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im not sure you know what ancient rome is

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Alone in the Ancient City playthrough

A playthrough of Alone in the Ancient City by Takuma Okada

A spiritual sequel to my Hiria: the Eternal City playthrough (Parts 1, 2, 3, and 4), featuring one of the cities I generated: anarchic city of heavy smog and cobbled streets and a cyclopean train station

First District

Trains cycle in and out of the coal-powered station at the heart of the city. Stepping off my iron steed, I'm greeted by political pamphleteers beneath a guttering streetlight being ignored by the crowds pushing past them. All is not well in the eternal city, it would seem.

Second District

Venturing into the adjacent plaza, I found a vendor selling hotcakes from her stall, the wheels resting comfortably in ruts that they themselves had presumably carved. A serpentine line wending around half the open space made it seem a promising option.

Sitting to eat the hotcake, I espied a stained and flaking mural down a tree-lined street off the plaza. Still cleaning grease from my chin, I went to look. Difficult to tell what it once was under the layers of grime, but it seemed to commemorate the third train line to be built here.

Third District

Hoping to find lodging that wouldn't cost half my purse, I crossed a nearby bridge into what seemed to be a less populated area. Looking out over the river, I glanced down to see a floating market beneath the bridge's overhang. Rope ladders hung down over the side, with no other apparent way to approach.

Shimmying down the nearest rope, I landed amid a whirlwind of pigeons. I had disturbed them from their rest in a makeshift plaza of boats' decks lashed together. The knots themselves formed an intricate web that contained an order and message I could not interpret. I still don't know how much time I wasted trying to visually untangle the mystery therein.

Fourth District

The boats have their own gentle illumination, not powered by electricity like the city but by flickering oil lamps. Beneath one, I encountered a small herb garden being harvested by small children. The fresh scent of picked herbs invigorated me to ask whether any of them could find me lodging, and one bold young child invited me to come and ask their parents myself.

Following them onto a main thoroughfare (boats lashed together in a relatively straight line rather than the haphazard manner before), I eventually found myself face to face with the child's fathers: great burly men weathered by the sun and sea. Asking for a room for the night prompted gentle, but overall rather silent, hospitality. Simple but hearty fare left my eyelids heavy, and the bobbing of the boat lulled me quickly to sleep.

End

Little did I know that this boat village was a temporary one! I woke to bright sunlight, already far from the city I had intended to explore for a week or more. Still, I had been looking for an adventure and had certainly found one. If I ever wanted to return to the city, it would certainly be there.

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Leed appreciation post

Please take a moment to appreciate 🙏

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kookaburra refusing to budge

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Pedojacketing trans women is bad even if you didn't do it on purpose.

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one of my favourite things about my boyfriend is that he's 6'4 but convinced he is a normal sized person and this does not constitute "tall"

once, if not twice, a week the card game shop he plays digimon at upload a top-4 photo best described as "gandalf and the hobbits" and every time he is genuinely baffled as to why he looks like that

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Lmfao ok, so. Sam Kerr - darling of Australia, captain of the national women's soccer team, WOC, lesbian, role model to girls across the whole country - is in hot water because news has dropped that in January 2023 (over a year ago) she said a "racially aggravated slur" against a UK cop and is now being charged for it.

It's huge news here. It's literally front page of today's paper, with a feature inside as well; they've been talking about it non stop for over 24 hours, it's all over social media, etc.

Well i just found out what, exactly, the racially aggravated slur in question was, and i havent stopped laughing since. It was: "You stupid white bastard."

Fucking lmao.

A white male police officer is apparently so "alarmed and distressed" at being called a "stupid white bastard" that he is charging an Indian-heritage lesbian woman with *checks notes* a racism charge. He was so alarmed and distressed that it took him..... a year and two months to press charges.

Fucking lmao.

"You stupid white bastard." Wow. Devastating. I think Sam should say it to him again in court.

