#timedisintegration

Son of a bitch.

It would be too much to ask for the bullet to go straight through. No. It’s on a mission to be lodged into his knee. How does this make any logical sense? He and Fate don’t know each other that well, so naturally he can’t communicate with the man if at all. He’s supposes he only has himself to blame. He hardly bothers with him other than a swift punch to face and the occasional middle finger. The evil part of him wishes he just let this asshole get shot.

He didn’t even think about it when he shoved him down. So now he’s here on the floor, writhing but otherwise unable to move. Chef’s had a lot of injuries over the years but none are quite so painful as a bullet that bounces. There could be permanent damage to the bone. The worse part is he can feel it in the center of the pain, it had almost made it’s way out. Almost isn’t good enough and he’s in way too much pain to think about what might’ve been.

He gives Fate an acidic glare before going back to his wounds. I hate you. First, Fate tells him to be stronger then his inattention nearly gets them both killed. He didn’t think it was possible to want to throttle himself but Fate better sleep with one eye open from now on. He waved his GHS at him telling him to call for help. 

“…..has died.” finish it in my ask.

Even after warning him several time about how dangerous it was walking around outside with him, Chef always insisted on coming with him to buy groceries or going for a long walk together. Perhaps he should have expected such stubbornness though— it seemed to run in the Kresnik family, and Chef seemed particularly fond of him despite knowing him for a short amount of time. 

There were times Chef would text him while working just to say hi or try to give him a little pep talk to keep him going, and Star always took a bit of his break time to respond with his usual pep and his semi-unpopular emoticons he had no idea Chef liked or disliked. He hadn’t complained yet, so he’d take it that they were given a free pass. 

But there was also a time when Chef tried really hard to speak to him without using his GHS. He had to speak very slowly and it’d only be simple phrases like, “Thank you” or “Hi Star”, but it warmed his heart to know Chef found him a close enough friend to speak with; it must have been scary to debate whether or not Star would shun him for his awkward speech or not. Of course he wouldn’t— though he never had a condition like Chef’s, Star had a persistent stuttering problem around new people that people sometimes noted and embarrassed him for. It sucked. 

Today was one of those days where Chef found him on the street as Star meant to restock their food (or better said tomato) supply. “H-hhiiii… Sssstaaarrrrrrr.” Chef greeted him like he typically did, adjusting his pace to match Star’s so he could tag along for whatever Star was doing. 

“Hi Chef, you seem to be in a good mood today.” Star pointed to the grin on Chef’s face; in response, Chef nodded and his cheeks tinted a rosy pink. He didn’t comment on it in the event it might upset his friend, and it could always just be the cold getting to him. This time of the year, everyone’s faces were bright red from the wind and snow whipping in their faces. “I was going to get some groceries and maybe a few toys to keep Lulu amused. I’m assuming you want to come with me?” Another nod confirmed this choice, so the two of them took the earliest train to Drellin. They could go to Duval for a shorter trip, but Star’s bad reputation seemed to prompt ‘accidents’; a place like Duval was just too full of hiding places to be safe. Drellin should be safer. 

The train ride was uneventful; they texted each other to amuse themselves, but they just talked about whatever popped into their heads. Once they stepped off the platform, Chef kept a loose grip on Star’s arm to keep himself from getting lost in the bundle of people. Star didn’t mind so long as his grip didn’t become vice-like. 

“Do you see any stands with tomatoes?” Star asked his friend, who shook his head, but then pointed to a stand near Catamar Heights that had cat toys. That was a start. 

The clerk at the stand definitely kept a fair amount of cat toys on display: he had everything from a scratching post taller than both Star and Chef to a wind up mouse Lulu could maybe chase if he could be bothered to run around. Since Lulu already had a tower and he doubted Lulu’s drive to chase something, he found a toy that had a mouse dangling on a string attached to a long stick. It was simple, but it had a better likelihood to attract Lulu’s attention… in theory. 

“That’ll be 1000 gald sir. Will that be all?” The clerk spoke up as Star reached for his wallet and handed the man the correct amount. As he finished, he was met with Chef’s smiling face, although it vanished far too quickly to not be concerning. Did he miss something…? 

