Of All The Things Sonic Could Have Said, Julius Didn't Expect To Be Invited. His Eyes Widened, Lips Parting

the outfit that 'ian' is wearing during this thread, in case anyone was curious!!

"julius, y'gotta sit still!"

"i am TRYING to," he winced at the way sonic's grabbed at his hair, moving and slapping the hedgehog upside the head, "YOU are the one who is yanking on my scalp hard enough to bald me." sonic's swift to boot julius in the side from where he's stood up on a nearby chair. sonic's helping pull the longer strands of julius' hair back away from his face to clip them down, in order for a ginger wig to settle on his skull,

"i've almost got it, stop whinin', y'big baby."

⸻ he had nothing left, now. what little that truly mattered to him, naught but ash. not even a body he could hold. to mourn. to apologize. to possibly cradle. bootfalls rushing toward his location, rounding that corner and stopping once they saw the carnage and destruction. his chaos energy so out of control, rising and peaking and drenching the very air in this corridor that it caused the emergency lights themselves to short-circuit. washing julius in darkness, save for his red irises. his red irises were visible in that darkness, glowing brightly.

sound of a gunshot, muzzle flash as those G.U.N soldiers opened fire on him. the bullets impacted his skin, causing him to jerk slightly. felt them enter, blood pour, but then that healing and chaos energy made the bullets evaporate before they could exit through him. human weaponry couldn't truly harm him now. they fired at him more, their eyes terrified of how he wasn't going down to their weapons-

his eyes glowed brighter in that darkness.

silently, fueled by rage and hatred, he charged forward and blinked from existence before reappearing in front of one of the soldiers. using that momentum and rage to punch a hole through the man's face, yanking him forward to shield from those bullets, only to toss the corpse aside. glowing in his left hand now, a mini chaos plasma attack, like a knife. he slits the other man's throat with an adeptness that should startle him but doesn't. he's calm. blood sprays forward, coating him as that body slumps.

julius stands there, staring at the wall in front of him. no satisfaction at the sight, the knowledge. there was a slight tickling of that sensation, a barely there notion of enjoyment. numbed over from the reality of his situation at present. more footfalls nearby him, he glances over at the feeling of bullets piercing his shirt and entering his skin, only to heal and fizzle away again.

slaughters his way through the soldiers that between him and his end destination. a newly pristine living quarters, assigned to one james stone. julius stood there, staring down at that dark black jacket that james often wore. sounds of distant alarms from that open door, wash of red from the corridor. a slightly quaking hand reached out, hesitated before cradling that jacket. pulls it closer, hugging it, burying his face into it, inhaling. his scent. muffled, quiet, broken sobs wet that fabric. lowers onto his knees, clinging and pulling that empty jacket closer to himself.

inhaling, a small sniffle of a noise, julius pulled that jacket away from his face. stared down at it. he stood up then, discarding his old bullet ridden one, before pulling on james' old jacket. he has to pull the sleeves off as they're too short to fit his frame properly, but he can sew on new sleeves later on. his gaze lists, noting old sunglasses on the nearby table. walks over to them and lifts them up, a thumb roaming the frame, noting that purple tint. a shaking hollow smile, julius puts those sunglasses on. hoping, at least in some way, by keeping his clothes, by wearing these sunglasses, by holding himself in a way that james may have, that james stone may yet live on.

at the very least, in spirit.

they hate me for finding romance in the violent & violence in the romantic. also for the killing

indie julius ivo robotnik. a villain, well, depending on who you ask. neither games nor movie canon, but a secret third thing (my own). 21+. heavily mature themes inside. studied by wilhelm. carrd.

that frown doesn't leave him, head lilting to the side just a fraction. "and you're bald, how quaint." his arms cross, an eyebrow jutting upwards as his other demands to know who he is. a fit of laughter threatens him, but julius quells that urge. for now. "i'm you. well, an alternate version of you. we've led different lives, no doubt." am i going to go bald? he certainly HOPED not. & there was no chance in hell julius would ever grow such a horrendous looking moustache.

@drrobctnik (julius) sent : he stares, then frowns, a low scoff leaves him, "why on earth do you have that god forsaken moustache." what a lovely way to greet your alternate self, julius. insults.

"you mean my utterly handsome moustache?" ivo replies as he twists the ends of said moustache to further emphasize the word, then tilts his head as he observes the man before him. "who the hell are you?"

@blckfckinmsk [!!]

· 𓂃 ࣪˖🔪 ˖ ࣪𓂂 . "Why punish someone without reason?"

it was a terribly naive and oddly sentimental statement. one that julius could scarcely comprehend - let alone agree with. he has to bite back the scoff that catches behind teeth. instead, julius flashes a practiced & eased smile.