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being alive is great because there are so many different vegetables you can sauté. but then there are also the horrors

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A lot of adulthood is shouting “AUGH MY LAUNDRY” hours after you put it in the washer/dryer and running to go fetch it

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Slayers is fun, simple, and quick to play. It's set in an endless city full of monsters, strange people and places, and bizarre world building. The game focuses on modding, toolkits for homebrew are available for free, and there's tons of homebrew by fans and by the creator, meaning that while the base game has 4 (6 technically) jobs, you can simply look around the tags for this game to find tons of fun classes and variant rules to customize your trawl through the bizarre city! Slayers is quick to learn, fun, and easy to mod, I honestly have pitched it as "what WOTC wants you to think 5e is" and i don't think that's entirely wrong, its fun go play it

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TTRPG Bundle for Trans Youth - Last few days

I'm kinda staggered by the response to the TTRPG Bundle for Trans Youth. I'd hoped we'd get to $3k, and it's almost at 3 times that! Thank you all so much for supporting the group (especially the two people who paid $100?? wow), and thanks to everyone who submitted games and supplements!

There's a couple of days left, so if you haven't been able to grab it yet, toss a couple bucks in and get yourself some sweet games.

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Speaking of willows. There's a species of willow. Salix herbacea. Known as the Dwarf Willow. And this thing. IT ONLY GROWS 1-6 CENTIMETERS TALL. IT'S KNOWN AS "ONE OF THE SMALLEST WOODY PLANTS" BECAUSE ITS A TREE THAT DECIDED TO BE 1 CENTIMETER HEIGHT

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A cute guy likes me on a dating app. After chatting with them for weeks, we decide to go on a date. They are very flirtatious and forward over the app, but not when we meet in person. He admits he thought I was transmasc like him, we laugh about it because his mistake is funny and means I'm not passing but in a silly backwards way. I think his sudden awkwardness in person may be nervousness and flirt with him in ways less forward and aggressive than he'd been flirting with me earlier, and they become cold and distant for the rest of the date. By the time I get home they've blocked me on the app we met on. This case of being mistaken as a transmasc on a dating app will happen 3 more times, and in 2/3 times it results in a similar sudden lack of interest where once they were coming on to me. None of these people will be cis.

I am in a self defense class for queer people, learning hand to hand combat as a community. I have been here months. I notice I'm the only transfem in the classes but there are other trans people there so I don't think much of it. Today I have some stubble as I did not have time to shave before the early morning class. When discussing unrealistic action movie and anime fight scenes I describe on of my favorites, quoting the lines as I pantomime the goofy moves. They smile and laugh along until the word bitch leaves my lips in one quote, then the bisexual woman who only ever they/thems me glares at me like I've committed a grevious crime, and the rest of the class looks at me like a freak in awkward silence for a moment before moving on. I learn bitch is not a word a clocky bitch can "reclaim". I am quiet in classes now, and when I go I focus primarily on the training, when I see other trans women try it out they often give me a sad look and do not return for a second class. I get a sinking feeling that if I ever use this training to save my life one day I'd be branded a violent man instead of a strong woman.

I am texting with a good friend of years who was one of the people who helped me realize I was trans like them and even the one who helped pick out my name loves talking about our shared interests and sharing their favorite smut with me. We bond over favorite stories, artists, characters, and kinks as well as our trans experience. Yet they constantly tell me they could never date someone who's AMAB because of the trauma of being "female socialized" and their genital preferences for vulvas. Every compliment they have ever given me on my appearance or outfit is followed up by "but in a non-sexual way, I could never date you". Today I finally have the courage tell them they don't need to say that every time. They ignore this response. We keep talking for awhile, but they start taking months to respond to my messages and respond with a short sentence at most. They no longer share details about their life and shut me out when I ask or share details about mine, even the most mundane and chaste details. I stop talking to them. A birthday gift I bought them months before this falling out happened looms at me in my closet. I cannot use it as it doesn't fit me but can't bring myself to throw it away, just in case we reconcile one day. I feel pathetic for craving friendship with someone who sees me as "abuser-bodied", that so much of my early stages would've been impossible without their help. I feel a little more lost without them.