Chef swiftly pulled him away from the stand, running towards the Catamar Heights with a look of fear and a bit determination as to run away from…Star wasn’t sure what. He dared to look back and found the clerk from the shop alongside a few other people. The clerk had a dagger (which he probably meant to stab him with when he had his back turned earlier) while the man’s friends had either guns or daggers of their own. This was one of those rare times Star wished he brought more than his pistols, as he’d have a hard time trying to fight off seven people without taking a few hits. 

Apparently Chef already had a plan in mind as he found a convenient hole while they were a far enough distance not to be seen and pulled them both in. Star was about to ask what he was planning, but Chef covered his mouth as he listened for whether or not their pursuers caught onto their hiding place. Their footsteps passed, though Chef still kept his mouth covered. 

“Ssssttttaaayyyy…. Heeeerrrreeeeee…..” Chef commanded him as he crawled out of the hole, checking every few seconds to make sure Star wasn’t following him. Star had every intention to follow him, but if he did that, then they’d just get caught all over again… What was the right thing to do here…? 

Reluctantly, Star did do as Chef asked and waited about a half hour before his worries got the best of him and he had to check whether or not Chef was okay. He hadn’t heard anyone pass the hole, but that could mean anything really. Even if it was a bad idea, the older male just couldn’t keep his worries at bay any longer and the hole itself felt a bit too claustrophobic for his tastes. 

Outside, there were signs of a struggle to the right of his hole. He could see his pursuers’ bodies on the ground, they were either out cold or dead and he wasn’t checking, though zero signs of Chef. Perhaps he was near Epsilla? That was the only conclusion he had since he doubted Chef would ditch him to catch a train out of Drellin. 

Star kept searching further and further away from down, and still no Chef. Where could he be…? A clue came to him when he saw a pack of monsters surrounding something, as if unsure what to make of whatever they were seeing. A few Heatwaves and Migrating Sparrows shooed them away, and in the center of them was Chef, who could barely keep his eyes open. 

“Sssstttt…aaaaaarrrrr…” Chef whispered as he saw his friend draw close, holding out his hand for Star to hold. Naturally Star obeyed and tried to scoop Chef in his arms gently so he didn’t cause him any unnecessary pain. 

“C-Chef, I… I-I’m so sorry…. I should’ve helped you, a-and I just sat there while you were—!” Chef reached his other hand to cover Star’s mouth with a faint smile as to say, ‘It’s alright’ or ‘This is how I wanted it.’ It didn’t stop Star’s tears from pouring down his cheeks and onto Chef’s tattered clothes. 

There was no way he could make it to town in time… As much as Star wanted to try, he couldn’t stop himself from crying or being unable to put strength into standing up. So, in a futile effort to make Chef’s last moments less painful, Star held Chef close and forced himself to stop sobbing enough that he could sing the Hymn of Proof. Julius claimed that just a few bars was enough to keep him calm, so it should help Chef. 

Ludger had one of two options. Either run with Julius or wait for Rideaux and his agents to catch up with them so they could capture his brother. For a moment, he was tempted to stall for time and wait for them to catch up. Deep down, Ludger was furious with Julius. He lied to his face all this time, siphoning his power and using him as a moral center. Simply put, he manipulated him all his life. He couldn’t trust him anymore. He didn’t even have the balls to tell him why. Why had he put him through all of this? He felt used…and  betrayed. Heartbroken, even.

Even so…

Julius was the only family he’d ever have. He loved his brother. He was the only constant presence he’s had his whole life. Caring and providing for him, even when things were at their worst. Regardless of what Bisley said, if Julius had only been using him, Ludger would’ve been locked in that recovery room alone. He wouldn’t have put up with the wordless abuse in the aftermath Ludger’s diagnosis. At one time, Julius was the center of everything in Ludger’s world. When it came down to it, he still was. Good thing he knows his way out of Kijara Seafalls. They could lose them under the falls. He grabbed Julius’s hand and pulled him, pointing with his other hand.

