#“Just so you know” you didnt share anything resembling knowledge

[rainbowgod666]

Aspergers is a fake condition the Nazis made up to create an "acceptable kind" of autistic person their state could still abuse without killing. Jsyk

...uh

No.

Youre thinking of "Hans Asperger". The nazi PSYCHIATRIST who came up with the term.

[noisytenant]

personal story, regarding my adoption. poignant? don't know how to describe/warn for this.

first: kind of worried this is tmi? not in the sense of making others uncomfortable, but. "is it wise to share this information online to a sizable audience?"

but, well, i'm probably going to talk about it in a more coherent form eventually (i actually started a zine but didnt continue it; it was 2020, you know the drill), and i don't think it poses much risk to just share.

anyways.

i was adopted from birth, and was aware of my adoption from the beginning. my birth mother was 17(?) when she had me. not hard to see why she wasn't keeping me. never got the sense that i was rejected or abandoned or whatever.

with this knowledge i never really had any problems with being adopted, and mostly thought it was really cool, and that i was lucky. if anything i probably had a chip on my shoulder about it, and this has made me an extremely normal person.

anyways, in the office closet, shoved far in the back corner on a high shelf, was a baby bag that i assumed had things from my childhood.

but it actually had plushes, a doll, and letters from my birth mother--from her to me, and also from her to my parents--that i was unaware of and had never accessed. so it sat untouched for 20 years, i guess. to be fair, i never really asked about my birth mother at all, but... man, bit late for that, isn't it? but better late than never.

anyways, i'm rereading the letters now. some darkly(?) funny parts:

"...I know you guys [my parents] are everything you said you would be, and probably more." The "probably" is really fucking funny to me

She mentions that they (collectively) didn't negotiate how much contact they planned to have after the birth and adoption, which I think is really funny and typical of my parents. She was thankful about it, but whatever amount of pictures and letters my parents sent (I get the sense not many--maybe 3? 4?) was evidently not ideal. Really, what a situation to be in. When DO you cut the cord there?

She attached some printouts of "special emotional needs" for adoptees. The very first: "I need parents who are skillful at meeting their own emotional needs so that I can grow up with healthy role models and be free to focus on my development". Lol. LMAO.

Another: "I may appear more whole than I actually am. I need your help to uncover the parts of myself that I keep hidden, so I can integrate all the elements of my identity." Oh buddy... MISSION FAILED!

some observations and more poignant parts:

It's really weird to think that she was younger than me when she wrote these.

I think there is a photo of her and the father, but I'm not sure if we were certain about him. She was seemingly going steady with him since they got engaged after I was born, and I do have similar eyebrows (for the record, one of my best features). But the resemblance is challenging to discern. Neither of them seem to have as prominent a nose as mine, that's an index original.

She was evidently into scrapbooking/stationery; several of the cards are handmade. Thick cardstock, fancy hole punches, embossing powder and delicate stickers. It's easy to imagine the process of them being made. You can kind of feel the love coming off them, or whatever.

She mentioned struggling to write a letter for me. It's somewhat reassuring because I also struggle to write letters for people. In the end I think the pictures and craftsmanship did much of the speaking for her. The letter is three sentences long.

In the "special emotional needs" pages, one also says, "I suffered a profound loss before I was adopted." I get frustrated when people assert adoption trauma at me without considering my circumstances. I dislike the sentiment that blood relations are less traumatic when I think that the family structure itself is traumatic. But I do have this strong sense that I was born into grief, and reading some of these pages (and sidestepping the multiple Christian-specific ones, damn you) provided some interesting reflection on that.

She apparently made a scrapbook for me, presumably including the pictures she received from my parents. I am quite curious about their letters. I guess if I reach out I could see, but it's difficult to know what to say. ...And I'm transgender.

lastly:

there's a photo of her the day after she had me, standing outside and smiling. she has what appears to be a cigarette in her hand. This is, I like to believe, the source of all the problems in my life.

[opanchu]

hi hello whats ur favourite thing abt glados :] i dont remember much abt her from when i used 2 play portal but i remember really liking her ^_^

well, i think its interesting to look at her humanity (or lack thereof)!

glados, as a machine, was made to be a "storage" for a human brain to achieve immortality, originally built for the late cave johnson, but his assistant caroline was put in the machine instead. it's revealed in aperture desk job that there has to be a minimum size for a computer to fit everything a human brain has in store (when cave was put in a normal sized computer all he could remember was his name & know the time), so it's likely that glados doesn't remember, or resemble anything about caroline until she is reminded of her in old aperture due to having to delete memories for caroline to fit.

