#sensory issues would also explain why these two days many sounds bother me and i don't want to talk

[fiction-in-my-blood]

Obey Me! Brothers W/ Mentally Slow MC HC

~Longer than necessary A/N ahead so, if you don’t care, you don’t need to read it, just sharing stuff about myself to random strangers on the internet lol.~

So... I’m slow. Like, my brain just does not computer things quick enough a majority of the time? I’m not a great conversationalist because of it, I have a pretty bad stammer, I mix up names even though they don’t sound at all the same, and I get too excited when I do know something that when I try to say it its just a jumble of words that don’t make sense and I tell my friends to just forget about it because I know I won’t be able to say the right words lol. Luckily I have great friends and they give me the time to rethink my sentence so I can say what I want to say. Oh, and I daydream to the point I never dream in my sleep haha. So, this is basically an HC for me lol. That being said, I’m pulling from mostly my own experiences here, so I’m sorry if they sound a lil depressy haha. 

And I would like to say, if anyone can relate, there’s literally nothing wrong with you!!! (Cannot stress this enough). We just have our fun lil quirks.

~Also, I’m so sorry for missing out on Belphie. I love him somuch but I could not think of a scenario for him. If I do in the future I’ll edit or reupload idk.~

~Oh, and @theshove , I finally posted again ;), although I’m sure it’s not gonna be as spicy as you’d like.~

Warnings: Descriptive explanation of a panic attack in Mammon’s HC, reference to bullying in Satan’s

~~~~~~

Lucifer:

At first, he was secretly pretty frustrated.

He thought it was a confidence issue, he heard that was a common thing in human youth, to not believe in yourself and have anxiety about the way you looked, spoke, sounded. 

You would often be having conversations with his brothers, debating a subject that Lucifer took no interest in, and you would be about to put in your input when a stream of nonsense passed your lips.

“Y’know what, nevermind.” Was a frequent phrase that left your lips when you did slip up, sighing to yourself as you thought about how ridiculous you just sounded. 

Lucifer would ensure none of the brothers, or Solomon, ever teased you about your mistakes.

Although, it was mortifying everytime you accidentally called him Levi, and vice versa. 

It was hard enough when you were still getting to know the brothers, but even on a date with the eldest, Levi just seemed like an easier word to say in the moment. It led to a few upsetting misunderstandings and some pretty severe punches to Lucifer’s pride.

Once you two got closer, you explained you mixed up your words because you used to be practically mute.

You weren’t a particularly extroverted child, nor were you interested in much, so you hardly spoke at all. You never got the practice you needed to familiarise yourself with words. It was Devildom that really brought them out of you.

After you did share that with him, he thrived off hearing your voice, even when it took a solid ten seconds to contemplate what you needed to say, even stretching your mouth muscles before you started just in case you stumbled again.

Of course, you made your mistakes now and again, got stuck on a word, laughing at how ridiculous you sounded saying ‘in’ several times in a row when you were trying to argue over tonight’s dinner, but Lucifer never cracked a joke like you did about yourself. 

He smiled, happy that you didn’t let this impact your personality and recovered quickly and, gradually, at snail's pace it felt like at the time, you could hold a conversation, a bright smile on your face when you were able to pull it off.

“Lucifer, I didn’t stutter this time!”

“Well done, MC, shall I give you a reward?”

Mammon:

“Useless human, can’t even talk, huh?” 

Trying to act like the big tough guy he played himself out to be didn’t fare well when you first arrived in Devildom, his brothers practically beat him up every other day for it.

The first time you laid your eyes upon a demon and they explained you would be a transfer student, it took you a few minutes of silence to understand what was actually going on.

It wasn’t because this wasn’t an extraordinary situation, you were an avid reader of fantasy novels and had waited for the day to be transported away from your boring, mundane life, but you just couldn’t compute verbal speech.

In potion class, you had to ask the teacher to write down the ingredients and the quantities because you couldn’t picture the words themselves, so you couldn’t understand what the potion was actually meant to do.

“What’re you writing it all down for?”

“It’s easier for me to listen when I can read what they’re saying. I guess it’s because my hearing’s crap?” 

But your hearing wasn’t all that bad, it was just easier to explain it that way than explaining how transcriptions help you listen.

Sometimes, in the hallways of RAD, the bustling students and whispering gossiping of you, a human, making a pact with Mammon? Apparently it was hilarious to everyone else.

But it wasn’t what the demons were saying, it was how loud they were saying it. 

It was just too many noises at once, you couldn’t decipher the surround-sound mumbling and it stressed you out, made you uncomfortable, and gave you that all too familiar feeling of a panic attack due to the sensory overload. 

Mammon realised your discomfort as tears grew in your eyes and your breathing quickened and, for a moment, he was moving to beat up every single devil that ever even mentioned the word ‘human’.

“Ma-Mammon!” Your frail voice and a tug on his sleeve pulled him back to Devildom and he turned back around to you, watching as you clenched your eyes shut, trying to ignore the buzzing that continued to rattle your brain. 

“Can you take me some place quiet?”

From then on, you would often spend your lunch breaks in a quiet classroom away from the majority of students. It was a good place for you to wind down, especially, when you two were close enough, Mammon would hug you closely, helping the panic in your heart when you did have a panic attack due to all the noises.

You didn’t have them as much now, the noise cancelling headphones he had bought you brought solace as you walked from classroom to classroom.

In class, he would try his best to act as scribe when you were running behind, but he did a terrible job. His handwriting was abysmal, only now did he appreciate how quickly you had to write to keep up with the lessons. 

