#Shape memory effect

[materialsscienceandengineering]

Polyurethane with shape memory change from foil to foam when heated

Researchers at the Fraunhofer Institute for Applied Polymer Research IAP have developed a foil that changes into polyurethane foam (PU foam) when heated—entirely without health risks. The foil allows for isocyanate-free foaming, thus improving workplace safety. Additionally, it offers logistics advantages for storage and transportation. The material can be customized for various applications ranging from the automotive and construction industries to packaging. The research is published in the journal Macromolecular Rapid Communications. "A frequently discussed aspect in the production of PU foam is the health risk at work from isocyanates, one of the main components in the chemical reaction that forms polyurethane," explains Dr. Thorsten Pretsch, head of the Synthesis and Polymer Technology research division at Fraunhofer IAP in the Potsdam Science Park.

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[cent-scratchnsniff]

something bad did indeed happen to that man. spent abt 25 minutes trying to find a better picture of that one (1) offical piece with his eyes open that wasnt compressed or tiny

[scipunk]

Terminator 2: Judgment Day (1991)

[thankstothe]

Reading dense book after years of not doing that, explained everything about my academic experience

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

Stunt work and/or physical acting is so whumpy because you get scraped and bruised, and if you’re crawling in a hole in the middle of the woods, you get random thorns in your hands— it’s great. Love it. Maybe I was not made to be a character actor; maybe I was made to be a stuntman?

[astranauticus]

doing some robit sketches

[philoi]

Speaking of the python fight, I just wanna ask Rick. What was the reason:

I torqued myself in mid-air so that Python took the brunt of our collisions with the walls. We couldn’t escape one another. Whenever we drifted apart, some force brought us back together again like marriage bonds.

‘Destroy you!’ I wanted to tell him to chill out. Chaos was way ahead of him. It was rapidly tearing apart our essences. We no longer had to fight. We could just sit on this obsidian spire and quietly crumble together. Python could cuddle up against me, look out over the vast expanse of Chaos, mutter It’s beautiful, then evaporate into nothingness.

Something something the opposite of love isn't hate, it's indifference

[angstandhappiness]

Lovely

no!! stop running!!!

i need to tell you that he held out his arms to take his baby!!!

but the child squirmed around and began wailing terrified by his father’s helm!!!!

and his father began laughing and his mother laughed as well!!

and from his handsome head he took it and placed it on the ground!!

and he kissed his son and swung him around!!!

and prayed that he would become better than him!!!

stop running this is important!!!!

[materialsscienceandengineering]

In a collaborative effort between Texas A&M University and Sandia National Laboratories, researchers have significantly improved a new joining technology, interlocking metasurfaces (ILMs), designed to increase the strength and stability of a structure in comparison to traditional techniques like bolts and adhesives, using shape memory alloys (SMAs). ILMs offer the potential to transform mechanical joint design in manufacturing for aerospace, robotics and biomedical devices. "ILMs are poised to redefine joining technologies across a range of applications, much like Velcro did decades ago," said Dr. Ibrahim Karaman, professor and head of the Department of Materials Science and Engineering Department at Texas A&M. "In collaboration with Sandia National Laboratories, the original developers of ILMs, we have engineered and fabricated ILMs from shape memory alloys. Our research demonstrates that these ILMs can be selectively disengaged and re-engaged on demand while maintaining consistent joint strength and structural integrity."

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[writing-chats]

ultimate character development template

basics

name: meaning of name: nicknames/titles: age: gender: location: birthday: strengths + example where it's shown: weaknesses + example where it's shown: how it affects others:

emotional depth

attachment style + how it manifests in the story: physical fear: emotional/abstract fear: happy memory: sad memory: object of significance: philosophical outlook/belief: what characters are ignorant about themselves: how confident are they: goal: long-term dreams: what they're embarrassed/ashamed to tell others about: regrets: source of pride: source of misery: what they admire above all else: do they believe in fate:

personality

mbti: enneagram: big five: character archetype: star sign: who they pretend to be on the outside: who they actually are/how they feel towards the mask: mental health conditions: how it manifests for them: iq: eq: humour: reputation:

habits

bad habits: mannerisms when stressed: mannerisms when content: mannerisms when scared: mannerisms normally: verbal mannerisms/distinctive speaking style: how do they move across a room: what do they say and what remains unsaid: how they express love: hobbies:

appearance

defining features: eye shape + colour: hair texture + colour: skin texture + tone: vibe: height: build: clothing: any bodily disfigurement (scars, etc.): overall attractiveness: their opinion on their appearance: appeals to:

relationships

who they trust most: what they wish they could do for them: what's holding them back: who they hate most: what they wish they could do to them: what's holding them back: relationship with the protagonist: relationship with the antagonist: siblings: relationship with them: parents/step-parents: relationship with them: previous broken relationships: why did it break: what others expect of them: who believes in them: their mentor character/who they look up to: political/religious/other affiliations: what makes them different from every other character: non-human relationships + why: romantic "type" + why: relationship dynamics:

backstory/background

primary emotion towards their past: primary feelings while in their past: where did they grow up: defining incidents: earliest childhood memory: saddest memory: happiest memory: major accomplishments: their opinion on it: notable people in their backstory: effect on them today: trauma: what have they already lost: financial circumstance:

progression

why are they important (eg. why're they the only one able to do something?): what do they learn about themselves throughout the story: what do they learn about the world: how do they feel towards their newfound knowledge: character arc (positive, negative, neutral): how relationships change because of their actions: what mistakes do they make: what scene is their character highlighted: do they get what they want: why or why not: what happens to them after the story ends:

[savanir]

A fight between Danny and Skulker within the ghost zone carried them to a section that Danny wasn't familiar with. It was near a floating island that was overgrown much like Skulker's that the two of them suddenly got ambushed by a third party.

The new ghost seemed more interested in fighting Skulker than Danny, and he didn't hesitate at all to pull out a green glowing serated knife and a matching gun. Their snarling and growling was like nothing Danny had heard before and the insults were also a lot more vicious than what Danny ever heard from Skulker.

It was clear to Danny that these two hated each other.

"Whatever!" Skulker twists mid aerial dodge into Danny's direction, "This isn't over whelp, I'll have your pelt next time!" Skulker shouts before promptly flying off.

The new ghost then approaches Danny, all the while sneering at Skulker's retreating form. Talking with the new guy is... uncomfortable, Danny has to carefully navigate the conversation because it seems like the slightest thing sets him off, aka the guy's masked eyes start glowing brighter and get this smokey effect, and the belt of bullet shells he's wearing over his shoulder catches fire.

But Danny learns that the ghost goes by Ravager and that he's the son of the greatest mercenary there is, was, will be (according to him of course).

Danny also learns that Ravager finds his close combat skills to be atrocious and offensive to look at, "your hand to hand is shit. No wonder you're dead," and the next thing he knows he gets dragged towards the floating chunk of land for an impromptu cqc lesson.

Ravager shows him various fighting skills at a cleared stretch of land nearby a half demolished building that looks like it might have been a T shaped tower at one point.

