#identity and self-discovery

[fridayenights]

Through Her Eyes - A BG3 One-Shot

Astarion hasn’t seen his reflection in centuries, a cruel reminder of everything he’s lost to his vampiric curse. When Alluna offers him the chance to see himself through her eyes, he’s faced with something he never expected: a glimpse of the man he used to be—and the hope of who he might become.

FANDOM: Baldur's Gate 3

PAIRING: Astarion/ Alluna (Tav)

WORD COUNT: 3,155

TRIGGER WARNINGS: This story contains themes of trauma, emotional vulnerability, and references to past abuse. Reader discretion is advised.

Alluna tilted her head back, her eyes tracing the sparkling stars overhead. Their beauty stole her breath and wrapped her in a rare, fragile peace. She drew her knees to her chest, a soft smile curling her lips as the fire’s crackling warmth eased the weariness in her bones. The day had been long and grueling—her body ached with the memory of countless battles. Exhaustion pressed heavy on her shoulders, but for a moment, as she gazed at the heavens, the weight lifted, and the night offered her a fleeting reprieve.

She inhaled deeply, the air carrying the faint tang of pine, the musk of earth, and the briny trace of the nearby stream. It was so different from Baldur’s Gate. The first night here had been jarring—not just because of the nautiloid’s crash or the alien tadpole burrowing into her brain, but because of the silence. The forest felt alive yet unnervingly still. No clamor of merchants or sharp laughter of drunkards. No constant hum of life. Just the snores of her companions, the crackle of the fire, and the steady rhythm of her heartbeat.

Her peace was interrupted by low, frustrated murmurs, breaking the soft crackle of the fire. Alluna turned, her gaze landing on Astarion. He stood just beyond the camp’s edge, a mirror in his hand, his brow furrowed as he tilted it this way and that, his movements sharp with irritation. For a moment, she thought he was fussing over a stray strand of hair, and a quiet snicker escaped her. With a sigh, she pulled herself to her feet and strolled toward him, intent on catching him off guard.

But before she could speak, his voice cut through the night. “Looking at something?” he asked, startling her.

She blinked, then frowned. “How did you know I was there?”

“The only benefit to a mirror when you have my… condition,” he replied, his tone flat as he continued inspecting the glass. “It doesn’t quite make up for the lack of a reflection, mind you.” His voice remained level, but the slump of his shoulders betrayed him.

The grin on Alluna’s face faded as realization dawned. He hadn’t seen his own face—not since the night he was turned. The thought struck her, sharp and sudden. She hesitated, unsure of what to say, before finally asking, “Do you miss it? Seeing your own face?”

“Preening in the looking glass? Petty vanity?” He turned to face her then, his eyes heavy, searching hers. “Of course I miss it.” He sighed, the mirror in his hand catching the firelight. “I’ve never seen this face. Not since it grew fangs and my eyes turned red…” His expression hardened, anger flashing across his features as he looked at her.

Alluna studied his face, her mind tracing over the sharp angles and hollow beauty of it, trying to imagine what he might have looked like before. “What colour were they before?” she asked softly, her voice a thread in the quiet.

“I…” His voice faltered, and for a moment, he seemed caught off guard by the question. His brow furrowed deeply as he turned inward, searching for a memory that remained stubbornly out of reach.

The rage in his eyes melted into confusion, then panic, and finally something far heavier. His grip tightened around the mirror, his knuckles pale against its ornate frame. “I…” he tried again, the words catching in his throat. His head tilted, his gaze darting to the ground, as though the answer might lie buried beneath the dirt.

“I don’t know,” he whispered, the words brittle, fragile. His crimson eyes met hers, unguarded and raw. “I can’t… I can’t remember.” The mirror slipped slightly in his grip, trembling in his hand. His expression grew distant, his eyes unfocused, as though the memory he sought had been stripped away entirely, leaving only a hollow ache behind.

