet his lips hungrily, tipping his chin up to brush his nose with hers. He rested his index finger just below her jawline and held her delicately in limbo. “Even if I never saw you again, I didn’t want to forget this….” 
Their souls were set alight as their lips connected. Sparks flew and supernovas formed as raw need exploded between them. 
Mari let his tongue slip inside to dance with hers and she exhaled a mixture of relief and delight. Each time one of them broke for air, the other chased to close the gap between them. Faster and faster they worked until their lips were swollen and their chests heaving. 
“The blue was a nice touch. Looks good on you,” he smirked, running his hands up and down her waist and appreciating both the fabric and her curves.
“I thought it would.” Mari let her gaze darken and ran her hands down the front of his chestplate, leaning toward his ear and muttering seductively, “I think it would look much better off me, though.” 
“Yeah…” he breathed, fumbling for his words as he swallowed nervously. “Y-yeah it would. You really know how to work me, don’t you?” He looked up at her with both desperate need and total reverence.
“Mhm.” She hummed, kissing down his neck and feeling his hands slide lower to fiddle with the exposed hem of her dress. “Get me out of this, Captain. Please.” 
His hands worked fast, peeling the champagne-soaked satin up and helping her guide it over her head. Now she sat naked from the waist up in all her feminine glory, and she mentally thanked herself for her earlier decision to not wear a bra. 
“Fuck,” he gasped, sitting back on the desk and letting his eyes rake over every inch of her. “Not even in my dreams could I have imagined you. Y–you’re so…” He shook his head, struggling to find a word to describe her.
“Hot? Sexy? I’ve heard it all, Rex.” Mari rolled her eyes playfully, looping her arms over his shoulders to pull him close to her again.
“No. Beautiful. I was going to say beautiful, but it still doesn’t feel like a good enough word. Meadows and flowers and waterfalls are beautiful… you are just beyond… anything I’ve ever seen.” He reached for her face again, brushing a loose strand of dark hair behind her ear and pulling her into another deep kiss. “Mesh’la.”
Mari blushed a deeper red than the halls of the Senate Building. She was used to being desired and lusted after, but this was something else. Rex revered her, not as an object of pleasure, but as a lifeform with a heart, a soul, and feelings. 
“Thank you, Rex,” she whispered as she pulled away, holding his ardent gaze with her own. “But don’t think this means I’m not still mad at you,” she scolded playfully, beginning to work at the clasps of his chestplate to remove it from him.
Somewhere deep in Rex’s gut, he could feel the natural craving for companionship growing stronger. With her in his arms, feeling her desire for him, he couldn’t deny himself of it anymore. If he were to ever allow himself to dream of a life beyond duty, she was exactly who he’d want. Imagining a future was a luxury most clones couldn’t afford. It had taken an extreme amount of courage and willpower for him to admit that to himself and for him to even be here before her right now.
His brows raised, surprised that she knew how to take clone armor off. He helped her unclip each piece, shucking it off and letting it clatter to the floor of the storage room. “Oh, you should be mad. Furious even. Flash me that cute little angry pout you do. S’long as you feel something for me, I’m happy,” he chuckled softly. 
The rumble of a deep laugh in his chest made Mari’s core ache with want as the vibrations reverberated through him.
“You’re going to have to work pretty hard to get me to forgive you, blondie.” She walked her fingers slowly down the black fabric straining across his chest and swirled her fingers along the bronzed skin just underneath the seam. Her touch brushed up the trail of little hairs on his abs as she eased his top up agonizingly slowly. She bit her lower lip and moaned softly, “Think you’re up for it?”
“Hmmm… Mari.” He let a gravelly purr leave his chest just as both her palms splayed over his pec muscles on either side. 
She felt the freshly bacta-healed scar on his chest and swallowed down the lump in her throat forming at the thought of her never getting the chance to see him again. A blaster bolt to the chest could’ve killed him and he healed thinking only about the girl he would’ve missed out on. Mari traced it lightly and let her gaze dart up to flick between his eyes and the scar. She wanted to ask him all about what happened, but she’d take her time with him if it still hurt. 
Instead, as if he could feel the apprehensive question in her mind, he pushed her hands down gently and groaned softly, “Let me show you how ready I am.” He slipped his duraweave top over his head and wrapped his arms around her to pull her close. Her breasts pushed into his chest salaciously and he took a noticeable glance down at them before burying his face in her neck.
“Rex…” Mari gasped softly, letting her hands roam over the rippling muscles of his shoulders and admiring the width of him underneath her much smaller hands. She could feel his warm tongue swirling circles at the hollow of her neck, the gentle suckling of his lips dotting her decolletage with deep purple marks. He left a trail of simmering embers on each spot in his fiery wake, setting the passion between them ablaze the further down her torso he went.
“That’s it. Call my name, pretty girl,” he muttered, nuzzling his face into her breasts and tugging at a nipple softly with one hand. “‘S never sounded better.” 
She could feel his smirk against her skin as he cupped and massaged the round plush of her breast in his massive hand. She clung to him, letting him appreciate her naked body while she struggled to remember how to talk or breathe. She nearly forgot everything but the electrifying feeling of him touching her like this where she’d ached to have him for so long. Before she knew it, his hands were at her hips, rocking her slowly but firmly against him like she had in the booth when they first met. 
They both tempted each other, building on the painful friction while hoping the other would snap first. But Mari knew how to crack him. She’d done it dozens of times before. No man could resist her on her knees, not even someone as strong-willed as Rex.
To her own discontent, she slowed her writhing against his wide thigh plate and caught her breath while he shifted uncomfortably beneath her. She could see the fabric of his blacks straining against his codpiece and her mouth watered thinking about what his pretty cock might look like under there. “Awh, poor baby. Was that all ‘cause of me?” she teased, clicking the plastoid off.
He huffed softly, feeling momentary relief at the added room. “Been because of you for a week. Got off so many times thinking about you. Couldn’t get you out of my head.”
“Which one?” Mari giggled suggestively, more than enjoying the effect she had on him. 
Rex groaned in delighted frustration as she palmed him gently, giving her a pointed look and grinning sheepishly. 
“How about for real this time?” she asked, grabbing his jaw and leaning in to place a lazy open-mouthed kiss on him. “I want to see what I’ve done to you, Captain.” Tracing her thumb over his bottom lip, she pushed herself off of him and slowly sunk down to kneel between his parted thighs.
She dragged her hands down his lower torso and stopped to unclip both thigh plates. He hissed softly as the heat of her body spread over his now-exposed thighs, her breasts precariously pressed into the outline of his cock underneath his bottoms. He shifted his hands to grab at her shoulders, eagerly keeping her in place while she pawed at him. He swallowed thickly, the tension in his body starting to lessen as she worked him over with just her body weight resting on him.
“I’ve n-never… wanted anything… more,” he grunted between increasing pants of anticipation. His thumb brushed over the apple of her cheek as he tipped her face up to maintain his heart-stoppingly needy gaze. “Just… keep looking at me. Want to always see that pretty face.”
Mari smiled far too demurely for someone seconds away from doing something so provocative and turned to place a reassuring kiss into his palm. “Whatever you say, sir.” She smirked as that elicited a whimper from him, and she slowly let her hands trace down his abs, toying with the waistband of his bottoms to prolong the teasing. His erection twitched with anticipation as she finally looped her fingers into the fabric and tugged it down gently.
