#miles jones

[misscromwellsmonocle]

Guilt (2018) by Miles Jones

[serpentstyles]

welcome back to the ordeal.

BLINDSPOTTING: Planes, Trains, Automobiles (S02E01)

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“I mean, it’s a little romantic right?” 

[c-h-pictures]

Sam: *trying to talk to the new client*

Apollo and Janus: *arguing at the back of the office about how water needs more hugs and therefore the huggability of water*

Dust: Guys, Sam’s trying to talk to a client, please stop.

Apollo: But it does much for us!

Ashley and Janus: You can’t hug water!

Dust: Ash, don’t get involved!

Miles, comes in to give something to Janus: What is going on?

Sam: Shall we talk elsewhere?

Client: Where?

Sam: Anywhere!

Apollo, with tears in xir eyes: But we can hug water! And we need to!

Miles, calling his cousin: Francisca, can you hug water?

Dust: Miles! Please don’t!

Sam: W-we’ll be going now.

[throughthedirt]

Season 1: Chapter Three

"JONES!" Correctional Lieutenant Dave Ward would shout at me from the State Pen's exterior doors.

"Fifty-one. Fifty-two. Fifty-three. Fifty-four. Fifty-five."

​

"Hey, man-" Another inmate would try to flag my attention, but to no avail. "Hey, Shotgun!" He would call again, this time using the nickname everyone knew me by.

"Fifty-six. Fifty-seven. Fifty-eight. Fifty-ni-" Interrupted by Scuttle, my cell-mate, I slowed my pace; lowering my chin from the pull-up bar in the courtyard's outside gym. Hanging from the post above me, my thick biceps bulged as they held my heavy weight. I looked to him with squinted eyes, the blazing sun shinning directly in my face.

"Ward's callin' ya." Scuttle tapped me out, swiftly pointing to the gate over 100 feet away. Shrugging his lithe shoulders, the 5 foot 6 African-American teenager was only 19 years old, and lucky (for his tiny sake) that he had been assigned to me as a prison mate.

Grunting, I tossed my large figure to the ground, casually walking through the yard to the gate's door. There was confusion, though I didn't show it. Without even a shirt to cover my tattoos, the only pieces of clothing that weren't entirely drenched in sweat were my State Pen uniform trousers. As I came to face Officer Ward, he stuffed a random clean shirt into my chest and commanded, "Put this on, now." Without hesitation, I pulled the grey tunic over my head and slipped my arms into it. "You have a visitor." He would add.

Visitor? What visitor? I hadn't had a visitor here in the entire 3 years of my incarceration.

Cuffing my wrists and ankles, Lieutenant Ward lead me and two other lesser prison guards towards the designated visiting area of the penitentiary. Stationing one guard inside the room and another out, he motioned for me to enter the room. As the doors opened and I took a curious step inside, my pupils contracted as my eyes fell on upon you. You.

Miss Nicola Strom. The very last person I would have ever imagined would be behind that spectral glass.

There was a stark difference between me now, and me from the

trial

. I had shed nearly 40 founds of fat, but converted most of it to muscle. These three short years in prison had aged me, it seemed. My once brown disheveled hair had began to grey; streaks of silver forming throughout my slicked strands. My stubbled, coarse beard had aged and grown to a similar fate. My forehead sported creased wrinkles and the bags under my eyes made me look tired, and restless. Yet, despite all of this, somehow... I looked

better

.

Taking a seat in the cold, plastic chair, my eyes fell to the 80's-style phone that awaited. Swallowing firmly, I placed my cuffed hands together before me and returned my deep brown eyes to roam the pale of your face. I took a moment to stare at you, not even a flinch to pick up the phone, nor a shred of hesitation as I stared into your dull, colorless eyes. I sat for a seconds in silence, mocking the very phone that you were itching to reach for. What seemed like mere seconds felt like hours as I stared at you - taking in all the details of your freckled, beautiful face.

Finally, my hand reached for the phone, though my eyes never left yours. Bringing it to my ear, I stayed expressionless as I waited to hear your sweet voice. “Hel-- Hello Mr. Jones." You would say, choking on your own greeting as fast as you offered it. Instantly, a chuckle began to brew on my weathered face. I broke my locked gaze on you to dip my head down in attempt to reign in my inappropriate laughter. Resurfacing my head back up immediately, I broke my silence. "Nicola." My rooted voice was croaky, but firm. "Don't speak. Just... listen." I shook my head lightly as the gaze of my dark orbs intensified.

Taking a deep inhale, I abandoned the phone from my ear and proceeded to tap it on my lips as to ponder the potential of my words. Bringing the phone back to my ear, I sighed. "Oh Nicola." My tongue passed ever so briefly on my bottom lip as a wicked grimace stretched over my face. "I always knew you'd come back to me."

Next Chapter

[serpentstyles]

BLINDSPOTTING × “ Where's my son, Ash? ” ; because their fucking chemistry 😭

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BLINDSPOTTING S01E02: SMASHLEY ROSE

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𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐎𝐑 𝐃𝐈𝐄 // BLINDSPOTTING S01E01: The Ordeal