In fact the whole island has the look of a post apocalyptic city, overgrown ruins of buildings everywhere.

When Danny asks, Ravager tells him it suits him just fine like this and with a name like his Danny is inclined to believe him.

Ravager is disappointed that Danny is a hero and some parts of his personality remind him of his younger brother who he rather not think about at all, other parts of Danny remind him of Robin, who he really doesn't want to think about at all.

In the end though, curiosity gets the better of him and he asks Danny if he can take a look around, see if he can find a guy named Deathstroke (very reassuring name) and report back what he's doing nowadays.

Ravager is not happy with what Danny finds out for him.

"So there was this girl and she apparently also goes by Ravager so to be honest, I'm a little confused now"

"He Fucking replaced me!!?!" flames burst out around Ravager as he shoults.

Danny tries to placate, "... okay now, maybe it's more a passing on the torch kinda thing, keeping your memory alive or something?"

"Where is that portal you've talked about, I'm gonna fucking kill him," Yeah this guy is not listening.

"Now that seems like a rash and poorly thought out thing to do, maybe instead-"

But Ravager is done listening and instead he just yoinks Danny with him in his hunt for vengeance.

Meanwhile on the other side Rose is telling Dick and Jason about a spooky white haired meta kid that popped out of nowhere, asked her if she knew where Deathstroke is at and when she attacked him he deflected all her moves as if he'd done it a thousand times before.

[falesten-iw]

On this day last year, my family faced a choice no one should ever have to make: stay in their home in Gaza and risk death or flee south, clinging to the slim hope of finding safety. Spoiler alert: there was no “right” answer. In Gaza, there never is. Families like mine would run from areas labeled dangerous, only to be bombed in so-called ‘humanitarian’ zones. Because in Gaza, no place is truly safe.

Each time they evacuated, they had the same gut-wrenching, desperate conversations on repeat: “Should we stay or go? Where would we even go? Do we send the women and children first, or do we all stick together?” Imagine trying to make life-and-death decisions with bombs falling around you.

One evening, a family friend offered them shelter, hoping the madness would calm down in a few days. My brothers agreed to move everyone there the next morning. But the bombs beat them to it. Just hours after that phone call, Israeli airstrikes hit our friend’s house. Thirty-five people, including children, gone. They never got a chance to move, and instead, they grieved for the lives lost.

They ran to Khan Younis, only for tragedy to follow. In November 2023, Israeli bombs hit my cousin’s house. I lost three cousins, their wives, and their children. It was chaos. Pieces of people scattered everywhere. A small child’s body lay unrecognizable until my cousin realized it was her son, Odi. His head was almost gone, but she knew him. She knew him by the shape of his teeth, his little toes. That’s the kind of loss no mother should ever face.

Since then, my family has moved over 50 times, haunted by the same questions: Where can they go next? How can they afford to survive another evacuation? Will they even manage to set up another flimsy tent?

And speaking of tents, imagine trying to live in one with your children. Picture makeshift cesspits serving as toilets, which fill up in a few weeks, forcing them to dig another. Comfort? Safety? Those words mean nothing. How do you sleep at night when your ‘home’ is a tent and your bathroom is a hole in the ground?

Talking about my family and Gaza breaks me, yet it also brings me a strange comfort. I refuse to let their stories fade. Their memories are beacons in the darkness, bittersweet reminders of joy and sorrow.

My family needs urgent help to survive this ongoing nightmare. Please, donate if you can. Share our story with your friends and family. Help us keep fighting, keep surviving.

Vetted and shared by @90-ghost: Link.

Verified and shared by @el-shab-hussein: Link

Listed as number 282 in "The Vetted Gaza Evacuation Fundraiser Spreadsheet" compiled by @el-shab-hussein and @nabulsi : Link

Listed on the Butterfly Effect Project, number 957: Link

Additionally, Al Jazeera News has documented apart of my family's case: Link

If, for some reason, you couldn't donate via GoFundMe, you can donate via PayPal instead.

Note: There’s even a raffle for a handmade Palestinian thob if you want to participate : Link

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[clare-875]

Waiting For You (Luffy, Sanji, Zoro)

_____ Pairings: Luffy x Reader; Sanji x Reader; Zoro x Reader Summary: Two years apart is torture to him, and all he wants is you. Warnings: hurt/comfort, reverse comfort, SPOILERS for Marinefod Arc and Beyond A/N: I'm so sorry for not uploading, exams have been killing me 😭 [One Piece Masterlist] _____

- Luffy -

Luffy was filled with a pain he had never known.

Despite being the one to adhere to Rayleigh's advice and deliver the message - to meet in two years instead of three days at Sabody - sometimes it was hard to ignore the ache in the back of his chest. He knew at the forefront, there was grief, but buried beneath, perhaps as a side-effect, lay loneliness.

He lost his brother, Ace.

The man he grew up with, the man he had chased and admired and loved.

Ace had died saving him.

Luffy had felt as the warmth usually emitted in waves was extinguished in seconds; so quickly, so ruthlessly, so unnaturally. He had felt unwavering strength collapse so suddenly, strong limbs losing all their life as Ace slumped atop him. And yet he could only tremble in shock, as a cascade of memories raged through his head. Memories of the man, the brother, he would lose. He could only hear broken promises, broken organs, the shattering of something deep within him. Then silence, escape, only to wake to reality again.

And in the absence of his brother, there was also the absence of his friends; his nakama.

Luffy needed his crew more than ever now.

Crewmembers hold a special place in their hearts for Luffy; their captain, the man who saved them and guides them with his ambition, his kindness and his strength. But most don't know how much they saved him in return. Luffy hated solitude; despised it. It stemmed from a youth spent fighting for a place next to Ace and Sabo, desperate for company, for connection, for love. So, when he created his crew, he silently felt like he finally had it all. Friends, a family he would protect by any means, and trust in every sense.

But now, he was back in the overwhelming void.

He had grown so used to life with friends.

He missed pranking Zoro with Usopp and Chopper; his laughter had come so easily then, so natural as it mingled with annoyed shouts and teasing remarks. He missed as Robin would tell him of the stories in books he did not care to read; somehow, she could make them sound so interesting to him, though he only saw paper and dull words. He missed the thrill of dinnertime, Sanji’s meals a treasure he looked forward to every second of the day. He missed Franky’s cool inventions, Brooke’s exhilarating music and even Nami’s shouting was nostalgic now.

And you.

God, he needed you.

He was so sure that one hug from you would be enough to cure the turmoil he faced in quiet nights, when no company could keep darker thoughts at bay. So sure, that a soft caress was the cure to the overwhelming and confusing ache that resided where his heart should be. He never had the time to stop and realise how much you saved him every day. In the extra meals you would sneak him, in the quiet words you would utter, in the kisses that brushed his cheek and the hands that held him. He never realised how much he had been ignorant to its value, how much reliance he placed on those simple gestures.

