#though i did originally peg him as autistic

[heretherebedork]

My not-a-theory-more-like-speculation about Hidden Agenda that probably isn't true?

Joke has depression.

Joke was severely depressed at one point in the past, likely right after moving to the city with his grandmother, and he struggled to find any value in himself or in what he did.

And when Zo tried to help him (remember the first episode?) he pushed all those horrible feelings at Zo because he didn't know how else to handle how horrible he felt about himself and how much he hated himself.

He's felt awful ever since.

He's in treatment now and doing better but he's still struggling and that's one of the reasons he's so scared of losing Zo and so quick to panic and so set on helping Zo find the light in his life. He knows what it's like not to have any light in his life and he doesn't want that for anyone. Especially not for someone he loves.

I just look at Joke and his apologizing, his trying to find a sneaky way but then almost always switching to straightforward, his struggles with opening up to people, his love for Zo and his deep worry, he press to try new things, his panic and fear whenever Zo seems upset with him...

Look, do I think it's gonna be canonical? No. I really don't, though I would love it and fear it in equal measure considering how BL has handled mental illness in the past (spoiler: not well) but I really like the idea.

#hidden agenda meta #hidden agenda #thai bl #it's not really a theory #it's just a vague character idea #i just feel like joke is nd in some way #and honestly him having depression and struggling with it feels accurate #though i did originally peg him as autistic #i could either way #yes this is me diagnosing fictional characters #luckily they are fictional so they don't care

[david-watts]

pls do us a favour and drop the evidence of how brian was autistic

strap yourselves in folks because the original report I had for this is several hundred words long. also none of this is from a psychological perspective and I’m in no position to give an official diagnosis HOWEVER I am an autistic person myself and you do tend to notice these things if you look closely 

ok firstly I believe that brian’s interest in transport was his first special interest. firstly I’m gonna quote my m*m on the matter ‘nobody [neurotypical] is interested in transport!’ which is in reference to me excitedly telling her about my idea for the article (it was for school and I did indeed submit this for a mark. the teacher found it very interesting though). then again she’s not a reliable source and that quote was probably in comparison to my dad and I both being fascinated by railways (thanks dad). ok so back to the fact brian was so fascinated, in laura jackson’s biography on him it discusses how he would love going to see steam locomotives as a young child, which true, lots of young children are fascinated with them, however he kept that fascination into adulthood because wasn’t there that snippet that he collected things to do with transport? also he used to construct mock crashes using real fire idk if that’s anything to do with it though 

brian would also listen to blues records over and over again to figure out how to play them which is very dedicated of him, but also he named two of his kids after julian adderly. that’s dedication. he went as far to get metal piping from a scrapyard in order to play slide guitar, and when the stones were supporting bo diddley brian dropped all of bo’s material from the stones’ set out of sheer respect. admittedly I haven’t got as much info on his interest in the blues because I focused too much on his interest in transport because overlapping interests will drag you places, but I can see his interest in it??? someone else with more knowledge might be able to piece it together better than I can 

also on the music thing and teaching himself slide guitar, something that I did learn from another autistic person (it was someone on youtube I think it was aaron ansuini?) and the topic of autistic people finding it easy to figure out how things work came up and the example he used was instruments. now according to laura jackson’s biography (yes I reference this a lot it’s the only solely-brian-focused stones bio I have) brian learnt piano very well, and taught himself saxophone after learning clarinet alongside mastering all reed instruments by EAR, but also taught himself slide from records, and we all know how many damn instruments brian played 

this is a weird one and I did learn this from when I was getting my orthotics fitted at the end of last year so it’s not in the original document thankfully BUT. autistic people tend to walk on their toes, which leaves differences in our feet because it’s simply a different gait, your feet will wear differently. one of the things brought up in that appointment was the fact that the toes will curl for grip and the like. front of the foot will flatten - if you make a fist and look at your knuckles it will make a curve, now imagine if that was flattened and apply it to your feet. now of course naturally I remembered seeing a picture of brian without shoes a few days earlier and I can’t believe I’m saying this but I willingly stared at his feet to try and figure out if he also happened to have those... trademarks. I couldn’t really make out much but using that Iconic™ photo of him shoving his feet into the camera, I did notice his toes do curl, especially the two outermost toes. I can’t quite make out whether the front of his feet were flattened or not but it does seem like they might’ve been from the other picture I stared at for way too long, but looking at the more iconic photo I can’t tell either way due to there appearing to be a curve however there should be more shadows if that were the case. ok weird bit over I hate that I stared at his feet for so long 