You appreciate the sentiment all the same, placing a quick kiss on his cheek- you were dating at this point- and explained that he didn’t have to do that for you, you could just get a copy of the teacher’s notes after class.

Now he could never feel more guilty about picking on you when you first got to Devildom.

“Hey, Mamo?”

“Yeah, MC?”

“Thanks for not getting angry at me.”

Leviathan:

You were pretty silent, never really talking unless you were spoken to directly.

Yet, you still had that dumb, normie trap of cute smile on your face when you listened to everyone ranting and raving. 

When you did speak, it was quiet, almost a whisper.

Thank Diavolo for the demon’s enhanced hearing because, if they didn’t, they would be constantly asking you to speak up.

It wasn’t because you didn’t like your voice or you thought you were too loud otherwise, it was just because you couldn’t really be bothered to be louder.

You were content with just listening, watching everyone have a vivid conversation about the latest trouble Mammon had gotten into or Satan raving about the last Detective show you needed to watch. 

You never had any questions to ask in class, and the ones you did have would usually be asked by another student before you got the chance to even raise your hand. You weren’t a genius, just a good listener.

Levi understood, somewhat. Why would you want to talk to his normie brothers? They had nothing interesting to say.

Most of the time he suspected you just weren’t listening to them. 

But, it’s when you were alone together in his room as he told you about the latest anime he was enjoying, he got annoyed.

“Are you even listening to me? I don’t even know why I try. You don’t deserve Henry!”

“I was listening. You were explaining how you think the next season of TSL is going to go. I’ll admit, the Lord of Shadow saving that servant from the Lord of Corruption seems a little far fetched, but it’d be interesting to watch.” 

That had possibly been the longest group of sentences he had ever heard you string together at once. And they were so soft, no hint of trepidation from his accusation.

Eyes wide in embarrassment for misreading the situation, and getting so aggressive about it, Leviathan looked away.

“I’m sorry, I know I seem really dismissive all the time. I just enjoy listening to you talk about your passions.”

The bright smile on your face calmed him down, as it usually did, and, every so often, you would make your comments about the shows you know only because of him. He was very good at explaining plot lines. Even when you had never seen the show, you felt like you had.

You would mainly just talk to Levi from then on, getting to the point where you could express your own hobbies without him judging you as a normie and more as a friend.

Well, not a friend, more than that, much more, but a friend would have to do for now.

The first time you strike up a conversation with him, calling his name from down the hallway of the house you’re staying in as he walks with Asmodeus, Mammon and Beelzebub is possibly the greatest day of Levi’s life.

“Lefty.” You accidentally pronounce his name wrong, like you sometimes do with “Bell” and “Ashmo”.

You didn’t have any problems with saying their names normally, but when you were tired, all hopes of communicating like a normal human being went out the window.

Your words were a low mumble, but they were something Levi had learnt to understand fluently from your late night gaming sessions that would usually end in ruin when your tired brain drastically slowed your reflexes.

“I heard it was your 200,000th bicentennial birthday coming up, so I asked one of my friends to commission this for you.”

Only Diavolo knows how you managed to pronounce centennial at this time of night, but you did it, handing him a paper-wrapped, flat square, a light blush dusting both your cheeks. 

Asmo made a flirty, teasing comment about how close you two seemed and how, now, Levi was the lucky one.

Mammon got jealous, demanding that he wanted a birthday present, even though his milestone couple centuries had literally been a couple centuries ago.

Beel’s stomach grumbled, but he was a little curious about what you could have possibly gifted Levi, and how many words you just said as loud as they would usually be, which was wildly out of character for you.

“It’s the Lord of Shadow and the servant.” Levi gasped upon seeing the magnificent drawing your friend had made for you, which you insisted on paying for, and never had Levi been so jealous to have a friend like that. A friend with such talent. 

“You were right, he did save her.” You smiled, eyes twinkling at the positive reaction Levithan had made. 

You had seen the similarities in the characters with you and the demon. The servant was said to have had their voice stolen as a child, long before they and the Lord of Shadow had met. And it was obvious to you the similarities the anime brothers had with the demon brothers, but you wouldn’t dare tell Levi that. You were worried he’d get shy and call you a normie again.

So that statement you made was a form of confession to Levi. Something you hoped he would understand.

“You watched the season without me?! How did you even get the DVD? It’s not even out yet!”

Yeah, no such luck there.

“Levi, you know what isn’t fair?”

“What could possibly be unfair for you in this situation?”

“That you aren’t as good a listener as I am.”

Satan:

You were an avid texter, just like Satan. 

Your fingers moved so quickly against the screen of your D.D.D or the keyboard of a computer, it was amazing someone could see them. 

And you were smart. On electronics, you could keep up conversations on the latest book you were reading and discuss the detective shows you and he liked to watch together.

It was only when you spoke in person did your conversations so down.

“Oh for fuck’s sake!” You cried out after a particularly long and troublesome stutter, mainly annoyed because it was an easy word but all the b’s tied your tongue like a tongue twister. Ironically, you felt like you were blubbering like an idiot.

Your stammer used to be worse, far worse. So bad you couldn’t even tell your parents anything without getting angry at yourself, but you got the speech therapy and learnt to just take it slow when you got eager. 

Everytime you see Satan, you want to be able to match his intellect and speed. You felt almost competitive. 

But it would hardly ever work out in your favour, your ‘S’s coming out like you were trying to start an old engine and ‘B’s and ‘D’s being switched in for each other like you were a toddler.

