joules-roscoe

[joules-roscoe]

I love transparency in relationships, platonic or romantic. I don’t wanna have to ask you how you feel about me. I wanna see it, feel it, and know it.

[joules-roscoe]

when god closes a door i desperately try to pry it open until im bleeding and even then i dont stop

[joules-roscoe]

[joules-roscoe]

[joules-roscoe]

Playing around with gpose with fc friends like...

[joules-roscoe]

[joules-roscoe]

I'll stare directly at the sun, but never in the mirror.

– Regulus Black

[joules-roscoe]

[joules-roscoe]

god I just. love ruthlessness as a character trait so much. sexy sexy sexy

[joules-roscoe]

““A ship is safe in harbor, but that’s not what ships are for.” - William G.T. Shedd”

—

[joules-roscoe]

[joules-roscoe]

TW: Mention of injection, panic attack, claustrophobia, feelings of helplessness, paranoia.

Reader discretion is advised!

Mentioned: @sirensbounty​, @abacustia​

[ Recycled Air ]

How long had he been crawling? He wasn’t sure if it was bells or suns. He had no real concept of time aside from knowing without fail how long it would be until the next gust of cold air.

The air shafts occasionally stirred, sending chilled, filtered air his way, though with as old as the facility was, there were also dust particles, and occasional drafts of putrid air from the rooms below. Joules pulled his scarf up over his nose and mouth, trying to filter his air as much as possible.

The bleeding on his face scabbed over quickly, and the pain in his cracked ribs subsided considerably thanks to the stim pack he’d injected himself with once he'd scurried into the vent. He should’ve brought provisions other than water and a flask of whiskey, and both were already empty. He had nearly been crushed to death, somehow survived the clash of bots and experiments-- what was that thing he’d seen with the glowing eyes?. But the sheer terror of what he’d seen was somewhat pacified when he heard Yivh’a’s voice ring clear as a bell through the linkpearl. They were alive and safe. He had to hold on to that. To Yivh’a’s voice. He was alive. Probably in pain, but he was with G’dhezi.

He tried using it again to communicate, but the thing fell apart in his fingers and stopped working altogether. Now, he was truly alone with no way to communicate with the others. He needed to get out of that vent, but where would he go?

His body ached from how far he’d crawled, and he was beginning to feel claustrophobia. Muscles screamed for rest, body shaking from the adrenaline of he concoctions, of urgency, and fear. There was no way to stand, no way to piss without wetting himself. He was hungry, thirsty, tired, afraid. He’d used the last stim pack for energy, but now he was running on fumes. Worst of all, he was alone with his thoughts. What would happen if the Sirens found each other and couldn’t find him? Would they leave? Presume him dead? The thought of seeing Crusoe crumpled like a pile of trash was enough to bring tears to his eyes. And then there were screams... periodically, he’d hear their echoes through the vent pipes. Were they real, or a figment of his imagination? Joules crawled faster, not caring that he was making noise now. He needed to get out, and he’d much rather die fighting something than tucked away hidden, bones rotting in a metal grave where no one would find him. He wouldn’t wish this on his worst enemy. His hands began shaking, heart racing as he panted for breath that didn’t quite fill his lungs. Joules was trapped.

Maybe nobody will find you. They’re better off without you anyway. Even Yivh���a. He's getting married, isn’t he? Maybe it’s for the best if you’re out of the way. He deserves to be happy, and all you do is worry him. You with your recklessness and selfish desires. He’s an angel, and you don’t deserve him.

That hurt.

The Sirens didn’t need you, either. What the hells do you have to offer anyway? You think you’re the only mechanic? You think they can’t find another pilot? People like you are a dime a dozen. Worthless. There’s nothing worth saving here. Why didn’t Abacus just kill you when he had he chance? What the fuck do they need some Garlean defector with a price on his head for? Maybe they don’t know. Maybe if they did, they’d have turned you in a long time ago.

Gradually, fear began to rise higher in his chest.The last vent he’d crawled past had been bells ago. How big WAS this place?! His hands and arms shook, and as another wave of putrid air pummeled him, he collapsed with a cough. A silent sob left him, and he clamped a hand over his mouth to keep himself from letting it fully leave him. He couldn’t cry. No matter how tired, how hungry, how afraid... he had to get out of there and make it back to his friends. How would they find him otherwise?!