because I talked about feet here’s a section on animals. there’s the story I think you told me about the time brian tried stealing kittens when he thought they were being mistreated, the time brian befriended a goat when another member of the stones (unknown which one it was but anyone else picturing keef?) decided to lift its back legs up and pretend it was a lawnmower due to the fact that someone said that a goat would keep the lawn down and I think brian took that literally (we’ll come back to that). and how could we forget the time the white goat was led out and brian literally said ‘me’ (harry told me that one and I have NO way of verifying it but holy shit). now this is something I have noticed and that’s autistic people do tend to get along better with animals. this is either hyperempathy, or lack of empathy because I’m on the ‘I have zero empathy’ end of the scales and I had more animal friends as a kid than human ones. I’m not an expert but at least in my case it was not needing social skills in order to communicate? 

so we all know brian was like. a square peg in a round hole right. the fact that he used to be a golden child who’d help serve out the morning tea buns (probably just so he could get the leftover crumbs at the bottom of the tray but we’ve all been there) to like. one of the most rebellious figures in swinging london. that entire narrative is something very neurodivergent, especially with autistic people who tend to get frustrated with the world because they’re very obviously different (pat andrews did say that when she met him in 1960 he was considered a loner). a lot of other ‘square pegs in round holes’ such as nikola tesla, einstein and so on have been thought to be on the spectrum. brian also used to refuse to put on his uniform and as I’m typing this I’m literally wondering if that’s a sensory thing because school uniforms are uncomfortable to the ordinary person, they can be utter hell if you’ve got sensory issues. speaking of brian’s school career he also didn’t see the point in certain things such as ‘games’ as he said in an interview, and that’s something a few autistic people do find, that they can’t find the point in certain activities they don’t find interesting or enjoyable. 

also have I mentioned that I think brian might’ve stimmed by putting his fingers in his mouth? there’s several pictures of him, and I mean several, where he’s got his fingers or his thumb in his mouth or near his mouth in a situation where stimming would happen, aka basically anywhere because stimming is just something we do, y’know??? 

ok so I hope this was interesting??? I have been sitting on this information for over a year. hopefully my teacher doesn’t find this but if she does, hi. ignore my blog please. 

anyway I’ve compiled this from laura jackson’s biography, several personal anecdotes, information i have seen on various sites both about brian and on autism, various autistic youtubers, and other documentaries and thingies about autism because I have watched a few out of curiosity! hope this was interesting 

[verdigrisprowl]

18, both what he thinks it is and what you think it is, please. And 22?

Doing this two days late yaaay!

18. Your muse’s theme song.

Prowl probably doesn't think he has a theme song. He'd think that assigning a theme song to himself is arrogant and self-absorbed.

But if he was forced to choose—and if he was limited only to choosing from human songs that his mun happens to know because lmao I don't know what songs this alien robot knows—he'd maybe say "People Are Strange" by The Doors or "Behind Blue Eyes" by The Who—both songs within Prowl's preferred musical genre (the giant Classic Rock umbrella) about feeling alone & weird or feeling alone & villified. Both songs he identifies with. But then he'd tell himself that he's being melodramatic and self-pitying and criticize himself for even thinking of picking one of those songs, and he'd grumpily make himself find a song about a police officer instead.

My pick for him? When I started the blog I liked "Dead Inside" by Muse as like, a song about the influence he has on other people, lol. But he's got some arguably healthier relationships now so it doesn't apply as much as it did when I first pegged it as a Prowl song. "True To Form" by Hybrid gives me a Prowl-ish vibe, but not Prowl-ish enough; I'm sure if I get a chance to sit down with Hybrid's discography I could find a better song for Prowl. For now, though, probably my top Prowl theme is this remix of "Danse Hongroise." It just gives off this vibe of him calmly and professionally manipulating everyone around him, y'know? I discovered it off this playlist but 8tracks sucks now so I mirrored it on YouTube.