glados HATES humans, which she makes very clear. due to being an immortal machine with knowledge of basically everything in the world, she looks down on humans, especially after murdering almost everyone at aperture except for chell and rattmann. discovering she was also once a human, especially one who didnt want to become who glados is now, was incredibly hard on her. it's also why at the end of the game, she is relieved to "delete" caroline, to get rid of the very last bit of humanity in her. her hatred for humanity, as well as the limited amount of THE caroline that can be stored in glados makes this distinction between her and caroline, while also sharing the aspect of only caring for science (cave even said caroline is "married to science").

but i personally believe she didnt entirely get rid of caroline, you know? glados may be a machine but glados is a human-operated machine. it was made for a human to cheat death with. the core aspect of it is a human brain, so trying to run the glados machine without at least part of a human would be impossible.

something else that has to do with her humanity is comparing her to wheatley. i always thought it was interesting that glados' voice acting is intentionally made to sound very robotic, although she does sound more human at times (fun fact, when recording voice lines for the first game, ellen mclain wasn't told what she would have to voice; she was just asked to imitate a text-to-speech), despite as i said, glados being operated through a human brain. while wheatley on the other hand, is 100% machine with no past life as a human, but he doesn't sound robotic whatsoever. i love these kind of parallels between them honestly, portal 2 works in a very interesting way by introducing wheatley who is basically the opposite of glados but then switches places with her.

TLDR glados is extremely interesting when you look at how she thinks of humans & her past life as caroline! i do think she is very interesting in general but this is my favorite part of her

[violetnotez]

Izuku x reader

⤷ Genre: Fluff, Mafia Boss AU!

⤷ Word Count: 3600+

⤷ Warnings: i think cursing? I think?

⤷ Synopsis: Working in a rundown bar kinda sucks, especially when the owner is you ex best friend, your crush, and now a mafia boss.

This is for the Izuku Month! Pls check out the awesome writers participating for this month!

You wiped down the grimy surface of the bar, your shoulders sagging from fatigue.

God you hated this job.

It seemed like such a long day, such a long time since you’ve been able to truly be completely calm. You felt how rigid your shoulders were, always seemingly expecting a fight or confrontation. 

Working and managing a bar under the control of the mafia wasn’t the most calming job in the world, you had to admit that, but you had to get money somewhere. You would be on the streets, scrounging for anything that resembled a meal if you didn’t have this job. 

As much as you hated it and all of its requirements, from the drunken brawls you had to pick apart to the back room deals in the dark, you at least were able to eat, to live in a somewhat decent apartment, to pay your bills. 

You constantly had to remind yourself of this, every time you had a man cat call you or a fight happened on the sickly white porcelain tiles. You would bawl you fists into balls, your lip quivering to finally let loose the pain and frustration being caged in your chest.

If you allowed yourself to be truthful to yourself, you'd admit just stuck, trapped, and powerless you felt in this moment. You felt like a little ant scrambling in a hug hive, under control of one leader who wouldn’t ever let you stop working. 

You wiped a brow of sweat off your forehead, your makeup long gone from the strenuous workday as you glanced a look at the corner of the room.

Each table was clean and pristine, (all thanks to you), the wooden surface glistening under the hazy yellow lights, the crystal vases holding a single rose bloom, the petals dark like blood. 

Some tables were occupied, men having late night conversation with a beer in hand, their tones surprisingly quiet and calm, as if  the alcohol had somehow changed their rambunctious demeanor from 2 hours ago. 

Everything around you was a typical late night on a Saturday, the clock reading 12:45 am as it ticked like a bomb ready to explode, the men oblivious to the ominous countdown as they chit chatted away on their tables. 

The only thing strange, the only thing that had thrown you off since he had arrived…..was the man in the corner, casually drinking at an empty table.

He was sitting in the VIP lounge, his shoulders hunched like yours as he surveyed the scene like a slinking cat, his scarred hands swirling an amber liquid. 

You had been watching him all night, after your boss had been thrown into an uncharacteristic frenzy when he first saw the man: it was him. Izuku Midoriya. The owner of this bar and the mentee of Toshinori Yagi, the late Mafia Boss.

Midoriya's rise to fame was infamous, it seemed-Yagi had plucked the poor boy off the streets, declaring him as his protege that very same day. All the mafia bosses in the city couldn’t understand why Toshinori had picked the boy at the time-he was barely 16, his short height and timid voice practically making all the others bosses double over in laughter.

He would never survive this hardened lifestyle, and the talk was they would slowly pick apart the Yagi legacy, taking over all of his territory once the boy became the new leader.

You were barely 16 yourself at the time, a poor girl who had watched her best friend get thrown into a world that wasn’t his. You had been friends with Midoriya since you were a child, playing with him in the streets after school and protecting him from all the bullies that would try to take advantage of his shy personality.

It was strange to see him now after all those years of silence, his change shocking you.

He was older, in age and in spirit. He looked so burdened with knowledge, his eyes coated underneath with a purple hue and his brow fixed in a tired expression.