Her eyes nearly glazed over with delight at the sheer size of him waiting for her. His cock was long, thick, and as bronze as the rest of him, slapping up against his lower torso as it sprung free. She could feel her mouth watering and the space between her thighs slipping together lewdly as her mind raced faster than her body moved. He was perfect, not a single fucking flaw, and gods she wanted every last inch of him inside any part of her.
She sucked her lower lip behind her teeth and stared up at him in affectionate awe, letting her hands smooth along the inside of his thighs. “Hmmm… wow, look at you. Such a perfect cock.” His eyes hooded and his chest stuttered as he panted with unbearable longing. Mari wrapped a hand around the base to hold him and let her other hand curl just below the swollen head. She parted her lips, letting saliva pool on her tongue and dripping it down onto her waiting fist.
“For such a perfect girl,” he grinned, his jaw dropping as Mari tipped forward and licked the tip with the end of her tongue. Rex drew in a gasp, his hands flying to the side of her neck and brushing her curls behind her back. “Fuck, you’re good with that bold little mouth, aren’t you?”
“Stop talking and you’ll find out,” Mari smirked, sliding her spit-slick fist down the length of his shaft and kissing his tip gingerly. He chuckled but was cut off from saying anything more by Mari inching down to trace a long stripe up his cock from base to tip. Rex seemed to short-circuit, his grip in her hair starting to tighten more desperately. She knew she had him exactly where she needed him now.
With both her hands curled around him as she gently stroked him, she wrapped her lips around him and swallowed him down deeper with each inhale. He was a lot to take, but nothing she couldn’t handle. Each brilliant vein pulsed against her lips as she bobbed up and down along him. She hummed happily, the velvet of her tongue swirling around him and her cheeks hollowing tighter with every suckled pass. 
He gently held her, not pressuring her to move faster, but keeping her steady as her rhythm built him up toward his climax. He could do nothing but try to breathe, run his fingers through her silky hair, and keep his eyes open to stare at her with powerful lust. Mari couldn't tear herself away from looking at him either. Though he was more turned on than he’d maybe ever been, there was a look of genuine adoration in his eyes that made Mari’s belly clench with want and intrigue.
Rex threw his head back as Mari swallowed around him, sliding his tip down to bump the back of her throat. She glanced up at him through her thick lashes as she fought back tears and could feel the knot in her belly tightening at the sight of him. His strong, rounded jaw clenched as he groaned in delight, broad, squared-off shoulders and hard, tensing biceps held her to him and the thickness of his rippling torso glistened with a thin sheen of sweat forming along his tan skin. He looked delicious all worked up and writhing for her.
Mari’s center pulsed with desire, her core pounding with an overwhelming need for him. Even if he was close to cumming, Mari didn’t think she could do much more for him without wanting to explode herself. Molten need toiled around in her belly and she was sure she’d drenched through her lace panties as she worked him. His hands moved to delicately brush the hair from her forehead before sliding them down her shoulders to rub away the tension.
After a few beats longer of watching her suck him off, he tugged her hair gently. “Easy, pretty girl. I want to finish, but not like this.” He sat himself back on the strength of one arm and tried to come back to himself. He looked utterly wrecked in the most satisfying way, and if Mari never touched another man ever again, she’d be happy just remembering the way he looked right now. “Not without you,” he finished, his eyes squinting as a beautiful, satisfied smile spread across his handsome face.
Mari wiped her mouth with her thumb, the sweet tang of his precum on her tongue and wearing her own happy, blissed-out grin. Before she could even rise to her feet, he scooped her up eagerly. She yelped in surprise, her widened thighs positioning her so that her soaked panties rested perfectly against his aching cock. His lips smashed into hers, tasting himself in her kisses and sliding her back into his lap. Her eyes rolled back in her head as the heat of him pressed up against where she needed him. Looping her arms around his neck, she broke the kiss to moan desperately.
Immediately, Rex caught on to her reaction and rolled his hips up into her again. “Yeah, that’s what you want. Taking my cock in your mouth made you all wet, huh?” he teased, smirking as she pressed herself down onto his lap. His hands held onto her waist, caressing the soft curves of her skin and letting her briefly satisfy the ache she’d been feeling.
“Mhm. I’m soaked. You got me so worked up, Captain. You’re fucking hot. You’re so hot and I don’t think you even realize how–” Mari stammered, interrupted by Rex’s curled fingers stroking the soaked lace of her panties over her heat. Mari closed her eyes and mewled pathetically at the contact. “How much I…”
Rex’s other hand cupped her face, resting his forehead against hers and kissing her with all the passion he could muster. His knuckles brushed along her slit, stopping to let the pad of his thumb toy with her clit cruelly. He bit down on her lower lip as he pulled away, his confidence growing now that he knew the effect he had on her as well. 
“How much I what, pretty girl? Tell me what you need and it’s yours,” he instructed slowly but firmly.
With their foreheads pressed together and Mari’s hands clinging to the corded muscles of his neck, she let her seductive glare bear deep into his eyes and she exhaled. “How much I want you. How much I need you to…” She trailed off again as Rex’s deft fingers pushed her panties to the side and slipped two fingers between her slick folds.
A deep, weighted purr left Rex’s chest as he massaged her wet pussy so delicately it was making her completely forget herself. Words were a blur, her mind completely hazed by the musky, woodsy scent of him all around her, her body overcome with rushes of heated desire coursing through her veins like liquid fire. The building tension in her belly was coiling immeasurably hot and the only relief was his touch on her clit stoking the flames of pleasure. Mari whimpered into another of Rex’s heavy kisses, her hands now clinging to his biceps as he circled her clit with the perfect amount of pressure.
“Need what, Mari? This what you need? My fingers in this perfect pussy? Such a wet little thing… you can’t help it,” he tutted playfully, resting his cheek against hers as he looked down at her bucking her hips into his hands. “Did you think about me too? The way I thought about you? All hot and bothered, slick between your legs because you wanted me? Mesh’la, look at me,” Rex instructed affectionately, working her into a frenzy and smiling at all he could do with just his hands and his words.
“Rex,” Mari moaned his name, gripping his biceps and grinding into his throbbing cock with her drenched folds. She held his stare with her own half-hooded one and dragged him into a heated desperate kiss with clashing teeth and bitten lips and pulled away gasping two muttered little words. “Fuck me.”
In half a heartbeat, he tore through the lace of her pink panties and tossed them onto the floor with the rest of his kit. Weighted palms grabbed at the round flesh of her ass as he flipped them both over. Her bare back pressed against the cold surface of the spare desk, and she clawed down his shoulders deep enough to leave marks as she begged him for entrance. He kissed her three times more, parting her thighs and sliding her entire bottom half toward where he stood waiting and hard as a rock.
“Thought you’d never ask,” he laughed softly, caressing circles on her hip bones as he thrust himself through her heat to coat his length in her slick. He notched himself at her entrance and pressed inside with a groan, the stretch around him frictionless from all the teasing he’d given her. 
Mari practically squeaked in delight, the perfect, heavy tip of him notching inside her beautifully and making her bloom open more to receive his greater girth. “Fuck… move. Please. Deeper,” she begged, digging her nails into his shoulders and wrapping her thighs around his waist to pull him closer. 
