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523rdrebel · 8 months

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Chapter 4 -

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8

Summary: AU/Canon Divergent - Set after the rescue of Crosshair, Omega, and Tech from Mount Tantis. The Batch settles down on Pabu and are, for the moment, able to hide from the Empire. Crosshair, with much grumbling, is convinced to see one of the local doctors to monitor his recovery. Unfortunately for Crosshair, Dr. Isabella Ramót is a ray of sunshine and a breath of fresh air - and totally capable of handling his harsh, rough demeanor.

Trigger Warnings - Emotions. Just, all the emotions. SFW, but mature themes explored. Minors DNI.

As a Bonus! @mythical-illustrator created an amazing fanart of Bells! isn't she wonderful!?? Check out the linked original post and show the artist some love!

The following weeks after Crosshair’s vulnerable moment on the Cliff with Bells, and their tentative agreement, were filled with preparations. Crosshair had to improve his physical state and maintain standing or walking without becoming overwhelmed or collapsing. He was surprised at the level of determination he now felt to grow in strength.

He sought out physical activity more frequently and began taking night walks, in order to avoid the looks or attempted conversations with villagers. Sometimes Omega would tag along, regaling him with stories of the shenanigans she and her friends had gotten into, usually along with Wrecker. He listened and scowled, and tried not to acknowledge the strange feeling of warm nostalgia for a time when he and his brothers were so carefree as cadets. When they'd arrive back at his home, Hunter would be waiting with an infuriatingly soft expression on his face and Omega would sneak a hug from Crosshair before skipping off after Hunter.

No matter how much Crosshair protested, Wrecker had seemed to take it upon himself to ensure that Crosshair was up to his eyeballs in food. He came over once a day when possible, never bothering to knock and kicking the door open, arms laden with various fruits, breads, pastries, and cured meats.

"Ugh, Wrecker- don't you ever knock?" Crosshair hissed at his brother and glared at the newest armful of food Wrecker brought in.

"Uhh–No. Why? I've never had to knock before."

"Start." He growled, but Wrecker was immune to Crosshair’s vitriol and simply laughed in response. Crosshair eyed the food Wrecker deposited on the counter of his small kitchenette. "What the kriff did you bring?" He noticed a few repeat items that he’d enjoyed, including a particular spicy ronto meat pie that made his mouth water.

"Oh! Izzy said that you’re improving but you need to eat more! So I brought you some of my favorite things from the market here!" Wrecker’s smile is wide and disarming, “And a few things you seemed to like from last time.”

Crosshair rolled his eyes, deliberately ignoring the tightness in his chest, and snapped back, "I don't need you to feed me, di’kut."

Wrecker’s large hand slapped his back and Crosshair gritted his teeth against the pain. With a disgustingly soft expression, Wrecker replied, "I know! But- if you don't eat more I will."

Crosshair mumbled under his breath, "Kriffing can't anyone stay out of my fucking business."

"Nope!" Wrecker exclaimed loudly, laughter reverberating in the small lodging. He ignored his brother’s grumbling, more than used to it by now, and digs into the food, knowing that Crosshair will join him when he’s ready.

Crosshair begrudgingly nibbled at the food, sampling a little of each item. He found himself consistently surprised by how much he likes, new flavors and textures he's never had the opportunity to experience before. Wrecker is loud and exuberant as he eats, and as much as Crosshair scowled and grit his teeth, there was a certain comfort that came from sharing a meal with his brother. It was almost like before. When they were a family. When he was whole. Wrecker stays for a while after the meal grinning like a fool that his mission has been successful.

Wrecker had always been good at filling the silence, regardless of whether or not Crosshair cares to hear it. He was now talking about some civilian woman he’d met at the bakery, why he felt Crosshair needed to know what color her hair was or how she always smiled when Wrecker came in, which was every kriffing day apparently, he couldn’t guess.

“Her name is Daisy and she always gives me extras of my favorite things when I go in there! And Omega loves her!” Wrecker’s smile was somehow wider than it was before, something Crosshair didn’t think was possible, and there was a slight flush to his cheeks.

“You like her.” Crosshair scoffed,eyeing his brother with insufferable scrutiny.

“Well– yeah! Daisy’s nice! And she makes the best food!”

"You have a crush because she’s pretty and makes food…" He sneered derisively at his brother. He can't be serious.

"Well…I mean…" Wrecker shrugged, rubbing a hand on his neck, perhaps made a little shy by the topic of conversation, "Is that so bad?"

"We're not meant for that life, Wrecker." His voice was firm, decided.

Wrecker shook his head, "Why not, Cross? We're not soldiers anymore. I mean- not like we use'ta be."

"Don't be naive. You can’t change your nature. We weren't made for relationships, to have normal lives." He waved dismissively, hoping to push the topic away like smoke.

"Well- I'm not letting anyone else make that choice anymore… you shouldn't either." It was a rare serious moment for his large, silly brother, his face sobered.

"Ugh-" This was not a conversation Crosshair felt ready to discuss.

"Hey! What about you and Bells! Huh??" Wrecker nudged him with his elbow, eyebrows waggling.

"Ridiculous." Crosshair snarled, practically spitting the word out. He felt irrational anger at Wrecker’s use of the nickname. He grit his teeth and shook it off, but the feeling lingered at the back of his mind. Wrecker was giving him an amused and knowing look, which only angered him further, "Wrecker- don't look at me like that."

"You're allowed to like her ya know…" Wrecker leaned in, his voice oddly softer.

Crosshair bristled, this is ridiculous! "Wrecker." He warned. He pushed his brother away and focused intently on a cracked spot of the counter. "STOP."

Wrecker was not dissuaded, he wrapped an arm around Crosshair’s shoulders, pulling him close, despite his brother’s protests. "Come ooon, Cross! I think she likes you, too!"

Unable to fight his brother’s strength, he rolls his eyes and scowls. "Don't you have something better to do than pester me?"