The ache consumed him for a heartbeat—then burned away, replaced by a fiery inferno. “My face is just another dark shape in my past.” His voice shook with rage. With gritted teeth, he hurled the mirror into the dirt, where it shattered into glittering fragments.

Alluna’s heart grew heavy as she watched him. Thin tears lined his eyes, but they didn’t fall. Anger and shock wrestled for dominance in the lines of his face, his posture tense and fists clenching and unclenching as if he didn’t know whether to scream or collapse. This realization had rattled him to his very core, cracking the carefully curated mask he always wore.

Her fingers twitched at her side, her heart aching with the need to comfort him, to give him something—anything—to pull him from this pain. And then it struck her. Her eyes widened as the idea took root, tentative but insistent. She stepped closer to him, excitement flickering like a fragile ember.

He startled slightly at her sudden movement, his gaze snapping to hers. She hesitated, fearing he would shout at her, push her away. But she shook her head, banishing the thought. “Astarion, I might… have a solution,” she said, her voice trembling as nerves battled with resolve.

He tilted his head, confusion furrowing his brow. “What do you mean?” There was a whisper of hope in his voice, so faint it was barely there—but she saw it.

Alluna swallowed hard, chewing the inside of her lip as she raised a hand and pointed toward her temple. “The tadpole…” Her voice dropped to a near-whisper. She knew what she was asking of him: to relinquish control, to open his mind to her, to let someone breach the carefully constructed walls he’d built to protect himself.

Their bond was fragile, born of shared necessity but slowly blossoming into something more. It was terrifying in its newness, full of promise and peril. It could grow into a thorny rose, beautiful but dangerous, or a sunflower reaching for the light. She prayed it was enough to surpass his distrust.

A long, agonizing silence stretched between them. His expression remained unreadable, his thoughts racing behind his crimson eyes. Alluna’s resolve began to wither under the weight of it. Poisonous doubts whispered in her mind: she’d shattered their delicate bond, ruined everything by speaking this absurd idea aloud. He would regret trusting her, regret opening himself up even the smallest bit.

But then, before she could drown in her fears, his mask cracked again. Uncertainty rippled across his features, followed by something softer, more vulnerable. He met her gaze, and her breath hitched at the raw emotion she saw there. “How… How would the tadpole help me see myself?” His voice was small, hesitant, as though the words themselves were fragile.

Alluna smiled softly, careful not to lean too close. “I would lend you my eyes,” she said, her tone steady. “It would mean opening your mind to me, letting me in. But only to see what I see—nothing more.”

His brows furrowed, and he stepped back, a whirlwind of emotions flickering across his face. She didn’t press him, didn’t move closer, but simply waited. Astarion’s mind raced, the weight of her words colliding with the walls he’d built over centuries.

Trust her? Could he even do that?

He thought back to the moments they’d shared. At first, it had all been a game—a calculated play to ensnare her in his web, like so many others. But she was… different. It hadn’t felt like such a performance with her. The revulsion that usually curdled in his stomach afterward was quieter, subdued. She had a way of lying in his arms, her face alight with contentment, as though she saw something in him he couldn’t see himself. For a fleeting moment, he had almost believed it. Almost.

His gaze lifted to meet hers, and he saw nothing but sincerity. Still, the fear clung to him, gnawing at the edges of his resolve. “I… I don’t know…” He faltered, unsure how to finish the sentence. I don’t know if I trust you? I don’t know how to let you in?

Alluna seemed to sense the war raging behind his eyes. Her expression softened, and the smile she gave him made his heart ache in ways he couldn’t explain. “Astarion,” she said gently, her voice steady but warm, “this is your choice. If you’re not ready, that’s fine. If you need more time, take it. I won’t push you. I trust you to know what’s right for yourself—and I’ll be here if or when you decide.”

Her words washed over him, and for a moment, he felt himself slip back into the comfort of his mask. He forced a hollow smile and replied, “Time, darling? That’s a luxury we don’t exactly have. Death lurks around every corner—”

“Astarion.” Her voice stopped him short, soft but resolute. His breath hitched as her eyes met his, unwavering. “We have time,” she said again, quieter this time, but with unshakable certainty. “No tadpole, no mind flayer, no cultist—nothing will stop us. You have time to decide if this is something you truly want to do.”

