Drrobctnik

"julius, look at me." / "can you try taking some deep breaths for me?"

his gaze flicked up, dulled irises and lidded eyes staring across at stone-not-stone. no. that was just him being rude. stone was stone.

("you're not my....") that bitter, lost, confused little smile. his expression skewed very briefly. looking as though he wanted to cry, but there were no tears. he couldn't. hadn't physically been able to cry in years due to that chaos energy in his system.

his lips parted, and julius inhaled slowly, unevenly, then exhaled unsteadily. his gaze closed, lips trembling. hands clenched at his sides, but he inhaled unevenly, slowly, deeply, then exhaled another shaking breath.

he watches as julius literally slams his hand against the side of his head, and the sound actually made stone wince at just how hard it was. surely that had to have hurt, but perhaps that was the point? despite his apology however he had been written off yet again, and the man dared to take a few steps forward until he was only a few inches away from him though he still refrains from touching him.

julius could always just shove him if he wanted, or dismiss him yet again so why not try to help, even if it was just a little?

"can you try taking some deep breaths for me? it may help you to alleviate what you are currently experiencing, and help you ground yourself."

"Robotnik will lead your squadron," their supervisor announced, lowering that page back onto the clipboard. he was about to turn away from them all, but julius stepped forward, clearing his throat,

"Sir, with respect, i-" he motioned over to stone, "erm, shouldn't Stone be leading the squadron. he's far more capable than i-"

"you've got rank and seniority, Robotnik."

"so?" julius said it without thought, and the supervisor seemed almost offended that julius dare question his decisions. "stone's got better experience in the field, and he's-"

"YOU are the leader, Robotnik."

julius' eyebrow twitched, and he exhaled, nodding.

"hey, don't sweat it jules," wolfe grinned, clasping a hand onto julius' arm. julius gave him a small, polite smile, "i trust you."

the others in the squadron all pat julius' shoulder, agreeing in their own ways. clearly trying to blow air under his sails, and he enjoyed their company, but he doubted their opinions. they hadn't seen how abysmal his files were on field work. he could gather samples and scout things, but actual physical missions that required sheer tact, understanding and know-how on leading?

was the room spinning? did he feel warmer? he felt a hand cupped at his face, then, and julius blinked, "julius, look at me," stone's voice. and julius did, glanced over at stone, staring down at him. stone smiled, "you can do this. and even if you think you can't, you can work at it until you improve."

stone always knew how to put things in a way that julius respected. he nodded, expecting stone to pull his hand away. stone's gloved hand lingered against his face, though. julius blinked, head lilting to the side a touch. what-?

stone's hand slipped away, and he gripped at julius' wrist, tugged him so that way julius began to walk alongside stone, "come on, i can run you through some basic potential field scenarios so you can study."

"AU CONTRAIRE, my spandex wearing friend," the words are as tight and as mockery filled as he could make them. because julius believed not a word of what had been said to him just then. "it's entirely of my concern." he had made that choice. deliberately. which is to say nothing of why he had, wouldn't divulge that.

at the threatened quieter words, julius scoffs. "what you want and what you need are entirely separate things. you need air to breathe, so you take in air. why strangle yourself from what you need by tamping it down. to whose benefit."

@drrobctnik asked; "There's nothing wrong with what you are. It's in your bones. Don't you want to make them suffer?"

embracing the monster prompts

Experience concludes that the other's words were deliberately incendiary, were intended to breach the unreadable armour he habitually wore as naturally as his own skin. A carefully placed strike, calculated to find the fractures beneath his restraint, that should be--

Dismissed. As was his go-to response, reached for whenever he heard rehashes of the same arguments, broached by those who believed taking aim at his very nature, and what he stood for, to be a good idea. Fully expectant that he was steps removed from sliding towards darker notions, that better aligned with the monster that some of his enemies perceived him to be.

What a farce.

Thoroughly unamused by this ploy, Miguel's jaw locked beneath the navy-blue cover of his mask in response. With patience tested, he made an effort to keep his tall posture carefully composed, disallowing so much as a flick of emotion to assert itself. Or betray the thoughts curling at the edges of his mind, following such an opening shot aimed at his very character. What exactly resided in his mutated bones?

Something not previously known to science, for a start, but that was only the tip of a very long list of findings that he had spent years compiling about himself, experiencing compulsions, emotions, even wants, in ways that the stranger before him could only theorise about. The strength, the hunger, the violent instinct, buried under careful control; Miguel knew exactly what he was capable of, was all too aware of how easy it would be to tear through the ones deserving of his wrath.

But easy wasn't the same as right.

Irked by the notions proposed, his fingers twitched once by his side, before stilling. "What I am," comes his announcement, delivered in an even tone, devoid of any material that could be hijacked and twisted into a sign of agreement, "is none of your concern." There's a need to add more, adamant to make clear his stance before more attempts are made to demonise himself. It takes a beat, as well as a slow inhale, before he allows the tension perpetuated a chance to settle, voice shifting gears to acquire a quieter level, wreathed with threat; "And neither is what I want."

What is Your Hate Language?

VIOLENCE

Physical Violence is a common, yet bold hate language. It’s old as time and is as natural as rain. It’s often one of the first thoughts that come to us when we feel hatred, but you actually have the moxie to go through with it. Fist fights at bars and you think assassination is the best option in politics. You’re an absolute loose canon. Your most likely crime would be murder. The only down side of this hate language is how hard it is to get away with it.

im yearning about you and there is nothing you can do about it (threat)

@drrobctnik sent 🎶 genuinely curious what you come up w/ for jules

Sucker - Marcus King

Get the fuck outta my head // So long, sucker I don’t wanna see you, // I hate this life // Get your fingers out of my hair // You’re gone, sucker // Good luck killing me ’cause I’m already, already // Dead inside

Send me 🎶 and I’ll share a song that reminds me of your muse!

🎶 ACTUAL CANNIBAL JULIUS ROBOTNIK!!!!! 🎶

You're walking in the woods There's no one around and your phone is dead Out of the corner of your eye, you spot him (Julius Robotnik )

@drrobctnik

❝ ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴀꜱᴛ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ɪ ꜱᴀᴛ ʙᴇɴᴇᴀᴛʜ ꜱᴛᴀʀꜱ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜɪꜱ… ɪ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʜᴇʀ. ɪ'ᴠᴇ ꜰᴇʟᴛ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴘᴀɪɴ ꜰᴏʀ ꜱᴏ ʟᴏɴɢ, ɪᴛ'ꜱ ᴀʟʟ ɪ ᴋɴᴏᴡ.❞

Ft → Shadow the Hedgehog from the Sonic Franchise. Lore drawn from S A 2 , Sonic X, Shadow '05 , and some '06 with own personal lore. Movie Shadow lore found within pinned CAARD , Headcanon tag Awakened by Kris Template: (X)

tw; blog will talk about themes of de-hedge-ization, death, blood and violence and other mature elements