"Nope!" Wrecker laughed boisterously, shaking Crosshair in the process.

- - - -

Once he'd been left alone again, Crosshair finally pulled out his firepuncher, he was reverant, mourning, guilty. His thoughts raced in his mind telling him don't bother trying, di’kut, that you can't, you're too weak, and you aren't worthy. He stared down at his disassembled rifle, Maybe now is the time for pushing. His thoughts unbidden turned to Bells. Her maddeningly positive outlook, the way her eyes sparkle brightly when she smiles at him. The surprising strength she carries to challenge him, support him, and defend him– He put his rifle back together for the first time since his rescue and felt a sliver of himself return to him. Perhaps Bells is right afterall, the familiar feeling of the cool metal beneath his fingers giving him a strange sort of melancholy. But is this all that he is? A soldier? A killer? Is he even capable of being anything else?

A frustrated growl escaped his lips as he attempted to lift his rifle with precise, practiced movements, only to feel the uncontrollable shaking of his weakened muscles. He was unable to hold his form for more than a few moments despite multiple desperate, stubborn attempts.

After many long, aggravating attempts to lift and hold his rifle with precision and the same practiced ease he had previously taken pride in, Crosshair was left shaking, sweaty, and sore from the use of his atrophied muscles. Yet, there was a mild sort of satisfaction that he felt just from once again being able to hold and feel the rifle that was once his singular identity. Crosshair determined in that moment that, if he could not have the redemption he did not deserve, he would at least regain this one part of himself - his strength, his ability, his identity. That would have to be enough.

- - - -

During one of Crosshair’s nightly walks, a rare one where Omega or another sibling didn’t join him and he’s left blissfully alone, he enjoyed the quiet coastal breeze and the comforting silence of the village. It was late enough that most had gone to their homes, businesses were shuttered, and the only souls walking the streets were quickly finding their way to their homes for a well-earned rest.

On nights like this Crosshair could almost believe that he had earned his freedom. That he perhaps could have a chance at a quiet life, at peace. Almost. The thought soured like vinegar in his mind and he pushed it back down, hiding it away once more.

The streetlights were dimmed to a comfortable ambiance and Crosshair felt no sense of urgency as he meandered through the streets, eyes observing everything, memorizing every nook and cranny without a thought. A lifetime of training isn’t easily forgotten.

As he walked, a noise came from off to the side, in a dark, covered doorway and he paused, listening more closely. Was that crying he was hearing? Uncertainty clouded his mind and he froze. The crying was stifled, as if the person was attempting to cover up the noise. Crosshair wasn’t sure what compelled him to, but he took a few steps forward leaning in to investigate the sound.

Isabella was curled in upon herself, one hand covering her mouth to muffle the sound of her cry. Her shoulders wracked with sobs, her other hand clutched a data pad.

Unsure what to do, Crosshair looked about the area for another person, someone who would very likely be more equipped to handle a crying woman than himself.

The movement caught Isabella’s eye and she started. She quickly stood up, hands flying to her face to wipe away the tears, "Crosshair!" Her voice was thick and rough from crying.

"Bells." He cleared his throat, visibly uncomfortable, "Do- Do you need me to go find someone…else…for you?"

She released a startled chuckle and shook her head. “No. I’m-I’m–fine. Thank you.” She responds haltingly, voice shaking out each word, and continues in vain to wipe at the tears streaming down her face.

He tilted his head to the side, “You’re crying.” It was a statement of fact. Despite his flat tone, Crosshair felt a deep concern for her and took a few soft steps forward to lean against the wall opposite her, “I don’t think I’d call that ‘fine’.”

She leaned her head back against the wall and took a deep steadying breath, attempting to slow the halting gasps. The pair stood in silence, both unsure how to proceed. There was a sense of unavoidable change, that how they chose to proceed could change something indeterminate between them.

Crosshair watched her closely, it was strange to see this woman who so often had a smile on her face, now so broken, eyes rimmed in red and face scrunched in some deep emotional pain. Crosshair felt so out of his depth but also unable to leave her alone in her pain. He knew what that felt like and was surprised to find that he did not want to be the reason that Bells experienced the same.

Her breathing had evened out after a time and she sighed deeply, “Today is the anniversary of my parents’ death.” She spoke softly, almost too softly to hear. Her eyes were focused on the ground, giving him the option to disengage. “And I forgot.” He watched the pain on her face deepen and she slid down the wall, sitting once again and wrapping her arms around herself.

He sat across from her in silence- what words could he give to comfort her? He couldn’t exactly describe himself as emotionally competent. So he did what he had wished others had done for him, and simply sat with her.

“This is the first time I’ve forgotten them… I usually take the day to do something we used to do together, something that reminds me of them. But I was so focused on my work and the new refugees that I didn’t remember until I got home.” Now that she was speaking, it was like the words couldn’t be kept in, they spilled out in a rush.

Honoring the fallen was something Crosshair could understand. Despite the contention he’d often held for “regs” they were still, in some fashion, his brothers and many had been lost. She had presented him with a problem, and problems were something he could fix. “What do you normally do?”

Her eyes were still red rimmed but the tears had stopped for the moment. She regarded him with an unreadable expression before answering, “Last year, I made their favorite meals and stayed up to watch the sun rise. Mom loved the sunrise.” She paused, breathing deeply with her eyes closed, “He used to paint them… My–my father used to paint. He made the most beautiful scenic works of art. I used to paint, too, before–”

Something sparked in Crosshair’s memory, “The painting in your clinic. Was it his?”

Bells’s eyes widened, “Yes. How did you–”

He glanced sidelong at her with a smirk and rolled his eyes, “I wouldn’t be a very good sniper if I wasn’t observant.” His snark was rewarded with a smile, if not as bright as her usual ones. He took this as encouragement and continued, “Why don’t you paint the sunrise?”