For a moment, he said nothing, her words hanging heavy in the space between them. His mask threatened to crack, but he held it firm, unwilling to let her see just how much her words had shaken him—not in a negative way. She had given him something Cazador never had: a choice.

The concept felt alien, even though he knew he must have had it once, centuries ago, before chains of blood and pain stole it from him. At least, he thought he had. It was hard to tell anymore. The memories had been drowned beneath horrors so vast they poisoned his mind, erasing everything that made him who he once was.

But now, here she was, offering him the impossible. A piece of himself he thought lost forever. His face. The very thing that had been his best weapon, his greatest performance. Hundreds of conquests had whispered praises of his beauty before they met their grisly ends in Cazador’s chambers. Even his master had seemed taken with it—or obsessed with it. Why else would he linger over Astarion, why else would his screams be called “the sweetest”? That had to be the reason. The only reason.

A quivering breath escaped him, and he refocused on Alluna. The care in her gaze held him steady, anchoring him to the present. For the first time in centuries, he let himself want something, and the words fell from his lips like a confession. “I… I want to… see my face.” Her beaming smile overtook her features, and something inside him fluttered. How could a smile like that make him feel so light?

“Are you certain?” she asked gently, her tone steady despite the tremble of anticipation in her voice.

Astarion hesitated, his thoughts churning, but then he nodded. Her response was a quiet, affirming nod, and she raised a hand, gesturing toward her temple. “Alright. Let’s try this.”

It wasn’t easy. Alluna still struggled with harnessing the tadpole’s power, and her initial attempts were clumsy. Astarion flinched as her mind brushed his, the sensation as foreign and invasive as it was tender. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, pulling back instantly.

He shook his head, steadying himself. “No, just… slower.”

She adjusted, her presence featherlight as she pushed against the fragile wall in his mind. It wasn’t a barrier made of steel or stone; it was paper-thin, yet impossibly vast, stretching over centuries of memories too dark to look at. The fragility of it unnerved her. She moved with care, soft and steady, like tracing the edges of a broken mirror.

Astarion’s brows furrowed as he felt her again, her presence like the ghost of a lover’s touch—tentative, patient, and maddeningly gentle. The instinct to pull away screamed in him, but he held fast. Slowly, he let the gates open, just enough to let her through.

When her presence faltered, pressing too hard, he winced, and she immediately pulled back. “Sorry—”

“You’re fine,” he interrupted, his voice tight but resolute. “Just… let me guide you.”

It took time. His breathing was shallow, his entire body tense as he adjusted to the sensation of another person inside his mind. She didn’t prod or poke at his memories, as she had promised. She hovered, a patient presence, waiting for him to be ready.

When he finally nodded, the breath he let out was shuddering, his voice hoarse as he whispered, “Alright. Do it.”

Alluna projected her vision into him, and they both gasped. Their sight warped and contorted, the raw psionic power rushing through their minds threatening to buckle her resolve. She staggered, clutching her temple, but her tadpole greedily absorbed the energy, steadying her.

Astarion stumbled back a step, his hands shooting up to steady himself. His vision darkened, and panic clawed at him. He thought, for a terrifying moment, that they’d done something irreversible. But then the familiar, squirming presence of the tadpole seemed to lap up the excess energy, settling the chaos inside him.

And then, the darkness faded.

He blinked, his consciousness expanding beyond his body, and froze as his vision resolved into a figure. A stranger stared back at him—a pale face, sharp and angular, framed by silver-white hair. Crimson eyes glinted like rubies, hollowed with centuries of torment, yet achingly beautiful.

His breath hitched. “Is… Is that…”

The thought broke off as the shock hit him like a thunderclap, raw and overwhelming. Alluna felt it through their connection—a suffocating weight, cold and unrelenting, like drowning in ice water. Her chest tightened, her breath hitching as she realized these weren’t her emotions. Astarion’s grief and disbelief surged through her, raw and jagged, pulling her under.

