#some context:

[pettyeti]

Would that I could sink into the earth, the sand, the sea. Breathe deep my last breath and return home.

[viric-dreams]

As Estival draws to a close, two exhausted spies meet under a parasol.

Meeting with Jones and @zeebreezin’s Shaw below:

[Mercifully, you seem to have a few days off after the last of the Sixth Coil business is over. Aside from a few ‘teary farewells’, all that you’re left with is to draft up your report on the situation and get back to it. You receive a rather substantial parcel in a dead drop - one you scarcely use, these days. Inside the tin case is nothing more than a military standard medical bag and a pouch of what claims to be genuine Ethiopian coffee beans. The typed note attached is brief. The cipher is two layers deep, but standard issue enough.] 

“Hope the games were entertaining. Was curious about your report’s details. Is your calendar free for a brief meeting? Your choice of location. – S.” 

[… Well, shit.]

[The letter you receive back in the dead drop is in standard encryption. No personal flair.]  “Summerset quad. Name your time.”

[The choice of location is clever—the quad is quiet, but not empty. Any passing eyes might recognise Professor Shaw. Does he hope to keep you in check somehow? The fact that it’s Summerset’s campus, the location of his forged diploma is not lost on you. He wants you to meet him on his turf. Making some sort of a play at your own meeting might be out of pocket for an agent normally, but he’s crafty. You can’t dismiss the possibility entirely.]

[You receive a response promptly - specifying the time with no further details. He’s chosen to meet up at a quiet hour on the edge of evening, dead in the middle of the week. A time where few will be milling about, but you’ll most likely be seen by exiting students and the like. But why wait a few days? Does he plan to hide his men in the crowd?]

[The specified time arrives without fanfare. Despite your best efforts, you can’t peg any disguised agents among the chattering student body, nor any watchers tucked away in vantage points. This is the opposite of comforting.] 

[You do, however, see him. Sitting alone on a bench amongst the neatly tended to pebble gardens. He has his parasol in hand - the shimmering translucent thing casts a spray of colour across the rocks as he spins it. The gesture would look absentminded in another’s hands. It’s hard to pull your eyes away. Soon, you’re face to face.]

“Jones. It’s good to see you.”

[It looks like he just snuck away from Benthic - still in a warm professor’s garb. Beyond the twisting light cast by the parasol, though… god, he looks like shit - about as tired as you were before that 16 hour crash, at least.] 

“I trust you’ve been enjoying the quiet after the storm?” 

[Jones nods in acknowledgement and takes a seat on the adjacent bench, not at the far end, but with a certain degree of distance between you. At this angle, the lamplight throws the planes of his face into shadow, sunken eyes and hollow cheeks receding from view. Up close, his suit seems to swallow his frame. Its shade does him no favours either, the deep olive drawing the colour from his skin. His gaze stays forward, silently tracking the passersby.] 

“I don’t miss the chaos.” 

[He finally says. It’s not a direct answer to your question.] 

“You said you wanted to talk about the report I’d sent. Was something insufficient?”

[The parasol casts odd shadows as he rests it over his shoulder. The edges of the technicolor shade kiss your fingertips as they rest atop the bench’s table.]  

“No, it was perfectly sufficient, trust me. I’m merely putting together a report - and I’ll need the testimony of all the traitorous Kolomans that stayed behind despite their orders.” 

[He offers a small smile, before placing a few documents on the table - close to him. You’ll need to lean over to reach them.] 

“I’m looking to triangulate where most of your countrymen hail from based on the languages they were speaking. Check these over, fill in any you noticed, and so on… busy work. Were you expecting anything else?”

[Jones is trying to look at you, though his eyes involuntarily flit to the kaleidoscope patterns cast by the parasol. His fingers twitch, drumming a pattern onto the stone bench, a nervous habit he usually keeps under control. When you place the documents on the table, his hand withdraws, curling into the inner pocket of his jacket.] 

“I see… I’ll make sure it gets back to you in a timely manner then.” 

[His hand emerges from the pocket, holding a pair of reading glasses. He slips them on and reaches forward to take the documents from their resting place.] 

[Shaw’s expression is rather pleasant, though you can see the hint of something in his eye. Is that… fondness? Some level of ease? Worry? Under the parasol’s drifting colours, it’s hard to tell. He leans forward as you do, placing a hand - lightly - on one of the documents. Preventing it from being moved.] 

“…What were you expecting in this meeting, Jones?” 

[You’re both under the parasol’s canopy, now. He twirls the thing’s handle back and forth, casting a smattering of light across your face. A need to fidget he’s usually able to swallow.] 

“I’d like to know, if you’re able to share.” 

[Back and forth.] 

“You’re one of my favourite agents, after all.” 

[Back and forth.] 

“And your wellbeing is far more important than some busywork.” 

[Back and forth.]

[Jones’ hand freezes to a stop when yours comes down on the document. His eyes dart to yours, wide and magnified through the lenses. There’s a flicker of emotion in there, but before you’re able to parse what it is, it’s clouded over. His eyes jump across your face, tracking the swirling colours of the parasol across your skin.]  