“What?”

He shrugged, attempting to keep up his appearance of detachment, despite the growing tightness and warmth in his chest. “You used to paint. So paint the sunrise. That will honor both of them.”

She laughed suddenly, a bright and bubbling sound, “Crosshair! You’re a genius!”

“Don’t let Tech hear you say that… Actually, do. He’d hate it.”

Isabella leapt up and reached out a hand to him, “Will you join me? It was your idea, after all.”

He hesitated, once again Bells has found a way to spin things in a way that draws him closer when he’s so used to pushing others away. He scowled, but still reached out and took her hand, “It’s not like I sleep much anyway.”

“Hm. Might want to work on that.” She smirked back at him. The banter was like a pressure release, the strangely charged feeling passes allowing things to return to normal, for the moment.

For the next several hours, Crosshair found himself in a situation he could never have foreseen. Keeping silent vigil over Bells as she painted the sunrise in honor of parents he would never meet. He was her silent companion. It had been a long time since he’d been so relaxed and watching her paint smooth brushstrokes was soothing.

“Thank you, Crosshair.” She smiled at him, red hair rimmed in a halo of sunlight.

Taglist: @anxiouspineapple99 @wings-and-beskar @starrylothcat @secondaryrealm @arctrooper69 @blueink-bluesoul @littlemissmanga @wolffegirlsunitee @dystopicjumpsuit @idontgetanysleep @clonemedickix @sunshinesdaydream @jediknightjana @dangraccoon

#Oop #He's down bad already #Sunflowers & Blasters #Crosshair x OC #Crosshair x OC Isabella Ramot #Soft Crosshair #star wars #the bad batch #tbb #the clone wars #tbb crosshair #bad batch #fanfiction #Rebel Writes #tbb wrecker #wrecker bad batch #wrecker

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humanoidhistory · 6 months

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Ramot Housing project, Jerusalem, designed by Zvi Hecker.

#israel #jerusalem #ramot #architecture #brutalism #brutalist #zvi hecker #palestine

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eloquentmoon · 5 months

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Hello! I saw your OC x OC reblog and I wasn't sure if you were playing or not, so feel free to ignore if you're not accepting asks. If you are accepting asks and want to do an OC ship (Platonic or Romantic, your choice), here's my OC Dr. Isabella "Bells" Ramot. She's sunshine with a backbone in that she's not afraid to stand up for others. She survives on Caf and Pastries and when she's not working she likes to paint. She's generous to a fault and has had to learn the hard way not to let people take advantage of her kind and gentle nature.

(If you're not accepting these, please just delete. Sorry!)

hello lovely! oh my goodness thank you so much for sending me this ask, i am so excited!! bells is so sweet, i love her already - i think that she would pair really well with my oc nienna fern who is an artist, explorer and collector of knowledge/secrets. she loves meeting other creatives, and she becomes a renowned portrait artist and art critic as she gets older. she also loves good food too! art below is by @kimageddon

(platonic) nienna fern x bells ramot headcanons

they meet at an art exhibition on naboo, the two of them being drawn to the same piece. they spend hours talking artistic inspiration and technique. nienna offers to paint bells' portrait if bells will paint a piece of her gardens. they agree to meet up again.

their friendship blossoms. they meet as often as they are able to for breakfasts, indulging in the finest caf and pastries and cakes with nienna's vast wealth - nienna loves to treat her friends. she has more money then she will ever need.

nienna loves to hear the stories of the people that bells works with and meets in her profession. she loves people and wants to know everything about everyone. her interest allows bells to vent about the difficulties of her job and reflect on her nature of kindness and how others can take advantage of her, but also the positives of her job too. i think they would reflect together.

i love the idea of them going to a market and shopping for inks and pigments together, perhaps even nienna sweeping bells away on an art retreat when her job gets her stressed.

they would have a lovely, wholesome friendship and would encourage each other in their artistic pursuits!

thank you so much, i hope you liked these!!

play the oc x oc ask game with me!

#oc game #oc ask game #oc x oc game #oc: nienna fern #oc: bells ramot #oc #star wars oc #eloquentmoon #523rdrebel

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bercestebir · 2 years

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`tarifini sorsalar her baktığımda, ilk defa görüyormuşum gibi.. az kalsın ölüyormuşsun gibi..

#gönül dağı #ramot

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eretzyisrael · 2 years

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Source

#ismail nimar #terrorist #ramot #martyr's death

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sheliach · 2 years

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HECTOR POLINO (1933-20222), abnegado dirigente del Partido Socialista de Argentina, activo militante del cooperativismo.

El compañero Polino con Gavri Bargil y Moshé M. Rozén, representantes del Movimiento Kibutziano y el Partido Meretz.

#economía solidaria #mapam #ramot menashe #nir yitzhaq #partido socialista #acción cooperativa #kibbutzartzi #ciudad de buenos aires #tzavta centro comunitario #meretz argentina #2006 #héctor polino #nuevasion

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germanpostwarmodern · 7 months

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Ramot Polin Housing (1975) in Jerusalem, Israel, by Zvi Hecker

#1970s #housing #architecture #israel #architektur #jerusalem #zvi hecker

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mythical-illustrator · 8 months

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And Oc for @523rdrebel

Meet Dr. Isabella Ramot.

Medic by day, painter in her free time. Now if only she could get a certain clone sniper to pose for her .

Thank you so much for the opportunity to draw her. I loved drawing her sweater.

Crosshairs x original character.

Adding Story time

Master list

#star wars #the bad batch #the clone wars #starwars bad batch #my art #tbb crosshair #Dr. Isabella #crosshair x fem!reader #other people's ocs #sunshine character

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coolpizzazonkplaid · 26 days

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La heredera del Infierno

El pueblo y el restaurante

La niña de cuatro años vio dos cuerpos en el suelo y la sangre cubriendo todo el suelo manchándole las pantuflas. No supo cómo después llegó a la comisaría e intentaban sacarle respuestas a algo que ella no sabía. Luego la llevaron a un edificio donde un señor la dejó en una habitación repleta de otros niños.