A single tear slipped down his cheek, and before she could think, her hand moved on its own. She reached up and brushed it away, her fingers warm against his cool skin. Astarion shuddered under her touch, his eyes widening. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“N-No…” His voice broke, barely more than a whisper. His hand rose to cover hers, trembling as it settled over her fingers. “It’s… okay. I don’t mind.”

Her heart clenched at the fragility in his tone. She offered him a soft smile, stepping closer as her thumb brushed gently over his cheek.

His gaze returned to the vision before him, and slowly, the shock ebbed, replaced by something lighter, brighter. His lips parted in wonder. “It’s… me,” he whispered, the words trembling with disbelief.

A smile—genuine and unrestrained—spread across his face, growing until it overtook him like wildfire. “After all these years…” His voice wavered as he reached toward his face, his fingers brushing his cheek as though to confirm the image was real. “Hello again. Gods, I missed you.”

Alluna’s own tears welled and spilled as she watched him rediscover himself. It was the purest thing she’d ever witnessed, and her heart swelled with emotion. He moved his hands over his face, tracing every line and angle like he was trying to etch the image into his memory. She didn’t blame him. The tadpoles wouldn’t last forever. This was his only chance to see himself, and she resolved to give him all the time he needed.

If it took all night, she would hold the connection for him.

After a long, quiet moment, he let out a soft chuckle. “I am quite the handsome devil, aren’t I?”

Alluna laughed, her voice light and full of warmth. “Yes, you are, Astarion. But don’t forget—you’re so much more than that.”

His smile softened in a way that made him look years younger. “I’m beginning to see that,” he murmured, his voice carrying the faintest hint of hope.

They stayed like that for a while, Astarion inspecting every inch of his face. He even fiddled with his hair, grumbling about how those “damned goblins” had ruined it. Alluna couldn’t help but laugh at his rambling, her heart warm with affection she wasn’t ready to voice—not yet. For now, it was enough to give him this moment, this gift.

Eventually, Astarion pulled his consciousness away and gently coaxed her out of his mind. Alluna surrendered to the tender yet firm push, letting her vision become her own once more. The disorientation was brief, though it left them both momentarily off-balance.

As the world settled around them, they stood in comfortable silence. Astarion seemed lighter somehow, as though a piece of the weight he carried had fallen away. His smile reached his eyes now—genuine, warm, unguarded—and Alluna’s favourite part was how his gaze seemed brighter, more alive.

He had reclaimed a part of himself that had been buried beneath centuries of torment. To an outsider, it might have seemed insignificant, but to Astarion, it meant everything. He was no longer just a fragment of Cazador’s cruelty. He was his own person, with something worth fighting for: the memory of his face, his freedom, and perhaps… Alluna.

He glanced at her and caught her staring. A smirk spread across his face. “What are you smiling at?”

She chuckled, tilting her head. “It’s nice seeing you so happy. It suits you.”

“Yes, I’d imagine so,” he quipped, his voice playful. “Now that I know just how magnificent I am.” She laughed, shaking her head as he grinned. But then his expression softened, his gaze steady and sincere. “Thank you,” he whispered.

The words caught her off guard, and for a moment, she didn’t know how to respond. Then she smiled, her voice quiet but sure. “Of course, Astarion. I’m here for you, always.”

A warmth blossomed in his chest, spreading like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. He breathed in the cool night air, his gaze lifting toward the stars as though seeing them for the first time. “It’s strange,” he murmured, glancing at her. “For so long, I’ve been little more than a ghost. A shadow of a man. But now… I almost feel real again.” He chuckled, the sound light, almost bashful. “Thanks to you.”

Alluna smiled, her heart swelling at the sight of him. “You’ve always been real, Astarion. This just helped you see it for yourself.”

