julius had zero idea who either of those men that johnny mentioned were. he decided to save himself the embarrassment of admitting as such though. made a mental note to go digging later to see if he could figure out some info. maybe learn about pompadours in the process. silently watches as johnny tries to comb a hand through his hair but can't, and hums a touch at that. he really had enjoyed his previous hairstyle, hadn't he?
he starts to want to smile, mostly to try and reassure johnny. but it stops short when johnny mispronounces his last name horridly. if he had any sense of pride in his family, he'd feel offended. he could care less though. at least from those terms. mostly it was not wanting other soldiers to hear: that'd catch on, in an annoying way. he'd probably be called ro-butt-nik for the rest of his deployment here if that happened.
"....agreed. robbie would be for the best," he certainly hoped that johnny could at least pronounce the name julius without fumbling. though he's still walking, mentally julius does pause: why is he already thinking of johnny calling him by his first name? that feels, sudden. well. he supposes, for what it's worth, he's enjoyed johnny's company thus far. and, if he's allowed to be so bold, it would be.... nice to be able to see johnny more than just the once.
"er, well, let's see," julius begins to point out the usual areas: the barracks where the lower level soldiers slept, and then mentioning the higher tiers and how they all got their own separate quarters, increasing in size until getting to the basically apartment like rooms of the superiors. mentions how a lot of the corridors here are long on purpose, in order to deter would-be assailants or thieves from trying to break into this particular G.U.N base.
"that's why our basic training focused on physical fitness: they're expecting us to be able to run through these halls within a moment's notice during alarms or in case of an attack."
"Well, y' know... a pompadour! Think, uh... Elvis Presley. Or James Dean! Grease. Y' know, that type o' thing." He runs a hand through his hai—oh... It's not there anymore. Right. Johnny awkwardly cleared his throat.
He follows by Julius's side. Even though the buzzing of his head had gotten him down, at this rate he was just happy enough to have somebody nice and around his own age to talk to (or so he assumed, anyway, based on the look of him). He looked confused as Julius brought up the fact that he had... apparently called him different names—honestly, he hadn't even noticed. Names were hard.
"Huh. Did I? Shoot, I didn't even realize. What'd you say it was again—Ro-butt-nik? Ahhh, I'll just call ya Robbie." It always had been easy for him to mix up names; ultimately, nicknames were much easier to remember.
"i, for one, have never been prouder of colin."
what day was it; what time. how long had he been here. the seconds blurred into minutes, into hours, into inability to perceive time. julius had thought he'd had bad concept of how long it'd been before, that had been child's play comparatively, to this.
he never moved, not from that spot. & no guards ( he could only surmise he was being held in some sort of G.U.N facility ) ever came to check in on him. supposed it was now more of a curse that he needn't eat, nor really breathe, or drink any liquid in order to survive. could've been kept down here a millennia and it wouldn't have changed anything for julius.
no real danger of dying. just listening to his own haggard, low breaths. he'd screamed until there was nothing left in his lungs to give. now, as it was, staring blankly ahead, all he could do was try. try and grasp for any small semblance of that chaos energy in his body, in the air surrounding him, and hold on. hope that he could push into it, or pull it closer to himself, start to build it. like starting over from scratch after having mastered a technique. a fumbling baby deer unable to walk, or a flightless baby bird. kept slipping, unable to hold on for long enough. or whatever restraints those bastards put on him kept on diluting that energy to the point it wouldn't spark, could barely breathe.
eventually, though he tried to stave it off, he began to sob. it wasn't even sheer sorrow that the sobbing had been inspired by; anger, mostly. that betrayal that kept growing and growing, morphing into disbelief and then hatred and then a numbness, rinse and repeat. that feeling of being abandoned, left alone to rot. forgotten by time. he clenched his hands together so hard beneath those restraints it was a wonder he hadn't shredded his palms to bits.
he kept thinking back to stone ⸻ having only met him the once, for barely maybe 10 minutes at that, an unrequited hug before stone had left ⸻ & wishing he were here. where are you, he kept thinking, not out of blame. not out of rage or anger, not towards stone, but the circumstances. that sheer helplessness of his situation. why aren't you bursting into here and ⸻ and what? why should julius expect to be saved, or needed, quite frankly.
that only caused his sobbing to get worse, that slow realization that, he wasn't necessary. he could die here and no one would turn their head elsewise. doubted anyone even knew he was gone, or if they did, all he could think was why. why was he still here then. why couldn't⸻ just someone, anyone⸻ not not even anyone his mind kept going back to stone, that hug ⸻ unreturned, but julius had hugged sonic too, before THAT BASTARD⸻
ragged inhales, that rage returning and eclipsing the numbness. he wanted sonic dead. he wanted sonic alive, so he could demand an answer out of him. wanted sonic screaming. wanted sonic safe. wanted to just turn back time and never accept that stupid invitation. should've known something wasn't right. sonic never invited julius anywhere. he had been so blinded by disbelief and by the small joy at being included⸻
weak. stupid. useless.
more screaming, not caring if his throat was raw, pushing beyond the limits of his vocal chords. knew they'd heal, even if it took time and at a slower crawl than normal. whatever was restricting his chaos energy usage wasn't affecting his healing. the sick fucks. he'd almost respect it if he wasn't so god damned offended & insulted, ashamed.
alone.
with nothing to do but think, but stew. trying and failing to come up with plans to escape.
eventually, his eyes lulled closed, wishing he could sleep. pass out again. couldn't, body didn't need sleep. another form of torture and using his own abilities against him.
wished he were dead. wanted to live to⸻ he didn't even know. to spite them. wanted to give up. but something in him writhed at the notion: coward. weak bastard. fight. go down screaming and cursing if you must, but don't let them win. never truly.
so he waited. bided his time. it was all he could do.