He never knew what it felt like to be tethered to another being. To feel every emotion you felt tenfold in his own skin, to feel warmth and ease by one smile, to feel belonging and comfort by one’s presence. Luffy had never loved someone that way before. The rush of emotion and devotion was confusing, but it was also everything to him. And the withdrawal felt like there was this void, an emptiness in the shape of you. An emptiness that even with his other crewmembers, he doesn’t think could ever be filled without you.

So, Luffy trained, desperately, relentlessly, grateful for Rayleigh’s guidance and presence. He even spoke to the giant fauna on his island of you, because there was no one else to listen to just how much he missed you. He focused on building his strength so that he could protect his crew, so that he could be strong the next time he saw you. So that he never felt what it was like to have that bond severed by such things as distance again. Temptation would run rampant, and sometimes Luffy would want to just cross the seas to know you were safe, but the captain kept at it.

Missing you, but hoping to become better, for you and his nakama.

.....

Two years apart from the crew changed you, as your physical strength and abilities seemingly multiplied alongside your features. However, although things changed, some things remained constant, almost unbearably so. You had spent the past years in a constant worry, in a constant pain as you thought of your boyfriend and all he had to face alone. You hadn't been there to support him, to hug him and love him as he faced grief, turmoil and separation from a crew you know he adored. So, when you step foot back onto the Sunny, after years without its wooden floors beneath your feet, you are filled with unspeakable excitement, but nerves lie heavy against your chest.

"[y/n]!!"

There is a squeal, and instantly warm arms wrap around you, as the sight of a familiar navigator enters your vision.

"Nami, I missed you!!"

You smile easily as tears fill your eyes, with years spent unable to see or contact your friend for months on end, building up and pulling emotion from you. When she lets go of her vice grip and you step apart, your eyes widen at her beauty and the glow of her strength, clear she too had made the most of the two years separated.

"Missed you too, you look amazing!!"

"Speak for yourself," you grin, before your eyes dart to other members of the crew who grin excitedly at your presence.

"Yo ho ho ho, it's lovely to see you again [y/n]-san, may I see your pant-"

Nami thwaks Brook before he continues, but your smile doesn't waver as a nostalgic air fills the space between you all. Robin, too, had grown even more beautiful than you could think possible, and Franky and Ussop had been so happy to see you again. They clamour in their greeting, already sharing brief stories on the adventures had with such time that pulled you all apart. And as you drown in the joy of reuniting with comrades, there tugs in the back of your mind, the absence of a certain trio and Chopper.

"Hey, do any of you know where-"

But before you voice your thoughts, you look to the sky and hear Chopper calling down to you all, and Zoro, Sanji and Luffy look down from atop a massive bird that approaches the ship.

"Finally!!"

Nami grins as she meets your gaze knowingly, though your eyes are torn away quickly, back to the sight of the man you missed more than anything.

"Hey, everyone!!"

You see his wide grin, his raven hair beneath the straw hat you hadn't seen in too long, and he seems happy and he seems grown. You all wave back, smiling and yelling in greeting.

"Luffy!!"

"It's so good to see you again!!"

"We've missed you!!"

Shouts fill the sky.

Sanji gets a nosebleed that takes him to the sea.

You look on, surprised to see that Zoro now only has one eye.

But then, his eyes meet yours.

Eyes that soften when he catches your gaze, and widen slightly as though surprised you were actually there after so long apart. And as your heart fills with contentment in seeing him so safe, and strong and joyous, his heart squeezes tight at the sight of you, beautiful, smiling and within arm's reach once more. Crewmates gather tight to greet the remaining four crew members, and Chopper cries as he sees you, holding tight to your leg. Sanji is barely conscious, and Zoro grunts in greeting, though a smile plays on his lips. Yet, your gaze gets dragged back to him, to Luffy, as he greets his friends.

When a moment passes, and friends disperse to talk to other friends, it is suddenly and finally you and Luffy in front of each other, and the air shifts a little. You see your boyfriend's eyes waver, as despite the way he grinned and yelled in his happiness as he greeted his beloved nakama, the crew he so longed to see, his heart gives way to you. You see beneath his gaze a glimpse of the hurt he buries, and the love that swims endlessly in a constant motion, never changing. Luffy's wide grin wavers, just slightly, and in its stead, a warm and gentle smile, full of relief, takes its place.

Long rubber limbs wrap around you, and you can hear your crewmates hush as they witness the two of you reuniting, yet you don't care about the prying eyes.

"I missed you, [y/n]"

You hear the slight crack in his voice as he says your name to you for the first time in years, and only for you to hear. He buries his head deep into the crook of your neck as he breathes you in, and you feel him physically relax, take a breath, as he drowns in you like he wanted to do when Ace died. Like he wanted to do when long nights left him feeling lonely and in need of one of your hugs, the ones that made every problem seem small, and made him feel all that was important.

"I missed you, too, Lu"

Tears gather in your eyes as you squeeze him tight, and you feel his smile forming against your skin. He rocks you playfully in his arms, just before he pulls apart, just so he can see you with his own eyes again. And when he does, he looks at you like you were the treasure he longed to find, and he glows, he radiates a happiness you were all too glad to find. A kiss is placed gently on the crown of your head, as one limb snakes its way around your waist, keeping you close, instilling his warmth on your skin. When you both turn to your crewmates, they look on with their warm gazes and fond smiles.

Finally, everything is as it should be.

"Shi shi shi! Alright! We're all back together, let's head to the New World!"

Your crewmates yell in excitement, and you laugh in delight, but when Luffy catches the mirth in your irises, he makes a secret promise to never let you so far out of arm's reach again.

- Sanji -

Sanji wanted to perish, just a little.  

He would look often to the sky like it had something to do with the current situation he was in. Two years stuck on an island, devoid of his crew, devoid of women, devoid of you. Everyday he was met with the incessant shouting to wear a dress, met with the task of mastering recipes and haki and techniques. And he knew, that the situation was externally, quite funny. He figured that if the men of his crew were here with him on this garishly pink island, they might laugh at it all. But at the end of long days, Sanji wanted to cry a little, wanted to be held a little, wanted to be loved a little.

He was terrified in every sense of the word when he saw you vanish right in front of his eyes. He didn’t think he could’ve shouted louder your name, until he was eventually whisked away too with raging emotions and worry and the relentless pounding of his heart against his chest. When he awoke to the island, he felt like he had been whisked off to a nightmare, with no knowing the fate of his crew or you. But when the message from his captain had travelled to him, and with no inkling of where on earth you could be, he had resigned himself to the two years of training on Momoiro Island.

The days were long.

But the nights were even longer.

At least during the day, there was company. Despite the okama maybe not being his first choice in said company, they were a distraction at least. A distraction from the absence of a crew, he considers now his second family. A distraction from the fact that he was on an island in God knows where, with crewmembers scattered in places he could not know. A distraction from the fact that he was very much alone, and months away from the feeling of belonging he had been so anchored to not so long ago.

But when the day crept away and gave way to the long nights, Sanji could not fight the presence of grave absences so easily.

Most often, he would think of you.