He slipped in deeper, the heat of his cock radiating inside of her in the best way and coaxing her tight walls to open up just a bit more for him. He tested out a roll of his hips and pounded the tops of his thighs against the edge of the desk. The snap of his hips carried a brutal amount of power and Mari scrambled to pull him deeper inside her again. He groaned loudly, finally feeling the full collapse of her around him and shivering in absolute ecstasy. “So fucking tight. Feels so good. Like they made you for me.” 
“I could say the same, Captain. Fuck. More, baby, please,” she pleaded, craving so much more of the stretch he was providing. Every breath she took dragged him in deeper and she wanted to drown in the wave of pleasure that was quenching the burning heat inside her. He was all over her. 
His strong hands seemed to find every place she needed him–kneading her breasts in his hands as he thrust, lifting her hips up and supporting the small of her back to change the angle he was spearing into her, and turning her face back toward him so he could see her every orgasmic, pleasure-filled expression.
Rex kept at an efficient pace, not too fast and not too hard, just enjoying the languid heat inside and exploring her body. He needed to know what made Mari feel good, what places he could lick or grab to make her scream, and which positions had her yelling his name so loud she was sure someone would’ve heard them. 
Mari lost herself in how naturally and easily he took control. She didn’t have to think about satisfying anyone and didn't have to worry about catering to what he wanted. All he needed her to do was feel and he was taking care of the rest. It was a different kind of sex than anything she had before because it wasn’t just one person satisfying the other, but rather two partners working together to share in the desire they’d built together.
Mari reached for him, dragging him down on top of her so she could cling to him the way she wanted. Every part of her touched some part of him and she completed that by sealing him into breathless, sloppy kisses whenever she could. He had seemingly unstoppable stamina, able to go at a pace that satisfied her for much, much longer than any other man she’d ever had. Every so often, he’d pull back to check in with her, waiting for her approval before diving back down to bite a new mark into her tan skin. 
Suddenly, he thrust into a spot so deep and sensitive it made Mari’s vision white out. The strangled sound of pain mixing with moans of pleasure gave Rex pause, but she quickly called his name and moaned at a much breathier, higher pitch than before. “Oh… right there! That spot… again. Please, Rex!” she whined, holding his jaw with her palm and watching him smirk knowingly at the perfect place inside her he was able to find.
“Here?” he rolled his hips again, grinding deeper and making Mari cry out in delight. She parted her thighs more to give him better access and he nearly folded himself over her to piston into that same sensitive place as many times as he could. “That’s it. Such a good girl. Want to feel you cum for me. Gods, you’re so fucking beautiful.”
Mari leaned forward to grab at him again, but instead, he took her hand in his and pinned it beside her. His other hand gripped her hip and held her steady while he plowed into her even harder. Mari lost track of the amount of times she sang his name in response. She’d only ever had toys make her feel this good.
He rested his head in the crook of her neck momentarily, and let his stirring hips drive himself into her spot over and over again. Rex’s praises turned into hisses and grunts behind gritted teeth as he tried with all his might to hold his own orgasm back until she was ready to let go with him. 
Squelching sounds filled the room as heat began to flood Mari’s opening. The pressure in her belly was being repeatedly combated by the steady weight of his cock splitting her walls to fit him and she could feel herself rocketing to heights previously unknown. His gorgeous face reappeared hovering above her with a determined scowl, his brows pressed together and his jaw slack as the wave just began to crest inside him.
His fingers found her clit again, delicately twisting looping circles on the little bundle and making tears form in her eyes at the new sensation added to his incessant thrusts into her favorite spot. Mari began to feel herself slipping away, relaxing into tingles of bliss overtaking all of her limbs and giving her the same butterflies she had the very first time she’d kissed him. She could just vaguely make out the sound of him calling her name and asking her something when she remembered he’d asked her to keep her eyes open. He wanted to see her face and she couldn’t deny him what he wanted. Not now, not ever.
Mari reached for him again and he leaned right down into her, foreheads sliding together and his gaze fixated on hers. His eyelids fluttered just as his movements became erratic, pushing himself to stay focused and with her long enough to send her over the edge. 
Mari studied his handsome face as time began to slow and she whispered as quietly as she could, “Cum with me, Rex. Show me what I’ve been waiting for.” 
His cock bumped her spot and he laid into it, pressing himself in and resting there as his muscles locked down and his cock twitched inside her.
“Oh fuck… Mari… I’m going to–Mesh’la, cum with me. Mari–” he moaned her name in his deep, gravelly baritone in her ear and she felt herself snap. 
Light faded away until all Mari knew was the sound of Rex’s voice filling her ears, the feel of his warm release flooding inside her, the taste of his tongue lingering on hers, the scent of him imprinting in her memory, and the visual of the most gorgeous man she’d ever met melting into bliss all around her. 
She sang his name in a salaciously melodic moan. She felt his warmth in her belly and her own release mixing with his as it spilled out of her opening. She glanced up at him in her honeyed haze of pleasure and smiled as she felt herself going totally cockdumb. The pleasure coursing through her veins consuming her was because of him–the beautiful, doting, caring captain she was so sure she’d never hear from again.
He dropped his head into the crook of her neck, their centers still connected as they both let the swell of their highs overtake them. She held the back of his neck gently, tracing featherlight touches like star trails against his nicked and scarred skin. He panted breathless praises and endless compliments in her ears, carefully pulling her up to wrap himself around her exposed body protectively. “Felt… s-so good. I know, Mesh’la. Looked so stunning, too, cumming all for me.”
“Rex,” she muttered much quieter now, her voice hoarse with overuse. “I’ve never felt like that before. Never,” she admitted, averting her eyes to the locked door mere feet from their bare bodies.
He smirked smugly, kissing the tip of her nose and gently slipping out of her. “Thought you said you were experienced,” he teased, as his large hand massaged up the back of her neck, twisting the dark strands at the nape around his fingers. 
Mari basked in the blissful afterglow and relaxed into the calming feeling of his hands working away the last of the remaining tension in her body. She relaxed her legs around his waist and  tucked herself into him. “I am. I never said they were any good. And even if they were, it was nothing like that. That was…”
“I know,” he stopped her, the admission in his eyes giving away his feelings far more than his words did. Whatever the spark was between them, they both felt it. They both understood that this meant something special, and it was worth it to figure out what that feeling was, even if it scared them. 
“I’ve never been with someone who made me feel like you do. Like I’m someone worth feeling something for,” he admitted slowly, discussing his real feelings and exposing a far more apprehensive side to him than the man who had just plowed her the way he had. “How is someone as amazing as you…” He paused, gazing deep into her eyes with nothing but sheer adoration and wonder in his own. “All alone?” he finished, running a very unsure thumb across her cheek.
Mari sighed, looking up at the ceiling of this unused office. She bit her lip to keep her voice steady and to hold back the flow of tears that were dangerously close to spilling over. “Because people… men use me. They always do. And after a while, it’s easier to go it alone than to let them hurt you and take from you anymore.” 
A single tear rolled down her cheek–a painful expression of all the times she’d let herself think someone might care about her, only to throw her away like trash when they were through using her how they liked.
He placed a firm and reassuring palm on her cheek, turning her face to meet his. He wanted to reassure her, to say exactly the right thing to comfort her, and communicate that he was different from the men in her past. He wasn’t like them, but as much as he wanted to shoulder her burden, this type of pain cut him too deep and he looked down almost in disappointment.