He tilted his head, studying her with a look she couldn’t quite place. For a moment, she thought he might say something profound or vulnerable. Instead, a familiar smirk crept across his lips. “Well,” he said with a playful lilt, “if this is what it feels like to be real, I must say—it’s rather exhausting.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “That sounds about right.”

His smile softened again, his blood-red eyes glowing faintly in the firelight. “Thank you, Alluna,” he said, his voice low, almost reverent. “For everything.” And as the silence settled between them, comfortable and warm, Astarion felt something he hadn’t dared to hope for in centuries: peace.

A/N: I had this idea sitting in my head for some time. I always wondered why Tav never showed Astarion what he looked like, so I figured I'd rewrite the Mirror Scene (though, the original is beautiful, and I absolutely adore it). Let me know what you thought of my story! Regardless of your thoughts, though, I hope you enjoyed. Thanks for reading!

EDIT: I made a book cover for this story -- check it out here!

[haveacupofjohanny]

#TheOrdinaryBruja Part 3: A Haunting Encounter on Hallowthorn Hill

🌫️ The Lonely Bruja faces her biggest mystery yet on Hallowthorn Hill. Who’s the figure in the fog? And why does this sleepy town seem so haunted? Tap into Part 3 of this supernatural thriller and uncover the secrets she’s hiding… #TheOrdinaryBruja

As the fog settled thickly over Hallowthorn Hill, the Lonely Bruja took her first step onto the path. For months, she had been walking this hill, her weekly ritual to clear her mind and connect with something greater than herself. The fog didn’t deter her; it only heightened her anticipation. This time, though, something felt different, as if the hill itself held its breath, waiting. It’s in…

[takemetodragonstone]

*if your gender and sexuality brought on different feelings, vote for whichever you want. (whichever feeling was stronger, or first, or however you want to decide).

If you’re comfortable with it, put your sexuality and/or gender identity in the tags along with the feeling you experienced upon discovering it so we can see if any trends appear with correlations between certain identities and feelings!

[incognitopolls]

We ask your questions so you don’t have to! Submit your questions to have them posted anonymously as polls.

[morninkim]

that one movie sinbad did about the genie

[tiarpopdind]

I was inspired by one of the prompts from MCtober - genderbend your MC.

Um i have many thoughts about this... rant below.....

Was trying to draw genderbent Tris for funsies and never in my life had i been so humbled 💀

Brother got me so stressed out i had to get up to pace around the room while asking myself if i was even deserving enough to be called an artist

I am being dramatic, i apologize.

I think i was trying hard to make her male version look more masculine but at the same time i also really wanted him to have that girly soft features because well Tris is kinda squishy regardless of the gender.

The problem is i think it is either my art style is too feminine and i genuinely cannot draw men (woe is me) or Tris is already somewhat androgynous enough to be both masculine and feminine at the same time so if i overdo one or the other it just won't look like her???

So i ended up with a genderbent version that was identical to the regular Tris... it's almost like nothing changed, except maybe she got taller LOL (artistically an impressive feat tbh...knowing how i can't even replicate my own style sometimes)

And you know what, it IS a little silly, so i'm gonna make that canon ... she is just a creature .... male or female.......

(i'm one step away from making her a nonbinary im tired of this gender bullcrap......

its my own fault i literally stressed myself out for no reason...

Okay but nonbinary Tris doesn't sound bad........ i will consider it...)

This is a embarrassing i feel like i overshared a little LOL maybe i just think a lot about genders and stuff...

Sorry to the people of tumblr who had to read this ily ill go back to being quiet and mysterious now ♡♡♡♡

[nixthelapin]

A Jekyll&Hyde type akuma whose power is to bring out a hidden or repressed part of your personality (but like, making two of you instead of switching in one body), and when Chat gets hit suddenly there’s both “normal” Chat (I’ll get to that in a sec) and Cat Walker/Patte de Velours at the same time.