22. Three interesting little tidbits or facts of your muse.

dang I've shared so many tidbits before tho. Lemme try to share some I haven't shared before.

1. If somebody gave Prowl like, a two hour crash course on What Children Are, he'd actually be really good with kids. Like, small kids. Babies and toddlers and a little bit older. Somebody needs to give him a child to wrangle. Preferably not one he has to keep. Just to borrow.

2. Apparently I've never described this in depth before, so: Prowl uses acid projectiles in his pistols. From his original G1 toy profile: "Fires wire-guided missiles and high-corrosive acid pellets." I ran with it. He can load in ammo provided externally, but when he can't get those he can also internally produce acid pellets that his gun can use. Basically, Prowl can drink acid and poop bullets. (I'm going to regret typing that sentence, I just know it.) Because he's got an internal system in place that lets him process acid to make acid pellets, a lot of his interior parts are much more acid-resistant than normal, and so is a lot of his armor, in case something springs a leak; so acid is also a lot less effective against him than it would be other people. There are also a few places on his frame where he can secrete acid if needed as a self-defense measure. I know one of the points is his wrists, so he can melt himself free if he's handcuffed; I haven't formally decided on any other points yet. He can probably puke acid too. Like something out of a horror movie. (Oh yeah. I'm already regretting that bullet poop sentence. I'm leaving it in.)

3. In honor of Autism Acceptance/Awareness Month: Prowl is autistic. Half of y'all have probably figured that out already (I'm not exactly subtle), but this is the first time I've outright said so on this blog. Yaaay.

#anonymous #meme #OOC

[crazycreativescheerleadingcamp]

The Cheese Grates It: Fucked to Start With

This will be a long, rambling mess and probably shouldn't be read by anyone

It has been a while since I've worked on my stories. I may again, I don't know.

I used to have an organized plan, at least as organized as I can get, given that my brain works like a spider on drugs.

I think my thought patterns most closely resemble either the Peyote Spider or the LSD Spider. The web appears normal at first, but on closer examination, it really isn't. 

My brain does not work like yours, oh, Nice Normal People who are so Nice and Normal. And it never will. I was fucked to start with.

Fuckd to Start Wit is the title of a book written by a friend of mine, the late Walt Cessna. He said I was the one who encouraged him to write his book. It is well worth looking for a copy. 

Walt was an amazing photographer and a compelling writer. Problems with addiction tended to sideline him throughout his life. He was a gentle soul. He passed away from complications of AIDS two years ago. The world lost a good person, and, sadly, being the cesspool of horrible that the world is, it didn't know or care.

It will be no great loss when I go. I'm already aware of that.

For years, people tried to change me to make my brain weave normal spiderwebs, to be able to write nice, normal stories for nice, normal people instead of tangled webs of subplots guaranteed to make normal people wail and gnash their teeth and belittle and berate what spews from the hell-hole that is my imagination.

For years, I belittled and berated myself for being unable to be Normal: to work normally, write normally, think normally. 

There Are Drugs. Drugs that can make you less "you," I have been told.

I tried the drugs, and they did not work the way I was told they would. They did not make the depression go away. They made me Manic and Psychotic. Instead of being a functioning weirdo, I was a fucked-up weirdo earning myself a one-way ticket to the Loony Hatch. 

Fuck your fucking drugs.