You spoke before you thought of what you were going to say, hoping the words would just float out of my mouth like everyone else’s did.

But no. Not for you. 

You had to carefully plan each sentence, thinking about every conversation you had so you could make a pre-made answer just so you wouldn’t look like a fool taking so long to speak.

You were ashamed most of the time, bullied for your impediment as a child and even in your teen years by people you told yourself were your friends but really weren’t when they called you teasing nicknames instead of your given one after you had asked them several times to use it. 

They were the main reason you still didn’t have the confidence to speak well now.

“Hey, take it easy. We’re not in a rush.” 

Satan would always be nice, politely giving you the time you needed to take a breather, calm down, and start over again, still blushing from your last stuttering episode.

“Why don’t you call me an idiot?”

A lot of questions similar to these, the only difference- the name you would be called, passed your lips sometimes, when there was a lull in your time together. 

You were used to people making fun, telling you to just shut up already so they didn’t have to hear your stupidity anymore.

“You’re not stupid. I care about what you have to say.”

Satan was always so serious everytime he answered a variation of your question, showing you he really cared. 

You blushed, your mind blank and it would take a couple minutes after that initial compliment for you to reboot.

It was true, though. 

Satan enjoyed watching your lips move and the sound of your voice as you two discussed who the killer in his detective show could be.

You both always came to the same conclusion before the episode ended.

Because most of your conversations happened through text, he found he missed your tone and expressive face when you got really into a subject.

He didn’t care if you stuttered, it was far better than just watching words flash across a screen, as most of your conversations went, on his D.D.D

Although, he did care that you got so angry with yourself. 

Being the Avatar of Wrath, he understood how easy it was to give into frustration and just want to hit something every time you made a mistake, he had done that many times in his younger years, and it wasn’t healthy.

It wasn’t healthy to be ashamed of a mere stumble or get mad at yourself for it, you never learnt that way.

One night, laying in his bed, platonically, you shared your reasoning behind getting so mad everytime you stuttered. 

You had seen Satan’s demon-form once before, but never had you seen it arise so quickly and so fiercely. 

You had been down all day and he had brought you to his room so you could feel comfortable enough to talk to him, but this fearful man, no, creature before you only put you more on edge.

But he continued to hold you.

He continued to wrap his arms around you from behind, spooning your body, trying his best not to fly out of hell right now and hunt down those who had picked on and teased you for all those years for something you couldn’t even help.

To think the reason you hated something he found so endearing was because some mere humans had made you think your excitement to communicate with people was something wrong?

“I don’t think this exchange program is going to work out.”

“Wh...Why?” You tried your hardest now to sound strong, sighing to yourself when you repeated the letters.

“Because I won’t be able to hold back if I have free access to the human world. What kind of assholes do that?”

“Teenage assholes.”

Asmodeus:

What a cute little airhead.

From the moment he first met you, Asmo loved the clueless looks on your face as you sifted through the information you were being given, seconds behind the punch everyone else could get to. 

You were slow, but you were meticulous, combing through every piece of information you could to give the correct response.

You were actually pretty smart because of that fact, studying so hard on everything you did so you weren’t embarrassed by being wrong.

And you weren’t too big with the whole ‘social cues’ thing either, mistaking Satan’s sarcasm for truth and Leviathan’s anger for genuine, relationship-ruining upset, desperately trying to fix the situation so that no one would get hurt.

You were selfless in the strangest of ways, too, opting to go without something you actually, really needed before asking someone for help. 

Once, you had tried ordering shower gel off of Akuzon, but, instead, ordered Shaitan Gell, a special ingredient often used by witches to summon demons. 

You had wondered why it was so expensive, but thought that maybe the Devildom economy wasn’t doing so well right now.

(It wasn’t your money you were using, so what the hell?)

It was even more confusing when it smelled a little off, but demons had strange tastes. Beelzebub literally ate brains and bat wings on the daily.

When Diavolo showed up in your shower the first time you used the oddly thick, black liquid, you just cocked your head, too weird to be embarrassed. Thinking this was a regular occurance in Devildom, you gave the prince a hearty hello and asked him, if he needed anything, could he please wait outside so you could get dressed first.

The news spread like wildfire, especially when Diavolo randomly vanished from a meeting with Lucifer. 

When everyone did find out, as Lucifer was reprimanding you for using such a relic in that way, they teased you endlessly, some offering you their own makes of the potion so you might accidentally summon them in the same way.

Every flirty or sexual remark Asmo made went right over your head, thinking that with every personal question he asked was just asked to make conversation and not genuine interest on his part.

“Do you have a partner?”

“Well, no, I don’t really compete in dance competitions or anything.”

“What positions do you usually go for?”

“I don’t play many sports, but if I had to pick, I’d say a pitcher in baseball. I have a pretty mean throw!”

It actually became a little bewildering how oblivious you were to all of his advances, thinking every time he draped himself over you he was cold and you offered him your jumper.

He took them everytime, so you were starting to run low. He tended to hoard them in his room, savouring the sweet scent of the body wash he had bought for you after the Shaitan incident.

“Asmo, can I get my hoodie back?”

You called through his closed door at some point after returning from school in the dead of winter, shivering in the sweat pants and long sleeved top you already had on.

You were generous, you didn’t think you personally were, but all the brothers knew you would give anyone anything if they asked for it. 