Todos ellos la miraban con ojos curiosos a la nueva del hogar, pero al darse cuenta que era un horario muy tarde prefirieron volver a sus pacíficos sueños. La pequeña lloró toda la noche preguntando por sus padres, pero ningún adulto le dio respuestas. Después de tanto llorar durmió, creyendo que fue solo una pesadilla, esperando a que sus padres estuvieran entre los vivos�� no fue un sueño, sino una realidad.

Paso un tiempo y la niña creció apartándose de los demás pequeños que eran crueles con ella por tener los ojos de diferentes color. Se ocultó en las sombras, sumergiéndose en los libros y pocos peluches que conservaba como consuelo tras la pérdida de sus padres.

Fue un día cualquiera, cuando una niña pelirroja de ojos cafés comenzó a hablarle y la pequeña de ojos heterocromáticos le siguió la conversación desconfiada. Quizás era una trampa para que los demás niños se burlaran de sus gustos o sus penas, pero la pequeña de cabello rojo pareció no ser de los que menospreciaban el aspecto físico de las personas.

–Sos muy divertida y agradable ¿Cómo te llamas? –la niña pelirroja se acercó al rostro de la otra– ¡Que ojos tan fantásticos! ¿Uno puede descifrar la verdad o tiene algún superpoder?

–Me llamo Adelina Acosta –dijo con cierta desconfianza y la cara de la pequeña se ocultó detrás del libro– y ninguno de mis ojos tiene poderes, simplemente son así por nacimiento.

–Oh... que mal –el tono de la niña pelirroja de desilusión cambió drásticamente– Soy Daniela Ramoter ¿Qué estas leyendo? Amo leer.

Adelina despertó con el suave sonido del agua, la cabeza dándole vueltas y el lado derecho de su cuerpo agonizando. El río por el que había caído, la arrastró hacia una pequeña orilla repleta pasto y rocas molestas. Se arrastró hacia la orilla con el peso de su mochila repleta de agua y objetos como si fueran rocas y por el cansancio la quitó de su espalda.

El alivio y el mareo la inundaron. Las náuseas no tardaron en aparecer y Adelina buscó un árbol donde vomitó todo lo que su estómago no pudo digerir. No se había percatado de que su pierna y vientre le dolían hasta después de sacar todo.

Volvió con paso adolorido hacia donde estaba la mochila y tomó los primeros auxilios. Se despojó de todo el equipo de invierno, el calor la estaba asfixiando. Observó el lado derecho de su cuerpo percatándose de la sangre que emanaba y recordó lo que la daga le había hecho. Tatuajes. Todo su brazo y una parte de su abdomen estaba tatuado con la anatomía del esqueleto. Luego miró su pierna y vientre malheridos, el líquido carmesí comenzaba a generarle costras en la piel. Con delicadeza limpió la sangre seca para después ponerles alcohol y cubrió con gazas tanto las heridas de su combate como las del tatuaje. Las heridas necesitaban ser tratadas rápidamente.

De pronto, otro pensamiento la invadió. La investigación. Con pánico buscó la grabadora y la cámara. Los objetos se encontraron en un buen estado por las bolsas de plástico que Adelina siempre llevaba para proteger sus pertenencias. Buscó el mapa que había hallado en las ruinas y para su alivio no mostraba signos de daño. Por último y con temor, buscó la daga nórdica, pero esta vez usó los guantes de invierno para evitar alguna herida por culpa del arma. Al sentir que sus dedos tocaron el objeto maldito, el alivio y el terror la invadieron. Miedo a esa arma extraña y lo que le había hecho.

Necesitaba cuanto antes llegar a un poblado y contactar con Mariano. El mareo por las alucinaciones y las heridas comenzaban a cobrarle factura a Adelina, al igual que el cansancio por la lucha con el tal Smoke y su caída por la cascada.

Rápidamente tomo sus pertenencias y avanzó río abajo con la esperanza de encontrar un poblado en medio de bosques y colina. La caminata fue lenta, su pierna y vientre apuñalados hicieron que la chica rengueara y le dificulpaba aún más las rocas esparcidas y camufladas en la hierba. Sus extremidades comenzaron a pesarle después de tanto caminar y era casi de noche cuando vio humo a lo lejos.

Adelina siguió avanzando esperanzada y al poco tiempo llegó a una aldea pequeña y pacífica. Campesinos preparándose para descansar y otros dirigiéndose a un restaurante, algunos animales parados en la puerta expectantes en la puerta del local. El barullo del lugar y el olor a comida atrajo a Adelina. No comió nada durante mucho tiempo y su estómago rugió ante el olor de la carne y las especias.

Al lado del establecimiento había una posadera en la que se acercó. Hubo algunos curiosos que la miraron, otros ni se percataron de una chica extrajera, desaliñada, golpeada, mojada de pies a cabeza y rengueando. Entró a la posadera y esperó a que alguien la atendiera. Apareció el dueño y la miró con mala cara.

–No aceptamos vagabundos.

–No lo soy –dijo Adelina y puso una buena cara–. Me perdí de mi grupo de escalada y acabé aquí por accidente.

El hombre siguió juzgándola con su mirada. Parecía no creerle por todos los vendajes que tenía en su cuerpo y su rostro con moretones.

– ¿Y las heridas?

–Caí por una colina de los alrededores, fue como caer de una cascada en medio de una montaña.

Adelina sacó su mejor sonrisa inocente y buscó en su mochila algo de efectivo para darle al hombre. Le dio a la chica una llave con el número de su habitación y la muchacha pidió amablemente si podría darle algunas gazas y medicamentos para las heridas. El hombre prometió entregárselo en cuanto estuviera en sus aposentos.