“I know what it’s like to feel used,” he whispered, guilt and searing shame at the admission clouding his vision. He was hiding his emotional wounds just as much as she was, if not more. 
Suddenly, Mari felt incredibly stupid and selfish for trying to compare being a little lonely to a man whose very existence was to serve a purpose he had never had a say in. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to act like I had it worse or anything. I just–” she started to say, but his needy hands grabbing at her shoulders and pulling her into a desperate hug quieted her.
“Don’t apologize. It’s something we have in common, you and I,” he muttered, burying his head in her hair and snuggling her tighter. “It’s nice to feel understood by someone outside the GAR. I know I said it before, and I’ve been so nervous I almost ruined it, but I promise I won’t forget about you. I am totally out of my element here, I’ve never done this before and we’re not technically allowed to, but I’d like to keep seeing you… if you want.”
He pulled back to look down at her with the same hopeful amazement on his pretty face that he had the first day they met. Mari reached up to cradle his face in her hands, “I’d like that, Rex. What do you say we get out of this office and you keep seeing me at my place? You’re off for the night, right?” 
Rex nodded. “Yeah, I’m free. I sent you a message earlier to ask you to come out to 79’s with the boys and I. I was hoping I’d see you again there. Guess I don’t have to worry about waiting around for you to show now, huh?”
“I haven’t checked my comm all day, so I guess fate decided we waited long enough,” Mari chuckled, sitting up and pulling Rex up with her. She motioned toward the door and slid down to her feet, searching the office floor for her dress.
Rex hummed in agreement and followed her lead, sliding his underwear and body glove back on and admiring her naked frame as she gathered her dress into her arms. He had nearly his entire armor kit back on before Mari was able to even rearrange her dress enough to step back into it.
“I’ve got nothing to put on under this since you destroyed these,” she flirted, lifting both sides of her torn panties off the floor and tossing them at Rex playfully. 
He caught them in his right hand deftly and laughed darkly. “Good. Now I can recall this image of you naked every time I need it.” He bunched her panties up and tucked them into his pocket, winking at her.
“You filthy boy. Fine, keep them. I’ve got much sexier ones I can show you at home,” Mari tucked the plush of her bottom lip behind her teeth and slipped the dress back on. 
Rex grabbed her hand and spun her around into him, his hand splaying out on her lower back. “Then let’s get you home, Mesh’la. No one’s taking me away from you this time.” He pulled her into a gentle, meaningful kiss to seal his promise with tangible action, and let her lead him the entire way back to her place for the night.
--
notes: AAHHHH ITS THEM!!!! finally we find out how it happens. and god I love them both so much. so much. thank you so much for all your kind messages and support while i've been going through it lately. and of course for all the love I receive for mari and rex. pss my face claim has taken her rightful place in the header photo, so going forward thats our girl.
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nalyra-dreaming · 1 year
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Is it true that when armand has lestat tortured and imprisoned, during the events in Paris, that he keeps him in in Magnus’ tower? Because if so that is so psychologically fucked up
Noooootttttt quite. He keeps him in Lestat's own theater.
Armand lives in the tower.
Armand who lived still on the land I'd given him, in the very tower where I'd been made by Magnus, Armand who still commanded the thriving coven of the Theater of the Vampires in the boulevard du Temple, which still belonged to me.
Lestat goes to him, and Armand takes him to the theater and throws him there into the cellars beneath his (own!) theater, starves and tortures him with dead blood until the trial.
What was this place, this enormous building? Was this the boulevard du Temple? And then the descent into that hideous cellar full of ugly copies of the bloodiest paintings of Goya and Brueghel and Bosch.
And finally starvation as I lay on the floor of a brick-lined cell, unable even to shout curses at him, the darkness full of the vibrations of the passing omnibuses and tramcars, penetrated again and again by the distant screech of iron wheels. Sometime in the dark, I discovered a mortal victim there. But the victim was dead. Cold blood, nauseating blood. The worst kind of feeding, lying on that clammy corpse, sucking up what was left. And then Armand was there, standing motionless in the shadows, immaculate in his white linen and black wool.
After the trial Armand takes Lestat back to the tower, all the way up, and gives him Claudia's yellow dress (in which she burned).
And then we went up and up through the old tower to the roof.
Why did I hold this thing, this little dress? I looked out from Magnus's battlements and I saw the city had come to get me. It had reached out its long arms to embrace the tower, and the air stank of factory smoke.
And then Armand... throws Lestat off of Magnus' tower (in a scene that is eerily familiar to episode 5):
He was drawing closer, and in a dark flash his hand went out, and my head went back, and I saw the sky and the city of Paris upside down. I was falling through the air. And I went down and down past the windows of the tower, until the stone walkway rose up to catch me, and every bone in my body broke within its thin case of preternatural skin.
Armand ... tortures and keeps Lestat imprisoned in his own theater.
And then, after torturing him, making him testify against Claudia, then he throws him off of Magnus' tower.
So yeah. Not better imho. And very fucked up.
____
PS: A note to the torture and how Armand knew it would make it possible to have Lestat testify against Claudia:
This has been noted to happen to vampires by Eleni, and employed as a punishment by Armand before, against Nicki (though noted in later books) - this is what Eleni writes to Lestat:
But N., maddened by the pain and the starvation, for this can alter the temperament completely
Armand knew that starvation and drinking dead blood would make Lestat unable to comprehend what was happening, and almost mad.
And he went and starved him on purpose.
That's Armand for you.
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ginzyblog · 2 years
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On the Charles Bridge, Prague, March 1965. Snapped by a friend, with Allen’s camera. Courtesy Ginsberg Collection I hide under the clock near my hotel, it’s intermission for Tales of Hoffmann, nostalgia for the 19th century rides through my heart like the music of The Moldau, I’m still alone with long black beard and shining eyes walking down black smoky tramcar streets at night past royal muscular statues on an old stone bridge, Over the river again today in Breughel’s wintry city, the snow is white on all the rooftops of Prague, Salute beloved comrade I’ll send you my tears from Moscow. -Prague March 1965, from “Message II” PLANET NEWS City Lights, 1968/ COLLECTED POEMS 2007 #prague #praha #allenginsberg #poetrycommunity #beatgeneration (at Charles Bridge Prague) https://www.instagram.com/p/CiDAr11uxat/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
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lgbtnewsturkey · 3 months
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Istanbul Airport (IST) was fully opened on April 6th 2019. It may take more than 1 hour to reach the city center, depending on traffic conditions at the time you arrive. There is no direct subway connection to the new airport, yet.  An honesr taxi ride should cost around 25-30 US Dollar from the airport to Taksim square. You can also use HavaIst Airport Shuttles to come to Taksim Square, Yenikapi (closer to M1 Metro Line and old city Sultanahmet) and 15 Temmuz / Esenler Bus terminal (connected to M1 Yenikapi metro, with interchange station at Aksaray to Sultanahmet / Kabatas T1 tramcar line). HavaIst tickets are sold on the buses and will cost around 3-4 US $).
(via Istanbul Public Transportation Guide)
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whatsonmedia · 7 months
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The Polar Express™ Tram Ride Returns to Devon this Christmas! Tickets on Sale now!