(Cue Ladybug freaking out upon learning they’re the same person)

“Normal” Chat looks the same, but is just a bit more intense (since this is Adrien’s way of “letting loose” to not be how he is as a civilian, he’s not too different, but because of the split he does lose some usual traits). I.e. *heavily* flirting with LB, going at it with the puns, more agressive and impulsive with the akuma, doesnt like following orders (especially with the remaining feelings of anger towards the partnership being put further into question as LB prefers CW), heart on his sleeve

Cat Walker is also not super different to the episode he was in, but is also more intense thanks to the akuma: all business- no nonsense, doesn’t laugh at jokes (even in a “I’ll laugh if you want” way, like in Kuroneko), cordial to LB, follows LB’s orders to a T (to the point of not making his own decisions in battle), calm and collected (almost emotionless, even with that plastered smile)

CN starts to hate CW as the fight goes on, because LB seems to prefer him (and she’s understandably getting annoyed with CN’s impulsivity). CN gets territorial, saying that he’s LB’s partner. CW: “then why did she replace you with me?” (Man, look at all the self hatred in Adrien’s psyche!)

So CN runs off and leaves them alone to fight the akuma. This ticks LB off even more, but she has an akuma to deal with- and she has CW- so she lets him go.

As the fight goes on, some of the same issues from Kuroneko occur, so she also gets frustrated with CW too.

Since he’s acting more extreme than normal (more like someone awaiting orders than a partner due to the Jekyll&Hyde thing), it causes more problems (like him waiting for her decisions leaving openings where he could’ve done something proactive)

She actually blows up at him, asking why he didn’t do anything (“I was waiting for you to tell me the plan!”), and she says he should be able to think on his own, he doesn’t need her to tell him everything, but- “I thought I was just being what you wanted.”

(He’s shocked and genuinely hurt- though it’s still pretty quiet emotion, subdued and apologetic)

And that’s when it clicks for her what becoming CW was back in Kuroneko. He was molding himself for her. And this version of CW is even more of that. She realizes just how much CN suppresses, not just for her, but for everyone- why else would this be a major aspect of his personality?

(Also, Patte de Velours? Velvet Paw? That’s basically saying he’s been declawed. Yikes.)

She makes CN get his butt back to the fight (or she finds him- he may have been doing something while away like talking with someone, maybe Alya or Nino, or Luka). CN and CW argue more, with insults. Then she goes on a whole rant/lecture to them about how important they both are, both to her and to each other, how they are one person, and their traits are both important, but each extreme is not great. Ex: instinct/impulse and service/obedience (the key is self control, so that your emotions aren’t controlling you, but neither is another person). He is allowed to be both! Neither personality is bad, and hating one is just hating himself- he can’t just reject a fundamental part of himself.

She makes them agree to work together to defeat the akuma. It’s awkward at first, but they get a rhythm by seeing where each one is needed in the plan (LB does still do that, but how they follow is more fluid now). Two cataclysms now! Yay! (Maybe they used their powers already and have to de transform, and they see themselves as Adrien- the same one, not different, and it gets through their skulls. Idk I’m spitballing).

They have a quick talk between the two about accepting each other, it won’t be easy, I’m nervous, we’ll be okay (“yeah, I think we will :)”), etc.

Ends with them combining back with the ladybug cure. Surprise! His outfit is combined too! (Honestly, I just want the ponytail with the fluffy hair)

LB and CN have a talk after recharging about everything. CN apologizes for lying about CW and explains why and how he did it. LB didn’t realize how much he hid. She never meant for him to change or hate parts of himself. He thought she didn’t like the CN parts of him, but LB promises that isn’t true. She admits she did get… annoyed, but never hate! She loves both sides of him. Besides, CW didn’t work out that first time, remember? (Though she very much leaves out her intense crushing being the deciding factor there)

CN admits he feels more, well, not whole, exactly, he’s actually still pretty uncertain about what all this means for “who he is,” but… he can at least say he feels less like he has to perform all the time. He loves being Chat Noir, but he is exaggerating a bit when he transforms, in part to be not like his civilian life. He tells her he’s not like that as a civilian, but he’s also not like Cat Walker. But he’s not really sure who “he” is yet. (What I’m getting at is Oblivio!Adrien- dorky, but not over the top, in love, trusts his lady to make the plan, but is still proactive, etc.)