"if only the world agreed with you, roro. we might be in a better off place." as it stood - being fired from his job, pending acceptance into G.U.N - julius felt a tad, bitter. maybe that was why he had brought up the topic to begin with. of course roman knew none of this: julius saw no point in sharing such developments with roman.

MUN VS. MUSE. How to Play: Compare yourself to your muse. Then tag your mutuals to do the same.

LOW: ○○○○○ | HIGH: ●●●●● Repost, don’t reblog!

NAME. Mun: Wilhelm Muse: Julius

AGE. Mun: 34 Muse: technically immortal/ageless, appears 31ish.

PRONOUNS. Mun: He/They Muse: He/Him

HEIGHT. Mun: 5'2" Muse: 6'3"

RESPONSIBILITY. Mun: ●●●○○ Muse: ○○○○○

SOCIABILITY. Mun: ●○○○○ Muse: ○○○○○

SENSITIVITY. Mun: ●●●●○ Muse: ●●●●●

GENEROSITY. Mun: ●●●○○ Muse: ○○○○○

MODESTY. Mun: ●●●○○ Muse: ○○○○○

KINDNESS. Mun: ●●●○○ Muse: ○○○○○

PHYSICAL STRENGTH. Mun: ○○○○○ Muse: ●●●●●

CARING. Mun: ●●○○○ Muse: ○○○○○

CURIOSITY. Mun: ●●○○○ Muse: ●●●●●

IRRITABILITY. Mun: ●●●●● Muse: ●●●●●

TOUCHINESS. Mun: ●○○○○ Muse: ●●●●○

LAZINESS. Mun: ●●●●● Muse: ●●○○○

ANXIETY. Mun: ●●●●○ Muse: ●●●●●

SELF-DISCIPLINE. Mun: ●●○○○ Muse: ●●●●●

TAGGED BY: @maaskuline !! TAGGING: whoever wants to.

curious, julius glanced over when he noted movement, and saw sonic rummaging around the grass. what was he doing? then, sonic's picking up a - rock? julius' eyebrow raised. tossing, it skips before going into the water. sonic mentions it not being 'flat' enough. if that's the case.....

he bends down, gloved hand feeling through the grass, until he feels a sizeable rock, flatter than sonic's. smirking, julius lifted it and closed an eye, staring at the pond as if that'd help him aim better.

he tossed that rock, and it skipped about several times before finally submerging. a smile crossed julius' expression at the realization. hmph. how stupid.

at that, sonic gave a soft, understanding smile. he shrugged a little bit, "no problem," then thought about what to talk about. not like he and julius ran with the same circles, or really talked outside of fighting or battle quips. his gaze lowers to the grass, fingers roamed until he felt a small pebble. lifting it up, sonic tossed that rock and watched it skip across the pond about twice before sinking, "drat, not flat enough."

he was healing, of course, quicker than it'd scar. it'd need extended prolonged contact to do any actual lasting damage. julius is trying and failing to breathe properly, but stone's voice causes him to lift his head, hands still lifted up close to his face but no longer clasping or hiding. "talk to me, please."

how? HOW? he didn't know HOW to⸻ what to say⸻ how to explain⸻ if he should⸻ what if he fucked it all up⸻ what if⸻

"i'm here to listen to you and help." a hand on his shoulder. gaze flicks down to stone's hand. stares. julius focuses. exhales unevenly, focusing on his left hand, that feeling of warmth leaving his palm. his fingers twitch, but he moves to lay his palm overtop of stone's on top of his shoulder, eyes closing. inhales, exhales.

"....i can't lose you," the words are weighted: an ache and a sorrow and yet a guilt and regret and self-anger causing them to sound like even the very air from julius' lungs are burning, "i⸻ i can't, control.... s-sometimes, the energy," he falters, shamed, gaze now on the ground between himself and stone. unable to look at stone. not trusting himself to be able to handle whatever expression stone was making or whatever look stone was lobbing his way.

"it goes, haywire, a-and then my mind," fingers twitch slightly against stone's hand, pressing into his hand a tad more. as though needing to grip tightly to stone and never let go, "i start, having these⸻ thoughts."

stone doesn't flinch when julius suddenly grabs his wrist, though he does briefly knit his eyebrows together as he tries to figure out just why the man had done that. perhaps to ground himself? that was likely it, until...

he felt like his wrist was on fire, and just as quick as he had looked down julius had rescinded his grip and quickly backed away. what was more odd was the fact stone could have sworn he smelt burning flesh, the scent unmistakable to the former agent.

julius was... burning? mumbling to himself as well. stone doesn't move towards him however, simply choosing to remain where he was and just observe the other for a minute or so before finally speaking.

"hey... what's happening? talk to me, please. I'm here to listen to you and help," he says softly as he kneels down in front of him, reaching out a hand to rest on the man's shoulder in an act of comfort.