That’s why it wasn’t that ridiculous when Asmo had all of your jackets. Hoodies from years ago, sweaters you bought just to treat yourself because they were so soft, and even this jumper you got from your ex-boyfriend in high school, something you meant to give back but never managed to. You forgot every time you went to meet him with that exact intent the reason for seeing him.

It didn’t remind you of him, he barely wore it before you practically stole it, but it did make Asmo’s heart skip a beat at the ‘sweater-paws’ you got from the much-too-long sleeves. 

Following a clattering from what sounded like trash cans, followed by a comical shriek of a cat, the door flew open to a slightly disheveled Asmodeus, fabric clutched in his hand as he stood topless before you.

“Oh, sorry, Asmo. I didn’t mean to disturb you. I’m just so cold.”

You laughed to show you weren’t upset with him as you rubbed your arms, bouncing on the balls of your feets to get your blood moving enough to create some heat. 

How could all these devils, avatars of the seven deadly sins, not have heating?

“Let me warm you up, MC!”

Without even stopping to hear your answer, but he knew you’d say yes, no matter what, Asmo pulled you in by the wrist, immediately wrapping his bare arms around you the moment the door was closed.

He was warm and you were comfortable with him, he showed you curiosity and care, so you eased into that embrace, thinking it a friendly gesture as a thank you for using your clothes all the time.

When you felt a slight nibble on your ear, you started to freak out a little.

You stuttered out an inquiry as to what he was doing, shyly pushing away as he drew back with his flirtatious smirk.

“I’ve made it so obvious for so long, MC. I really like you.”

Asmo cooed back, prodding your puffed out cheek with the tip of his tongue as you tilted your head to the side the same way you did every time someone told you something new. 

Knowing you would be taking a moment to compute the information, Asmo used this chance to bury his face in the crook of your neck.

“I really like you too, Asmo.” 

The realisation came pretty suddenly. 

You had never put much thought into it.

Sure, he was the Avatar of Lust, he could just be saying this so he could express his temporary desires, but that was how you felt. You weren’t one for holding back, you were always scared of forgetting the topics of your thoughts if you didn’t say them aloud, so you just went for it.

Beelzebub:

Does this person even have bones?!

Like, seriously, your tripping over your feet like they’re not even attached to your body.

Rolling your ankle, walking off in directions that definitely don’t lead to where you intend on going, skipping right passed the class you’re meant to be attending.

The amount of times you’ve gotten lost in both the House of Lamentation and RAD is honestly worrying. 

Your sense of direction? What even is a map because it seems like you’ve never even heard of the concept of signs or specific routes you need to take to get to your bedroom.

To help with your impossibly slow way of getting a lay of the land in your new dorm, you would often take midnight strolls.

Often getting lost, which is how you found Belphegor up in the attic, even when you had stayed on the same floor.

That’s how you and Beel got so close. 

Because of the delectable scents coming from the kitchen, you would often find him having his late night snacks. 

He would invite you to stay, at first only because Lucifer had instructed him to walk you back to your room every time he found you aimlessly wandering the house late at night. 

“Is your ankle okay?” He would ask through a mouthful of food, but somehow you were still able to understand him.

Blushing, you looked down as your injury that was caused earlier in the day. You had stepped weird on the side of your foot- something that would usually happen and something you would usually be able to walk away from- but this time it was on the tall spiral stairs of the school you were still getting to know, sending you tumbling down flights and flights of steps. 

It was a wonder you were human, because even Solomon was shocked you survived that. 

“Y-Yeah, just a little red,” was an understatement.

You’re ankle killed. It was only a little swollen thanks to the spell your sorcerer friend used on you, but that didn’t help the sprain of your tendons. It was slightly bruised, covered by your loosest, most comfortable socks.

“Are you embarrassed?” Beel pointed out your bashful blush and you looked back up. He had seen your obvious hobble as you made your way to his side, but didn’t want to mention it in case you were feeling fragile about the subject.

“It just gives me flashbacks, is all.”

Oh? 

Memories from MC’s past?

Yes, Beel would very much like to hear about that. 

Not to tease or bribe you with, he was genuinely curious about your little human life. Not that you could tell, but he had never been so curious about another being like that. 

“Oh, god, well, I guess I trust you.” You joked, blushing harder as you laughed about the memory that plagues your thoughts. 

One time, in high school, you were walking out of the cantine when you tripped over literally nothing, throwing your bottle of water across the school yard like you needed to save it from your fall. It landed in the middle of a group of older students. 

The amount of laughs you got from that. The teacher that came up to you to ask if you were okay. The cut that occured on your knee. 

(Yes, this is a personal story. Yes, I have ptsd every time I pick up a plastic bottle of water)

Oh, it was like you were reliving the horror right there and then.

“It was mortifying! My friends still bring it up. To. this. day.” You sulk, resting your forehead on the table to hide the deep red on your face. 

“Did it hurt?” The blunt question came as a shock, that’s for sure, and you no longer felt unbearably hot when you looked up to see him. There was little look of amusement except for a kind-hearted smile. 

“W-Well, not as much as this other time...” 

You found yourself telling him all of your most embarrassing tales, seeking for that one story that would make him laugh the way everyone else would laugh at you. 

He didn’t. At all. It was actually a little worrying that he found none of your stories funny. 

Truthfully, he did find the want to chuckle at a few of them, but he didn’t want to betray your trust by laughing at such ‘precious’ memories for you. 

[strawberrymeriadoc]

Just a little drabble. Merry’s feeling sick and explores his feelings for Pippin a bit. 