I am at a queer/trans/enby kink dance party with some friends. I am scantily clad and wearing a skirt and high heeled boots. I do not pass well so this space is one of the few places I feel safe and free dressing like this. It is packed with queer and trans people just like me engaged in delightful debauchery and wearing very little. The music hurts my ears but I'm happy to be here, I feel overstimulated but alive and authentic. I am approached by a beautiful stranger from across the dance floor, she is graceful and stylish, like some modern Galadriel clad in leather, white lace, and industrial piercings with impeccable voice training. She compliments my outfit, I compliment hers. She tells me I need to shave my armpits if I want to look like a real woman. My two friends stand up for me and yell at her. They assure me she was just being an asshole, that women were supposed to be hairy, but I can't help but notice how both of them have hairy armpits and yet the "advice" targeted me. The wide range of bodies that people here tonight find desirable on cis women don't seem to apply to the women like me. I am the only one of us that doesn't go home with a hookup at the end of the night. I realize now she likely spoke from experience. I am still hurt by her words, but realizing the kinds of experiences she must have had herself to feel her words were kind advice hurts far worse.

A local queer photographer who's work I follow is looking for women & non-binary models for a photoshoot. I have become comfortable with getting photos taken of me for the first time in my life since my egg cracked, and had a few small time modeling gigs under my belt. With something like this I could actually have the beginnings of a portfolio. I reach and am told that they are not looking for trans women models, "only women and AFABs". Getting the same line I get from agencies from an independent queer photographer repackaged in "woke" terminology stings. I see many queer and nonbinary models I looked up to take part in the shoot. I have to wonder if they knew that the photographer's definition of woman didn't include trans women, or if like me in my martial arts class they noticed no transfems were there but didn't think much of it because there were other trans people there.

It is years ago and I am still an egg. I am with my partner of 4 years. I am exhausted after a long day. She asks me for sex in the voice that I know means saying no will hurt her. I learned from her long ago men have high and insatiable sex drives, therefore saying no meant I wanted to have sex, just not with her. So I say yes. The sex is painful and unsatisfying, and I simply do my best to thrust through the discomfort until she cums. I feel numb and hurt. She enjoys herself but seems sad I did not cum. I assure her I love her. When we hold eachother after my obligation has been met and I finally feel comfortable and safe. We begin talking. She talks about the trashy women she saw on the street today, describing their cringe outfits and ugly styles and bad hair. All the styles and clothes and hair I yearn to try myself in my deepest and most repressed desires. I change the subject and ask her about work and family. She asks if I'd still love her if she were a man and I say yes. She says she would still love me if I were a woman. Something in that statement feels like a lie. It is months later when we break up and I move out. Now that I am a woman I look back and know from our years together that if I were a woman then she'd hate the kind of woman I'd become. That if I were a woman she'd still have the same expectations of me as a man, that her refusal of sex equated an impersonal not being in the mood but my refusal of sex equated a cruel refusal of love.

A lesbian group begins organizing a queer woman's strip night event. A safe place for amateur performers to shine and women to perform and enjoy sexuality away from the male gaze. I see no transfems in the promotional material or leadership team, and I've learned not to think nothing of it just because there are other trans people there. I do not go.

I am talking with my therapist. They are trans too and an amazing therapist, often providing insights and advice only someone else with the lived experience of being trans can. I express distress and suicidal ideation at the fact I feel like I need to pass before I can dress the way I want. That until I get expensive hair removal procedures and FFS I can never feel safe and welcome presenting authentically. I lament how these things are expensive and may never be accessible to me. They tell me I need to deal with my "internalized transphobia", as if these feelings aren't a result of constant rejection and othering by external forces even within queer spaces. As if the scrap of womanhood others sometimes acknowledge in me does not rely on their perceptions of me.

There is a publication accepting works from trans people of all stripes to document trans experiences. It gets flamed for not having a single transfem as a contributor. The people behind it apologize profusely, they say didn't notice no transfems had sent work in and would do a sequel publication that was transfem-centric. I wonder if anyone had noticed there were no transfems but didn't think much of it because there were other trans people there. I think about the kinds of spaces I've seen like that, and the implications it has about how they treat transfems, and I am unsurprised no transfems submitted.