 But he still had a youthful look, his eyes wide and doe-like and his freckles like stars in a clear night, his curly green hair as unruly as it was in his youth.

You couldn’t fathom why he was at this bar so late at night, or why he was even here in the first place. He was well known now-everyone knew who he was, whether they respected him or not. There was no need for him to be in a shady bar at 1 in the morning, drinking his alcohol as if he was bored by the whole scene in front of him.

But there he was, looking as placid as ever as his two bodyguards stood at the ready, surveying the spotless room for any intrusions or enemies that could hurt Izuku.

You looked down at the bar, the white rag turning brown with the dirt that had collected on the surface.  

You wiped a strip of sweat from your eyebrow again, the humid heat feeling suffocating as  your hand returned to the rag, swirling it in lazy circles on the shiny surface.

“Another whiskey please,” you heard a young voice ask, his voice sounding hesitant and slightly worried.

You looked up with exhausted eyes, only to feel all the air leave your lungs.

Izuku was looking at you with wide, apologetic eyes, his face expecting your response. He was wearing an expensive suit, the gold embellishments on the sleeves gleaming in the warm lighting.

You gulped as you willed your heart to slow at the sudden movement, moving a fallen piece of hair back behind your ear.

“Isn’t it a little late for that?” you asked dryly, your voice free of any emotion as you continued to clean the counter, your cheeks blossoming with red as you tried to contain your shock.

Even though you knew Midoriya for many years, it was embarrassing for you, seeing your once best friend becoming such a high and mighty figure in the underworld, so full of power and luxury, while you were stuck in a grimy job that gave you just enough to survive.

It also didn’t help that you used to have a crush on Izuku since grade school-you had thought you had gotten over those feelings, but apparently that wasn’t the case. Your heart still swelled at hearing his voice, it’s pace quickening like you were running a race just from the sweet sound.

He chuckled, a soft chime rumbling out of his chest. He sat himself at the counter, not minding the dampness as he rested his shoulders on the dark surface.

“Still always out to protect me,huh, y/n?” he asked, his voice sounding bitter sweet, “You were always looking out for me.”

You looked up, your eyes blown wide with shock. 

He still remembered you? It was strange to see  him after all these years, those pink cheeks bright against his brown freckles, as if he was cursed to always be blushing so adorably.

“More like I don’t feel like dealing with another drunk this late at night.”

He smiled yet again, his face lighting up at your sarcasm.

How the hell was he still so him, so innocent and sweet after all he must have seen, must haven been through?

Was he really still the same boy from your past?

You sighed, your heart feeling heavy with emotions. No, he wasn’t the same-he was a mafia boss. He was the boss above your own boss, the CEO of your whole damn life. You couldn't fall for his sweet antics, no matter how much they pulled on your heartstrings. 

You sighed, your hand slowly stopping the rag.

“What is it you want Izuku,” you quickly asked, your face stony and harsh. “Somebody like you doesn’t just come to a bar like this just for some whisky-at 12 in the morning might I add.”

He chuckled again, this time the sound more nervous as he scratched the back of his head. 

Izuku had to admit it, you were right-there was no reason why he should be here. No reason why he should be here at 12 in the morning, looking like a pompous rich brat with his two bodyguards as he peered at you from his lounge, watching you work.

When he had heard you were working at this bar, one that he owned on his part of the city, he felt like bricks had been dumped into his stomach. How did he not know you were here? 

After getting recruited by Toshinori, he had somehow lost all contact with you, his life becoming so hectic and terrifying that he has decided he didn’t want to see you. He was fearful of bringing you into this terrible life-you were his best friend and his crush after all, he didn’t want to see you get hurt because of him.

But you had somehow already gotten twisted into this lifestyle, this swirling mish mash of legal and illegal, family and foes, loyalty and lies. Now you were apart if it, being a manager of a mob bar. If you were apart of it, he felt like he could actually approach you now, because the fear of getting you hurt was far less. 

But he was scared for you still-you were around many shifty characters daily, dealing with your fair share of criminals. With his high status, he could help you now-he could keep you safe.

“I just want to know how you are,” he swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he looked at you with concern, “it’s been so long I-I-didn't realize you were here.”

He grimaced slightly, weighing his words out slowly and carefully. “You don’t seem to like working here much.”

You grinned slightly, your eyebrows cocked up in an amusement and exhaustion. You set the rag down, your hands spread against the counter.

“You’re still very observant-did you catch that from talking to me or watching me for the last 2 hours?”

Izuku chuckled nervously, his cheecks on fire as he hands swirled the gold watch in his wrist like a worn out habit. Your eyes widened slightly at the expensive accessory-another reminder of how different this Izuku was from you. He had power, he had freedom, control, and everything in life- and you didnt. You were a bird caged inside, unable to spread your wings and free yourself of the troubles that followed you each and every day. 

