SkyFlowerAY

PLEASE REBLOG

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First off: Y'all be safe! Links on how to activate incognito mode on an Iphone and an Android phone and on chrome on a computer. Remember to delete your Youtube history after watching!

Point of Pride provides Binders AND Femme Shapewear. Provides sizing guides. International!

B4CK provides free, but gently used Binders and provides a sizing guide. Link goes directly to the ordering page since site layout is slightly confusing. Not sure how discreet the packaging is. Ships to the Contiguous US & Canada (meaning they do not ship to Alaska and Hawaii).

The Euphoria Project provides free gender-affirming care items such as binders, gaffs, breast forms, and packers. You will need to research what kind of item/the brand/size you want to receive.

The Phoenix Transition Program provides free binders to people living in the United States. Provides a size guide.

Kansas City Center For Inclusion offers a binder exchange program This service may only be usable for people in the Kansas City Metro, range of service is unclear.

The True Self Foundation's Binder Xchange Program is a service available to people living in Puerto Rico. the page (and site) is in Spanish, but can be translated into English via Google Translate pop-up. The application form is fully in Spanish, and cannot be translated directly via pop-up, but is easy enough to understand, and the relatively direct wording can be easily typed into Google Translate directly. Binders may need to be picked up on-site.

American Trans Resource Hub (ATRH) offers a free binder program that ships across America, but it looks like there may be a backlog of orders, but the service can be used by people 13 years and up

For youths & young adults in South Dakota , there's a program called Marty's Closet that offers a free set of 3 personalized outfits and a very large kit of resources (including E-Certificates for binders, tucking underwear, binding tape, bras, and packers). Note: This is very personalized & involved, PLEASE use caution when ordering, receiving, wearing, and storing these products

Clock inc. is located in Rock Valley Plaza in Rock Island, Illinois, and Provides free binders and offers a clothing swap, but is exclusively in-person. Note: the website has many pop-ups that ask for donations and the site may not be entirely up to date.

Out Maine provides free binders to people living in Maine who are between the age of 14 to 22

The Q Corner provides free binders and gaffs to people in Santa Clara County (with multiple sizes & different styles) (I have linked directly to the request form)

BroThersPGH is a branch-off project of the SisTersPGH (a black & trans lead nonprofit orginization) , and offers binders for people living in Allegheny County/Pittsburgh

For people in Poland, Western Pomerania there's Lambda Szczecin, which provides assistance with the purchase of binders (The website is in Polish, but can be translated with Google translate if desired. Keep this in mind when contacting them to receive a binder).

If you'd prefer to sew your own binder, you can find a free pattern at Ureshii design

Links to lifehacks from the Transgender Equity Network Ireland for tips when binding or tucking for the first time

Hatstealer AU: Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 4.5 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10 / Part 11

Rise and Fall of a Star

Why would I be embarrassed for having interests I enjoy? My guess is that you’re really, really young. And that maybe you don’t actually have solid relationships with adults who have lives outside of parenting or work. But I hope for you that when you’re my age you have hobbies that bring you happiness. And that by that point you realize that trying to shame someone for being an adult only makes you look too immature to be in adult spaces, which Tumblr is.

When I was 20, I loved music, making art, writing and reading good stories, fashion, talking about popular culture, making friends, going to concerts… You’d be surprised how little changes when you’re my age. I just have way more money and time to enjoy those things now. I’m only 55. I’m not dead. I’m also not a “granny”, but even if I was, I’d probably still like all of those things.

I am a fan. I’ve been a fan of one or another book series, TV show or comic since I was eight. I’ve been in organized, convention-going and print-based fandoms since I was old enough to vote. My generation invented online fandoms, and I’ve been in them from almost the very beginning of online. I’ve been on CompuServe and AOL and LiveJournal and the other earliest platforms where fandom congregated: Tumblr’s merely one of the newer ones. 

If some adorable, entitled, wet-behind-the-ears wee nonny thinks they’re going to roll up and have a little self-righteous fun shaming some senior Tumblrina into buggering off of here because she’s An Old—and should therefore (by their way of thinking) be embarrassed for enjoying the manifestation of her continuing passion for the best in media along with others, in long-standing community— Well, they’ve got another think coming. 

…And oh yeah: You don’t like it? Then just get off our lawn, sweetiecakes. We were here long before you were, and (if you’re so easily embarrassed) we’ll still be here long after you’re gone. :)

(waves) (And hey, hi there, Atlin!)

Etsy is now forcing shop owners to be part of their ads. We can not opt out.