It was an endless cycle. Determination, fear, grief, helplessness, bargaining, determination again. Like filtered air, only the shit particles somehow remained to come back and haunt him.

He had to push those thoughts out of his head, or he’d go insane.

Finally, he began crawling again, no matter how hard his muscles protested at being disturbed from their momentary rest. He didn’t know how long he’d lain there, giving in to those thoughts, making himself too comfortable.

Maybe he was worthless. But that never stopped him from being someone else’s problem before.

Maybe he wasn’t. Maybe he was the best pilot Eorzea had ever seen. Maybe he was good for more than just that.

Maybe it didn’t matter.

He forcibly wiped his face, feeling embarrassed and angry. Thank Byregot’s big brass balls that no one saw him. He wasn’t going to die in some fucking metal hole. Even if he was worthless to anyone else, he wasn’t worthless to himself.. He hadn’t endured and made it this far only to die in a Garlean facility without so much as a good showdown, for crying out loud! No. Not here. If Joules Roscoe was going to die, it was going to be a in a blaze of fucking glory.

Joules needed to see the sky again. That’s where he belonged. Not here. He needed to fly free and feel the wind in his hair, and not recycled, shit air. When he got out-- because he would get out-- he’d fly somewhere far away where he didn’t have to think about whether anyone gave a shit about him or not. He’d build himself a real ship, not some shitty trawler. He’d have another Ganymede. He could find a new place to be from, make a new life for himself. He’d drink and eat and sleep and piss wherever he damn well pleased, come and go whenever he wanted to, fluid like the wind. Maybe he would go to Thavnair, or try and find himself an island to build on in the Sea of Clouds. Most importantly, he’d be a bird again. Joules would be free.

He filled his head with thoughts of escape, and almost as if the Builder himself had heard his prayer, the old vent gave out beneath the weight of him, sending him flying and crashing down into a room below.

[joules-roscoe]

TW: Detailed depictions of pain, some blood, suffocation

Reader discretion is advised!

Mentioned: @sirensbounty​, @abacustia​

[ Oil and Blood ]

"FIND ‘EM. GET 'EM OUT!!!"

Joules released Abacus’s hand and watched the horror in the other’s eyes as he was pulled away.

Everything was a blur as he was wrenched away from his comrades and his best friend that now lay powered down and crumpled on the ground. Save him, too, he prayed. Joules fought with every ounce of his being, struggling, kicking and screaming as he was put in a tight hold.

A metal claw wrung him like godsdamned lemon, and it became harder to breathe as he he was carted away. He stopped screaming then, trying to conserve air, but it was hard. Every time he reached back for his gun, he was squeezed harder and was winded. Joules tried to count how many corridors he passed, how many turns they took. Lights flashed overhead, and the alarms blared still. Tears fell from his eyes, and he stilled his struggle, resigning himself to conserving energy, too. This couldn’t be how it ended. Not in a fucking laboratory, not after all he’d done to get away from Garlemald. Not with all the things he’d yet left to do, the inventions that needed to come to fruition, the people who needed to know he cared.

His consciousness drifted in and out, like a man fighting the urge to sleep. Fear shook him to the core as he imagined what would happen to him. Would he be put in a little box, too, like Kjorn had? Like R’hoddy had?! Would he never see his friends or loved ones ever again?

Yes, he would.

One more try, even if it killed him.

Joules quickly reached for the shotgun on his back when his consciousness drifted back, and this time, he found it. In two heartbeats, he’d pulled it out and shoved the muzzle between the joints of the arm that held him. He pulled the trigger and the twin shots shattered the joint clean off in an explosion of shrapnel and oil that nicked his arm, neck, and the side of his face. The force of the shot sent him barreling down, but now he could fucking breathe.

Suddenly, the room was alive with activity again.

Joules dropped several fulms to the ground like a sack of discarded popotes, rolling over with a painful grunt and bounce. His ribs screamed in a familiar pain, doubled over as he panted a deep inhale, nearly crying as he was able to breathe again. The fractures that had been healing only weeks before-- He didn’t have time to think about it as he ducked a torn, sparking arm mechanism sailed overhead, crushing into the wall nearby and shattering.