Your smile lessened as the lump of misery in your stomach grew, his eyes catching the small gesture. He leaned against the counter, his green eyes searching your face. 

He felt so close, those tufts of green hair cascading against his forehead as his eyebrows scrunched in worry.

“Are you okay y/n? I’m worried for you,” he said quietly, as if he was revealing a secret to you.

Your cheeks blushed in red-how did he still seem so-him? He was so kind and caring like he was as a child, always making sure you were okay, taking care of you when you had scraps on your knees or tears on your face. His heart was made of gold, and you honestly couldn’t fathom why Izuku had turned to the life of a hardened, merciless mob boss.

You noticed his hands twisting again, wringing in worry as he waited for your response. Your eyes trailed down to those digits and the plethora of scars on his fingers, wrapping around his skin and trailing under his tailored suit, turning his smooth skin into a rippled, pink pattern.

Your heart broke at the sight, just imagining the terrible things he must have been through to attain those marks. 

Your fingers wrapped around his hand, your nurturing nature kicking in once seeing those pink tiger marks decorating his skin. Your finger trailed against the skin, following the pink river lines rising against his skin.

“You don’t look so good yourself Izuku,” you said, your digits touching and caressing the scars lightly as you examined each one.

Izuku gulped, his brain going into overdrive-you were touching him. 

No matter how much time had passed, he couldn’t forget how much he had fallen for you as a kid, and it was following him into his adult life. He missed your sweet smile, your laugh, your bright personality that could light up his whole day and week.

But now his sun was so bleak, your face cracked with fatigue as you stared at his scars with such intent it was as if your eyes were burning a hole into his skin. 

He sucked in air harshly, trying to figure out how to breathe again.

“How do you get these ‘Zuku?” You asked quietly, looking up at him, his wide, green eyes staring back at you.

He shimmied his hand away from yours, his cheeks a rosy red as he averted your gaze. It was sweet to see him so vulnerable, the hint of nervousness gracing his complexion, but you missed the feeling of his skin on yours.

“I-It’s not that important-“ he stuttered slightly, “I’m hear you see you, not talk about me-“

You gave him a thin smile, your lips curling inward from exhaustion as your head tilted onto your shoulder.

“So, what did you want to ask me?” you asked. You watched as he exhaled a small sigh, his body willing him to speak his next few words. You held your breath watching him look so nervous, like watching a dam slowly crumble and release the flood of water it had been holding back for so long.

“Are you happy-doing this?” he looked you square in the eye, those forest green eyes expansive and sucking you in whole. 

 “And you have to answer, no going around the question,”

He quickly pointed his finger  at you, his body manner stern yet his face betraying his thoughts. His face was still so soft, still so innocent looking and concerned as he leaned closer to you on the countertop.

You squinted your eyes at him-you honestly didn't want to sound mean, or well, bitchy, but-what was he playing at? Over the years you had learned that trust isn't something easily won over, even if you had known the person for years. You and Izuku had been friends since you could remember, that was true-but it had been so long, and you weren't quite ready to be rubbing shoulders so closely with the mob boss yet.

“I work at a bar where I get paid enough to survive and have to deal with drunk idiots who catcall me every 5 minutes,” you chided slightly, your voice dripping with sarcasm, “ So, no, not that much,”

“Do you want to change that?”

“Of course I want to but-“

“But what?”

You stared at him again, not knowing what to say. He was a puzzle to figure out- there were so many questions and clues surrounding Izuku’s nature and motives and personality. Once you found a piece to the ever growing puzzle it felt like 3 other pieces were missing, making the picture of who Izuku was full of gaps and holes. You couldn't understand him, why he was here, if he was truly the Midoriya you knew or if he was just a memory-but the way he looked at you with his doe eyes and his lips parted with concern made your heart pace and your hands squirm.

Maybe this was still the kind, nurturing boy you knew from your childhood-just maybe.

You sighed, willing your heart to stop beating so quickly and  to say your truth. “It-it’s scary. This is a mob bar after all, who knows what would happen if I left,”

“But what if you didn’t leave?” he interjected, his face still laced with concern but his voice quickening from anticipation,  What if you just-got promoted,”

You chin tilted up, your eyes scanning the boy with suspicion.

“What are you implying Izuku?” You asked him slowly, hesitantly, watching as he squirmed with uncomfort in his seat. A breath collected in his lungs, being held for barely a second as he slowly let it escape his body.

“Y/n, we’ve known each other forever- we were best friends and, well, you were the one who ever believed in me. I-I never forgot about you, and always wondered how you were. Once I found out you were working here, I had to come. To see how you were. I just wanted to know you were okay-and now I know your not.”

He leaned into the bar yet again, his hands folded, his green tresses bouncing against his skin.

