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Back To School

Chapter 2 has been uploaded!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/66856498/chapters/172726858

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Miles art with my new ohuhu markers!

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How to cope with change being autistic:

Draw your favorite autistic character feeling what you feel and or overstimulated

(Dont actually use this as advice, this is just what helps me)

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Damn bro, i keep getting subtly rejected. Like in my friend group, i ended up falling for a semi-quiet boy who is really sweet and kind and hes really cute. But guess what?

HES STRAIGHT

NOOOO

I FELL FOR THE TOKEN STRAIGHT IN THE GAY FRIEND GROUP

I wonder if i should tell him the reason i asked if he liked boys was because i thought he was cute and sweet and datable.

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Miles if he didnt drop out of school

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Back To School

Summary: Miles decides not to drop out of school and makes the choice to get his senior year done with.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/66856498/chapters/172544848

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SPOILER ART FOR THE ENDING OF COMPOUND FRACTURE

I drew some art of Miles with an eyepatch because now i have a reason to not draw another eye

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REAL REAL REAL

I got an overgrown buzzcut/crew cut because of Miles and found my old red bandana. Gonna start wearing it

"oh yeah imma buy a red bandana cuz it reminds me of one of my favorite characters

Might go blonde because of this. Won't be going near forests or parties for a while. For the record, this is the exact haircut I imagines miles with.

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I just finished the best book ive ever read

Guys, if you arent triggered by police brutality or guns....or murder

READ COMPOUND FRACTURE BY ANDREW JOSEPH WHITE

PLEASE

Its so good, the ending was crazy

I need to draw art of Miles with an eyepatch now

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More Miles art because im like 4/5 done with the book

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I got an impusive buzz/crew cut

It actually doesnt look bad

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*sighs*

Of course i made a fucking oneshot that takes place after chapter 35.

Compound Cuts

Miles is having a really hard time sleeping after being taken in by Amber, Michael, and Dallas. He can't handle the images of what he's done and the guilt from it.

TW: sh

I couldn’t sleep that night. Not after everything that’s happened. I still can’t believe Cooper killed Paul. No. It wasn’t just Cooper. We killed Paul. I was a part of it. I helped. No matter how much I toss and turn, I can’t get the image of him dying on the floor, begging for us to end it already, out of my head. It's horrifying. 

Dallas is sleeping peacefully next to me. They snore a little bit, but I don’t mind. It’s not like I’ll be getting any sleep tonight anyways. I just hope they are a heavy sleeper and won’t be woken up by all my tossing and turning.

My mind is racing, trying to process what happened. I feel like throwing up again but I have nothing but water left in my stomach. Why did I ever agree to doing this? Paul wasn’t completely innocent, but he didn’t deserve to die. And I just let him. I feel horrible. I’m such a shitty person. No wonder I have a hard time keeping friends. I’m a terrible human being. If you can even call me a human being. I’m not better than a piece of shit. 

My eyes glance over to my pants on the floor on the other side of the room. The knife is still in the pocket. Without thinking, my body moves. It gets up out of bed and walks over to it and grabs the knife out of the pocket. I can’t do this here. Not in the middle of Dallas’s bedroom. Carefully, I walked over to the bathroom and shut the door. Luckily, the nightlight is still on from my shower so I can still see a little. I slide down the cabinet under the sink and sit on the floor, staring at the sharp object in my hand. I really want to hurt myself now. I don’t know why, but being in pain sounds like paradise. It would make the guilt and the images go away. It would be a distraction from everything.

I’ve never cut myself before. I’ve thought about it, but never had the guts to actually do it. It would be a pain to clean up and would get my parents worried, but I don’t think about that right now. They are the last thing on my mind currently. 

I grip the handle of the blade tightly. Do I really want to do this? Immediately, I think yes. Anything to make the pain, images, and guilt stop. I don’t even think about the effects of what will happen, I just start cutting. I dig the blade deep into my skin and slice slowly. Pain rips into my veins. It stings and hurts, but it feels amazing. The mental pain dies down. The images stop. I feel so much better. Like all my emotions were released without having a huge breakdown. I don’t care that I'm rocking back and forth again. 

I make more cuts. My wrist is covered in blood. The blood makes me cringe, but I already felt like blood was still on my body. Adding real blood wouldn’t make a difference. I would still feel the same after I clean up. 

I don’t even realize I’m crying until I feel my cuts sting from something salty and wet leaking into them. I reach up to my face and my cheeks are damp. This is pathetic. I shouldn’t be crying. I’m not the victim. I’m not the one who got shot in the jaw and had to bleed to death. 

Suddenly, I hear a small knock on the door. It’s barely noticeable, but I can just make it out.

“Miles? Are you okay in there?” Amber whispers. Fuck. This isn’t good. This really isn’t good. She can’t see me like this. She already thinks I’m autistic. What will she think after she finds me like this?

I try to get words out, but my voice betrays me again. All I can make out is a small croak before a raspy sob. Stupid, Miles, stupid! You’re so fucking weak. Why can’t you speak? You’ve forced yourself to before, why is it so hard now? 

“I’m coming in,” She warns. I want to say no, and yell at her to leave, but I can’t. I just sit there, a bloody knife in my hand.

The door opens and she peaks her head in the bathroom. Her eyes go wide as she sees me. I feel like crying harder. She closes the door behind her and kneels down next to me. She’s slow with her movements and is calm.