The armored amalgamation that had snatched him was now fighting something, and losing fast. It burst into an explosion of parts, and everything came into clear focus now. The explosions, the outright melee he’d been drop-kicked into. He could hear the crash and groan of metal, the crackle of electricity and snapping of cables, and a roar that echoed and shook him to the core. His shot had only been a drop in the bucket compared to the clash happening all around him now.

FUCK.

But he was alive and kicking still, even if he could only scarcely see into the darkness of the room between the flashes of the alarms overhead. That is... except for flying sparks, and flashes of laser beams. As he gathered his wits about him, he realized that the robots seemed to have... turned on each other?! No, there was something else there, in the eye of the storm, but it wasn’t organic. It couldn’t be. No living person could endure such an onslaught, or make such a sound. To try to join into the fray was assured suicide, even with the firepower he was packing.

Joules didn’t have time to get a good look before something swatted at him and he rolled out of the way.

GET OUT. GET OUT. GO. GO GO GO GOGOGOGOGO NOW!!!

Scrambling to his feet, he had to find a crevice to crawl into and FAST, while they were distracted in the melee, before they re-captured the prize of angry flesh they’d dragged in in the first place.

As he ran, he could feel the heat of a laser beam cuff his neck, and another hunk of steel sailed in his direction. Armored weapons with their many legs skittered about, and he slid down beneath one of them as it charged towards the center of the melee.

Joules sprang up again, boots pounding into metal. He didn’t have time to duck a dismembered metallic arm as it walloped him in the back, sending him face first into the floor grates. Joules fell with a thud, tasting blood and feeling the familiar sting of a busted lip.

But he got up again, he always did. Stubbornness and survival were hardwired into his code as he pressed on, rolling away from the path of an incoming amalgamation of steel, wire, and extended flesh. One second longer, and he would’ve been squashed like a cockroach.

It smelled like death, oil and ceruleum, but Joules knew one thing about laboratories, even testing facilities like this one. Air changes. Clean air was paramount to retain integrity of experiments lest toxic air contaminate their results. Any academic worth their salt knew that, and Joules had seen enough of his father’s own laboratory to know how the automated ventilation system worked. That meant... it would be due for a change soon, and clean air would be filtered in. If he could find where the air was coming from, maybe he could find a way out.

He jerked his head up to find various tubes running along the ceiling and his eyes narrowed. Air vents. Nearby, a fallen amalgamation of steel slumped against the wall. If he could only just use that as footing, he could climb up...!

What sounded like armies of metal and levin colliding soon died down. His heart hammered in his chest, thrumming in his ears as something else joined the percussion of rising panic. There, in the distance, a solitary echoing of footsteps.

For the briefest of moment, the shape in the dark straightened and turned to face in his direction. Brilliant, glowing orbs of amber were visible in the damaged hallway before it turned to continue forward. Joules raised his gun, pointing it in that direction, but conserving his shot. Had it seen him?! What the seven hells was that? Tension tightened every muscle of his body.

But maybe it hadn’t seen him.

The sound of footsteps slowly traveled further away, and the pilot pulled his finger out of the trigger. He wasted no time getting away, however, and did all he could to mute his own footsteps as he climbed his way up into the air vent. He had to find the others first before leaving. The vent wasn’t stable, but if he was careful, crawling on his belly, he could get around. His entire body was shaking with the adrenaline that coursed through him.

Joules reached for his linkpearl, but it looked shattered. Fuck me. Still, he tried to speak into it. “Can anyone hear me?” he muttered shakily into it.

[joules-roscoe]

TW: Body horror, death, depictions of bodily functions

Reader discretion is advised!