“Please y/n, I want to make you my personal assistant. You’ll be safe, I’ll make sure of it-all you have to do is help me with my daily tasks and events and-“

“No, I won’t do it.” you interjected, your voice having a desperate quality, as if you were anxious for him to stop talking

Izuku gazed at you with confusion, blinking a few times with shock- you didn't want this job? He watched your face turn into a grimace, as if the mere idea was painful for you to imagine.

“You-what?” he asked quietly, unable to understand your words.

“Izuku, I cant just get a free card from you,” you revealed, your eyes looking down from guilt, “I’m not going to just be your desk girl so I can be a little bit better off.”

“But-but your not, I want you to be my assistant-You know me better than anybody else!” he exclaimed, his eyes wide as he tried to convince you, “ You’ll be the best person for the job because you’ll be able to make the best decision for me-“

“I’m not taking your pity Izuku. People pity me enough, I don’t need you to add to the list.”

Izuku gave you a good, hard look, his big green eyes searching your face. He could tell you were hurting inside- the way your shoulders sagged like you were carrying a heavy burden, your tired eyes signaling you hadn't had a good night’s sleep, the way your voice broke and your face cracked when you allowed yourself to be vulnerable. You felt scared. You felt trapped, and alone. Powerfless. He had never wanted to comfort anyone more in his entire life, to hug them and tell them that it would all be okay.

He took a breath, letting the air escape through his nose as he gazed with you with empathy.

“You want to know how I got my scars?”

He watched you blink from confusion, to then give him a numb nod in response. He smiled nervously, settling in his chair as he opened his mouth to speak.

“A lot of people didn’t believe in Toshinori when he said he had gotten a 15 year old kid from the streets to be his successor-many people laughed at him, laughed at me, even talked down to me. I wasn’t good enough. I wasn’t strong enough. I’d never be able to take over his empire.

“But I trained. I fought. I learned everything I could so I would never feel inferior ever again. Toshinori gave me leverage in life, yes-but I took advantage of it. I have some blood on my hands, I can’t say I don’t- but I proved my worth. I proved I deserved everything life had to offer and more-all I needed was a boost.”

“And that’s what I’m trying to give you-“ he gave you a reassuring smile, his eyes soft and his cheeks rosy, “a chance at a better life. A chance to prove your worth.”

“What do ya say?” His smile turned into a bright grin, his scarred hand outstretched and welcoming as he waited for your answer.

You stared at him, your lips parted and your eyes wide with conflict-where you going to do this? To just throw away everything in your life right now in the hopes it would be a little better? You were putting all your trust in Midoriya-would it all end up okay?

You looked down at your hands, the fingers sticky with grime and spilled alcohol, making your spine crawl with disgust. 

Fuck it-never again did you want to be underestimated, to be barely surviving and another ant in the hill. No-you were going to make a name of yourself.

“Fine-,” you placed your hand in his, your heart pacing. His skin was surprising soft on the inside, the pads of his digits coarse against your own flesh. “But if my uniform is a tiny ass skirt I’m going to kill you.”

A bright laugh tumbled out of his chest, his curly tresses bouncing with the motions.

“I promise I won’t,” he smiled at you, his cheeks as red as ever.

He loved the feeling of your skin on his, and the way your eyes light up like lightbulbs on a dark night. A glimpse of your previous self seemed to surface, for barely a moment, but he drank up the rare moment and locked it in his memories. 

You sighed, your hand leaving his reluctantly as you looked up at the clock, the ticking entering your mind and banging against your head like a headache. 

“I gotta lock up the bar…” you grumbled, your hand reaching out for your rag, “thank god Ill be out of this place-“

Izuku smiled, his green eyes trailing up to the clock. His eyes widened as he noticed the placement of the hands, the irises glistening with stars as he recognized something in those numbers.

“It’s 1:11,” he stated, his pointer figure drawing your attention as he nodded his head at the clock, your eyes trailing to the device. “You know what that means?”

You cocked your tired head, a small smile gracing your lips: Izuku was always the bookworm, his brain soaking up information like a sponge and giving it out at the strangest times. It was quite endearing, and you surprisingly missed it.

You leaned against the counter, your face closer to his.

“What’s it mean?”

He grinned at your face, his cheeks bright and on fire- 

“New beginnings.”

Taggings:

@weebartistinc​ @orokayagi​ @leeeah-loooser​ @bakarinnie​

[arizona-trash-bag]

I can totally explain a bit of my thinking behind seeing lwj as autistic and wwx as autistic/adhd!! Before I get into specifics though, let me preface with where I’m coming from. I first saw CQL and then read the EXR translation of the novel. I prefer MDZS to CQL, but also want to acknowledge that because I do not read/speak Mandarin I am inherently experiencing this story second-hand and therefore am probably missing out on a lot of nuances. I am trying to learn Mandarin, but it will be a long time before I am even a little close to fluent lol.

