*・ﾟ☆ﾟ*・ “Once you have tasted flight, you will forever walk the earth with your eyes turned skyward, for there you have been, and there you will always long to return.” ― Leonardo da Vinci var sc_project=12179745; var sc_invisible=1; var sc_security="ec4db303"; var sc_https=1;
"How’re your eyes so damn... gold? I wish mine were like that,” he said. Joules might have been a little drunk, but he didn’t find his blue eyes to be anything special. Growing up, he’d wished he had red eyes, like the Chiss. But gold eyes would be fantastic, too.
★: First thing that changes when they realize they care about your muse
Joules had always treated Sal from arm’s length. The pilot trusted no one in a position of command, especially not on a pirate ship, or someone with such a sour disposition. Above all, he didn’t trust someone he felt didn’t trust him.
But things change when you realize you’re the outsider, and yet the lives of everyone else are put in your capable, risky hands. One foot wasn’t out of the door anymore as both feet grounded themselves on that cockpit. This was a gamble for them, too. A symbiotic relationship. When Sal didn’t leave him behind or turn him in to the Hutt cartel, Joules breathed a sigh of relief, and a silent thanks. Maybe he’d start lightening up a little and telling the captain some of Dandoran’s finest jokes.
♤: Way they apologize to your muse
"I’m sorry that you LET me hurt your feelings, CAP! But your idea SUCKS, mate.” Joules hissed, throwing up an expletive hand gesture as he stormed out of the cockpit. Maybe this would come bite him in the ass later, but he didn’t feel bad telling Sal his plan was godawful.
Occhiolism: The awareness of the smallness of your perspective.
Occhiolism: The awareness of the smallness of your perspective.
Its the first time Joules has invited Violet to come aboard the pilot’s seat, and after plenty of begging to the captain from his favorite plant-child. There she was climbing up to see what there was to see from the front of the ship, moving past a few other crew members who regarded her kindly as per usual as she shimmed her way through the deck before Joules waved her over.
“Welcome to the best seat on the Derelict~” His words welcoming and open, the way the charming man always seemed to speak as he moved his seat for her to look over the side. Though before looking through the glass, her eyes catch onto a familiar greenery on his station. A plant gifted from her when he first came aboard to make him feel right at home and be able to be comfortable with her. “I keep it nearby, of course.” Joules as if reading her mind joins in, side stepping her and smiling up. “Come look at the view, Violet.” Tilting his arms to showcase the front, she walks over and stares as her hands ghost over the transparent walls.
They were flying over yet another planet, it was a green lush body with water lines streaking throughout. It seemed like it was so small from this distance but as she gazed down at the marble, she is reminded of Komorebi and wanders what it would have looked like from this far in space. And how for years, it seemed to be the only thing she knew, the only thing that existed despite millions of galaxies worth exploring. Her eyes wander back to the small plant in the corner then back to the sprouting of greenery from the planet as she blinks in amazement. “Are you okay?” She hears the pilot ask, resting his hand on her shoulder comfortingly.
“I’m okay…I just realized….how small I would have been if not for the Derelict.”
Joules’s favorite thing about himself is his resilience. His whole life has been a struggle, from surviving the mysterious events surrounding his infancy, to growing up a little street rat on Dandoran, he could’ve easily been swept in the undercurrents of poverty and destitution. But he kept his head above the currents and made it out. He’s always been that way, and always will be the kind of person who doesn’t get pulled under. Some way, some how, he manages to get his way in and out of sticky situations and grows from them.
★: First thing that changes when they realize they care about your muse
When he realizes he cares about himself, Joules stops drinking so much. He stops feeling sorry for himself and stands a little straighter. His shoulders are more squared, and he walks with his head held high. Sure, he’ll mope around when he’s feeling down, but after giving himself sufficient time to get over it, he reminds himself that ultimately, he’s got to care about himself the most, because nobody else will, and he’s got a mission to fulfill.
❥: Anything else you can think of [specify] (Sweet Headcanon)
A sweet tooth. That’s exactly what Joules was struggling with tonight. He had a hankering for something sugary, that wasn’t another shuura fruit, so he slipped into the kitchen like a mouse looking for trouble. The only problem was that he wasn’t the only one in the kitchen. There, unknown to him, was one of the Jedi meditating quietly, as everyone else had fallen asleep. He began to scavange for sweets knowing that the last of the cookies that had been baked earlier had to be there somewhere.
“I just have to wonder, where does it all go? Do you have a black hole in your belly?” she asked, making Joules nearly jump ten feet.
“Fuckin’ hell, mate, d’you always scare everyone like that?” he asked, clutching at his chest and giving her a wild-eyed look. “Just lookin’ for more of those damn cookies.”