Mentioned: @sirensbounty​, @abacustia​, @catboysimulator​

~~~~~~~~

[ A Grave Mistake ]

Sweat slicked the pilot’s brow, soaking into the blond locks that stuck to his dirty face. Eyes the color of a calm, clear sea shore were wide with panic, nearly vibrating with every beat that hammered in his chest. The prickly black coil of fear curled around his spine, squeezing out every ounce of bravado the hyur had.

This is all my fault. My fault. My fault...

The thought was invasive, all-consuming. The words began to lose their meaning, unspoken at the tip of his salt lick tongue. The weight of the guilt pressed down on his shoulders, squeezed him tight that his lungs couldn’t pull in a full breath. Everything happened so fast, his brain was still processing, but the blaring alarms overhead weren’t letting him think. If he could only THINK. Godsdamnit, for all the things he could do-- and boy, what couldn’t he do-- there was only screaming in in his head.

Kjorn’s blood curdling scream still echoed in his ear, louder than any of the alarms blaring overhead-- alarms they’d mistakenly dismissed as nothing.  R’hoddy had been in a capsule. Kjorn was now trapped in a box. Were Yivh’a and G’dhezi in capsules or boxes, too?! Were they even alive anymore? There were no traces, just as now there was no trace of the viera. With each blare of the alarm, horrifying flashbacks flooded his thoughts. Parts of men attached to machines. Mechanical devices embedded in living people. Body parts floating in liquids. Just like the ones Abacus had been marveling at here.

His nightmares had been filled with visions of himself dismembered and fitted into Garlean machina. Mounted on an armored machine, a mouthless face of metal and wide-eyed flesh-eyed horror, the perfect pilot. Joules was still running from those images. From the possibility that they would discover his echo and turn him into something else. A mindless drone bent to the will of the empire. If he’d stayed and accepted his fate, none of this would be happening... but would it have been any better?

Fear gripped him so tightly that he couldn’t take a full breath, and he couldn’t cry.

He wanted to share the blame with Abacus so it didn’t feel so alienating, but he couldn’t. He knew he couldn’t. Abacus hadn’t been the one goading everyone into joining along. He wasn’t the one dismissing the groans and protests, countering that other bounties were child’s play, that this one would be worth all the trouble. If only he’d stood with the others. It hadn’t been. Even Abacus got hurt.

Not worth it. Not worth it. Not... worth...

Yivh’a and G’dhezi were missing, and the former’s bloodied earring burned in his breast pocket like a cautionary tale of what happened when one got too close to Joules Roscoe. It was a mistake. It had all been a mistake.

You should have never brought him here. You should have never let him get close enough. You’re reckless. You don’t deserve him. You never did, you piece of shit. Why did I insist? Why did I insist?

Shaking hands were covered in viscous green oil and puke, but the miqo’te who’d puked it all out was breathing. They’d recovered one. Still, for the one who was recovered, two were still missing, and one more was taken. This wasn’t something he could bullshit his way out of-- this was a real problem, and his greed had gotten them into this in the first place.

Abacus was still standing, though, despite his injury. Joules himself was virtually unscathed. He still had his shotgun, his hands and feet. Even his hat.

As the loud, piercing shrill of alarms raised and fell in a rhythm, one sound snapped him out of it. Crusoe whirled around the pilot and thwacked the back of his head, good enough to nearly knock the pilot’s hat off his head.

His thoughts snapped back with a narrow-eyed snarl. He wiped the goop from his hands on his trousers and reached up to adjust the hat on his head as he turned to go with the others. They had to get to safety and out of the open and figure out what the fuck to do.

But now, a switch had flipped. Blood boiled in his veins, and his calm sea eyes were churning tempests now. Just as he’d refused his fate in Garlemald with every fiber of his being, he refused his fate and that of the others here. Joules would fight tooth and nail.This was do or die, and somebody was going to get it.

Yes, he had made a grave mistake, but he was going to fucking fix it or die trying.

[joules-roscoe]

[joules-roscoe]

One-Step＠店内で塗装もできるレンタルスペース

[joules-roscoe]

Quiz Results! Tagged by @songs-of-stars-ffxiv​, tagging anyone that wants to do them!!

Quiz links and results below the cut!

[ How Is Your Soul Perceived? Quiz ]

the analyzing heart

you have the soul of an intellect. you like to figure out how things work, you want to take them apart and put them back together again. you strive for answers and you're not afraid to ask the difficult questions. one day you'll have to learn to accept not everything can be explained away. it's okay to let your heart bleed. it's okay to let your soul long for impossible things. the most incredible mysteries are the ones that are never solved, but merely felt. 

[ What Type of Symphony Are You? Quiz ]

The Nocturne: The Rise

There is a darkness which has tormented you, and the genius lament burdens you, but fear not... you are the pull of the tide and the light of the moon on a winter path. You are the soft notes which increase in intensity till the pianist pours over the keys with such passion it can only bring tears to your eyes. You cannot do things halfway though you yearn for it, and you envy those blessed with blissful ignorance, but in the end you know you'd not have it any other way -- you are the rise they are afraid of till they cannot look away.

Your song: Nocturne in C Minor by Chopin