Yes, there were no women on this island, but Sanji found himself feeling he couldn’t care less, if only you were here. But you weren’t. Every night, he would dream of your smile, of your softness and your grace, only to wake and feel like he was in a living nightmare again. He missed your kindness and your love. Sanji never thought he was a man who could be loved the way you loved him. He never thought a woman as perfect as you would spare a time of her life for him, but you cared so deeply, so immensely for him.

He couldn’t count the number of times your form would fit against his back as he cooked, your sweet reassurances and caresses making him feel like it would be okay to die because you had sent him straight to heaven. He can’t tell you how grateful he was when you caught that distant look in his eye, the one he would bear when plagued by the thoughts and memories that weren’t kind to him. How often you would save him from himself by your smile and presence and warmth. He didn’t know how to live without that, without you anymore.

He missed you.

He needed you, desperately.

And yet, the sun would rise to the same routine, and distance and time would keep him from you. Sanji can feel himself getting stronger, with every passing day, but inside he feels as though he is wilting without the remembrance of the way that you loved him. He can feel himself getting weaker to the temptation of searching for you, but every time he was drawn back, knowing you were spending the years getting stronger for the crew, too. So, he focused and willed himself to work, for you, for Luffy, for the crew.

He just hoped that when you saw him again, you hadn’t forgotten how much you loved him.

.....

Wandering the streets of Sabody after two years, you are full of anticipation and the excitement of catching a glimpse of a friend, of a crewmate you missed so dearly. The two years apart had been a turmoil of emotions, of worry and concern, of training and hardships as you honed your strength and of the desperate need to be in the vicinity of your boyfriend once more. Each day would drag on, and though now you were thankful for your newfound power and skills, long nights without company left you wishing to cross the sea.

But now, finally, you are here, and the man you longed to see has just arrived.

Sanji knew it was time, time to return home, to the crew, to you. But his hands wouldn’t stop trembling. As soon as he said his brief goodbye and farewell to the okama that brought him to Sabody, he was overwhelmed by the presence and the sight of women. Over the years he knew you, he had found it so easy to get out of the rhythm of falling to women's feet, because why would he want to with you by his side? But now, after years apart and blessed with the sight of women with curves, and smiles, and light laughter, he struggles to keep the blood in his system.

He is eager, almost desperate, to be by your side again, but he feels he may actually die once he sees you. He could tolerate these nameless women on the streets, but you? The woman he loved? The woman he hadn't seen in two years, and yet knows him more than he knows himself? Excitement and fear mingle within him at the thought of reuniting, of wondering if your love remained true, if he could stay upright or if your beauty would cause him to utterly collapse, if you would look to him as you always did.

But then, he caught a glimpse of it.

[h/c] hair that caught the light of the sun, soft skin that ran over curves and edges he had run his hands along a million times, [e/c] eyes that glimmered and a warm voice that spoke to a shopkeeper just meters away. And it was you, and you were right there after so long, and Sanji felt his heart rate leap within his chest and blood rise to his face. You were so beautiful, so ethereal, so much more the goddess than his mere imagination could conjure in the days and nights spent away from you. He struggles to remain upright, but when your eyes turn to him, he sees them widen in surprise and yet swim in the light and the love and the warmth they always did when you looked to him.

And suddenly, everything was okay in the world again.

Fear drains instantly from Sanji as he steps towards you, hands still trembling, but his body craving its solace with you. His voice is lost, but you are overwhelmed with the joy of seeing your boyfriend safe, strong, and there.

"Sanji!!"

Your smile is brighter than it has ever been, and Sanji feels like he truly is lost in heaven when you rush to him faster than he can take a breath, and tackle him into a sure embrace. He falters on his feet just once, before he catches himself and catches you. He feels your soft skin and the warmth you emit in waves, he can smell your sweet scent, and he feels his heart come undone. All that time alone, untethered to you and the crew, was worth it to be here again.

"I missed you, love"

Sanji's voice is quiet against your skin and full of emotion that makes tears catch at your lower lashes. You pull apart briefly, though Sanji doesn't let you go too far, too scared this was just another dream, too scared you would run off to where he can't find you again. You watch as tears gather in his eyes too, and you let out a soft laugh and caress the curve of his cheek. He leans eagerly into the palm of your hand, face flushed and eyes swimming in adoration of you.

"I missed you, too, Sanji"

"You're so beautiful"

"Hmm, and you look so handsome, my love"

There is a moment of silence where you gather your excitement and simply look at the other and cherish the other, and then you move, and your lips are on his, and he threatens to implode. You are warm, so warm, and gentle and soft. Sanji is lost in you. Those that pass by remain ignorant of the turmoil the two of you faced in the months spent apart, not knowing who was safe, or injured or alive. And you feel the depths of his emotion ignite when his mind comes together and he returns the kiss.

When the two of you pull apart, Sanji takes your hand in his. No extreme nosebleed that threatens to kill him, no limbs that give way and threaten to pull him to the ground. Just security, comfort and love and you. Both of you travel in the direction of the Sunny, too caught up in each other to spare anyone else a second of the time spent now reunited.

- Zoro -

The silence was new, unusual, unbearable...

When once laughter could be heard from the next room, and company sought him even as he sat in solace, now there is nothing. Dracule Mihawk's castle was cold and silent. The only source of conversation would come from Perona, who would merely appear to annoy him, trying to find a cure to her own boredom. There was no gentle lull of the sea beneath his feet, no company to live by or protect, no adventure, no light, no joy.

No crew.

Zoro didn't realise how accustomed he had become to the general life of those he had grown to call friends. How much Luffy's shouting could fill the void in between, how much the sound of conversation between Robin and Nami brought an ease to the atmosphere, how much Ussop and Chopper's shenanigans filled him with silent comfort.

How much he had grown to need it all.

Zoro knew he was in the depths when he found himself even missing dinner, warm and cooked by a chef he would often berate, served among rowdy friends and you. Each night, Zoro finds himself clawing at the hole in his chest, searching through the cold sheets for your warmth and soft skin. But he never found you. His days are filled with headaches and cold sweat, like his body had an actual aversion to not being by your side. But there was no cure for the absence of you.

He didn't know what happened when he found himself on Kuraigana island, the home to the man he was destined to exceed. He didn't know if you were hurt, how far you were, if you were lost like he felt he was... if you were dead. All he knew was you had to be alive, and he had to trust in his Captain's message. All he knew was there were no answers to be had here, in the cold, bare island he was resigned to for two years. All he knew was he could not find you without clues and the skill to take him across the sea.

He could not protect you.

So every day, he drowned himself in the violent swing of his swords, in the honing of physical strength. Silent meals were eaten before he slept on silent nights. There were no whispers as you gushed about the events of the day in his bed. There was no latching onto arms as you spoke into the night with his hums and caresses, a sign he listened. No kisses greeted him after a day of hard work, no worried voice interrupted his training sessions, asking him to take a break, to not push too hard. No excited greetings ignited his dull heart, no smile that filled him with warmth, and softness and ease.