Another preface- obviously not all autistic people present in the same way, and many of the things that I will mention are not solely specific to autistic people either. It’s one of those things where all of it added up together points towards asd, but each one individually would not on its own indicate asd, you know? Also, I will say that many of the things I picked up on for both characters are autistic traits that many autistic people have vs the clinical characteristics (much like most of the case I could make for wwx’s adhd would be adhd traits he has rather than symptoms that would lead to a real-world diagnosis.) Edit: OH! I almost forgot to say, that also all of these traits I’m listing are from a western perspective, and I would LOVE to read more about how autism presents in different cultures and to see conversations between autistc Chinese people specifically, so as to see if these traits are specific to western autistic people or not, but again, I do not speak Mandarin or Cantonese or any other Chinese dialect, so that’s a little inaccessible for me atm.

Ok, SO, for both characters I would list: strong sense of justice, lack of care for society’s opinion (I feel like it could be argued that lwj does to a certain point, but imo he operates more from what he morally considers to be correct and from a place of familial duty vs catering to the opinion of society at large), and then more vaguely, they both seem to be “nerdy” (this doesnt feel like the most accurate term, especially because it's not like being scholarly is specific to their characters, especially in ancient fantasy China- it’s more that their particular hmmm, flavor?? of love of knowledge feels very neurodivergent to me, vs like, being scholarly because it’s the thing that is expected of a Young Master, if that makes any sense at all- like the difference btwn someone getting an engineering degree because it is expected of them vs because they genuinely love engineering), and lastly for both- I would say that they are canonically kinky, and while I can’t cite any statistics, there’s a pretty high correlation between being autistic and being into kink. Obviously, not every person who is not vanilla is autistic, and not every autistic person is into kink…….but there is a high correlation.

For lwj specifically, the things that made me think he might be autistic are his lack of outward emoting combined with his depth and breadth of emotions, how he seems to thrive in and quite enjoy the very structured environment he grew up in, and then the last one off the top of my head (side note, I feel like a week from now I’m going to randomly think of other examples lol) I’m not actually sure IS an example, because I know (thanks to the awesome post from hunxi that you linked to that I had read previously) that his succintness does not equal autism, but I do kind of feel like it is very autistic to Always be so formal and to Always talk in textbook perfect language.

For wwx, I also think he likely has CPTSD! I’m not going to list anything for adhd or cptsd since we both agree on those :) As far as being autistic goes, there is, of course, the high prevalence of adhd/asd comorbidity. For specifc traits- while autism can show up as lack of facial expressions/tone, it can also show up as being overly exuberant and overexpressive. Especially for younger autistic children this can show up as being overly friendly/no boundaries w/ strangers (just?? going home with a random man who says he knew wwx’s parents???), making unusual connections that others do not can be both asd and adhd, his disregard for social status (disregard might be a strong word, and also I feel like this might be one of those things that got lost in translation and if I had read the original text I might have a different opinon, but what I mean here is the way that often autistic people learn certain social rules and try their best to follow them, but often do not pick up on specifics related to social hierarchy that are not spelled out for them- I think jyl’s take down of jin zixun is a great example of the /oppossite/ of what I’m talking about, and is a very neurotypical interaction. An example also of what I mean by disregard for social hierarchy, but from my own life, is how I’ve reflected on past convos w/ my boss only to realize that what I thought was just an interesting conversation about our opinons on a particular subject was actually them trying to tell-me-as-my-boss something they wanted me to do. We ended up doing things the way I wanted to do them because I didn’t realize that they were telling me to do something because they didnt explicitly say so, and because I just don’t pick up on when people are saying something from a social hierarchy pov. Idk if this makes sense or not, so I’m happy to try to expand if you would like me to. I feel like wwx could be described as having alexithymia, which is very common in autistic people, but could also be due to his cptsd. And then, I don’t feel like this is a true point because it is kind of based on headcanon? but wwx feels very demisexual to me, which is much more common for autistic people than it is for allistic people. But him being demi is not canon, just my perception of him (I see him as demisexual gay w/ massive comphet, but I know lots of people see him as bi, which also totally makes sense!!)