To anyone who buys from etsy: DO NOT EVER CLICK THEIR ADS

They are rolling out a program where if you get a sale from an ad they put out, they’re taking 12-15% of the profit(probably on top of the like, 5%ish+ they already take). Even worse, if you have clicked an Etsy ad in the last 30 days ANYONE YOU BUY FROM ON ETSY IN THAT PERIOD WILL BE BILLED THAT FEE. 

So please, if you see an ad for something you like off etsy, do not click it. Just go on etsy and search for it.

This is somehow worse than what storenvy used to pull. 

And it’s not 12-15% of the profit, it’s 12-15% of the PRICE.  There’s no way Etsy knows the cost of the actual item before profit.  So if you price your wares with 15% profit for yourself, congrats you’ve lost money on the transaction. 

They said it was nothing personal—the bus could only fit so many people, after all, and escape would be hard enough without “dead weight” dragging them down.

We understood. The world was ending, not changing.

“Shouldn’t we be looking for shelter or something?” Samantha asked as we sat around a garbage-can fire. (Tao was experienced in making them, from what we gathered, and the flames had grown in no time. We tried to ask him how he knew what to do. He responded, but none of us knew sign language.)

Hank snorted. “What’s the point? Not like we’ll make it long, anyway.” He rubbed the spot beneath his shirt where we knew his insulin pump to be. “Least, I won’t. You folks are welcome to try.”

No one spoke for quite a while. No one got up, either.

Maria garbled something that I couldn’t make out. Antonio, one of the only able-bodied to stay behind, smiled and patted the armrest of her wheelchair. “It is kind of like camping,” he said. “All we need is some marshmallows.”

“I’ve never been camping,” Dwayne said quietly.

Samantha grinned. “Hey, me neither!” She held her prosthetic at arms-length so she could reach past me to give him a high-five. He chuckled and slapped his palm against hers.

“Well,” Monique said, hobbling back to our makeshift camp. She was using what appeared to be a broom as a crutch. “I’m officially on my last leg.” She waggled her eyebrows, and we groaned.

“Anyway, I didn’t find any water,” she continued. “There’s some Mountain Dew cases over at the gas station, but I’ll need help carrying them back. Doesn’t help that this one got stuck under some debris.” She gestured down at her stump, which cut off just below the knee. The plastic of her other leg was scuffed and dented.

“Ya know,” Hank said, “if it was real, ya probably would’ve had ta chew it off or something. Guess you’re lucky, huh?”

Monique laughed humorlessly. “Yeah. Real lucky.”

Tao startled us with his sudden chuckling. He bent over, wheezing and slapping his knee. He signed something, and began laughing even harder.

We looked to each other, unsure. Then we joined in. Hesitantly, at first, but soon we were clutching our sides and wiping away tears. And for a moment, we could forget.

All of us heard the familiar whirring of robots as they approached.

Through our laughter, none of us cared.

————

They scanned Hank first. We braced ourselves for the blaster fire that would inevitably follow.

But none came.

“IMPLANT DETECTED,” the bot said, beam stopping on Hank’s abdomen. “PROTOCOL-13163 INITIATED. WILL YOU ACCEPT?”

Hank glanced at us, then back at the robots who had spotlights and guns trained on each member of the group. Then he shrugged.

“Sure. Why not?”

“YOUR DESIGNATION IS NOW FL-237. YOU SHALL BE ESCORTED TO THE REPAIR BAY FOR MODIFICATIONS.” Two bots took place on either side of Hank, urging him towards their transport.

The treatment was a stark contrast to what we’d witnessed from the robots before—gunning down terrified people in the streets, setting charges throughout populated areas. We exchanged confused looks.

Dwayne was next. The scanner stopped on his head, focusing on the lump housing his shunt.

“IMPLANT DETECTED. PROTOCOL-13163 INITIATED. WILL YOU ACCEPT?”

“…yes?”

“YOUR DESIGNATION IS NOW FL-238. YOU SHALL BE ESCORTED TO THE REPAIR BAY FOR MODIFICATIONS.”

As they took Dwayne away, realization hit us all at once.

“IMPLANT DETECTED,” the bot said, in reference to the devices curled around Tao’s ears. “PROTOCOL-13163 INITIATED. WILL YOU ACCEPT?”

Tao signed something. Unlike us, the robot understood.

“YOUR DESIGNATION IS NOW FL-239…”

————

“WILL YOU ACCEPT?”

“Hell yeah,” Monique said with a grin.

————

“WILL YOU ACCEPT?”

“Yes,” Samantha said, and I thought I noticed tears in her eyes.

————

“WILL YOU ACCEPT?”