This way.

Julius nodded and followed Ludger's lead without a second thought, letting himself be led by the hand as they rushed under and through rock formations and outcroppings. The scenery they were passing wasn't entirely unfamiliar; he loosely remembered the lay of the land here from previous missions and from waiting for Ludger in F4227, but Julius hardly paid it any mind between the thoughts of escaping their pursuers and his relief that despite everything that had passed between them and all the things left unexplained, Ludger still trusted him enough for this.

When they eventually stopped, Julius let himself lean back against the wall, one hand absently coming up to slowly massage his arm.

Send a ⁂ for my muse to take a bullet for yours.

that’s okay I have long since accepted and embraced the fact that my one sole purpose here as a Julius is to bring pain to as many Ludgers as possible so all aboard the angst train next stop oscore i mean what

"Ludger! Behind you!"

Bullets were nothing to a Chromatus bearer. The spirit-given power that took so much provided, at the very least, a strength of form, an armor in exchange for its greed (but never enough to make up for it).

It should have been child’s play to call the power just long enough to trivialise the threat the projectiles presented, before turning their attentions to their source. It was, in fact, his natural reaction to defend Ludger against anything that seemed as if it might take him unawares.

(Julius never wanted to spend that long at his brother’s bedside again if he could help it. Not because it’d troubled him any to be there, but because for Ludger to be confined to the sterile hospital room for so long after the incident in Drellin…)

But even as Julius shoved Ludger away and moved himself in preparation to take the hit, a spasm of agony wracked his left side, centered around his left arm, and rather than easily intercept the shot as he’d intended, he half staggered, half fell into the path of the bullet that’d been meant for Ludger instead. With his uninjured hand he attempted vainly (and when had he gotten so weak? when had it come this far?) to bring one of his swords up to deflect the bullet instead, but there was no time left, not with his reaction speed impaired by the catalyst eating away at his person.

Ironically. It is the catalyst more than it is the bullet punching a hole through him and stealing his ability to breathe that incapacitates him; he has taken worse in fractured dimensions, running off of little more than adrenaline and the desperate thought that he doesn’t want to die here, but the adrenaline meant nothing when the family’s curse rendered him prone on the ground, his pocketwatch slipping from his grasp.

Lung, he noted distantly as his vision wavers, coughing wetly, likely— definitely a rib too, he thought as he mechanically catalogued his injuries with no real thought toward it. Rideaux would know better than he…

Send me topics for headcanons.

Headcanon: Ludger and his Furry Taste-Testers

As the co-owner (in a sense) of about 100 cats, it’s no exaggeration to say Ludger has a number of taste testers who are ready at his beck and call. There is only so many time Ludger could shoehorn his brother into trying the same dish with a dash more of some exotic spice he bought from a merchant in town or something of that nature. The cats, on the other hand, smelled food and were more than happy to repeatedly gobble up the plates before them and their only complaints tended to be meows begging for more or calling for their brethren as he’d make sure to close the cat door so their apartment didn’t get flooded overnight. 

Thus, with the permission of Miss Kitty-Kat, Ludger would guide some of her furry friends to his apartment from time to time to gift them various dishes and he’d watch them eat it and base whether the combination was good depending on their reactions to whether or not they wanted more and how anxious they were to have more. Lulu sometimes joined in if the dish in question was particularly good, though he mostly stuck to Kitty Krisps as that was his primary favorite.

This method of taste-testing did get him weird looks and snarky comments from his neighbors, though when he gifted his neighbors the dishes the cats approved of, they liked them and learned to stop complaining as long as they got to taste the approved finished product. Julius, thank the heavens, never questioned him on the issue and just allowed it; he’d have to clean any messes they made, though.

.....Not again. Not another duplicate --he had managed so well avoiding them earlier in his journey, now it seemed they all sprouted as daisies in the Rasylphie season. Perhaps the other hadn't caught sight of him yet. Still, Ludger had heard there had been some unusual disturbance in the Technology Drive --and his counterpart was right in the way.