I know it would be easier for the world if people like me would just play nice, if we would just pass for normal and keep our fucked-up thoughts and emotions to ourselves. Barring that, we could just agree to be permanent patients in a mental health facility or group home, compliantly attending meetings that do absolutely nothing, obeying our masters, completing the tasks they give us, staying out of the way of Normal Society and Nice People. Fuck "normal society." These days, "normal" is a sociopathic bully who takes to Twitter to rail at his "haters." "Normal" is a monster who pulls the wings off flies. "Normal" is callous and uncaring. I want even less to be "normal" than I ever did before. With my writing, I tried to remove all the subplots. My writing became boring to me. When I write something, I am in the mindset of Dr. Frank N. Furter. I DIDN'T MAKE IT FOR YOU. I sometimes share my writing because I'm stupid enough that sometimes I want validation for my shit. That's stupid, and I know it's stupid, but I sometimes fall into that old trap. I'm 53 years old, and I still fall into that trap. I know how stupid and lame and pathetic that is. I know it, and it still happens. This makes me stupid, lame, and pathetic. I know that too. With my main story, I used to be more "organized" with it, inasmuch as a peyote or LSD brained spider can ever be. I worked on it most days of the week. I had folders and documents for each of the subplots. Then my life went completely to hell, and what little semblance of organization there was went right out the window. I decided that any writing is better than no writing, and, if I'm able to retire before I end up fucking dead, I might start organizing it then. I was going to say "dead or in a nursing home," but that second one will not happen. If there is a real threat of it happening, I will off myself. I worked in long-term care for 25 years. I will not end up in one of those places. Like Stephen King said, sometimes dead is better. This is definitely a case where dead is better. I am in a bad place right now. I earn about minimum wage, which is not enough to survive on. There is no "doing better." My physical and psychological problems insure that. I can do the work I do, but it takes a toll. I'm hungry a lot of the time. I can't eat regularly even though I should because I have diabetes. No, I don't qualify for aid because I won't liquidate my few assets. I want my son to get those when I go tits up. He's going to need them. I do get Medicaid. A society that treats its working class like a steaming pile of shit is a failed society. I may be a steaming pile of fail on a personal level, but our society is failing way harder than I am. The point being, I don't give a flying fuck about anyone's "constructive" criticism to try and make my writing "better." I'm not trying to get this shit published into a book. I'm just trying to express it. The recent criticism I received wasn't even particularly harsh. Honestly, a fuck I don't give. It was just poorly timed, one of those straws that broke the camel's back kind of thing. People don't take into account that in a forum like this, people are writing for different reasons. Some are gunning to be TEH FAYMUS AUTHUR!!!!!11!!!!!!!! I used to believe I wanted to be TEH FAYMUS AUTHUR!!!1!!!!!!!1 I found out that I really don't. What I wanted was affirmation and security. It's better to try and get those from something that I'm not emotionally attached to, because when someone takes pot shots at things I'm emotionally attached to, I tend to go into a tail spin because my life is such a steaming pile of crap in the first place. Because I'm fucked to start with. Five years ago, I was in yet another really bad place, not so much financially but definitely on an emotional level. I couldn't work on anything featuring original characters. I just didn't have it in me. The only thing I could bring myself to write was Aliens fan fiction in my own weird style. No way I was trying to get that shit published. I was just sharing it with a select group of friends. To show that you can't trust anybody to hold you up rather than kick you when you're down... One of these friends told me that people write fan fiction because it's easier to work with "shell" characters than to try and come up with anything original, and that fan fiction tends to be the domain of "broken" people. Well, she hit at least one nail on the head, but, other than that, she only succeeded in whacking me repeatedly. I am broken. I was broken early on. I came into this life with a broken brain. When I leave, I will be entirely broken, body and soul. I think every day about pulling the plug. I am accomplishing nothing. I will never be okay. I don't think anything will ever be good or right. I think I stay around for a couple of reasons. One is the fact that my son needs my help. He's broken too. He's high-functioning autistic and has problems with anxiety and depression. He has a degree of agoraphobia. He has never been able to work. Like me, he "passes for normal." My mother always says there isn't anything "wrong" with him, implying that he needs to just needs to "pull himself up by his bootstraps," "man up," "put on his big boy pants," and all that sort of crap. No, Ma, there isn't anything "wrong" with my boy. He's just a big ole square peg, just like his damn worthless mother. Only he isn't worthless. He's very intelligent and has a desire to do good. He'd be an amazing employee, if there were an employer that was willing to work with his not-normal psyche. I'm pretty hateful to myself a lot of the time because it is literally impossible for me to be normal. Writing is an escape hatch for me. I sometimes think about not sharing my fictional works publicly anymore because I really can't stand having people taking pot shots at it when I'm hanging on by a fucking thread and it's my one very frayed life line. On the other hand, I do miss the times when people say nice things about my work. Sometimes that can quite literally mean the difference between a good and bad day. Which makes me a complete and utter loser. I know. I'm going to end this bloviated blather with a favorite song. This one's for you, Walt. I hope you're at peace on the other side. I love you.

~The Cheese Hath Grated It~

#the cheese grates it #creative and mentally ill #trigger warning suicide ideation #fuck trump #fuck your normal