Merry’s hands were shaking. He wasn’t sure if it comforted him or annoyed him that Peony was just asleep on the kitchen counter like he wasn’t having (what felt like) the biggest crisis of his life. Merry took some medicine to calm down. He reasoned that the throat tightness and pain might have as much to do with anxiety as anything else. 

If Merry could do this night over again he probably would have gone to the house of healing over two hours ago when it first started. But he didn’t want to go. He was terrified of doctors and waiting rooms and being called by his deadname and having to try to back pass. Hopefully it just gets better with time, he thought for the tenth time that night. Merry hadn’t bothered Pippin with this nightmare of a situation. He has his own shit to deal with and he would think I was strange to bring this up so suddenly, Merry reasoned. Merry vowed to call his doctor first thing the next day. 

Merry tried to calm down but he didn’t know how to be calm. He hadn’t been allowed to growing up. One time in college when he was home for break, he went to take a nap and as soon as he lay down he got in trouble with his mother, for even considering such a thing. Sometimes Merry would read while he ate, but as soon as he was done eating he was told he wasn’t allowed to read anymore. And many times he wasn’t allowed to eat to begin with. Merry’s mother took it as a personal insult if Merry wanted more than his allotted 2 meals a day. And she would yell at him and shame him if he ate anywhere near her because she hated the sound. 

Even Jamie had a similar issue. He didn’t begrudge her sensory issues around his eating some foods, but she didn’t have to be so mean about it. He would sometimes be forced to eat in the hallway outside his apartment. As a result, Merry was probably the quietest eater in all of the Westlands though he felt like the loudest. 

Merry shook himself out of his thoughts. He really wanted to say goodnight to his friend. But he realized with his pain he couldn’t talk. But still he came out of his room and knocked on Pippin’s door. “Come in,” Pippin called. Merry smiled and waved and showed him the message he had written on his phone: 

“I can’t talk because im having a terrible flare up in my throat. Im having a really rough night, could i just sit with you?”

 “Sure,” Pippin responded aloud. Merry had planned to sit on the floor, but Pippin motioned for Merry to sit next to him on the bed. Merry felt a small flash of warmth and love.  He sat down next to his friend and hesitantly leaned against Pippin’s shoulder. Pippin leaned into him in response. 

Merry felt a desire to rest his head on Pippin’s shoulder but he restrained himself. He didn’t think Pippin would approve and Merry couldn’t really talk in order to ask. But maybe I could write another message? No, I’m being weird again, he chastened himself. However, before he could stop himself he wrote: “Could i rest my head on your shoulder?”, sat for a minute worrying about it, and then showed it to his friend. “Uh, yeah” Pippin said. 

Merry just felt at home with Pippin. He didn’t want to have sex with him, he wasn’t really sure that romance existed in any way that mattered to him. But he wanted to cuddle Pippin and be close to him and hold his hand. He wanted Pippin to know he cared about him very much. He didn’t know if that still counted as platonic or if it was its own separate thing. Merry had heard of sensual attraction as well as alterous attraction. And something called queerplatonic. Perhaps he was feeling some combination of these things. 

Merry leaned his head on Pippin’s left shoulder. He felt a little awkward at first and worried he was making Pippin uncomfortable. But then Pippin leaned his head on Merry’s and the two sat there in silence not doing anything for a while. Then Peony jumped up on Pippin and they both laughed quietly. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

Merry woke up to the sun shining through his window. The yellow light burst through in beams that turned the sheets and the wall behind the bed bright white. Merry could hear a few birds chirping.It was around eleven o’clock. Pippin was still asleep on the couch in the living room. His chest rose and fell with his breathing as he dreamed peacefully. Peony was lying in the sun in Pippin’s bedroom. At least someone was making good use of the room.

Outside, Minas Tirith was brimming with life. Merry’s favorite flower shop had been open a few hours and was filled with customers. Its purple and green awning swayed in the breeze. Men of Gondor and Rohan and the occasional dwarf were also streaming in to Pippin’s favorite cafe to try all the different teas and have the bacon and waffles which were especially sought after around brunch time. The occasional student or professor could be seen crossing the campus grounds mainly grad students going to their lab or to the library to work.

Merry sat up in the bed, but he realized he felt rather faint. His throat still hurt tremendously. Let me just try drinking some water, he thought, reaching for the glass by his bed. Merry was starving and he remembered that he hadn’t been able to eat dinner last night because of the pain. Merry was truly sick of all this. He grabbed one of his books that Professor Borormir had assigned and decided to move to the couch in the living room. 

He still wasn’t quite awake but he was certainly not going to chance how his throat might react to coffee. He started reading the book as he was walking--he couldn’t wait to dig in from where he had left off. He went down the hallway, across the living room, turned around, and plopped right on to the couch. Now, Merry was expecting the couch to be somewhat firm, but the couch was actually lumpy and hard in some places and squishy and soft in others. Merry let out a yelp and just as he leapt up, the couch shouted “hurrmmppphhh! geeerraaaa!” Merry was even more mortified than he was startled. 

“Sorry! Sorry, Pippin!” 

“Eru, what was that for?” 

“I didn’t see you!” 

“Didn’t see me? I’m right here!” 

“I know I just...I was reading while I was walking and I’m half asleep” 

“Huh, well I’m not asleep anymore, that woke me right up.” Pippin crossed his arms and scowled. 

Merry’s face and ears had turned bright red. Pippin had never seen him blush. He wasn’t so much mad as he was surprised but he realized how he had come across. 