One of my closest friends for years is very supportive of me when I first begin crossdressing and experimenting with they/them pronouns. She gives me suggestions on cute clothes to wear and takes me shopping as well as asks for pictures. We had helped eachother discover we were both queer as young teens, come to terms with it, and navigate it in a hostile environment, so I have complete trust. We are close enough we are frequently asking eachother advice on serious life choices & relationships, sending nudes for critique + tips before sending them to our partners, and sharing our most secret and vulnerable moments. She often asks me for tips on getting her straight boyfriends into pegging and crossdressing that make me slightly uncomfortable but I don't mind, she is a loyal friend I would endure a great many discomforts for. I host a lunch for us one day, and come out to her as a trans woman. I tell her my new name, say I no longer use he/him pronouns, and thank her for her support on my journey thus far. She launches into a monologue about how by changing my name I am throwing away all our memories together and spitting in the face of my family. Taken aback by her sudden heel turn after being so supportive of me being nonbinary and GNC, I excuse myself to go to the bathroom to get a break and give her some time to process. When I am in the bathroom trying not to cry, she is on the phone. I overhear her misgendering me as she is talking about me being bisexual in a frightened voice. She sounds truly afraid that I intend to be sexually violent towards her. When I leave the bathroom and sit back down I pretend not to have heard. She gets off the phone, saying she was just chatting with her boyfriend. We talk a bit longer, she explains how "the surgery" is dangerous and experimental and she hopes I won't get it. I assure her I won't and do my best to change the subject and hope she comes around after some time to process things, hurt and shocked that what I saw as a natural shift in the path I was already on marked me as frightening in her eyes after knowing eachother for over a decade. That a fellow bisexual suddenly saw my bisexuality as dangerous now that I was asserting myself as a trans woman. I say goodbye to her, and she says goodbye to me using my deadname, I do not risk an argument to correct her. It is months after the meeting we have not seen eachother since and she has not responded to any messages I sent. After reflecting on her reaction further I decide that I don't really want to spend time with someone who thinks these things about me for my own safety and mental health, regardless of our history. A friend of 14 years who supported my queerness and transness gone the instant I crossed an intangible woman-shaped line that marked me as a predator and invader in her eyes.

I log online and day after day see trans women getting banned and harassed. Seeing baseless callout posts calling them groomers and abusers getting taken seriously by other queer and trans people. Seeing proof that deep down so many people I consider kindred spirits see me and people like me as worthy of intense scrutiny and policing to keep "the queer community" safe and united. The blocklist grows but everything stays the same. I treasure the people in my life who don't take part in this and would do anything for them, but it seems they get fewer each time.

I'm not making this post to seek sympathy, I am used to this kind of shit and far worse has happened to myself and others. I just make this to illustrate transmisogyny is not some "online-only" issue like people claim. Even if online issues weren't "real" (as healed is fond of saying, "online is real") this has tangible effects in the way trans women are treated offline as well. By communities, friends, partners, colleagues, systems, etc. That's why we talk about it.

So much of the discussions people have paint transmisogyny as some online oppression olympics maliciously trying to divide the community, smear transmascs, and "reinvent bioessentialism". That is not what it is about. Discussions about transmisogyny is about how we are treated for being what we are, and while related to transphobia and misogyny it is seperate because it often represents doors other trans people and women can walk through that transfems cannot. It has affected me in my most intimate moments when I was with other trans and queer people I felt safe around, and taught me that I need to carefully manage my persona and presentation at all times lest my authenticity be branded "male socialization". I am even terrified to express attraction to people who express attraction towards me because I'm so used to being treated like a predator upon reciprocating or being used and abandoned by people I trusted. I am terrified to be too excited about shared interests with friends lest I be too loud or talkative about it and branded with aggressive male socialization. So I make myself quiet and small, and shrink from the community and people I care about, and become more and more isolated.

Anyways, stop platforming anons who spread lies about trans women, stop hopping on TERF harassment campaigns because the trans gal they're smearing "gave you bad vibes", and maybe consider carefully if in your own life where you draw the line for a transfem's behavior is any different from where you'd draw the line for anyone who's not one.