“Can you give me the knife please?” Amber asks. I feel guilty for making her see this. I want to cut again, just to make the guilt stop. I don’t know why it makes it stop. Maybe it’s the fact that I feel like I’m being punished for what I’ve done. But I don’t feel like I deserve a punishment. Sure I feel guilty, but not deserving of punishment. I don’t know, that’s all I ever think and say. 

But I don’t want to keep Amber waiting so I hand her the knife. Carefully, she slides it behind her to the door. She stands up and opens the cabinet above the sink and pulls out a small first aid kit. I feel bad again. I’m such a fuckup. Why can’t I just be normal? Now I’m making her waste her first aid items on me. Everything is happening too fast. I feel overwhelmed. I hate this. It’s too much. The rocking gets worse and my back is full on hitting the drawers behind me. I start crying harder. I just want to crawl into bed and never think about this again. 

“Shh, it’s okay, sweetie. I know it’s overwhelming, but I’m just trying to help you,” Amber sits back down next to me and shows me the kit before slowly opening it up. I know it’s so I don’t freak out, but I feel kind of offended that she needs to do that. I don’t say anything though and just let her continue to talk to me and get out the kit.

As she opens it up, she talks to me. Her words feel reassuring and comforting, but not enough to make me feel calm and safe. I want Squishy Pillow. I want my shoelace. I need some sense of familiarity and comfort. I want to dig my fingernails into my fresh cuts, but I don’t want Amber to be upset. I bet she’s already feeling a bit freaked out by this. I’m just making it worse.

She starts to clean my wounds, the stinging of alcohol soothes me. It feels nice and makes the pain and overwhelming sensation pause for a moment. It feels a little bit less satisfying than cutting, however, it still gives me some sort of relief. But it ends quickly as she wraps gauze around it. 

“I know things are overwhelming right now, but trust me, this isn’t how to cope with it. I don’t know what happened before, but it’s gonna be okay,” Amber assures me. I try to believe her but it’s hard to. I let her wrap up my wounds.

“Are you okay with touch?” She asks. I think about it and nod. Before, it felt horrible, but right now, I could use some physical comfort.

Amber pulls me in and gives me a kiss on the forehead. It’s nice and I lean into the touch. She rubs my shoulder before pulling me into a hug. Its warm and the compression is nice. I melt into her touch and she rubs my back.

“It’s okay, bud. You’re okay,” She whispers. For once, I believe her. When i’m in her warm embrace, I feel like everything is going to be okay. But another image of Paul writhing in pain as he begs to die starts to come up. I squeeze my eyes shut and hug her back tightly. She rocks me back and forth. She must’ve noticed me doing that before.

After a while, I start to calm down. The tears ended a bit ago, but I sniffle every now and then, not wanting the comfort to stop. She understands, thankfully, and keeps comforting me. But it has to stop eventually. She pulls away and stands up, grabbing a washcloth and running it under cold water. She kneels back down and starts cleaning my cheeks and face with it. The cold temperature feels nice against my hot skin.

“You ready to go to bed?” She asks. I shake my head. I don’t wanna go to bed. I don’t want to have the images and the panic flash through my mind. I just need a distraction before I can go to sleep.

“That’s fine, but I don’t feel comfortable letting you be by yourself. Is there anything calming you’d like to do?” She asks, handing me the cards to pick from. I feel a bit childish, needing a bunch of pictures to tell her how I feel. But nonetheless, I flip through them and pick out the card with a picture of a book on it that says ‘read’. 

“Do you want to read by yourself, or do you want me to read to you?”

I point to her. I don’t think I could pay attention if I was the one doing it. I would read the same line over and over again and not retain any of the information. But at least listening to her would be calming.

She leads me out of the bathroom and upstairs to the living room. Luckily, Dallas is still sleeping and I haven’t woken them up. When we get to the living room, she sits down on the couch and pats the spot next to her. I sit down and she pulls me against her chest so I'm laying against her. I feel a bit awkward, but it’s also comforting. 

Amber picks up a book from the coffee table and starts to read quietly. Her voice is soothing and it makes me feel sleepy. My eyelids feel heavy as the sounds of her reading distracts my brain. I let my eyes rest, but before I knew it, I'd fallen asleep.

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Omg omg chapter 35

SO MUCH HURT/COMFORT AHHHHH I LOVE ITTTTT

AMBER YOURE SO SWEEEEET

AND THE AUTIATIC REALIZATION MILES HAD WAS PERFECT

I was gonna start crying from the fluff and comfort in it. Miles deserves all the comfort in the world after that

Aaannddd i suddenly need to write a fic where amber or dallas comforts Miles

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Calling the trans community!! I need help with something.

So I'm getting my name legally changed soon so i can attend public school without being outed. However, i want to pick a middle name in case i dont like jack in the future. I will not be sharing what I will go with but i will set up a poll.

For context to why I chose these names, Lloyd from Ninjago was my trans awakening back when I was like 10. I'd tell people my name was Lloyd and want to get my hair cut just like his.

Now for Alan. I'm getting into trans history and Alan Hart has basically become my hero. He was a trans doctor who made significant discoveries in the medical field. I also think the name Alan is really cute.

I wish Andrew fit my looks and personality though because I'd love to have my favorite author, Andrew Joseph White, a part of me. Unfortunately, i do not look like an Andrew

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Just read the part where we meet Dallas! So i obviously needed to draw it!

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Im on chapter 24 and i'm getting Hamlet and Heathers vibes from this. Like Saint is king/ghost Hamlet, Miles is Hamlet, Cooper is JD, and Eddie, Noah, and Paul are the Heathers