Soon, Zoro forgot what gentleness felt like.

He forgot what comfort felt like.

He forgot what warmth felt like.

All he knew was the same rhythm every day for two years. The same morning sun, cold in its greeting. The same day spent fighting ridiculously overpowered baboons, relentlessly training his haki with a silently demanding teacher, just trying to survive through it all. The same night he dreaded, nursing new injuries, wondering why wetness would form in his eyes, wondering why tightness gathered at his chest. Wondering why he couldn't sleep like he used to, before Luffy, before the crew, before you.

God, he missed you.

Zoro felt like he was stronger than he had ever been, and yet he feels like the shell of the man he once was. Despite loosing an eye, and burdening himself with training that was sure to pull him apart, he found no pain harder to bear than the lack of you. He felt weak in your absence, berated himself for the lack of peaceful sleep he had and the lack of his mind at ease. He wondered if you felt the same. He wondered if this is what love was supposed to feel like.

He wondered if you knew how much he needed you now.

.....

When you walked up to Shakky’s bar, nostalgic after two years without seeing the same sight, you had expected the lack of your crewmates. You were a few days early, after all. But when she greeted you, she looked at you knowingly, and you didn’t think you could keep your jaw off the floor when she told you that someone had already arrived.

That someone?

Roronoa Zoro.

The two years spent apart had been full of training until your limbs gave out, honing power until you collapsed, and worrying endlessly about the fate of your crewmates and your Captain, and your boyfriend. When you were whisked away to your island, it was after you saw Zoro disappear from the face of the planet by Kuma, worse for wear and bearing injuries, you agonised over his fate. But now, hearing he is here and hearing he is the first to arrive, you cannot simply wait for him to find you. And so, you travel amongst Sabody for the first time in two years, hoping to catch a glimpse of a wandering swordsman and see if he truly had gotten better at navigation or if his early presence was merely a fluke.

The streets of Sabody are busy, and even a bed of green hair was hard to find, but Zoro couldn't even find the Sunny. He cursed as he looked left and right, annoyance gathering in his system as everything looked the same to him and directions were damned. Nevertheless, he travels the space in between, unwilling to acknowledge that it is fear that mingles beneath his subtle excitement.

He would see his crew again, his Captain, he pledged to serve.

He would see you again.

He wondered if things would be as they always were, but two years apart felt like eons when not tethered to you. He wonders what changed about you and what stays the same. Would you still smile at his stubbornness as you used to? Would you still gently caress his scarred face as he slept? Would you look to him with loyalty and devotion as you always did? The thoughts that mingle overtake Zoro's senses as he scolds himself for the doubt that gathers despite his loyalty and his belief in you.

You would be strong, you would be safe, you would love him as you always did.

Reassurances tried to drown his doubts, and they worked for a moment, until his sharp eye caught a glimpse of [h/c] hair and [e/c] eyes, and something in Zoro broke and caught life all at the same time. And you saw him, and you smiled at his wandering state, and you knew that was the man you missed for so long.

"Zoro!!"

Zoro doesn't get a chance to catch a breath or take in your form or relish in your beauty until you've run to him so quickly that he stumbles when you gather at his chest. However, when he looks down and catches your eyes and the way you grin wide and full of love, he finds himself finally relaxing beneath your touch. Finally, the tension he didn't even know had gathered in the two years apart came undone, and he feels your softness, your gentleness, your joy.

"Wait, what happened to your eye?!"

Zoro panics when he sees your bright smile waver and a frown gather on your face. Your joy soon turns to worry as hands reach out to the scar that travels to his left cheek, and your brows furrow in upset. Heart hammering at your gentle touch, face flushing at the glimmer in your eyes, and your concentration, he tries to calm his racing heart, untrained after too long without you. A calloused hand reaches out, catching the one that caresses his face.

"You worry too much"

His words are low, heat gathering at your own face when you look up and see him looking at you, with a softness and a care he hadn't encompassed in two years. God, he missed you. Missed the sensation of comfort you elicit just by being there. And despite never being one for words, and even in the crowded street, Zoro pulls you back into an embrace that has you surprised.

"I missed you"

His words catch an edge of emotion, and you smile against his chest, safe, warm and together again.

"I missed you, too, Zoro"

Pulling apart only to catch your lips in a brief, blissful kiss, your heart feels so full as you relent to his being and to his love. And in that moment, Zoro knows, and he pledges to himself that you were the woman he won't let go of, never again. Never again did he want to feel the uncertainty of your fate, eons apart. Never did he want to forget your comfort, and your gentleness and your love.

[rrivlet]

hi I would really like to hear the story of you getting kicked out of a museum for being a 9/11 fan

Okay, so lets set the stage here. 9/11 happens. I'm pretty young at the time, and I don't remember shit about it.

Several years pass. I don't remember exactly how old I was, but I wasn't even 10 yet. I develop an absurd obsession with Aviation Disasters. I watch a lot of Seconds from Disaster about this, eventually learning that Human Error is my least favorite cause of incidents because nothing funny happened to the plane.

However.

I learn about 9/11 in school and my first thought is "this is fuckin rad" because there was a big aviation disaster. I love that shit. I learn that this happened because it was deliberate. I then discard this information because it's no longer necessary. Queue the start of my 9/11 Simulation Era.

I use everything. Boxes, cans, whatever is stackable. A few times, I make a cardboard airplane. My parents are none the wiser because they just think I love airplanes (which is true, but only part of it). This goes on for some time.

Now, the museum I mentioned in those tags was called the "Imaginarium" or something like that. Childrens interactive museum. Lotsa fun stuff, and my family took me there often. One of the things they have here (which is, of course, my favorite exhibit) is a flight simulator cabinet.

One day, my obaachan takes me to the Imaginarium. I take my time, perusing through all the exhibits, making the big bubble, playing with the air cannon, all that jazz. All the while, I'm SUPER excited to get to the end, where the flight sim is.

The flight sim is running some version of microsoft flight simulator and is locked on a cesna of some sort. It has fully functioning foot pedals, throttle, and flight control. I eat this shit up every time for as long as whoever is taking me will let me. You probably already know the shape of this.

The space they have you fly over is like, a small city with surrounding countryside. As luck would have it, the city has two buildings of remarkably similar height next to each other. Sure, I'm piloting a cesna and not a passenger liner, but I don't care. I'm in the moment, I'm fucking crazed out of my tiny child MIND about 9/11, and I can do ANOTHER simulation. In my head, I'm the second plane. I get close enough to the ground (having played the simulator a lot, certainly enough to be familiar with the controls), and I set course, full throttle, for the Second Tower.

As I collide (and the plane bounces around because the game doesn't do exploding planes for some reason lol), I say aloud, and very audibly, "Oh my god, they hit the second tower." Or something to that effect.

It's maybe been 5 or so years since 9/11, so while it's not 100% fresh in peoples memories, it's near the surface of a lot of people's minds. The attendant at the counter not far from where I'm sitting looks at me after I say this, makes a 100% correct read on what I'm fucking doing and what's going on, looks at my obaachan and tells her in no uncertain terms that we need to leave and that "this disrespect cannot be tolerated here."