Tbh, I’m having a harder time than I thought I would listing wwx specifics. I might go through the book sometime this weekend and see if there are specific moments that pop out at me, but tbh w/ him its more that he Feels very adhd/asd to me?? Idk, I was diagnosed w/ adhd when I was 8, and all 4 of my siblings plus my father have offical adhd diagnoses. I’m 29 now and was only diagnosed as autistic earlier this year.  All of my close friends have always been either adhd, asd, or adhd/asd. There have been multiple people I have met that I’ve suspected were neurodivergent who have later told me they started looking into it and are now seeking formal diagnoses. I mention these things, only to give full context when I say that I have spent a lot of time observing the differences between interacting with neurotypicals and neurodivergents. I mean, obviously, it’s possible that I could just be projecting, but to me, Wwx gives off late-diagnosed/heavy masker autism/adhd combo vibes. Again, maybe I am projecting, but I did try to analyze whether I was or not previously, and determined that since in the past with other favorite characters (who I probably share more similarities in personality with) I did not feel like they were neurodivergent, so I figured that probably I wasn’t? That feels like a very convoluted sentence, but what I mean is that I have not thought that about other characters who have been my fav, so I figured that while I do project in certain areas that this particular area probably wasn’t one of them. Or, to say it in yet another way, since i did not project any of my neurodivergencies on past favorite characters, I figured I probably didn’t start doing so now.

I would love to hear more of your perspective on this, particularly because I worry that I do not have the cultural touchstones to realize when something wwx or lwj is doing is not actually a sign of being neurodivergent. I try my best to research things I don’t know about and to listen to fans who actually do have that cultural understanding, but there’s only so much I can look into on my own when I only speak/read english. And also, I love mdzs and I love talking about both adhd and autism, so I’m glad to talk about these subjects with someone else who also likes all of those topics :) Sorry for sending a book of a response and also I hope you are having a great day!!

wow wow wow anon THANK YOU for doing your research and acknowledging your blind spots you seriously made my day. I wanted to get to this as soon as I made that rant while sharing cyan’s post bc this is specifically an example of a well researched proposition based on actual lived experience and critical thinking.

I almost want to ask you to come forward so we can take this convo elsewhere for a more nuanced discussion bc you’ve already hit upon an issue that’s been holding me back from making a big blathering masterpost on the matter - that the ND experience is so unique and individual, and no one person can dictate someone else’s experience. at the end of the day, if you personally relate to these characters and gain more understanding of yourself and your experiences from them, who am I to take that away from you?

in a public space though I have to make the discussion very broad in order to accurately contextualize these issues, bc in typical autistic fashion I feel morally compelled to Do My Best and Get It Right even as the masses show no inclination of returning the favor, so apologies for the boring backstories I have to get out of the way before we can approach anything resembling new ground.

first from a diagnostic standpoint, while I recognize the traits you listed (and appreciate your clearly nuanced understanding of ND expressions) and would find value in exploring them in a personal context, they are not unique to adhd and/or autism and wouldn’t constitute a basis for diagnosis in a clinical setting. I know that's probably beside the point for this anon, but there's enough edgy teens hoarding labels out there without tacit encouragement from scientists (yes I am technically a scientist, even though my ideologies these days range from conventional to... wildly esoteric, shall we say)

from a cultural standpoint, it’s important for me to emphasize that the concept of neurodivergence is a uniquely western notion. for those unfamiliar, the term 'neurodiversity' was only coined in 1998. I was born in 1991. I existed for a whole 7 years as an autistic person before the idea of being neurodivergent was even a thing. this ND acceptance thing is very, very new - people were not making tiktok confessionals about their adhd diagnosis journeys when I was growing up.

china, like most asian countries, is about 20 years or more behind on just about every social issue compared with western countries. to better illustrate, the experience of being ND in china falls much closer to the conventional experience of disability (i.e. being eugenicized out of existence) than the tentative ND acceptance movement that’s been kickstarted in the past 20 years in the anglosphere.

safe to say, there is no ND coding going on in chinese media. characters are either explicitly ND or they're not. there's no basis for a creator subtly inducing ND-like traits in a character, because there's no such thing as ND awareness in the cultural context of where mdzs was written and consumed. any resemblance is purely accidental, as they say.

as to how this resemblance could exist - I could go into the layers and layers of historical, cultural, social and religious context that make up these characters and the xianxia genre as a whole. for this anon in particular i'm happy to, because they've done the work. please please get in touch in some way where we can have a fully fleshed out chat if you're interested in taking this further, I realize i’ve basically addressed none of the finer points you’ve raised but honestly it’s another level of discussion to be had that cannot be summarized in one blog post haha.

as for those who would scream 'but special interests!!' at a character whose sect was founded by a literal monk - what would be the point?

PS. to comprise a starting point for why it's possible to see ND4ND everywhere in media if you looked hard enough - I refer you to the seminal red oni blue oni trope 💁‍♀️

[gil-notskajla]

I know it's 2020 but I rewatched [prototype] gameplay because i remmembered that it was cool and angsty af but did not really remmember what happened in it except Alex turning evil in sequel for some reason and it seemed weird.