Adelina caminó a la habitación y cerró la puerta. Una vez dentro, toda la adrenalina se esfumó y sus piernas se convirtieron en plomo, pero antes tenía que tratar con mayor cuidado todo su lado derecho, pierna y vientre. El tatuaje le dolía a horrores y sentía que su brazo dejó de funcionar.

Soltó la mochila con un sonido sordo en el suelo, tuvo el impulso de tirarse al colchón para no despertar jamás y olvidar a los Lin Kuei y los sueños macabros. Pasaron unos minutos en los que Adelina desempacó todas sus pertenencias cuando tocaron la puerta, el posadero le había traído los materiales. Tras un gracias y otra mirada juzgona del hombre, la muchacha se dirigió al baño para quitarse la suciedad.

El agua caliente hizo que los músculos adoloridos de la joven se relajaran y a la vez le provocaron molestias en las heridas abiertas. Se mojó el cabello negro sucio de tierra y pasó jabón por todo su cuerpo, masajeándose las áreas que más le dolían. Luego quitó las costras de las heridas y los tatuajes y salió de la ducha más relajada. El cabello de Adelina comenzó a ondularse tras cepillarlo, mientras sus ojos heterocromáticos reflejaban su cuerpo magullado en el pequeño espejo. Se puso ropa limpia para ocultar los vendajes nuevos, lamentándose no poder cubrir los raspones y moretones hechos en el rostro y salió a comer.

El olor a comida le invadió las fosas nasales y se le hizo agua a la boca ante diversos platos humeantes de carne, fideos y verduras. Gente sentada en todos lados hablando y riendo sin parar, también bebían como si no hubiera un mañana. La chica se sentó en una mesa para uno y tuvo algunas miradas entre la multitud. Esperó a que una camarera la atendiera y en ese instante apareció una anciana con un rodete en su cabello canoso entregándole el menú con una mirada curiosa al ver los golpes del rostro de la joven. Lo aceptó con gusto e intentó leer la carta, le costó un poco ya que todavía le dificultaba el chino. Acabó pidiendo costillas agridulces y arroz tres delicias.

En un momento, la anciana recibió a dos muchachos con sombreros y por el modo en el que les hablaba quizás fuera su madre o tía, les preparó una mesa y el dúo se acomodó. La señora se alejó, Adelina esperó pacientemente y para matar el tiempo divagó sobre la daga nórdica y el por qué había runas nórdicas en un monasterio chino. No se había percatado de que la anciana llegó con su cena y luego de disculparse y sacar el cuaderno, Adelina devoró la comida.

El sabor a carne de cerdo y el arroz se apropiaron de su paladar y no pudo haberse sentido más feliz. El hambre la estaba volviendo loca, no había comido desde que se fue de Buenos Aires ni cuando llegó a las montañas y su estómago había estado rugiendo desde su caída de las cataratas. Después de dejar limpio los platos quiso pedirse una segunda ronda, pero prefirió cuidar lo poco del dinero que tenía. Adelina pidió la cuenta y tras pagarle a la señora y darle las gracias regresó a la posada, ocultándose en su habitación.

En las cuatro paredes, quitó de las bolsas de plástico ya casi secas a la radio. Se hallaba seca y sin ningún tipo de problemas y eso alivió bastante a Adelina. Tenía más posibilidades de comunicarse con Mariano y que la pudiera buscar lo antes posible.

Buscó la frecuencia correcta para ver si su amigo recibía la señal y tras varios minutos parecía que había encontrado la indicada. Hubo un poco de interferencia, pero esperaba que no le fuera problema para su llamada.

–¿Mariano? ¿Estás ahí? –se escuchó interferencia–. ¿Mariano? Soy Adelina, necesito que me pases a buscar.

Una vez más los ruidos de la radio se apropiaron del cuarto de la joven. Siguió probando varias veces más hasta frustarse. No sabía en que parte de China se encontraba concretamente y necesitaba volver cuanto antes a Buenos Aires.

–¿Adelina? –La voz de Mariano adormilada se escuchó en la radio.

La alegría se apoderó de la joven y con una sonrisa le contestó.

–Mariano, soy yo. Ade. –la chica no supo cuántas emociones la invadieron–. ¿Cuántos días hace que me fui? ¿Podes ubicarme?

–¿Tenes idea de la hora que es?

–Sinceramente no.

–Las ocho de la mañana de un domingo.

La risa de la muchacha salió repentinamente. Mariano odiaba que lo despertaran temprano a menos que él lo quisiera.

–Aquí es de noche deben ser las nueve o diez creo.

–¿Qué querés de mí a las ocho de la mañana de un domingo? Un puto domingo me tenías que despertar.

–Quiero que me pases a buscar lo más rápido que puedas.

–¿Me estas jodiendo verdad? –dijo el chico indignado.

–Nop. –Adelina tomó una pequeña exhalación–. Descubrí cosas bastantes fuertes en Arctika y casi me mata un boludo con barbijo.

–¿Barbijo?

–No miento.

–Está bien, pero no me voy a levantar ahora mismo –Mariano comenzó a bostezar mientras hablaba–. Tengo sueño así que calcúlate que en unas horitas me voy a despertar y prepararme para ir al hangar.

–Me sirve para que yo duerma.

–Pásame tus coordenadas que ya veo que puedo hacer por vos.

La chica buscó entre sus cosas un pequeño GPS que compartía con Mariano en caso de emergencias como la que estaba ahora. Activó el aparato y esperó una respuesta.

–Perfecto, ya lo recibí. Anda para el sur que ahí tengo un conocido que te puede hospedar hasta que yo vaya para China. –Volvió a soltar otro bostezo– Es como media hora en caminata.

–No hay problema. Después de que haya dormido voy para ver a tu amigo. Quiero que también traigas primeros auxilios y todo lo que tengas de medicina.

–¿Para qué necesitas eso?