The Polar Express™ Tram Ride is coming to Seaton Tramway on selected dates through November & December! Families can take a once in a lifetime trip on a magical tram ride to Santa’s home at the North Pole in one of the specially decorated single deck tramcars. Passengers are encouraged to travel in their favourite pyjamas whilst they enjoy a cup of hot chocolate, a delicious treat and admire the awesome lights of the North Pole. Get off at the North Pole and meet the elves with their elf show in the workshop and discover whether you have been naughty or nice at the naughty detector. Indulge in delicious freshly prepared hot food & drink, including festive mulled wine.  All passengers will meet Santa and receive “the first gift of Christmas” from the big man himself – A Silver Sleigh Bell. Upon the return journey you will be able to enjoy singing along to Christmas carols. For the grown-up kids too, this is a trip down memory lane to a traditional Christmas of old. Tickets go on general sale Friday 10nd February at 10am. There are only a limited number of seats and tickets sell out fast. To avoid disappointment, please book your place by going online to https://www.tram.co.uk/ThePolarExpressSeaton or telephoning 01297 20375 in advance. The Polar Express™ will be running on selected dates from 24th November - 24th of December 2022. Exclusive The Polar Express™ merchandise will also be available to purchase at the North Pole Gift Shop! The Award-Winning Seaton Tramway presents its “West End Production” on rails departing from Seaton Station, East Devon. Tickets start from £24.95 for the 2½ hour experience and include the round trip to the North Pole, Hot Chocolate & Cookie, and the first gift of Christmas – the Silver Sleigh Bell – per passenger. Under 2’s go free!Those needing wheelchair access are asked to make their booking by phone. Here are some reviews of The Polar Express Tram Ride at Seaton Tramway, “Awesome. Beautiful. Emotional. Memory-making. Everything about it it was well done from all of the staff to the hot chocolate.” Anne S – Tripadvisor “The Polar Express was a truly magical experience from the minute we arrived at the welcome hall to when we disembarked from our trip back from the North Pole. My grandchildren were awe struck at every turn and we would like to say an especially big thank you to the wonderful cast of characters” Paul F – Tripadvisor “Undoubtedly the best Christmas experience I have ever had, and as a family absolutely incredible!!! I booked this as a last minute resort for my children to see Santa and I can not believe how amazing this was!!!!” Penny R – Tripadvisor “Best Santa experience we have ever done. From start to finish everything was magical and the kids loved it” Barry K – TripadvisorThe Polar Express™ Tram Ride at Seaton Tramway advert can be seen here: https://youtu.be/zIA36yBAcBY Seaton Tramway recently receive 2 awards, including Bronze award for Inclusive and Accessible Tourism and Silver for Large Attraction of the Year. All tickets and Loyalty Cards can be purchased at the Seaton Terminus and Colyton Station ticket offices or online at: www.tram.co.uk. THE POLAR EXPRESS and all related characters and elements © & ™ Warner Bros. Entertainment Inc. (s22) Based on THE POLAR EXPRESS book and characters © & ™ 1985 by Chris Van Allsburg.. All rights reserved. Read the full article
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manwalksintobar · 7 months
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White Shroud (pt. II) // Allen Ginsberg
I realized I could find a place to sleep in the neighborhood, what relief, the family together again, first time in decades!- Now vigorous Middle aged I climbed hillside streets in Yonkers looking for my own hot-water furnished flat to settle in, close to visit my grandmother, read Sunday newspapers in vast glassy Cafeterias, smoke over pencils & paper, poetry desk, happy with boots father'd left in the attic, peaceful encyclopedia and a radio in the kitchen. An old black janitor swept the gutter, street dogs sniffed red hydrants, nurses pushed quiet baby carriages past silent house fronts. Anxious I be settled with money in my own place before nightfall, I wandered tenement embankments overlooking the pillared subway trestles by the bridge crossing Bronx River. How like Paris or Budapest suburbs, far from Centrum Left Bank junky doorstep tragedy intellectual fights in restaurant bars, where a spry old lady carried her Century Universal View camera to record Newspaper Metropolis tramcars in September sun, skyscraper canyons upreared one hundred thousand windows shining electric-lit above mid-town Avenues at midnite Herald Square crowds thronged noonday under traffic lights to lunch in giant department stores, shop at Gimbels for dry goods, pause with Satchels at hot dog stands wearing stylish straw hats of the decade, mankind thriving in their solitudes in shoes. But I'd strayed too long amused in the picture cavalcade, Where was I living? I remembered looking for a house & eating in apartment kitchens, bookshelf decades ago, Aunt's tragedies, an appendix operation, teeth braces, one afternoon fitting eyeglasses first time, combing wet hair back on my skull, young awkward looking in the high school mirror photograph. The Dead look for a home, but here I was still alive. I walked past a niche between buildings with tin canopy shelter from cold rain warmed by hot exhaust from subway gratings, beneath which engines throbbed with pleasant quiet drone. A shopping-bag lady lived in the side alley on a mattress, her wooden bed above the pavement, many blankets and sheets, pots, pans, and plates beside her, fan, electric stove by the wall. She looked desolate, white haired, but strong enough to survive. Passersby ignored her buildingside hovel many years, a few businessmen stopped to speak, or give her bread or yogurt. Sometimes she disappeared into state hospital back wards, but now'd returned in her homely alleyway, sharp eyed, old Cranky hair, half paralysed, complaining angry as I passed. I was horrified a little, who'd take care of such a woman, familiar, half-neglected on her street except she'd weathered many snows stubborn alone in a motheaten rabbit fur hat. She had tooth troubles, teeth too old, ground down like horse molars - she opened her mouth to display her gorge - how can she live with that, how eat I thought, mushroom-like grey-white horseshoe of incisors she chomped with, hard flat flowers ranged around her gums. Then I recognized she was my mother, Naomi, habiting this old city-edge corner, older than I knew her before her life disappeared. What are you doing here? I asked, amazed she even recognized me still, astounded to see her sitting up on her own, survived to greet me mocking ''I'm living alone, you all abandoned me, I'm a great woman, I came here by myself, I wanted to live, now I'm too old to take care of myself, I don't care, what are you doing here?'' I was looking for a house, I thought, she has one, in poor Bronx, needs someone to help her shop and cook, needs her children now, I'm her younger son, walked past her alley by accident, but here she is survived, sleeping awake on that wooden platform. Has she an extra room? I noticed her cave adjoined a one room apartment door, unpainted basement storeroom, facing her shelter in the building side. I could live here, worst comes to worst, best place I'll find, near my mother in our mortal life.
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blackpoolhistory · 10 months
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Entrance to where the Alpic building was located on Red Bank Road, Bispham. This also was the entrance to the old Electricity Works & Tramcar Depot long before Alpic and surrounding buildings were built. The wall to the left is original from the tram depot days.