“I don’t know. I never seem to know with you. An end to all of this, maybe. After all this waiting.” 

[He tugs the document free with a forceful pull.] 

“I can’t do this much longer. What do you want?”

[There’s a little twitch of his lip as the trap springs shut - a trap set for two. Underneath the colours cast down, Shaw lifts his hand the second you tug.]

 “What do I want..?” 

[His voice is soft, still touched with a bit of pleasing calm, but it’s in a natural accent you’ve never heard before - clearly working class Scouse. Another mask slipped free.] 

“I want so many things, Jones. It’s sickening. But right now, I want to know you. To understand why you’re here, why you’re doing this. You… fascinate me. You have for quite some time.”

[For once, Shaw stops spinning the parasol, a break in the intensifying rocking motion. He takes a deep breath, leaning back just a tad in his chair.] 

“…Pardon me, I haven’t been sleeping well. Does that answer your question?”

[Jones wasn’t expecting you to let go, and the document comes free with more force than he’d intended—his arm rebounding into his chest. When you let the parasol come to a rest, something in your prismatic hold seems to break. He blinks up at you, expression still clouded, but something sharper jutting out from under the surface: alarm. Is it from your answer? Or the knowledge that he’s unable to hide what he’s doing.]

 “No.” 

[No? Is it a rejection or an answer to your question? Jones pulls back, his free hand sweeping the glasses off of his face. He has no intention of reading through the documents now. Under the lamp’s gas light his face morphs again, slipping on that familiar neutral expression you know so well. No indication of the turmoil below, though you know he must be piecing together what he’d just let slip.]

 “I’ll ensure this finds its way to you soon.” 

[He raises the papers pressed against his torso to punctuate the sentence. Then,] 

“Am I free to go?”

[With clearer eyes, you almost see him catch his breath as the parasol stops spinning. He swallows down an unknown emotion that had begun to creep into his expression. His gaze never stops studying you. Tracking each and every reaction.] 

“…Fair enough.” 

[Is that meant as reassurance? Acceptance of your answer? Some acknowledgement of your alarm? Either way, whatever frenzy seized him a moment ago seems to have faded. Shaw’s practised accent is back in place when he speaks again.] 

“Of course. I won’t keep you.” 

[He smiles, adjusting his grip on the parasol before standing. Your technicolor shade is ripped away.] 

“But… Do try and enjoy the reprieve after the games, won’t you?”  

[The smile and assurance you receive in return tells you nothing you don’t already know, but it’s disappointing nonetheless–he doesn’t trust you. As soon as you take a step away, he sets the glasses back onto the bridge of his nose, leafing through the documents. You don’t have to turn around to know he’s going to keep doing this until long after you’re sat back in your office. And then he’ll head home and look at them again.] 

[He might just process some of the words that second time.]

[elegantartisanperson]

ah shit dude 60 melatonin pills for 8,62 dollars? that is too much now my sleep schedule will never be fixed😔

WHAT 30 PILLS FOR ONLY 8,51 DOLLARS, THIS IS A STEAL, now I can finally fix my sleep schedule

[shesmore-shoebill]

"I had choice paralysis :(" is a KILLER line.

He's such a comedic powerhouse, I'm glad more people are getting exposed to him :'D

[stars-and-branches]

He's using the batarang as a spoon to eat ice cream

[paintedcrows]

*through tears* HER LITTLE POG CHAMP

[krysmcscience]

I have some questions about karaoke night, Alex Hirsch. Very Important Questions. Which I will happily scream at a poor hapless baby triangle who can have no answers for me, and possibly also does not have object permanence yet.

Follow-up that is I guess suggestive, but let's be real here, Bill's a fucking triangle:

Dude slipped right into his birthday suit, lmao

this is so stupid :D

Anyway, I don't care what anyone says, this brilliant individual knows what's up - Bill is absolutely way more of a monsterfucker than Ford could or ever will be, full stop.

[storm-of-feathers]

I'm very fond of this video

[egophiliac]

crossing my fingers and wishing upon every star that chapter 10 finally brings us the tweel cards 🤞🤞

[akanemnon]

We didn't even get an answer, and we never will (at least it's not determination)

FIRST - PREVIOUS - NEXT

MASTERPOST (for the full series / FAQ / reference sheets)

[beif0ngs]

alright look, i just wanna know who is the writer that came up with the dumbass idea of replacing the line “Ever since I lost my son, I think of you as my own” with “Lu Ten would have been proud to have you as his father” in this scene for the Netflix live action series???

[notbrucewayne48]

"aphobia doesn't exist"

bitch literally not that long ago an aroace youtuber animator was insulted by almost half of its community for being it

[bluegiragi]

limitations (part 2)

early access + nsfw on patreon

[boobilby]

Being even more cringe than usual

Featuring my friends drawing of Joel, who I’m pretty sure they don’t even know, @dustystripe is the friend

[nova-rpv]

a redraw of the first drawing i posted here to celebrate the fact that ive been in tumblr for more than a whole year posting my shit and havent deleted my blog in panic yippee \:D/ (mushy rant in tags)

[reunitedinterlude]

it's all about confidence