–Porque me pelee con el boludo del barbijo y me lastimó. Por eso. –antes de cortar recordó a su amiga–. Ah, quiero que también le avises a Dan-Dan de cómo me encuentro.

–Está bien ¿Algo más?

–No, nada más por el momento.

Se despidieron y apagó la radio. El cansancio tomó su cuerpo y los párpados se volvieron peso muerto, tratando de llevarla al mundo de los sueños. Una vez que Adelina sacó sus pertenencias de la cama, se dejó absorber por el colchón y envolverse en las cálidas sábanas. Se durmió sin dar demasiadas vueltas.

–¡DESPIERTA CARAJO! –La voz estruendosa de Mariano en la radio azotó los oídos de Adelina.

La chica con un gemido angustioso sacó la mano de las profundidades de las sábanas. Buscó a ciegas en la mesita hasta dar con la radio. Con dificultad intentó buscar el botón para iniciar la conversación hasta que pudo dar con este.

–¿Qué? –Su voz quedó amortiguada por el sueño.

–Ya estoy despierto y acá son cerca de las doce del mediodía –hubo un poco de interferencia–. Entre terminar el almuerzo e ir al hangar sería una hora. Agrégale las once o doce horas que tengo que hacer de viaje.

–Está bien ¿qué hay con eso?

–Era venganza por despertarme a las ocho y media de la mañana de un domingo.

–Morite.

–Y que cuando esté pasando por Europa te voy avisando que vayas a lo de mi conocido.

–Está bien –un bostezó la invadió momentáneamente–. ¿Ya puedo irme a dormir?

–Sip.

Adelina tiró su cabeza hacia la almohada con la radio aún en su pecho. El sueño volvió a tomar su cuerpo y continuó durmiendo hasta que la luz del sol invadió las ventanas y el barullo de la calle se hizo fuerte. Levantarse le fue una tortura, los músculos le dolían con cada movimiento que hacía.

Una vez fuera de la cama, sin pensar en lo que hacía, sus dedos hallaron la daga nórdica. El arma estaba envuelta en un trapo atado a una goma de plástico. Los tatuajes aún le dolían cuando recordaba lo que el arma le hizo.

La desenvolvió con cuidado y pánico a que esa cosa volviera hacerle un daño, pero tras sacarle el trapo y el arma tocara sus dedos nada ocurrió. Era un hermoso artefacto a ojos de la muchacha, pero peligroso. El mango repleto de pequeñas costillas y el cráneo en la punta. Sacó la daga de la funda usando el trapo y observó la hoja afilada. No había perdido filo con el pasar de los años, y podía verse el reflejo de la joven como si fuera un espejo. Mientras estudiaba la hoja con cuidado, su ojo derecho destelló de un verde como su iris y detrás suyo los muertos miraron fijamente a Adelina. Todos acercándose, rugiendo y lamentándose. Sus gritos los pudo escuchar como si estuviera en la cueva de la montaña otra vez.

Se dio la vuelta. Nada. Ningún muerto agonizante ni colérico.

Pero sí que escuchó los gritos y aún los escuchaba pasado los minutos como una melodía estruendosa que se negaba a marcharse de los oídos de Adelina.

Asustada y confundida, guardó todo y salió de la posada caminando hacia el restaurante. Vio a muchos clientes marchar hacia sus trabajos en el campo, supuso Adelina y había pocos todavía desayunando. La joven se sentó en el mismo lugar de la noche anterior y esperó a que alguien la atendiera.

Mesas esparcidas por los dos pisos, en las que algunas todavía había tazas de té a medio terminar. Algunos carteles desperdigados en las columnas. Pilas de tazas, platos y cubiertos sin usar. Linternas apagadas y colgadas por todo el local. Un establecimiento encantador y pacífico.

La anciana de anoche una vez más atendió a Adelina y le entregó la carta. Acabó pidiéndose un té Oolong con galletitas de almendra y mientras esperaba su bebida caliente, vio a los dos supuestos hijos de la señora acercándose a ella. Adelina pudo escuchar un poco de su conversación, no había mucho que hacer por el sitio así que ser una chismosa no estaba descartado.

–Vamos Kung Lao. Deja de comer tenemos que ir a cosechar –el rechinar de la silla chocando con la madera–. Podrás seguir comiendo en la noche con la cena que hace la señora Bo.

–Dame un segundo Raiden –habló el chico mientras masticaba–. Tengo hambre.

–Siempre tienes hambre y eso nos impide hacer más trabajo.

Adelina apenas vio a esos dos jóvenes de casi su misma edad marchándose a las corridas, sin antes mirar a la muchacha con curiosidad y perdiéndose en la multitud del pueblo. La anciana, por lo que escuchó llamada Bo, le dio su pedido y con una sonrisa empezó a beber. El agua caliente pasó por su garganta y la satisfacción de un buen desayuno hizo feliz a la joven. Después del primer sorbo tomó una galletita y la masticó. La sensación de las almendras abrazó su paladar, pero ese pequeño placer se esfumó.

–Adelina.

La voz de Mariano interrumpió la paz de la joven.

–¿Qué?

–Estoy pasando Europa. Te recomendaría que vayas preparándote para irte a lo de mi conocido.

En la radio se escuchaba el estruendoso motor de la avioneta y las interferencias, pero a pesar de eso pudo entender el mensaje de su amigo.

–Perfecto, ya termino mi té.

–¿Me compras uno? –La voz del muchacho se tornó expectante.

–No.

Cortó la llamada de la radio y se apresuró a beber el té. Guardó las galletitas en su bolsillo y después le pagó a la anciana. Antes de marcharse del restaurante, le preguntó la dirección del sur y tras indicarle la joven salió del sitio.