Rowan smile and shook her head. “No, but I wish I could! That was priceless! Here,” she said, slowly rising from where she sat and brushing past him. She reached up into one of the shelves and found the last of them, handing the container to the other. “I’ve got my eye on you, you pantry thief,” she mused, a smile tugging at her lips.
Joules smirked and shrugged lightly. “What can I say? Maybe I do have a black hole in this stomach of mine.”
Pom’s warmth drew Joules to her almost immediately. She didn’t seem as rough and rowdy as some of the other passengers. There was a grace about her, that she exuded when she didn’t think anyone was watching, but the pilot sensed it, like a warm current in an otherwise cold beach somewhere. It was that warmth that made it easy to talk to her, and although he didn’t open up freely– he didn’t open up to anyone, really– she was one of the people with whom he felt most comfortable.
☯: First impression of your muse
There were a few people on the ship that were beginning to grow on the pilot, and then there were people who danced right into his good graces quite effortlessly. Pomona was one of those people. She was curious, funny, and with a sweetness that made Joules decide that he’d rescue her from the jaws of a sarlacc pit if it ever came to it. Unlike most people.
♠: Favourite thing to do with your muse
“And then he dropped his trousers, and I ran off with his credits!” Joules said, grinning broadly, his voice straining not to laugh as he continued his story. He loved telling Pomona stories of his conquests and victories throughout his travels. For many voyagers, these things were standard tales you’d hear at any given port cantina, but something told Joules that Pom hadn’t really visited very many in her life, if any at all. “And that’s how I managed enough credits to get those military grade piloting goggles I’d been eyeing at the beginning. Uuuunfortunately, those were stolen from me, too. But I’ll get ‘em back. If not, I’ll get even better ones.”
Joules threw himself onto the couch where Bade sat, kicking his feet up onto the man’s lap and raising his brows, wiggling them playfully. From tag teaming a kyber and credits heist, to swindling from unsuspecting port authorities of their booze supply, Joules and Bade never walked away empty handed.
The pilot wasn’t used to having help like that, or getting along with someone so like-minded, albeit so different. He had fun with Bade, and one of his favorite things about the man was how well they worked together. It helped that the man said he’d agree to help Joules find the Ganymede if he could get a hold of his personal contacts. It was all Joules had to go on for now, and for that much, he was grateful.
“I’ve got a lead on a bottle of Bahkahta rum in the possession of one of the Jedi, and you’re gonna help me get it,” he said, grinning broadly. Bade was quickly becoming Joules’s closest co-conspirator. Where the duo went, trouble was sure to follow.
He’d just finished making a play when his attention shifted. Despite the loud hum of voices, the thrumming of music played by a band at the front of the establishment, and the usual clinks and clatters of a busy cantina, Joules was focused on the beautiful man walking in their direction, and he could swear time slowed. Maybe it was all in his head, but he could swear he was coming right towards them. Maybe Joules could swindle charm a couple of drinks out of him. (From here.)
(Joules basically had heart eyes from day one. LOL)
★: First thing that changes when they realize they care about your muse
Joules scrunched his nose. He hated this feeling at the base of his stomach. Caring. Pfft. Why did it have to come to this? Why couldn’t happily say ‘fuck it all’ anymore and just leave him in that damn jail cell to rot?
Maybe the crew still needed him to… well. What did Eon do on the ship, anyway? Aside from being one of the few things on that damn tin can that wasn’t a total eyesore. Maybe he was some sort of liaison. Who knows, who cares?
With a little groan audible only to himself, Joules made his way around the building, hand on his blaster, and ready to dive into the damn dumpster to get him out. It was quite the change for the haughty pilot who would sell the entire ship and her patrons to a caravan of Jawa for one corn chip.
❧: Random affectionate headcanon
Joules snorted, watching Eon pushing his long strands of silver back as they played their second round of drunk holochess. Well. Joules was drunk, anyway. Eon was the slowest drinker he’d ever met, to be honest.
The pilot groaned and beckoned him closer on the booth that wrapped around the table. “C’mere, mate,” he muttered. “Turn a little. Face that way– yeah. Like that.” He got on his knees so that he was slightly higher than Eon’s sitting height, then began to braid the long strands. Despite his drunkenness, his fingers seemed to know exactly what they were doing, swiftly threading and winding his locks together. Part of him was thankful he was drunk and not at all sober for this.
“There. Beautiful. Absolutely gorgeous. And not interrupting the projection anymore,” he snorted, tying the end off in a little bow with a piece of thread snapped from his vest. “Betcha didn’t think I could do that, did you?” he mused, pushing it over Eon’s shoulder and letting his fingers idly trace along his jaw as he pulled back.