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trainmaniac · 4 years
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Glasgow tram No. 1055 ex Liverpool No. 869 by Frederick McLean Via Flickr: An old photograph of Glasgow Corporation Tramways (GCT) tram No. 1055 showing '29 - Tollcross' destination blinds. The photo reverse is stamped as it having been taken by Robert F. Mack (Bob Mack). No. 1055 was ex Liverpool Corporation Passenger Transport (LCPT) tram No. 869, a 'Bogie Streamliner/Liner' or 'Green Goddess' built by LCPT at its Edge Lane Works going into service Jun 1936, it seated 34/44 and ran on EMB heavyweight 'Jo'burg' radial-arm bogies. It was withdrawn from service Jan 1953 and along with 48 other Liners was sold to GCT, No. 869 arriving there in May 1954. In Glasgow it was re-gauged from the LCPT 4' 8 1/2" gauge to the GCT 4' 7 3/4" gauge, had a bow collector fitted, was re-wired, had new lifeguards, had its fenders removed, the famously leaky windscreen was replaced with a one piece unit, external mirrors/trafficators were fitted, and it was given fleet No. 1055. It went into GCT service Nov 1955 from Parkhead Depot and was withdrawn from service in Jun 1960. 🚃🚃🚃🚃🚃🚃🚃 It now runs as Liverpool No. 869 at 'Crich Tramway Village', a more comprehensive history than mine plus details of its purchase from GCT and later preservation can be found on the following Crich page. tinyurl.com/y45axo2r 🚃🚃🚃🚃🚃🚃🚃 The parts of the Liverpool tramways system that had not already been withdrawn or transferred to bus operation closed in Sep 1957, the parts of the Glasgow system that had not already been withdrawn or transferred to trolleybus/bus operation closed in Sep 1962. 📷 Any photograph I post on Flickr is an original in my possession, nothing is ever copied/downloaded from another location. 📷 ------------------------------------------------- If there are any errors in the above description please let me know. Thanks. Any photograph, ephemera, etc I post on Flickr is in my possession, nothing is copied from another location. The original photographer may have taken copies from their original negative and passed them out (sold them?) so there may be other copies out there of your (and my) 'original' transport photo, although occasionally there may be 'holiday snaps' type photos where there are not any other photos exactly the same in existence. If you wish to use this image (bearing in mind it may not be my copyright) or obtain a full size version (most of my uploads are small size) please contact me.
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old-transport · 1 year
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LCC tram No. 118 @ Beresford Square in 1908 by Frederick McLean Via Flickr: An old photograph of London County Council Tramways (LCC) B class tram No. 118 in Beresford Square, showing a 'Wickham Lane' destination blind box. The building behind and to the right of the tram is the goods office of the 'London & North Western Railway'. The photo reverse is initialled as being from the "ADP (A. D. Packer - David Packer ) collection". National Library of Scotland old/new overhead maps view:- maps.nls.uk/geo/explore/side-by-side/#zoom=18.0&lat=5... No. 118 was built as a 'Preston' three-window design open top car in c1903 by the 'Electric Railway and Carriage Co.', seated 22/34, ran on a 4-wheel Brill 21E truck, going into service in 1908. When new it ran from conduit but was soon fitted with a trolley pole, then in 1910/11 it was fitted with a lightweight top cover, the trolley pole being removed. This car shows as being withdrawn from passenger service in Jul 1915, then becoming a sand car ("cars taken out of service - class B" list at the back of LCC Vol 1 by E. R. Oakley, which says "118 - delicensed 01.07.15 - note c (sand car)"), although I can find no further reference to this number being converted to a works car (see Colin Withey information below). 🚃 Thanks to 'Colin Withey' for this information:- "Unfortunately, in Vol 1 Ted accepted what the late John Wills had given regarding the surrender of 118's MSC licence but did not link it to Vol 2in which a view taken by the late Frank (DWK) Jones is shown of 118 as a double deck snow-plough. 118 did not survive the post-WW1 clear out of the surviving Class B cars after the selection of those structurally better Class Bs cut-down as snow-brooms. The only Sand Van LCC converted from a passenger car was 015 from Class C." 🚃 🚃 Thanks to 'JB (KK 69521)' for the information in this comment:- www.flickr.com/photos/fred_bear/52795548740/#comment72157... 🚃 If there are any errors in the above description please let me know. Thanks. 📷 Any photograph I post on Flickr is an original in my possession, nothing is ever copied/downloaded from another location. 📷 -------------------------------------------------
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scotianostra · 6 months
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On November 16th 1956 the last of the original trams ran in Edinburgh.
Sixty five years ago this evening, thousands turned out to wave an emotional goodbye to the city’s original tram system before it was scrapped.
Trams had been falling out of favour across the country since the end of the Second World War. Cities were expanding, and the rail-and-wire-bound trams of yesteryear could not compete with the flexibility and cost-­effectiveness of the modern motor bus. Municipal tramways up and down the country faced the heavy axe of progress.
The decision to decommission Edinburgh’s tram network arose in 1952, its 47 miles taking just four years to dismantle.
In the last week, a special service painted handsomely in white and gold livery was laid on to tour what was left of the old network.
All ordinary tram passengers were issued with a bright yellow “Last Tram Week” ticket; a masterstroke by Edinburgh Corporation which did a “roaring trade” in the final seven days.
The last hurrah arrived on Friday, November 16; a suitably cold, grey and miserable day. That evening, a procession of tramcars made its way from the Braids terminus to Shrubhill depot, taking in much of the original 1871 route. Ten trams were laid on due to the demand – one car containing the very city councillors who had consigned the trams to the history books in the first place.
It seemed that the entire city was out in force that night; throngs of people lined the pavements and eager spectators hung out of tenement windows to catch a glimpse of the historic procession.
Motor cars and buses added to the atmosphere by tooting their horns.
At the Mound and Hanover Street, an enormous crowd reaching 60 or 70 yards up the road gathered to wave goodbye to the last cars.
Police, mounted and on foot, kept the mass of spectators from pressing against the vehicles. Souvenir-hungry “boys and youths” armed with screwdrivers were reported aboard the final convoy, keen to secure their own little bit of history from the inside of the cabins.
Regardless of whether you lamented their passing or were glad to see them vanish, it was certainly the end of an era. From the earliest horse-drawn trams and cable cars of the turn of the century, to the electric system implemented in the 1920s, tramcars had been present in the Capital, in one form or another, for generations.
Eighty-five years of municipal tram history, which at its height had carried around 200 million passengers a year on routes covering Corstorphine to Levenhall, and just about everywhere in between, had been consigned for good to the great catenary wire in the sky... or so we all thought.
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architectuul · 3 years
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The Story Of  The Abandoned Car Factory Pragovka
Prague is a city of postcard-perfect architecture: from immaculate works of Gothic beauty – like St. Vitus Cathedral and the 13th century Old New Synagogue in Josefov – to the statue-lined Charles Bridge, or the monumental neo-Renaissance building of the National Museum looking out across Wenceslas Square. It is not a city that most would associate with industrial decay, however Prague’s former palaces of industry are no less grand, even while history is in the process of burying them.
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The Praga Car Factory Pragovka. | Photo via E-Factory.cz
The Praga Car Factory Pragovka on the city’s eastern edge was once the beating heart of the Czechoslovak manufacturing industry. It played a significant role in the city’s 20th century history, but it was here at the Prague’s darkest days was set into motion. In 1968 workers at Pragovka sent a letter to the Soviet Embassy requesting support in the fight against liberalisation. This letter, published in Pravda, would then be used as justification for the Warsaw Pact invasion of Czechoslovakia.
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The Praga Car Factory today. | Photo Katka Havlíková
Pragovka is abandoned since the turn of the 21st century and is now a sprawling ruin, its extravagant factory halls succumbing slowly to time and nature. In 2017 I went to explore what was left of it. The Car Factory was founded in 1907 as a manufacturing site in the eastern suburbs of Prague, with just 30 employees. Two years later, its parent company adopted the name ‘Praga’ – the car brand used the Latin form of the city’s name in the hope of sounding more international. During WWI the Praga factory (then known as the First Czech-Moravian Machine Factory) supplied the Austro-Hungarian army; then after 1918 and the independence of Czechoslovakia, it began to focus more on passenger cars.