Ya era casi media mañana cuando salió del pueblo. Atravesando los campos de cultivo con la luz del sol en su punto más alto, no hizo un calor tan agobiante para sorpresa de Adelina, mientras veía cómo el pueblo se volvía más diminuto hasta desaparecer. La caminata duró hasta que fue pasada la hora del almuerzo y pudo dar con una pequeña cabaña en la que un hombre observaba en la dirección de la joven.

–¿Adelina Acosta?

–Depende de quién la busca.

–Soy el amigo de Mariano –el hombre mostró una sonrisa amistosa–. Me dijo que te esperara y hasta me contó de que te enfrentaste a alguien con barbijo y que por eso aparecerías con varios golpes. Ese imbécil no se equivocó en lo que decía.

Eso sorprendió mucho a la joven.

–Que encantador que Mariano haya contado eso.

–Sí, parece un niño en el cuerpo de un adulto.

–Lo sé.

El hombre le permitió entrar a la residencia para esperar a Mariano. Un ambiente pequeño y humilde. Una mesa de madera en la que había un plato, vaso y un par de cubiertos. En frente, un cuarto con una cama desarreglada. Algunas sillas desperdigadas fuera de su sitio.

La muchacha se sentó y soltó un suspiro de alivio. La camina la cansó bastante y necesitaba cuánto antes un gran vaso de agua. El hombre le otorgó la bebida y la tomó tan rápido como se la dio.

Después de entablar una buena conversación con el amigo de Mariano, la muchacha comenzó a escuchar el sonido de un motor a lo lejos. Sintió que estaba más cerca de casa.

#mk x reader #smoke x reader #tomas vrbada x reader #tomas x reader #mk1 x reader #scorpion x reader #kuai liang x reader #bi han x reader #sub zero x reader #liu kang x reader #heredera del infierno

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nepanik · 1 year

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Tumbli bölcsei!

Eszembejutott, hogy lehet kéne egy “új” laptop a harmadik generációs i3as mostani helyett, ebben van valami geforce 720m 2gb dedikált memóriával, dobtam bele ramot, meg ssd-t szóval eldöcög, de a wifije az kuka, csatlakozás után egyszercsak eldobja a hálózatot, és utána csak újraindítással kelthető életre újra, próbálkoztam már sok mindennel, sikertelenül, szóval nem annyira mobil a cucc, ami hátrány, mert akksiról meg simán elmegy 3-4 órát.

Szóval valami hasonló kategóriájú, (vagy inkàbb i5-ös) gépet keresek, 15,6” méretben, (usb c nice to have, de nem ragaszkodom hozzá) és jó lenne megúszni 300k környékén, de egy gyors keresésre semmi nem akadt fenn a hálón új gépek közül. Vagy rosszul kerestem, vagy annyira fasza már az integrált intel gpu hogy nem szórják a pórnépnek a dedikáltat, vagy keressek inkább használt, refurbished gépet?

#laptop #konzumidiotizmus

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girlactionfigure · 1 year

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Breaking News: Update

1:32pm Terror attack - Ramming in Ramot

Update: CPR being administered on the scene. 2 children critically wounded. 10 wounded all together.

Jerusalem: At least 7 wounded on Ramot road in ramming terror attack. Including seriously wounded.

Terrorist shot and neutralized by border police.

Initial reports of multiple wounded.

The Muqata

The two seriously wounded victims are children.

#Israel #Ramot #Ramming Attack #Palestinian terrorism

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523rdrebel · 8 days

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Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10

Chapter 10 - The Start of Something New

Chapter Summary: Crosshair, Bells, and the Batch enjoy the Festival. Bells and Crosshair take small steps to learn how to navigate their relationship.

Rating: T, SFW

Warnings: None

A/N: So so sorry for taking so long to continue this story. I went on hiatus and then hit an unfortunate bout of writer's block. Fair warning this chapter begins Part Two of Sunflowers and Blasters which will have a bit of a tonal shift. We are still focusing on Crosshair and Bells's relationship, but I'll be introducing more original characters, quite a lot of backstory for our favorite sunshine medic, and even some angst and action. If that isn't something you're interested in, no worries, and no pressure to keep reading. <3

Thanks so much for your patience with me and I hope you enjoy!

Crosshair divider by Snotbuggle, Star and Moon Dividers by Saradi

Wrecker came up in between them wrapping his arms around their shoulders and dragging them along with a firm squeeze back toward the festival, “Come on, you two! There’s a whole festival to enjoy…together.” He wiggled his eyebrows and laughed, loud and boisterous.

“Ugh–” Crosshair groaned and rolled his eyes, but didn’t fight Wrecker guiding them back towards the Festival.

Once they reentered the bright, joyful lights, surrounded once again by the cacophony of sound from a village temporarily uninhibited by responsibilities, Wrecker released the pair and jogged off as he caught sight of Daisy passing nearby, drawn like a moth to a flame.

Left alone, there was this weight of uncertain pressure between Crosshair and Isabella. They’d flirted often, drawn inexplicably towards each other from the moment Crosshair had entered Isabella’s clinic, but now, they stood on the precipice of an undeniable change. They stood close together but not touching, hesitant but with an electric undercurrent of expectation. Isabella glanced to the side, observing Crosshair’s body language for any clues on his thoughts. Her hand twitched and she fought the urge to grab his hand and drag him along.

She heard Crosshair sigh through his nose, bringing her gaze back to his face as he rolled his eyes. The back of his hand brushed against hers, electric sparks shooting through her body causing a barely suppressed shiver.

“Well…” Isabella began, leaning slightly to brush her shoulder against his, “Where to?”

He leans in conspiratorially, “We could just leave…”

“Not so fast, Cross. You can’t go to a Festival and not play obviously rigged games. It’s tradition.”

“Rigged games–”

“Come on!” Instinctively she reached out for his hand, but stopped short and instead held out her hand palm up. An invitation.