☮: Favourite thing about your muse
I will figure out the secret to his skin care routine one day, Joules thought silently to himself. What kind of creams was he using to stay forever young?! Joules wanted them. Still, Eon’s skin wasn’t the blonde’s favorite thing about Eon.
Eon listened. He didn’t just hear the words coming out of Joules Roscoe’s mouth. He seemed to consider them, no matter how absurd or far-fetched the things he sometimes said were. He didn’t offer useless advice, or lazy criticisms like most people seemed to do anytime he tried to vent about things. For that, he was thankful.
♧: How they kiss your muse
He had wondered about the other man’s lips before. They’d skirted around the subject on two occasions, and he’d apologized for being so forward about it the second time around. Still, Eon didn’t seem too put off by it– at least, not as far as Joules could tell. The pilot was never one to push himself on someone, but the way the other drew nearer, he wondered if it was an invitation.
Joules stepped closer, his baby blues peering at the other’s lips as the distance closed between them. He gingerly brought a hand up, cradling his jaw and rolling his thumb across his cheekbone. Eon’s eyes narrowed, and Joules wondered if it was nervousness, but he closed his baby blues, and went for it. Joules didn’t see the way Eon’s eyes widened, looking at him as though he failed to process what the hell was going on.
Meanwhile, Joules’s soft, plush lips pressed against Eon’s. Gently, at first, then a little more, suctioning gently, as he let their lips linger for a moment. He was warm, and soft, and everything Joules imagined, and then some.
See? Definitely NOT a droid, Joules thought to himself, drawing his hand back, pulling away. He looked up at Eon as if waiting for a reaction. Then he blinked, looking at the other’s wide eyes. Boy, you are stupid as hell, Roscoe. Shit.
"Like a magpie, I am a scavenger of shiny things: fairy tales, dead languages, weird folk beliefs, fascinating religions, and more.” -Laini Taylor
Joules was so lost in his own thoughts, that he hadn’t heard Eon walking in. It wasn’t until he felt the brush of fingertips over his skin that he jolted up, pulling his shirt all the way back on. Who the--
Eon looked back at him, as if he’d walked in on some kind of secret, but Joules didn’t really hide his tattoo. He just never really had the opportunity to show anyone, and to be honest, sometimes he forgot it was there. He could see the curiosity in the other’s eyes, and he couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips. “All you have to do is ask.”
He looked down and pulled his shirt back up, bunching it over his shoulders like a scarf and turning around again, so Eon could get a better look. “You can find magpies in several forest planets. I’ve never seen a real one, but I’ve seen holo-projections of them. They like shiny things, and are clever little thieves. Which you can probably guess I’ve been likened to a lot,” he said, laughing softly. “They fly fast. When I was a little grommet, I dreamed of flying through the clouds like a bird, but I never really imagined what that looked like.”
The bird sat among a sky of freckles and faint, faded scars that littered the pilot’s fair back, and then he pulled his shirt back down, turning around and brushing his wild curls back. “I was in Batuu, drunk as a swamp rat when I met an artist who offered to do it in exchange for passage out of the Black Spire Outpost. He’d been taken captive, and when I figured it out, I gambled for him. Got stabbed, too! Got a mark right here,” he said, grinning proudly and turning to raise his shirt slightly. Sure enough, there was a faint, healed slash mark on his side.
“He said I was as clever as a magpie, and I didn’t know what that meant ‘til he explained. Then I was fixated on it and wanted one on my back. A free, clever bird, with a penchant for swiping things, and a love of shiny things. If that ain’t me, I dunno what is. Maybe one day I’ll figure out where I can find ‘em.” Joules smiled, shrugging his shoulders. “Do you have any tattoos?”
Home was never really a place for Joules Roscoe. Not in the same sense as most people he knew anyway.
Places were always temporary. Ever since sneaking aboard the ship as the littlest stowaway Kran ever had, Joules was taken in and raised within her hull. Kid wasn’t an actual name, even though the child said that’s what everyone called him, so Kran renamed him. He curious, brilliant, and bright, like a little ball of energy. No, several. Joules.
The Ganymede was as close to a home as Joules ever knew. She was the pride and joy of Kran Roscoe: An old custom Corelian YT 1300fp model freighter with speed and hyperspace travel modifications and a sublight engine used to deliver contraband arms and spice. She wasn’t quite as impressive as the fabled 1400 fp Millennium Falcon with a more advanced sublight, but was pretty damn close. Plus, unlike the Falcon, she still had an escape pod. It was within the Ganymede where he learned to read, write, and even tinker and perform ship repairs. Kran would allow Joules to roam the Ganymede to familiarize himself with every inch of her, including the underbelly, and even allowed the boy to help him when major repairs needed to be made. There was a latent knowledge in him, as if by simply tinkering with certain items, knew how to put the pieces together in a way that would bring them to life. His projects weren’t always successful, but Kran noticed that the boy had an unusual gift for it, and kept that knowledge close to the vest.