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The main hall of the Pragovka factory in 2017. | Photo Katka Havlíková
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The large, angled windows allowed plenty of natural light to enter, reducing electricity costs. | Photo Katka Havlíková
In 1927 Praga was incorporated into the new ČKD (Českomoravská Kolben-Daněk) group, one of the largest engineering companies in Czechoslovakia. Among other vehicles (including tanks, locomotives, tractors, motorcycles and metro cars), ČKD produced cars under the Praga, Škoda and Tatra brands, and was famous for making the Tatra T3 tramcar – a design which would sell almost 14,000 units, and become an iconic sight on the streets of socialist cities from Sarajevo to Tashkent. Meanwhile as many as half of the taxis on Prague’s streets had rolled out of this factory.
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Left: Cover of a 1962 sales brochure from Strojexport, featuring the Tatra T3 tramcar. Right: Vintage poster featuring the Tatra T77.
In recent years, the Pragovka complex has been recognised as a heritage site and some of its spaces have been developed into an arts district. There is a retro-themed ‘Pragovka Cafe,’ and the place hosts film screenings, concerts and festivals. Reportedly as many as a hundred local artists have studios now on the former factory grounds, while the large E-Factory building has been converted into a gallery space. 
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Some outer buildings still remain, linked by covered walkways. Other buildings have been bulldozed. | Photo Katka Havlíková
There’s talk of building apartments here too in future, a trendy new community rising up amidst the industrial decay. A large part of the complex remains off-limits for now though – and it was here that we entered. During the visit of Prague was fortunate enough to be offered a tour of its best ruins the local photographer Katka Havlíková. 
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Raised gas pipes above an overgrown courtyard. | Photo Katka Havlíková
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The factory has been abandoned long enough for creepers and graffiti to cover many of its surfaces. | Photo Katka Havlíková
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Katka picks a careful path through the debris-field, towards the first of the factory’s grand production halls. | Photo Katka Havlíková
She led us around the back of the factory where we scrambled up a slope of rubble to reach a promontory at the corner of the former yard. Ahead of us lay a sea of green. Thick vegetation hid the concrete courtyard, with only the occasional street light, rising like drowning hands from water, to suggest that anything unnatural lay beneath. The main buildings, those still standing, were just visible through the trees and so we cut a path down through the overgrown wreckage towards the old factory halls.
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The largest of Pragovka’s manufacturing halls looks no less grand today with its full-height windows. | Photo Katka Havlíková
After poking around in a few of the outer buildings that rise now out of bushes and debris, we made it finally to the main manufacturing halls of Pragovka. It was strange to see a building this grand left to ruin. The complex was built back in a time when factories and power plants were temples of the people – places of pride, not merely function, their spaces defined with grand architectural flourishes. This main hall could have been a train station, not a car factory. Natural light illuminated the hall from floor-to-ceiling windows (much of their glass still intact), while pillars supported an arched ceiling high above.
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Nature creeps into Pragovka – vines find a way inside through broken window, letterboxes, or any other breach in the outer wall. | Photo Katka Havlíková
We didn’t see the new arts district at all – a fact indicative of just how large this complex was – but it was hard to imagine how any small business or community project could successfully take over a space like this. The factory halls were beautiful, but built on such a scale that maintenance and repairs would be an extraordinary burden, particularly after all these years of decline. 
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Two levels of offices lined the wall. | Photo Katka Havlíková
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A staircase connects floors inside the main building. | Photo Katka Havlíková
The seeming inevitability of this factory’s ruin cast a melancholy mood over the few hours we spent wandering the halls of Pragovka. Right now, like this, with the warm sun slicing in sideways through the dirty glass windows, and the greenery of nature’s scouts – along with bursts of bright graffiti – lending fresh colour to the otherwise muted palette of pastel-painted walls and pillars: Pragovka might never look this good again.
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Old ledgers amongst broken glass in the courtyard.| Photo Katka Havlíková
When Pragovka falls, much of its history will be buried with it; and perhaps for some, that might be for the best. Pragovka is remembered not only as the heart of the Czechoslovak manufacturing industry, but it is also a place where the communists made their stand – forever linking these buildings with a historic victory for the pro-Soviet movement. In 1968 the Soviet Union and its allies led an overnight invasion of Czechoslovakia – to suppress the Prague Spring, a growing liberalisation movement under First Secretary Alexander Dubček. Although history remembers the event as an act of totalitarian foreign aggression, that invasion was not, in fact, universally unwelcome. 
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A wall has collapsed to reveal the stairwell inside. | Photo Katka Havlíková
Numerous workers’ unions in Czechoslovakia supported Soviet intervention in their country, and one of the key triggers of the invasion was a letter of invitation, that was written here, at the Praga Car Factory. In 1971 the Czechoslovak journalist Josef Maxa authored A Year is Eight Months, which recounts the events of the Prague Spring and leading up to the invasion. “Moscow’s Pravda published a letter from ninety-nine workers in the Pragovka factory in Prague to the Soviet Embassy,” he wrote. “The letter denounced the Czechoslovakian enemies of socialism and of the Soviet Union.” That document was known as the “Letter of the Ninety-nine Praguers,” and it warned the Soviet Embassy how: “the manifestations of the democratisation of society in our republic threaten the building of socialism and in so doing, attack the blood-hardened friendship between the Czech and Soviet peoples” (as paraphrased by Martin Půlpán). 
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Rooftop above one of the manufacturing halls.| Photo Katka Havlíková
The letter claimed that all honest citizens of Czechoslovakia felt safer in the presence of Soviet and Warsaw Pact troops occupying their country. When Pravda printed the letter, on 30 July 1968, along with all ninety-nine signatures, the document would be used as justification for the swift invasion that followed in August. The incoming normalisation government that subsequently took charge of Czechoslovakia would valorise the authors of that letter – raising a memorial plaque at the main entrance to Pragovka, that read: “In the revolutionary tradition of this great workers’ nation, a letter with ninety-nine signatures was sent to the USSR in the critical year of 1968, requesting support and assistance in fighting anti-socialist forces.”
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A bright and airy side room near the main factory floor. | Photo Katka Havlíková
Nowadays that plaque is long gone. The gates of Pragovka stand barred, and the halls where the letter was written are lost to a maze of rubble, weeds and graffiti. The factory’s decline today is an inevitability – it is a temple to a lost industry, a relic displaced from its time and no longer fit for purpose in the new industrial landscape of the Czech Republic. 
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The wall in a former office space. | Photo Katka Havlíková
Though Pragovka’s political history likely doesn’t help to endear these halls to the citizens of contemporary Prague – and it’s hard not to read some level of symbolism as this celebrated factory, once enshrined like a victorious battlefield in Czechoslovakia’s communist historiography, is slowly carved up, and crushed, by the oncoming future.
--
by Darmon Richter
[adapted with permission from an article at Ex Utopia]
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William Wallace and the Impossible Murder of Julia Wallace
William Wallace, aged 52, attended a meeting of the Liverpool Central Chess Club on the evening of Monday 19 January 1931, to play a scheduled chess game. While there he was handed a message, which had been received by telephone about 25 minutes before he arrived. It requested that he call at an address at 25 Menlove Gardens East, Liverpool, at 7.30pm the following evening to discuss insurance with a man who had given his name as "R.M. Qualtrough".