Crosshair eyed the hand for only a moment before grasping her open palm within his, reveling in the sensation of her soft, warm fingers wrapped around his. He let her lead him through the busy streets of the festival, much as Omega had led them earlier that evening, his eyes cataloging her form- her hair, her smile, her bright, twinkling laugh. How long would he be able to hold on to her? How long until he broke her, too? But he pushed those unwelcome thoughts down, down into his mind avoiding the cold grip of fear he was all too accustomed to.

The evening passed in a dizzying blur of activity. Bells led Crosshair to all of her favorite sections of the Festival: Lantern lighting, hand crafted art and trinkets, exotic foods, dancers and musical performers and games of skill. At one game Wrecker took on a feat of strength, lifting a large boulder and spinning around to launch the rock across a number of lines indicating the distance thrown. Shep, surprisingly, tossed his boulder just a hair farther than Wrecker to the shocked cheers of many onlookers. Wrecker congratulated Shep with a crushing hug, lifting the man off the ground and laughing joyously.

Echo and Hunter challenged Crosshair and Tech to a game strategy and cooperation, followed shortly after by Wrecker and Omega who joined the competition. One of each team of two was blindfolded and sent into a maze, the partner perched atop their shoulders to direct them through the maze. It was a highly competitive game, each team yelling directions and orders or attempting to distract or mislead the opposing team. Hunter, Tech, and Wrecker were blindfolded, their partners secured upon their shoulders and the game began. Echo kept purposely directing Hunter into walls when he tried to use his heightened senses to tell Echo where he thought they should go. Crosshair communicated almost solely through various forms of grunts and growls, frustrating Tech to no end, “Use. Your. Words. Crosshair.” Wrecker and Omega made it through the maze in less than five minutes, having no difficulties communicating and Omega only directed them to a dead end twice. Wrecker and Omega were adorned with beautifully crafted flower crowns for their victory and Wrecker promptly offered his to a blushing, giggling Daisy.

Bells nudged Crosshair with her elbow, directing his attention towards Wrecker and Daisy, “He went off to talk to Dai-sy.” She beamed at the pair across the way, “She's my favorite baker on the island. Wrecker’s had a crush on her for ages…”

Crosshair rolled his eyes, “I know– he’s been insufferable. Mooning at her for months.”

“He asked me for some advice, didn’t quite know how to start talking to her.”

“You?” He remarked dryly.

She elbowed his waist sharply this time, “Believe it or not, Cross, I am actually a woman. I’m familiar with our wiley ways.” She wiggled her fingers at him playfully.

“Do go on…”

“Excuse you! Those are protected trade secrets. I can't reveal them to just anybody.”

He snorted and directed another eye roll at her.

She sighed and shook her head, then shrugged, “Well, I’m hungry. Come with me?”

“I suppose. Wouldn't want to leave you and your wiley ways unsupervised…”

After their hunger was satisfied, they decided upon one last game. “Saving the best for last,” she’d said, and led him to a stall with a rudimentary game of accuracy. The stall was set up with holo-targets at three levels of difficulty and an old short-range training blaster rifle was provided for all who wished to take on the “challenge.” Crosshair scoffed, but Bells beamed at him and stepped up to the stall.

Crosshair stood back observing quietly, taking it all in. He was happy, happier than he'd been in a long time, if ever. He watched Bells laughing with Wrecker who had come over to cheer for her.

He watched as she set her stance like he’d taught her, leveled the rifle, and took aim. She was still wearing his borrowed jacket. The corner of his mouth twitched. He approached her from behind while she took her first two shots, nailing the bullseye, then just to the right. She aimed again, nailing the next two with intense focus. He smirked and ran a hand up her back under his jacket and leaned close to whisper in her ear, “Don’t get distracted…” She jumped, barely hitting the outer ring of the target and she turned on him, blushing profusely, “Cross!”

Crosshair chuckled quietly, “Works every time…” His gaze swept over the targets, “Well, you still hit the target…barely. Might have to work on your focus, Bells.”

She crossed her arms over her chest with a huff, mumbling under her breath, “Kiss the man once in a secluded garden and suddenly he gets bold.”

It was getting late, the crowds had thinned and many stalls had begun to clear away. Lighting around the Festival areas were dimmed to a low, soft ambiance. Hunter and Omega had bid their goodnights an hour or so prior and the rest of the Batch had scattered elsewhere. Crosshair and Bells walked the darkened quiet streets of Pabu’s upper levels, meandering a path towards Bells’s home. When they finally approach the door, Bells tapped the entry pad and the door opened with a woosh. The pair lingered in the entrance, hushed and unwilling to break the spell and end the night.

After what could have been seconds or hours, locked in a stalemate with ever encroaching time, Crosshair wraped one arm around her waist and pulled her close. The other hand softly cradled the back of her neck and he pressed a soft, teasing kiss to her lips before releasing her with a knowing smirk, “‘Night, Bells.” Once again he walked out her door leaving her breathless and hopelessly wanting more.

She shook her head and slowly began getting ready for bed, her mind occupied with a mixture of memories and sensations from the evening and fanciful fabrications of an evermore possible future. As she exited the ‘fresher, her busy mind was abruptly broken from its revelry by a strange beeping sound. Isabella froze, listening for the sound. It came from a storage unit she hadn’t touched since arriving on Pabu some years ago. The sound stopped and she squeezed her eyes shut against the burning cold dread, clenched her jaw, and climbed into bed. With some effort, she redirected her thoughts back to the pleasant events of the evening, her breathing slowing until sleep finally found her.

She dreamt of a beautiful picnic with friends and loved ones from Pabu. Desi and Taayo were there, a young, nameless child crawling around them. Crosshair was there, as were his brothers and sister, the banter and laughter flowing freely. Other residents of Pabu made an appearance as well. All the while, a shadow hovered just out of sight, at the corners of her vision she knew it was there. She knew the shadow, but could not recall it’s name. She turned to ask, only to have it move once more just outside of her vision and then was gone. The rest of the night no more dreams troubled her.

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