The gift became more obvious when the boy took to piloting her for the first time. Something within him seemed to ignite, navigating her as if he’d been born to fly out to every star in the universe, leaving everything behind in the dust. Kran soon took the Co-Pilot’s chair, letting Joules take the helm. Perhaps in the future, they could explore the idea of pod racing.
Located somewhere in the heart of Coruscant was a garage which Kran once called home, and where he based himself during quiet periods between major jobs. Usually once a year, twice if business was slow. Within its nigh impenetrable steel walls, he housed the Ganymede from time to time, as well as various other half-finished, half-scrapped projects. Among them were a handful of primitive robots, and several droid units as well. Squirreled away in steel wires and grease, a young Joules pored over holotutorials and old manuals, tinkering and piecing together circuit boards, wires, and machinery parts to build things. By the age of ten, he’d built himself a modified, scaled down version of an AT-ST he named Stampy that he used to get around the city, no one wise to the fact that he was just a child. A prodigy? Could be, but Kran could sense the truth of it. He didn’t want others to catch on that the boy was likely Force sensitive, and Joules was none the wiser.
Still, home wasn’t Coruscant. It wasn’t even necessarily the Ganymede. Even though he had an obvious attachment to the ship. Home was wherever he got to be with the man who raised him. Kran Roscoe was a Chiss: Tall, proud, but rebellious against his own kind. He was blue skinned and red eyed, with a thick mane of onyx hair kept up in a short, messy ponytail. Joules wished he had blue skin and red eyes. Instead, of tall he was small. He had sky blue eyes and pale skin that turned quite red and itchy when out in sunny planets for much too long, and fair, curly silvergold hair. They were complete opposites. Kran loved him just the same, seeing the boy more for his fiery spirit than his diminutive and fair appearance.
There were other ships in Roscoe’s Garage to this day, although Joules could no longer access them. For example, the Altair, his own small cargo ship that he’d kept there for repairs after a particularly nasty encounter on Kessel.
Now, he was... somewhere between the Mid Rim and the Outer Rim, not quite sure where the Derelict would end up next.
He needed to find the Ganymede, and then continue his search across the galaxy for the man he called his father, yes. That was something he wouldn’t completely forget about. Besides, something within him told him the man was still alive, and some nights, Joules could almost feel himself reaching across he universe, seeking out his spirit or perhaps he was just incredibly drunk. But things changed a little.
Laying on the top bunk of the room he had all to himself, he rested his hands behind his head, blue eyes glancing up at the metal ceiling with a deep breath. Did he have people now? Xel, the clever and impressive, yet unfortunately captive bronze giant he wanted to free somehow. And kiss a lot. Maybe more. Joules enjoyed sneaking around to share snacks, talk, and simply exist alongside him. Eon, beautiful and mysterious, who probably had bionic parts (many of which Joules speculated on and had silent bets with himself on), and who’d probably also forget his own head if it wasn’t attached to his shoulders. Adrian, whose hands performed miracles despite his lack of sight. Violet who brought sunshine to the darkest crevices of that damn ship. Pomona, who was unexpectedly good company and whom he felt comfortable talking to. Bade, who just like him, was trouble incarnate. Haru, who took the time to explain the Force to him and not ridicule him for lack of knowledge. Aodhan, who brought some complication into his life, because what good was it when everything was smooth, right? Even Sal, the golden-eyed captain that was more nuanced than he’d initially thought, and who cared about his crew. Then there was the ship herself, who didn’t fight him the way she’d fought Sal when the blonde first sauntered into her hull, ready to pull them out of that forsaken planet. Some days, it even felt like they were having real conversations, and not simple algorithm exchanges. There were others- crew and Jedi. Some liked him, some were indifferent, others disliked him. Can’t please everyone, right? Not that he tried to impress anyone-- not really. Maybe Xel sometimes. Home wasn’t a place. It was people. And Joules thought that perhaps he’d take a blaster to the face for some of them, if it came down to it.
Maybe this was all temporary, too. They could easily find another pilot that wasn’t as aggressive and troublesome as he was. (But really, where was the fun in that?!) Maybe he’d find the Ganymede and decide that it was best if he continued his search. But maybe they would help him, and maybe he didn’t need to be alone right now. He closed his eyes and felt an odd sense of peace. It wasn’t typical, and it likely wouldn’t last. Joules never made the mistake of feeling so comfortable that he couldn’t expect the unexpected. But in that moment, he felt like... perhaps he was home. Or at least, as close to a home as what a wanderer like him could imagine.
I know the score like the back of my hand
Them other boys, I don't give a damn
They kiss on the ring, I carry the crown
Nothing can break, nothing can break me down