Maria’s limbs flailed spastically, and a strange shrieking sound built in the back of her throat. The bot cocked its head to the side.

“RESPONSE UNCLEAR. PLEASE STAND BY WHILE ALTERNATE COMMUNICATION IS PROVIDED.”

Another robot stepped forward, its torso transforming into a holographic keyboard of sorts. Maria’s clenched fist shot forward, trembling as she attempted to steady it. With labored, deliberate movements, she typed, the letters spoken aloud in an automated tone.

“Y-E-S.”

“YOUR DESIGNATION IS NOW FL-242. YOU SHALL BE ESCORTED TO THE REPAIR BAY FOR MODIFICATIONS.” Two bots took their place on either side of her wheelchair, each of them gripping a handlebar. They began to wheel her away.

The bot turned to Antonio, who was standing ramrod-straight. It scanned him.

“NO IMPLANTS DETECTED,” it said. Its blaster hummed to life. Those of us that remained flinched, turning away instinctively, unwilling to watch his execution.

A series of shrieks rang through the night, and the bot paused.

Maria thrashed about, letting out more distressed noises. One of her escorts stepped forward, allowing her to utilize its keyboard.

“A-C-C-O-M-O-D-A-T-I-O-N,” she said. “H-E. I-S. E-X-T-E-N-S-I-O-N.”

The bot seemed to consider for a moment.

Then its gun folded away.

“ACCOMODATION PROTOCAL INITIATED,” it told Antonio. “YOUR DESIGNATION IS NOW FL-242B. PLEASE ACCOMPANY YOUR PRIMARY UNIT.”

Antonio stumbled forward, then fell to his knees before the wheelchair. He wrapped his sister in a shuddering hug.

Over his shoulder, I caught a glimpse of Maria’s face, and I could swear I saw her smile.

————

My pacemaker was enough to earn me a spot among the bots’ ranks. I was surprised by just how many humans lived in the facility (though in hindsight, perhaps I shouldn’t have been)—I was even more surprised by our treatment. Not having use of recharging stations, we were provided with bunks and dorms. The cafeteria, while somewhat lacking in options, offered all of the nutrition a carbon-based lifeform could ask for.

And then there were the upgrades.

“Real lucky, huh?” Monique said, taking the seat beside me in the cafeteria. Her robotic legs moved smoothly, fluidly. (“You can’t even notice,” she’d said upon first receiving them, before remembering that there were no longer any stares or judgement to hide from.)

“Damn lucky,” Hank agreed. (If we hadn’t been processed when we were, he would’ve been dead within a week. Here, insulin was never in short supply; as it turned out, it wasn’t nearly as expensive to make as we’d been led to believe.)

Samantha twirled a fork between her fingers, smiling at the satisfying click-click-click of metal on metal. “Hey, Dwayne, how’d your checkup go?”

“Great!” he said, beaming. “This new shunt works even better than my last one. Not a single problem since they put it in.”

Congratulations, Tao signed. He was no longer emaciated, as he’d been when we first met—regular meals and a roof over his head really had done wonders for his health. His smile, of course, was infectious as ever.

Antonio approached, carrying his and Maria’s trays. He wore the uniform of a maintenance tech, though it was more of a formality than anything else—being responsible for the upkeep of Maria’s machinery was one of the only ways he could fulfill his Accommodation Protocol, nowadays.

Did you remember the pudding? Maria asked, her automated voice clear and pleasant. (We couldn’t begin to understand the exact mechanics behind the chip in her head, and how it allowed her to speak—albeit through a machine. Nor could we understand the technology that enabled her to operate her wheelchair independently, as well. But we did know we were grateful for it.)

Antonio rolled his eyes. “A ‘thanks’ would be nice.”

Thank you. Now gimme.

————

I did wonder, occasionally, how the other survivors were faring. If they had found a place to hide from their robotic overlords. If they felt hopeless and abandoned and alone. Their lives had changed drastically overnight—their world had ended.

But ours? Ours is just beginning. And the ones that left us behind just…don’t have a place in it.

It’s nothing personal.

And sometimes I think, “Well, two hundred is technically less than four hundred.” And I have to stop myself, because - I am writing half as much as Terry Pratchett. Terry fucking Pratchett, who not only published regularly up until his death, but published books that were consistently good. 

And this has also been an immense help as a writer with ADHD, because I don’t feel bad when I take a break from writing - two hundred words works up quick, after all. If I take a break at 150, I have a whole day to write 50 more words, and I’ve rarely written less than 200 words and not felt the need to keep writing because I need to tie up a loose end anyways. 

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