LB says that’s okay, he doesn’t have to figure it out right away. But she’ll be there to help him figure it out.

END

[internalearthquake]

my ghosts within

In the midst of what seems mundane lies a hidden world

Ghosts surround me, accompanying my every step

The lost, the unmet, the real, the imagined

These translucent entities haunt and console me

Wispy figments shift in and out of awareness 

Subdued whispers, their presence felt but never seen 

What may seem ordinary masks profound challenges

I push aside my ghosts who yearn to be acknowledged

Fragile mind oscillates betwixt clarity and confusion

A perpetual struggle to live in the present 

The universe is littered with daily reminders

of what once was… 

of what could have been…

of what I have lost…

of what was never mine…

of what will never be…

Every hushed whisper, every reverberating echo

My ghosts represent these fragments of my narrative

An incomplete history of distortions and illusions

Leaves me feeling incomplete

So, who am I?

What may often be overlooked carries significance to me

Unanswered questions ignite chaos within my mind

I navigate an unsolvable labyrinth of mystery

External investigations cannot unveil these buried truths

Healing lies in reconciling with my ghosts within

Dialogue with them holds the key to my liberation,

Clearing away the misty fog that clouds my perception

By forgiving the past and accepting the unknown,

I can release my ghosts from my internal world

Empowered, I can forge my own narrative,

Finally discovering who I am

[bookishblogging]

[cosmicredcadet]

People who identify as Aspec because of trauma are still Aspec. People who identify as Aspec because of Dysphoria are still Aspec People who realized later on they weren't Aspec where are any less Aspec when they were identifying as it. The point is that at some point they related to and felt understood under an Aspec identity and that's all you need to be Aspec. If it changes later on then that's just how it is, it doesn't make them a faker or poser. It makes them a human being who is constantly growing and understanding more about themselves. We should be supporting these people not treating them as the enemy. If they change their minds then that's okay!

So many of us Aspec people used to think we were allo before realizing we weren't so why are we attacking others for having the same experience just with different identities?

[the-mycelium-collective]

The main reasons I doubt myself about being a system are:

I don't remember the Trauma that caused it

I don't have black out amnesia

I have been diagnosed with ADHD, and some symptoms overlap

I grew up in a healthy household - mostly

The logic I have to counter this is:

Alters often take traumatic memories to protect the host. I also do not have very much memory of my life before the ages of 9/10, besides a few vague fragments.

Black out amnesia is not required to be a system. I also do have grey out amnesia and emotional amnesia, but not having black out amnesia makes it harder to get solid proof of the system.

ADHD and DID only overlap in a couple areas, and I have many symptoms that aren't explained by ADHD

There was some mild neglect that I am aware of from my father, but I don't think it goes any farther. However, considering I don't remember the majority of my childhood from before the age of 9/10 years old, and basically nothing before 6/7, a lot of stuff could have happened

And yet I still doubt myself, even with this information

[ashenvein-gate]

The capitalists don't want you to know this but you don't have to pick just one version of yourself. You can be as many yous as you want--over time, all at once, on a rotation, it's all up to you. Own your chaos!

I'm not talking about plurality, but if you do have headmates they can also be as many versions of themselves as they want. In my house we provide affirmation for the whole system

[awbjects]

yaaaaaaaaaa

[evil-mcytblrconfessions]

has the dsmp been dead long enough to admit that i didn't understand why the transfem c!tommy headcanon was so popular? I don't mind it of course, transfems are lovely, and hc what you want, but most, if not all the people i saw headcanoning this took all the c!tommy away from c!tommy, and only kept his appearance.

All this to say, idm transfem c!tommy, but i don't understand why it was so popular

.

[arwenkenobi48]

After much soul searching, I finally figured out where I am on the political spectrum. I’m now proud to call myself a solarpunk!

[serenityquest]