The next night Wallace duly made his way by tramcar to the south of the city at the time requested, only to discover that while there were Menlove Gardens North, South and West, there was no East. Wallace made inquiries in a nearby newsagent's and also spoke to a policeman on his beat, but nobody he asked was able to help him in his search for the address or the mysterious Qualtrough. He also called at 25 Menlove Gardens West, and asked several other passers-by in the neighbourhood for directions, but to no avail.
After searching the district for about 45 minutes, Wallace returned home. Neighbours John and Florence Johnston were heading out for the evening when they encountered Wallace in the back alleyway, complaining that he could not gain entry to his home at either the front or the back. While they watched, Wallace tried the back door again, which now opened. Inside he found his wife Julia had been brutally beaten to death in their sitting room.
Up to his arrest two weeks later, Wallace made two voluntary statements but was never intensively questioned by the police although he was required to attend CID headquarters every day and was asked specific questions about whether the Wallace's had a maid, why he had asked the man who had taken the telephone message at the chess club to be specific about the time he took it, and whether he had spoken to anyone in the street on his way back to his house from his abortive attempt to find Mr. Qualtrough. The police had evidence that the telephone box used by "Qualtrough" to make his call to the chess club was situated just 400 yards (370 m) from Wallace's home, although the person in the café who took the call was quite certain it was not Wallace on the other end of the line. Nevertheless, the police began to suspect that "Qualtrough" and Wallace were the same man. Wallace's legal team conducted timing tests that showed it was possible for someone to have made the call, catch a tram and arrive at the chess club when Wallace did, and it was equally possible for Wallace to arrive at the same time by boarding at the stop he claimed he had used, nowhere near the telephone box.
The police were also convinced that it would have been possible for Wallace to murder his wife and still have time to arrive at the spot where he boarded his tram. This they attempted to prove by having a fit young detective go through the motions of the murder and then sprint all the way to the tram stop, something an ailing 52-year-old Wallace probably could not have accomplished. The original assessment of the time of death, around 8 pm, was also later changed to just after 6.30 pm, although there was no additional evidence on which to base the earlier timing.
Forensic examination of the crime scene had revealed that Julia's attacker was likely to have been heavily contaminated with her blood, given the brutal and frenzied nature of the assault. Wallace's suit, which he had been wearing on the night of the murder, was examined closely but no trace of bloodstains were found. The police formed the theory that a mackintosh, which was inexplicably found under Julia's corpse, had been used by a naked Wallace to shield himself from blood spatter while committing the crime. Examination of the bath and drains revealed that they had not been recently used, and there was no trace of blood there either, apart from a single tiny clot in the toilet pan, the origin of which could not be established.
Wallace consistently denied having anything to do with the crime, but was charged with murder and stood trial at Liverpool Assizes on 22 April 1931. After conducting a secret mock-trial in London, which unanimously found Wallace not guilty, the Prudential Staff Union, in a unique act, sponsored his defence. Despite the evidence against him being purely circumstantial, and the statement of a local milk delivery boy — who was certain he had spoken to Julia only minutes before her husband would have had to leave to catch his tram — Wallace was found guilty after an hour's deliberation by the Liverpool jury, and sentenced to death.
In an unprecedented move, in May 1931 the Court of Criminal Appeal quashed the verdict on the grounds that it was "not supported by the weight of the evidence", and Wallace was set free. 
No other person was charged with the murder and it remains officially unsolved. A further mock-trial, conducted by the Merseyside Medico-Legal Society in 1977, presided over by Mr. Justice Lawson, also found Wallace not guilty. 
After his successful appeal, Wallace returned to his job in insurance but public opinion in the areas where he lived and worked was strongly of the view that he had been guilty and had 'got away with it'. Many of Wallace's previous customers shunned him; he was subjected to hate mail and physical threats and had to take a clerical job at his employer's head office. At the same time, he moved to a bungalow in Bromborough, Merseyside. On 26 February 1933, less than two years after the appeal, and still employed by Prudential, William Herbert Wallace died aged 54 from uraemia and pyelonephritis.
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arcticdementor · 3 years
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It is foolish, generally speaking, for a philosopher to set fire to another philosopher in Smithfield Market because they do not agree in their theory of the universe. That was done very frequently in the last decadence of the Middle Ages, and it failed altogether in its object. But there is one thing that is infinitely more absurd and unpractical than burning a man for his philosophy. This is the habit of saying that his philosophy does not matter, and this is done universally in the twentieth century, in the decadence of the great revolutionary period. General theories are everywhere contemned; the doctrine of the Rights of Man is dismissed with the doctrine of the Fall of Man. Atheism itself is too theological for us to-day. Revolution itself is too much of a system; liberty itself is too much of a restraint. We will have no generalizations. Mr. Bernard Shaw has put the view in a perfect epigram: "The golden rule is that there is no golden rule." We are more and more to discuss details in art, politics, literature. A man's opinion on tramcars matters; his opinion on Botticelli matters; his opinion on all things does not matter. He may turn over and explore a million objects, but he must not find that strange object, the universe; for if he does he will have a religion, and be lost. Everything matters--except everything. Examples are scarcely needed of this total levity on the subject of cosmic philosophy. Examples are scarcely needed to show that, whatever else we think of as affecting practical affairs, we do not think it matters whether a man is a pessimist or an optimist, a Cartesian or a Hegelian, a materialist or a spiritualist. Let me, however, take a random instance. At any innocent tea-table we may easily hear a man say, "Life is not worth living." We regard it as we regard the statement that it is a fine day; nobody thinks that it can possibly have any serious effect on the man or on the world. And yet if that utterance were really believed, the world would stand on its head. Murderers would be given medals for saving men from life; firemen would be denounced for keeping men from death; poisons would be used as medicines; doctors would be called in when people were well; the Royal Humane Society would be rooted out like a horde of assassins. Yet we never speculate as to whether the conversational pessimist will strengthen or disorganize society; for we are convinced that theories do not matter. This was certainly not the idea of those who introduced our freedom. When the old Liberals removed the gags from all the heresies, their idea was that religious and philosophical discoveries might thus be made. Their view was that cosmic truth was so important that every one ought to bear independent testimony. The modern idea is that cosmic truth is so unimportant that it cannot matter what any one says. The former freed inquiry as men loose a noble hound; the latter frees inquiry as men fling back into the sea a fish unfit for eating. Never has there been so little discussion about the nature of men as now, when, for the first time, any one can discuss it. The old restriction meant that only the orthodox were allowed to discuss religion. Modern liberty means that nobody is allowed to discuss it. Good taste, the last and vilest of human superstitions, has succeeded in silencing us where all the rest have failed. Sixty years ago it was bad taste to be an avowed atheist. Then came the Bradlaughites, the last religious men, the last men who cared about God; but they could not alter it. It is still bad taste to be an avowed atheist. But their agony has achieved just this-- that now it is equally bad taste to be an avowed Christian. Emancipation has only locked the saint in the same tower of silence as the heresiarch. Then we talk about Lord Anglesey and the weather, and call it the complete liberty of all the creeds.
Gilbert Keith Chesterton, Heretics
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