“Oh Merry…” then he laughed, “It’s alright, you just startled me is all” Merry relaxed. Pippin thought for a moment and realized he was hungry for breakfast.

 “Alright, I’m making omelets, want one?” Pippin asked, whisking off into the kitchen. “Thank you. I wish! But I can’t eat,” Merry said sadly. Pippin stopped what he was doing and turned around. “What do you mean you can’t eat?” he demanded. Pippin was used to his friend struggling with food but this had gone too far for his liking. Then Merry explained more about his throat pain that had flared up the night before and how he had attempted to eat a small dinner and that had tremendously backfired. “I just need to wait it out until I can go to the doctor tomorrow afternoon,” he finished. 

“I could help you with that if you like!” Pippin offered. Merry didn’t know how to respond. People didn’t really tend to offer to help him. He felt thankful but a bit ashamed, after all, he didn’t want to trouble Pippin. But right now he needed to say something that adequately showed he appreciated the thought even if he didn’t know how to take him up on it. 

“Thanks!” he started, “I...uh...just knowing that you’re there for me really helps”. 

“Why don’t I make you some soup, you should be able to manage that at least” Merry wasn’t so confident, but he was too famished to care. 

“That would be lovely,” Merry replied. 

Pippin had noticed that “lovely” was the highest form of praise Merry would give anything. He would use “good”, “great” or even “amazing” and “fantastic”. But none of them meant so much as “lovely”.  

After he ate the soup, Merry distracted himself from the pain by running a load of laundry and starting the dishwasher. It also seemed to help his throat to stand up. Then the hobbit went out and stood on the balcony for a while. 

The street below was fairly busy. Most people were walking, but a few rode bikes and even fewer rode horses. Then Merry saw coming over the rise a small company of Men on horseback. All the horses were black and the man at the forefront carried a rounded shield. Merry guessed they were Men returning from their shift on patrol on the outskirts of Gondor along the Anduin.

Merry thought about his horse Sorin. Well, not his horse. He supposed they were all Theoden’s. But the one that he rode every week. The hobbit hoped that he would be able to go riding in a few days and that things would clear up. 

But, Merry began to feel very hopeless indeed and thought about how much easier things would be if he just ended it all. A much smaller voice in his mind pushed back: It’s just a passing thing. You’ll feel better soon. You don’t want to make a decision that you can’t unmake! Besides, there is good in this world. There is. It’s worth fighting to stay alive for. 

But Merry thought about what was really in his life and he didn’t see anything good, certainly nothing that convinced him. He felt truly hopeless. But once back inside, he felt a change. Something about the laundry machine and the dishwasher running quietly in the kitchen calmed him. There’s something good, he mused. 

Pippin was still a little flustered from being sat on and then hearing about his friend’s sickness. He had made an omelet with cheese and red peppers in it and enjoyed a cup of green tea and now he was deciding what to wear for the day. He rummaged around in his closet and eventually settled on a white button down shirt with red pants. 

This needs a belt, Pippin thought, grabbing a light brown one with an ornate silver buckle. Pippin didn’t have anything to do until his lab started after around dinnertime. I’ve got to get out of here, he thought, maybe there’s a museum or a bookshop I can go to? I wish Frodo and Sam were here, we could all go together. Pippin didn’t want to go alone, but he guessed that Merry would be too sick to go with him. That’s right, he thought, kicking himself, I said that I’d help him. 

Pippin was still deciding what to do exactly when he went back into the living room. “You wouldn’t want to go somewhere, would you?” Pippin asked hopefully. Merry, who had been dissociating while standing at the kitchen counter, started. “Aah--what?” he centered himself, “I don’t know. Like where were you thinking?” “Oh I don’t know. Maybe the new bookshop next to campus? It looked pretty cool when I walked by”

Merry frowned. “I’m not sure I can afford any books right now.”

“Hmm, well it’s a second-hand bookshop, so it should be better anyway”

Merry perked up. “Oh I love used bookstores. They always have the weirdest stuff. I like to look at the really obscure books that you kind of can’t believe would ever need to be written or read.”

“Excellent! Well let’s go shall we?”

After Merry quickly got dressed, he said goodbye to Peony and joined his friend by the door. Stepping out into the crisp Autumn air, the two linked arms and walked up the winding side street lined with orange-leaved Plane trees. 

[electronicneutrino]

i mean i’ve actually looked at a ton of diagnostic criteria but this this one gives specific points/actions/feelings just kinda bolds ones i feel and italics ones when younger/pretty sure but not completely

from here 

Check off all areas that strongly apply to the person. If each area has 75%-80% of the statements checked, or more, then you may want to consider that the female may have Asperger’s Syndrome.

Section A: Deep Thinkers

1. A deep thinker

2. A prolific writer drawn to poetry

3. Highly intelligent

4. Sees things at multiple levels including thinking processes.

5. Analyzes existence, the meaning of life, and everything continually. [ continuously asks questions. even when tired. especially when tired ] 

6. Serious and matter-of-fact in nature.

7. Doesn’t take things for granted.

8. Doesn’t simplify.

9. Everything is complex.

10. Often gets lost in own thoughts and “checks out.” (blank stare)

Section B: Innocent

1. Naïve

2. Honest [ I mean if you ask ‘what do you think of ___’ i’d be honest but if there’s a practical purpose eg. avoiding getting into trouble/some tiresome outcome, I’d lie] 

3. Experiences trouble with lying. [I can lie just fine with a script but otherwise. ehhh] 