I don't go to that museum again for many many years, and when I do finally return (for a field trip or something), the flight sim is gone.

But it's okay because I pestered a great many of my caretakers (including my foster parent at one point) with my 9/11 sims, and I'd do it again in a fuckin caffeinated heartbeat.

[cowgirlgirl2002]

Women generally have stronger immune systems, can see more colors than men, live longer, are more flexible, and have better endurance/stamina for long bouts of running and swimming, females generally float more easily than males, and women's bodies are uniquely equipped to excel in long-distance swimming than men’s bodies

Women generally have a higher percentage of body fat compared to men, which can provide better buoyancy and stability in water.

Women's body shape tends to be leaner, more petite, and have bone structure that supports longer distance running, walking and swimming etc.

Women naturally have a higher body fat, and body fat is vital in cold weather survival. Women are built for survival, long distance and endurance

According to research, women generally tend to learn languages faster than men due to differences in brain processing, where women often utilize both hemispheres of the brain when processing language, leading to a potential advantage in language acquisition;

Women/girls are often thought to be more adept at learning new languages than men/boys. This is because women tend to have better verbal skills, better memory, and better multitasking abilities.

women are generally considered more likely to survive traumatic injuries compared to men, with the primary explanation being the protective effects of female sex hormones like estrogen, which can help with the body's response to shock and trauma.

[creatingblackcharacters]

“On Human Dignity.”  Blackness, Gender & Sexuality

Two things:

As usual, there’s historical and social context that I need explain! This lesson is not what sexuality is, or ‘how to write being gay while Black’. That’s… not that different from you. What this lesson is, is context on how Blackness plays a role in our presentation and understanding of gender and sexuality (as well as your perception of it), and how that’s something you should consider in your characterization, writing, and character design.

I DO NOT KNOW EVERYTHING! The reason this took so long was because I read multiple books and wallowed in my remaining lack of understanding. I cannot join The Tumblr Discourse so do not ask. I tried to be as inclusive as I could, but I learn something new on this app every day, so if I miss something- and I’m bound to- I apologize in advance. Please have grace with me.

TW: Sexual assault mention, homophobia, misogynoir, cannibalism, misgendering

“That’s that White People Shit"

I’m putting the hardest part first; walk with me, you’ll be fine!

I will be honest: this section here, while I do think you should know, I don’t really expect nonblack people to incorporate it in depth. Not because it cannot be done, but because it is a sensitive topic that we ourselves are still struggling with. If you have struggled with anything else while writing Black characters up to this point, this one certainly isn’t for you to touch. Just keep in mind!

There’s an idea I’ve heard before on both sides that Black people are more likely to be homophobic, that queerness itself is white. That is a ridiculous belief, but the root of it ends up right back where you think it would: slavery! I’m sure that you saw me post while I was reading The Delectable Negro by gay Black author Vincent Woodard. I shared those increasingly uncomfortable quotes on purpose! If you have a desire to understand Black culture and Black thought, that means being willing to acknowledge Black pain. How can you avoid stereotypes if you avoid learning their source?  

While I will be using quotes from the entire book, the specific chapter of “Eating Nat Turner” is a succinct explanation of why admitting to the presence of homosexuality, gender fluidity, and queer identity within the Black community is so difficult for my people. While I highly, HIGHLY recommend reading this chapter yourself, it essentially comes down to how admitting to such a potential vulnerability in the armor of Blackness, in gender identity and particularly Black masculinity, would allow white supremacy to destroy us as a people, to do validate doing even more cruel things to us when in a position of power over us. It’s a defensive reaction based in trauma that disregards and discards the queer members of our own community as a threat, a liability when it comes to fighting against the ubiquitous presence of white supremacy.

“Intuitively, Black gay men understood the issue of homosexuality during slavery as a complex phenomenon shaped by a number of factors, including the nation’s unresolved relationship to the legacy of slavery, Black liberatory ideology dating back to slavery, and, most importantly, the maintenance of traditional notions of family and community that originated in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. The legacy and memory of slavery had a powerful effect that left many Black gay men feeling isolated from and rendered invisible within Black communities.

Joseph Beam said it first and best: “I cannot go home as who I am. . . . When I speak of home, I mean not only the familial constellation from which I grew, but the entire Black community: the Black press, the Black church, Black academicians, the Black literati, and the Black left… I am most often rendered invisible, perceived as a threat to the family, or am tolerated if I am silent and inconspicuous.” … As Philip Brian Harper has noted, the Black homosexual functioned in the twentieth century as an index for Black masculine anxieties. These ranged from the very personal and painful anxieties of lynching, castration, and the denial of civil rights to a larger set of anxieties rooted in historical erasure and cultural genocide.”

“Sex and gender they also conflated with homosexuality, made out to equal effeminacy. Many Blacks linked homosexuality to castration and the recent history of Black men who had been lynched and Black women who had been raped in the Jim Crow South and in the North. Homosexuality, in its metaphoric power, had an exhaustive function: It is equated with the absence of family, hatred of Black people, estrangement from one’s kin and culture, and all of those horrific aspects of Black experience about which Black people would rather not speak.”

An example of why nonblack people should consider the depth of such a topic- and their place to do so- before incorporating it into their story comes in the form of Styron’s Confessions of Nat Turner, and the backlash he faced from the Black community for such a sensationalized story from a white author.

“The ten Black male contributors [who wrote Ten Black Writers Respond] coupled cannibalism (overtly and covertly) with homoeroticism and effeminacy. For these Black men, homoeroticism became a way of circumventing and projecting their experiences and pain onto certain “effeminate” Black men: the consumed Black man these Black men equated with the homosexual man. Homosexuality served as a means of containing certain unwieldy and historically difficult topics pertaining to Black masculinity, such as the need for intimacy, gender variance, sexual and emotional vulnerability, and violation. It was as if, in this very powerful and discursive moment, threads that had been all along winding through history wove together in a manner that illuminated the past as much as they clouded and blocked full access to its complicated meaning.”

“On the surface, at least, I do not disagree with these Black men and women. I think their analysis regarding historicity and the diminishment of Black communal ties was mostly correct. Styron’s novel was historically inaccurate, depicting Turner as raised by whites rather than the Black parents and grandmother Turner spoke about in his original “Confessions.” Styron depicts aspects of Turner’s sexual life that are not validated in any documentation coming from the time period, and Styron’s exhaustive probing into the racial hatred and self-hatred of Turner clearly reflected something in his own psyche and white identity that he felt compelled to project onto Turner. Black men were put on the defensive by both the novel and by the institutions (literary production, the media) and individuals who supported Styron as an authentic interpreter of Black historical experience. Many Black men, like Bennett, felt that Styron was waging a literary war that paralleled the contemporary political and police state war against Black men…”

The problem with this mindset and approach within the community is that, while it attempts to protect our community, it silences both the prosperity and the pain of an entire section of it, as well as shutting down important conversation that needs to be had even by nonqueer members. And it’s doing it all to fight against a force- white supremacy- that is going to commit violence against us regardless! Respectability politics forces many Black people to stay silent, to not speak up on things that may rock the boat- but the boat needs to be rocked! Blaming fellow victims of racism is not going to save us!