"My actions speak for themselves." What they say is a series of clunking hisses from where he's punched through a steam pipe in order to 'fix' a leak.
he's wordlessly staring at the destroyed pipe. eyebrows pinch together and his gaze narrowed behind sunglasses. seems to be weighing his options on whether he wants to deal with whatever moronic conversation will stem from this.
a heavy weighted sigh that bleeds into his words, sounding deadpanned and tired, "do i want to know what the fuck inspired you to try and fix this instead of calling an actual service."
⸻ ft. imad stone x julius robotnik ⸻
( "i can't lose you." )
crafted by iggy & marker.
Cathy Linh Che, from Go Forget your father//Friedrich Nietzsche// Richey Edwards// // Moss Angel, Girldirt Angelfog// Rainer Maria Rilke, Fragment of an Elegy,// Leila Miccolis, till death do us part.
"as can i," he motions with a slight grand sweep of his arm, "& yet here we are."
quiets as he lets the echidna stew on his former question. honestly julius doesn't expect an actual response. at most he figures the echidna will dismiss him or laugh outright in his face. tell him it's none of his business. julius knows it's what he would have done.
colour him surprised when the warrior actually opts for honesty, vulnerability. hmph. he respects that. enough not to mock him. it'd be easy to do, but julius refrains.
"for whatever it is worth to you, i am sorry for your losses. losing a family is one thing, but an entire tribe? i can't begin to fathom that. so while i can't say i completely understand your," he motions to the broken pipe, "peculiar way of dealing with problems. i won't chastise you for it, from this point onward. unless you piss me off."
@drrobctnik xxx
a sputtered clipped laugh punches out of him immediately at the echidna's confession about the 'fixed' phone. ah yes, of course. how stupid of julius to think elsewise.
"you do realize you can stop and think before resorting to brute strength, yes?" how hypocritical of julius to say. especially considering whenever he did lose his composure and his calm, julius would be the first to resort to and praise violent or physical methods. that being said, julius drew the line at trying to 'fix' menial tasks using sheer strength alone. even he wasn't that desperate to resort to such violence. he wasn't some mindless barbarian. "i know you are not that daft, echidna. what is the real reason you want to constantly 'fix' things using only your fists alone? what is it, some nonsense about fear of not being acceptable enough or worthy enough if you're not the strongest of the bunch?"
He fails to see what's funny about malfunctioning devices, particularly those that are the creations of humans- a tribe which the man hails from. Perhaps this is a case of laughing at oneself? Humility doesn't suite the other well. Not even the slightest.
The suggestion is met with a short puff that seems to fuel the trajectory of his gaze as it rolls. Advice. Like he asked for it! "I can think...of better ways to spend the time."
He's adjusting the cuffs of his boxing gloves when his critic based company continues to pry into nothing more than an instinct on his part, but he's annoyed enough by the fact the man probably thinks that's all it boils down to even though he'd blindly agree with his short fused patience. Glove creaking as he squeezes the tension out of one, he shakes his head with the intent of knocking the dreaded quills falling cross his gaze back. "It is all I had. Relied on. Since I lost everything."
A response like rumbling thunder despite how plain of an answer it is. There is nothing more to say about something so clear cut. So he does not.
Go HERE and find a script that suits your character's handwriting!
"no." the speed and sharpness with which julius answered that question. he didn't hesitate. an eyebrow rose in criticism, "am I supposed to? why? sentimentality? nostalgia?"
"sorry, i didn't realize this seat was taken," julius gave a softer smile, shuffling and moving his bookbag off the seat he'd set it on. his gaze lingered on the man in front of him, enjoying the way that his hair accentuated his face, and those eyes were beautiful too. he wondered if he had ever seen him around the eden club. julius cleared his throat, "are you, here with anyone, or are you waiting on someone?" realizing how bold that sounded, julius quickly clarified, "n-not that i'm! trying to, flirt or anything. i just thought if you had a moment, maybe we could try getting a coffee?"
starter. for roman (@blckfckinmsk) BASED ON THE PREMISE THAT JULIUS & ROMAN START DATING (before becoming bitter exes).
@unlackeyed i saw you post colin's height ( 5'0" ) & was inspired to compared that to julius' height ( 6'3" ) and
AMBS HELP I'M DYING LAUGHING.
HE'S BARELY UP TO HIS SHOULDER, WHAT