4. Finds it difficult to understand manipulation and disloyalty. 

5. Finds it difficult to understand vindictive behavior and retaliation.

6. Easily fooled and conned.

7. Feelings of confusion and being overwhelmed

8. Feelings of being misplaced and/or from another planet

9. Feelings of isolation

10. Abused or taken advantage of as a child but didn’t think to tell anyone.

Section C: Escape and Friendship

1. Survives overwhelming emotions and senses by escaping in thought or action.

2. Escapes regularly through fixations, obsessions, and over-interest in subjects.

3. Escapes routinely through imagination, fantasy, and daydreaming.

4. Escapes through mental processing.

5. Escapes through the rhythm of words.

6. Philosophizes continually.

7. Had imaginary friends in youth.

8. Imitates people on television or in movies.

9. Treated friends as “pawns” in youth, e.g., friends were “students,” “consumers,” “soldiers.”

10. Makes friends with older or younger females.

11. Imitates friends or peers in style, dress, and manner.

12. Obsessively collects and organizes objects. [ mostly just digital stuff though, but I do like organizing books] 

13. Mastered imitation.

14. Escapes by playing the same music over and over.

15. Escapes through a relationship (imagined or real).

16. Numbers bring ease.

17. Escapes through counting, categorizing, organizing, rearranging.

18. Escapes into other rooms at parties.

19. Cannot relax or rest without many thoughts.

20. Everything has a purpose.

Section D: Comorbid Attributes

1. OCD (Obsessive Compulsive Disorder)

2. Sensory Issues (sight, sound, texture, smells, taste)

3. Generalized Anxiety [ when I was in elementary school I had a near constant fear of my house burning down]

4. Sense of pending danger or doom [ again esp when younger] 

5. Feelings of polar extremes (depressed/over-joyed; inconsiderate/over-sensitive)

6. Poor muscle tone, double-jointed, and/or lack in coordination

7. Eating disorders, food obsessions, and/or worry about what is eaten. [ idk if it really conts though but esp when younger ‘what is that black thing in my rice. is it a fly. or just pepper. can i eat it’] 

8. Irritable bowel and/or intestinal issues [ I keep getting stomache aches esp when younger idk why] 

9. Chronic fatigue and/or immune challenges

10. Misdiagnosed or diagnosed with other mental illness and/or labeled hypochondriac.

11. Questions place in the world.

12. Often drops small objects

13. Wonders who she is and what is expected of her.

14. Searches for right and wrong.

15. Since puberty, has had bouts of depression. 

16. Flicks/rubs fingernails, flaps hands, rubs hands together, tucks hands under or between legs, keeps closed fists, and/or clears throat often.

Section E: Social Interaction

1. Friends have ended friendship suddenly and without person understanding why. [ somehow said something offensive in gr 8 and even now I sTILL don’t know what I said wrong I just meant ‘hey do what you want’???] 

2. Tendency to over-share.

3. Spills intimate details to strangers. [ does posting on tumblr count ] 

4. Raised hand too much in class or didn’t participate in class. [ raised hand for everything I knew esp in elementary school] 

5. Little impulse control with speaking when younger.

6. Monopolizes conversation at times. 

7. Bring subject back to self. [ esp when younger, now it’s ask others lots of questions to avoid seeming self centered] 

8. Comes across at times as narcissistic and controlling. (Is not narcissistic.) [ idk though but I don’t think so? ] 

9. Shares in order to reach out.

10. Sounds eager and over-zealous at times. [ may be? idk ] 

11. Holds a lot of thoughts, ideas, and feelings inside.

12. Feels as if she is attempting to communicate “correctly.”

13. Obsesses about the potentiality of a relationship with someone, particularly a love interest.

14. Confused by the rules of accurate eye contact, tone of voice, proximity of body, stance, and posture in conversation.

15. Conversation can be exhausting.

16. Questions the actions and behaviors of self and others, continually.

17. Feels as if missing a conversation “gene” or thought-“filter”

18. Trained self in social interactions through readings and studying of other people.

19. Visualizes and practices how she will act around others.

20. Practices in mind what she will say to another before entering the room.

21. Difficulty filtering out background noise when talking to others.

22. Has a continuous dialogue in mind that tells her what to say and how to act when in a social situations.

23. Sense of humor sometimes seems quirky, odd, or different from others. [ i think usually I just laugh to myself when I think up something funny that I expect not funny to others. I have this reoccuring joke to myself that I should read a book on social ettiquette. It’s funny bc it’s something I would actually do. ] 

24. As a child, it was hard to know when it was her turn to talk. [ idk but I think??? ]

25. She finds norms of conversation confusing.

Section F: Finds Refuge when Alone

1. Feels extreme relief when she doesn’t have to go anywhere, talk to anyone, answer calls, or leave the house.

2. One visitor at the home may be perceived as a threat.

3. Knowing logically a house visitor is not a threat, doesn’t relieve the anxiety.

4. Feelings of dread about upcoming events and appointments on the calendar.

5. Knowing she has to leave the house causes anxiety from the moment she wakes up.

6. All the steps involved in leaving the house are overwhelming and exhausting to think about.

7. She prepares herself mentally for outings, excursions, meetings, and appointments.

8. Question next steps and movements continually.

9. Telling self the “right” words and/or positive self-talk doesn’t often alleviate anxiety.

10. Knowing she is staying home all day brings great peace of mind.

11. Requires a large amount of down time or alone time.