“That was the irony of this moment. Black people invoked the cannibal discourse that could have freed up and complicated Black male perspectives on everything from social consumption to homoeroticism only to defend Black masculinity and Black culture. Black men were not interested in, nor capable of dealing with, the complex legacy of cannibalism and homoeroticism that so powerfully shaped their responses to Styron’s novel.”

But that does NOT mean that it’s a nonblack person’s place to make that argument! While I cannot stop you, I do want you to keep in mind that- as always with sensitive topics- you may have to face Black people who may rightfully be offended by your depiction if not done with care. Styron studied James Baldwin himself- who faced backlash on his end for saying that it was time for the Black community to face such a conversation- and even then, he still projected his white pathology and opinions onto the story of such a prolific hero in our history. Tread lightly!

“Well they don’t seem gay to me.”- A Eurocentric Standard of Passing

How many times have you heard this about a Black character? And if you’re Black and LGBTQ, how often have you heard it about people (or maybe even yourself?) How do we ‘not seem gay’? What is gay supposed to be? There’s this denial, almost, of Black LGBTQ folks, based in a complete disconnect of understanding of our own forms of gender expression and sexuality.

It’s extremely bizarre, because so much of pop gay culture as we know it is from Black LGBTQs (please refer to my infamous AAVE lesson), but… when we imagine an LGBTQ person, they're white.

If you’re Black and queer, you have to be this stereotypical, flamboyant RuPaul-esque figure. Can’t be regular degular. If you’re gay, you gotta be Uber Gay™. If you’re trans, you better pass with Complete Gender and Pizzazz. If you’re nonbinary, you’re not ‘androgynous’ enough. If you’re intersex or asexual, you’re practically not real. If you don’t fill this (white, western) mold, you must not be right. When all you have to be in order to be gay… Is be gay.

I shouldn’t have to put on extra performance to qualify as queer in your eyes! Do you know what looks are considered “androgynous” in my community? What behaviors are deemed “masculine” versus “feminine”? Do you know anything about my queer culture, or are you subconsciously comparing it to your own?

I want you to recognize that whatever image of queerness you have in your mind for your favorite or original characters, if Black people of all shapes and sizes aren’t included, there’s a problem! Because what are you seeing in others, that you’re not seeing in us? Is that, perhaps, a you problem? And why are we not worth the added effort of queer layering that others are?

THAT SAID!

“Oh I know what that’s like, I’m gay-”

This one mostly- if not always- comes from white queer folk. I’ve linked The Last Interview with James Baldwin. It’s so short. PLEASE take the time to read it. I’ve always adored how James Baldwin expresses himself, and while I could never stand so close, I have studied how he conveys his thoughts. But there’s almost nothing I could say that he doesn’t say better.

“A Black gay person who is a sexual conundrum to society is already, long before the question of sexuality comes into it, menaced and marked because he’s Black or she’s Black. The sexual question comes after the question of color; it’s simply one more aspect of the danger in which all Black people live. I think white gay people feel cheated because they were born, in principle, into a society in which they were supposed to be safe. The anomaly of their sexuality puts them in danger, unexpectedly. Their reaction seems to me in direct proportion to the sense of feeling cheated of the advantages which accrue to white people in a white society.”

The idea that “I know what it’s like to experience this oppression as a Black person because I’m gay” is not true. It’s like saying “oh look at my tan, I’m as Black as you now”. Stop it. Think back to that first section on history we discussed- no, you and I are not the same. We can discuss our existing connections, our intersection and have sympathy and empathy with one another on human dignity. We don’t have to act like we’re the same to do that! So don’t go headstrong into your writing (or life) saying “oh I get that completely, it’s because I’m queer”. There are more tactful ways to express your intent of solidarity.

'Queer' vs 'The N Word'

We’re gonna nip this one in the bud, because we’re leaving that argument in 2024. You know the one- “saying queer is like using the N-word- as a reclamation/slur!” What this argument reveals, used by EITHER SIDE, is how y’all don’t actually have community with Black people.

It implies that either “we don’t like it” or “we do”. Yet another binary that does not exist! There are plenty of Black people that despise that word, regardless of context. That think it brings us down. And then there are those that use it as a reclamation of an identity that was used to demean and dehumanize. Either way, one party is not going to walk up to a stranger and force it on them- that would cause an actual fight! It’s not improving your argument. As a whole, I would say stop using Black politics in general to improve your arguments when you are unaware of the overlap, or maybe the lack thereof, between Blackness and queerness in your argument. It shows. I’m not your tool; I’m not your Negro!

I’m not here to tell anyone whether queer is a slur or not. I don’t use it as one, but I recognize when people are uncomfortable, when it is being used as one, and I will use different language when I am speaking directly to someone who says “I do not like that word, describe me as __”. I am just here to say that we’re leaving that argument behind.

Black =/= Gender

Blackness and the concept of Gender have a fraught, confusing history. Not human enough to have rights, but human just enough to fail to meet Eurocentric standards of gender.

One example of this is the term “stud”. Studs are an example of Black women traversing gender presentation, the origin of which is because Black people are perceived as having “lesser sexual dimorphism”- i.e. you can’t tell who’s a woman or not. It’s an in-community joke that doesn’t make sense spoken outside of its historical context (thus, no, your white butch is NOT a stud within this context).

Another example: Megan Thee Stallion is one of the most stunning, feminine women I have ever seen… And her entire career, people have called her a man. Because she’s brown-skinned, Black, confident, loud, and openly sexual, she’s deemed manly. I can’t stand it. Plus her height- and mind you, Taylor Swift, of the same height and probably a higher number of bodies over the years, has never once been called a man or lost any of her “feminine” charm despite it. Why is that? If one of her men had shot in the foot, trying to kill her, there would be an uproar. Why is that?

There is an internal contradiction that being a Black woman is being inherently “gender nonconforming”. The first reason is that I will never be allowed to truly be a “woman” because to be a woman is to be white while doing it. White Tears, Brown Scars by Ruby Hamad is an excellent book on this dynamic in all women of color, and Black activists like Angela Davis and Kimberle Crenshaw have written and discussed the topic as well.

The second reason is I have to play the role of whatever ‘gender’ is expected to get me through this life. I have to be more ‘masculine’; strong, assertive, and proactive, a hard worker willing to sacrifice it all every day, in order to protect my family and myself in a world where a lack of resilience might kill me. I cannot allow weakness to stop me from taking care of my community, because Black women are supposed to show up and save the day. Find a Black woman! they say. She’ll fix it! And odds are, I do know how to fix it because I’ve probably had to address it before.