Soo im watching this shit for 3 hours because im professional time waster and i still don't get it. Viruses, i mean the viruses viruses, rewrite genetic code of attacked cells, they can't create hiveminds or any minds in fact, viruses aren't built to do such complicated tasks - virus is just some RNA (not even DNA) closed in protein and sent off to the world to cause maychem in animal, fungal, protista and floral kingdoms. In this situation - animal kingdom. Dr.Alex Mercer 1.0 steals the virus and smashes the container, gets infected and murdered by guys sent to catch him. Some fans speculate that that's the point where Alex Mercer has died including some in game characters and Zeus (Alex Mercer 2.0), unaware of not being Alex, took his place. But that's bullshit my dudes. Alex Mercer is still Alex Mercer but mutated and amnesiac (probably because he was braindead and memories are stored by continiuos bio-electrical reactions, neuro transmitters and ionic concentration on neuron membrane). Why Alex is Alex and not Zeus? Because conciousness is stored in organ, not genetic material (not to mention our cells mutate all the time, thats why we have moles and cancers). If conciousness was stored in genetic material, than twins would share conciousness, clones would share conciousness and those whoose genome would change would lose conciousness, not to mention that our cells get replaced several times durring our lives - the body you are in is not the body you were born in, yet, you are still you (of course neurons live really really long). We could argue that other infected were agressive and cannibalistic but that's not conciouss behaviour, these are instincts, there was no goal in their doing. Other infected were like: holy shit, prey animal, food! Of course some were controled by Greene but she was, like Mercer, an anomaly and her will was hers, not virus'. She just hated everyone and was evil as fuck. But back to Mercer, we could also argue that he died back there when his brain got destroyed by lack of oxygen - but than every new conciousness gets deleted every single time he gets shot in the head durring the game. My hipothesis is that there is one conciousness per one brain and is a series of biochemical processes on neurons in one specific body, uncopiable and irreplacable. By that hipothesis (which is very bold but way more specific than anything the game offers us, or better put, doesnt offer) Alex Mercer got infected, torn appart by bullets, his brain got damaged but did not die entirely because if it did he would have a way worse amnesia than just not knowing anything and he didnt get shot in the head

, virus already has infected him and probably kept his brain alive-enaugh soo that he would at least know english when he wakes up, virus managed to work on what alive cells were left (yes, when you die, your cells in several places in the body still live off of the reserves and substances in cytoplasm for a while) the virus, unlike most viruses, had ability to... (basing on my knowledge im trying to imagine how this would work) manages to reanicate dead cells and with, at this point, sheer willpower fix the damage caused by bullets and give Alex's heart a kick from the God themself to start working and that's when he wakes up durring the autopsy.

Giving that analysis, Alex Mercer is still Alex Mercer because he is technicaly same organism but modified, amnesiac because of brain damage caused by lack of oxygen between moment of getting mass-shot and fixed by the virus and i have no idea who gave him the doctor title if he really believed that guy that some Zeus replaced him. Like, Alex sweetie, viruses are fucking dead matter, ok? You are a mutant but not a new being. But he has amnesia soo I guess we can forgive.

Edit: Dunno where to put memory stealing aspect, here is good enaugh spot. I have no goddamned idea how this would work: maybe he doesnt damage the brain of the victim, somehow connects the brain to his own, transfers knowledge and than disposes it (however the hell this would work)? There was this one dude who killed himself soo Alex wouldn't consume him and get his knowledge, destroyed his harddrive basicaly soo he can't read it, and that's really cool of game creators to think about it. Respect. This also kinda prooves that Alex didn't actually die the first time he died, when he was still 'human'.

And the very end? He got caught in explosion but he must have created some form of safe box for his brain alone and got rebuilt from this and some other leftovers of him and a crow because it was already stated by doctors suicide that destroyed brain or something resembling a brain whatever he has at this point bust be preserved to keep memories. And he knows what happened at the end of the game. Period.

But than second part happens and holy shit i'm soo angry, you have no idea. I mean, ok, the story itself was fine but Mercer aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaicant why why why who allowed this plot disaster to happen!?!? In part one Alex did his absolute best to prevent the virus, to stop infection, to stop gentek and to bring peace. A beautiful, beautiful ending, a satisfying ending. Finnish the task and boom! He can live in peace, potential immortality before him, a world to see, a knowledge to gain, a life to live and no danger in sight or at least no real danger for him in particular. Perfect situation to start over. But what do they decide to do? Well we need to make sequel because first game sold. Soo we will ruin this whole character we have build instead of, i dont know, giving him new objective, expanding his character, and we will turn him into another evil guy dissapointed in life who lost faith in humanity and destroys his work from the previous game because we need something absolutelly devastating to happen soo new protagonist will have something to fight for AND also we will make those already a bit fucked up and evil bio engeneering corporations come back even more evil soo that making Mercer not only evil but genarally badly written character will have NO SENSE WHAT-SO-EVER and just, I'M JUST----!!!!!!!