12. Feels guilty after spending a lot of time on a special interest.

13. Uncomfortable in public locker rooms, bathrooms, and/or dressing rooms.

14. Dislikes being in a crowded mall, crowded gym, or crowded theater.

Section G: Sensitive

1. Sensitive to sounds, textures, temperature, and/or smells when trying to sleep.

2. Adjusts bedclothes, bedding, and/or environment in an attempt to find comfort. [ cOULD NEVER FALL ASLEEP BC OF THAT ESP WHEN YOUNGER. IT SUCKED. ] 

3. Dreams are anxiety-ridden, vivid, complex, and/or precognitive in nature.

4. Highly intuitive to others’ feelings. [???] 

5. Takes criticism to heart. [ i mean I really really try not to now though ] 

6. Longs to be seen, heard, and understood.

7. Questions if she is a “normal” person.

8. Highly susceptible to outsiders’ viewpoints and opinions.

9. At times adapts her view of life or actions based on others’ opinions or words.

10. Recognizes own limitations in many areas daily.

11. Becomes hurt when others question or doubt her work. [ less so now] 

12. Views many things as an extension of self.

13. Fears others opinions, criticism, and judgment. [ less so now ] 

14. Dislikes words and events that hurt animals and people.

15. Collects or rescues animals. (often in childhood)

16. Huge compassion for suffering.

17. Sensitive to substances. (environmental toxins, foods, alcohol, etc.)

18. Tries to help, offers unsolicited advice, or formalizes plans of action.

19. Questions life purpose and how to be a “better” person.

20. Seeks to understand abilities, skills, and/or gifts.

Section H: Sense of Self

1. Feels trapped between wanting to be herself and wanting to fit in.

2. Imitates others without realizing.

3. Suppresses true wishes.

4. Exhibits codependent behaviors.

5. Adapts self in order to avoid ridicule.

6.  Rejects social norms and/or questions social norms.

7. Feelings of extreme isolation.

8. Feeling good about self takes a lot of effort and work. [ but i mean. depression ]

9. Switches preferences based on environment and other people.

10. Switches behavior based on environment and other people.

11. Didn’t care about her hygiene, clothes, and appearance before teenage years and/or before someone else pointed these out to her.

12. “Freaks out” but doesn’t know why until later.

13. Young sounding voice

14. Trouble recognizing what she looks like and/or has occurrences of slight prosopagnosia (difficulty recognizing or remembering faces).

Section I: Confusion

1. Had a hard time learning others are not always honest. [ esp when young though tbh by this point bc + depression/maybe anxiety it’s more like. wonders if everyone is being nice bc it’s socially expected or if they actually like me] 

2. Feelings seem confusing, illogical, and unpredictable. (self’s and others’)

3.  Confuses appointment times, numbers, or dates.

4. Expects that by acting a certain way certain results can be achieved, but realizes in dealing with emotions, those results don’t always manifest.

5. Spoke frankly and literally in youth.

6. Jokes go over the head. [ ‘IT’S A JOKE YOU CAN LAUGH NOW’ ] 

7. Confused when others ostracize, shun, belittle, trick, and betray. [ moreso when younger [ 

8. Trouble identifying feelings unless they are extreme.

9. Trouble with emotions of hate and dislike. [ i mean I still hate/dislike things it just takes a lot for me to hate/dislike something esp when younger]  

10. Feels sorry for someone who has persecuted or hurt her.

11. Personal feelings of anger, outrage, deep love, fear, giddiness, and anticipation seem to be easier to identify than emotions of joy, satisfaction, calmness, and serenity.

12. Situations and conversations sometimes perceived as black or white.

13. The middle spectrum of outcomes, events, and emotions is sometimes overlooked or misunderstood. (All or nothing mentality)

14. A small fight might signal the end of a relationship or collapse of world.

15. A small compliment might boost her into a state of bliss.

Section J: Words and Patterns

1. Likes to know word origins.

2. Confused when there is more than one meaning to a word.

3. High interest in songs and song lyrics.

4. Notices patterns frequently.

5. Remembers things in visual pictures.

6. Remembers exact details about someone’s life. [ tbh lowkey one of my hobbies just memorizing my friend’s time tables ] 

7. Has a remarkable memory for certain details.

8. Writes or creates to relieve anxiety.

9. Has certain “feelings” or emotions towards words.

10. Words bring a sense of comfort and peace, akin to a friendship.

(Optional) Executive Functioning   This area isn’t always as evident as other areas

1. Simple tasks can cause extreme hardship.

2. Learning to drive a car or rounding the corner in a hallway can be troublesome. [ look I know I need to get a driver’s licenece but the idea of. driving a car. is very scary. so much stuff to focus on ] 

3. New places offer their own set of challenges.

4. Anything that requires a reasonable amount of steps, dexterity, or know-how can rouse a sense of panic.

5. The thought of repairing, fixing, or locating something can cause anxiety.

6. Mundane tasks are avoided.

7. Cleaning may seem insurmountable at times.

8. Many questions come to mind when setting about to do a task.

9. Might leave the house with mismatched socks, shirt buttoned incorrectly, and/or have dyslexia. [ i mean that’s mostly bc i don’t care enough ] 

10. A trip to the grocery store can be overwhelming. [ yes but mostly only when i’m really tired ] 

11. Trouble copying dance steps, aerobic moves, or direction in a sports gym class.

12. Has a hard time finding certain objects in the house, but remembers with exact clarity where other objects are.