But then I’m acting ‘out of a woman’s place’ by being so ‘hard’ and expecting people to listen to my authority. So in order to play a Black woman’s place, I have to balance that with… Somehow not intimidating people by being more ‘feminine’, submissive, vulnerable, sweet and motherly (because if I’m not a good breeder and mother, I am a bad woman). I scare people if I don’t. If I don’t do that, then I’m not a good Black woman. But if I don’t harden myself and be strong and assertive to protect everyone, and tough through everyone’s problems with infinite sacrifice, then I’m not a good Black woman… You see how the cycle gets confusing! (The Delectable Negro and Black on Both Sides also speak on this, and how this is rooted in the creation of the Mammy!)

I spoke about it earlier, but that same inability to be defined as a human, defined as white, haunts many Black men in their goals to be seen as ‘equal’ to white men and receive equal treatment. By seeking to fit a standard of whiteness, they are never going to attain it (and often, that comes back home in not-so-good way)! E.g.: this is the original issue that Louis had in AMCs' IWTV- Louis never actually wanted to be a vampire, Louis wanted to be treated like an equivalent human- and that was unattainable to him not because he wasn’t a human being, but because he wasn’t a white one!

The Racist Counterproductivity of TERFs

Sigh. If you are of this belief, but here to better your writing, I feel like I should say this to you. I want you to listen to me. (TBH, I’m going to delete anything asking me for opinions on this because I don’t want to potentially entertain even a singular troll). Besides, my argument is pretty simple and resolute.

The gender binary is rooted in bioessentialism, and bioessentialism is rooted in white supremacy. You know what else benefits from white supremacy? The white patriarchy.

How are we gonna escape from the patriarchy and white supremacy… if the ideology you believe in… is rooted in white supremacy and patriarchy?

And it’s not just the TERFs- look within yourselves as well! How are we going to make the world safer for trans people, including white ones, if you aren’t willing to confront your own racist biases? If you are unwilling to release the shackles of gender essentialism and the benefits of whiteness, none of us are getting out of here. You are reinforcing the very walls you wish to dismantle!

To offer another side of the conversation, Black On Both Sides by C Riley Snorton has been an interesting read! Essentially, the conversation is on how Blackness and transness intersect, how being Black in and of itself can be and is a transitional, gender fluid experience. It, along with The Mismeasure of Man by Stephen Jay Gould and Medical Apartheid by Harriet A Washington, goes into the history of how the Black body was seen as a different species altogether, and how phrenology, biological essentialism, and examples of sexual dimorphism were treated as an example on how we are an inferior group. Yet, this lack of understanding of our bodies (despite the constant access to it) allowed for us to maneuver within such a system.

An example, of how Blackness has an effect on our perception of gender:

"Cobb suggests that this blackening may have been an anticipatory gesture; when James Norcom (Jacobs’s enslaver) published a description of her in the 1835 issue of the American Beacon, he presumed that she would be “seeking whiteness and dressing as a free woman, not accentuating her Blackness” and finding a “cross-dressing” and ungendered mode for escape. Although the description of sartorial arrangements seems to conform to passing’s logic of movement for protection or privilege, Jacobs’s use of charcoal to darken her complexion tropes—by inverse logic—on more commonly held beliefs (and fears) about racial passing.

As “passing” became a term to describe performing something one is not, it trafficked a way of thinking about identity not only in terms of real versus artificial but also, and perhaps always, as proximal and performative. Like a vertical line with arrows on either end, passing is figuratively represented by moving up or down hierarchized identificatory formations. This articulation of vertical identity also coordinates with forms of binary thinking, typified, for example, by the language of “the opposite” sex. …Brent/Jacobs’s blackened blackness gives expression to her condition as fungible within the logic of U.S. slavery, in which the system of colorism, as Nicole Fleetwood has argued, “produces a performing subject whose function is to enact difference . . . an act that is fundamentally about assigning value.”

As it relates to the scene of Jacobs’s brushing past Sands, her status as “it” also indicates how blackness-as-fungible engenders forms of nonrecognition, as Jacobs’s performance elucidates how blackness and going blacker become an embrace of the conditions that might allow one to pass one’s friends and lovers undetected. In this encounter, fungibility sets the stage for gendered maneuvers on a terrain constituted by modes of viewing blackness, in which Jacobs’s blackness and going blacker color her gender as well as her face."

The Black Trans/Nonbinary/Genderqueer Experience

Rather than try to summarize opinions on something I had not lived, I wanted to platform some Black trans, intersex, and genderqueer opinions for you all to consider! I asked three questions, and I’ve typed out the responses and placed them as their own post for the sake of space. I don’t care if it’s long- read them! You want to write these characters; you should hear the perspectives of the people you wish to write about!

The Black Intersex Experience

Nothing I could say that someone that is actually Black and intersex couldn’t say better!

Here is a page on Tumblr that compiles resources on the intersex community and its history that I found; while it’s not Black-specific, I have seen the page post topics related to.

The Black Aspec Experience

An interesting thing about identifying as asexual or aromantic while Black is that from all angles, people will simply not believe you because Blackness itself has been sexualized. I talked about this in my lessons on stereotypes, but one of the ways that the sexual assault and violation of Black bodies was dismissed, was to emphasize that not only were we incapable of being r*ped, but that we were naturally inclined to being hypersexual beings and that if we weren’t controlled, we would bring it onto ourselves. Black women were jezebels; Black men were mandigos, vicious savages that would assault pure white women if not chained like beasts.

Here is a page for Black people (!!!) with these identities to gather. Again, BLACK PEOPLE with these identities. Here's another!

The Bit You Actually Showed Up For

So! Given all that historical and social context: really, it’s just about application! You have to ask yourself certain things to catch when you’re about to dip into a bias or stereotype while you’re writing.

Black Queer Joy- A Conclusion

I know I’ve shared a lot of history here, and it’s not been the happiest stuff. THAT BEING SAID!

I must personally say- I am honored to be Black and bisexual. There’s nothing else I’d rather be. I am so happy to be who I am. It’s hard as hell living at the intersection, but the intersection is lit! There’s so much love, history, culture, creation, and so much power here; I’m standing on the shoulders of cultural GIANTS and my chest is full, my chin is high with pride. I love it here!

Being Black and queer itself is not a miserable experience! Your characters should feel joy, because we feel joy! There’s so much that we have to offer the world, it’s practically blossoming from us. I don’t want anyone to walk away from this going “let me go pity the next one I see and tell them how hard their life is”. We don’t need you to feel sorry, we need you to have solidarity! Either show up and do the work, or leave us alone. You can’t join the party at the intersection and then flee when it’s time to fight for it!

Listen to Black queer people in your spaces- dear god, it never fails how conversations of queerness and gender and feminism will leave Blackness completely out, and then be shocked when none of us want to show up. Like I said before- you will never dismantle the walls barring you from your own freedom until you address ours.

Support Black queer creatives, content, perspectives, and people- when you tag on that “support Black trans women” bit at the end of your posts, don’t just speak lightly- understand what that means, and stand on it! Because it’s the thought that counts, but the action that delivers!