what I was talking abt earlier. we have fully looped back around and away from feminism, societally, whereas before it was very Feminism 101 to acknowledge that many parts of existing as a woman in a misogynistic society are painful and upsetting.
not that being a woman is Inherently Negative in a bubble. but that living on this earth, in the conditions we're living in, is hostile to women.
and that gender is a performance. that many of the Staples Of Femininity as accepted by society are things that you have to create and perform and mold artificially and aren't inherent, that COMPLAINING about day to day difficulties of existing as a woman is something that you're allowed to do.
acknowledging these basic, again, feminism 101 things, that something tied to womanhood is more time consuming or more expensive or more dangerous Because Of The Problems. does not CREATE the problems. that when women complain about having to perform femininity, they are not, in fact, oppressing themselves. the call does not come from inside the fucking house.
saying that you HAVE suffered does not fucking equate that you believe you SHOULD have suffered.
like I could talk about this for hours. how braindead and one-dimensional the Takes are getting. "being a woman is looking in the mirror and going fuck yeah i'm a woman" damn. I guess any negative experiences you have by living in a misogynistic world... are your fault if you are anything but positive?
"you don't actually want liberation" we've fully gone back to telling feminists "you WANT to be oppressed" when anything negative about our society is pointed out. it's not real until I say it out loud, I guess, and then I'm actually the one who caused it.
if anybody expresses any unhappiness with how they're treated or the status quo or the language and culture surrounding womanhood and femininity. they've created it, right that second. they invented it just now. it wasn't a problem before somebody complained, right?
also trans women aren't braindead zombies who just follow the flow of whatever cis women around them say. I am pretty fucking sure they are very much aware of pain, and are MORE than aware of the swirling torrent of misogyny and standards of femininity than anybody else. actually. and I am pretty sure someone complaining on tumblr that being a woman means always putting on a performance is going to make someone change their mind about transitioning. also "performing femininity" as a necessity to being treated well as a woman is not fucking NEWS to your Local Trans Woman. I AM PRETTY SURE SHE GETS THE CONCEPT. using trans women as a scapegoat for this braindead perspective on gender politics is spineless, meritless, and pathetic.
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was on the verge of waking up and randomly dreaming of a fight scene where the ones who fought kind of just clung to each other once the fight was over and it was safe again, hugging each other and stroking each other's back and hair, and i immediately thought of the vongola tenth gen.
i thought of tsuna who, once the dust settles and the danger passes, before they've even really caught their breaths or they can move/go back to a safer place, or maybe on their way there, as long as none of them are hurt too badly for that to take precedence over everything else, walks from guardian to guardian and just, like. reaches out.
he clasps gokudera's hands in his each in turn, gently, softly, with room for him to pull them out if he wants to, but holding onto them as long as he doesn't, waiting for gokudera to let go of the tension in them, for that slight restlessness that makes the tip of his fingers twitch to go away, waiting for gokudera to realize he won't need to reach for anymore dynamites to keep them safe for the time being. he massages his hands gently from his wrists to the tip of his fingers, rubbing at the back of his hands and at his joints along his fingers each in turn, blowing over the reddened and burnt spots on his skin, new and old ones alike, brushing his lips against them in a feather-light touch.
he reaches for hibari's hands too, palms bruised from how unyieldingly he held onto his tonfas until he came out on top no matter what came his way. tsuna holds his hands in his, his palms turned upwards, and runs his thumbs over stiff, roughened up skin, over callouses made raw again. it's not a massage, his touch light, barely there, only meaning it to soothe and not wanting to overwhelm him with it. he strokes his thumbs over his palms for as long as hibari lets him, careful not to hurt, hoping it takes some of the ache away and will make it go away faster altogether.
yamamoto gets a hug. tsuna wraps his arms around his back, bringing him close as he leans flush against him, tucking his head under his chin. yamamoto always hugs him back right away, but he always needs a moment to let himself relax into it. tsuna waits patiently, rocking them slightly from side to side, snuggling closer the more tension bleeds away from his body, holding him tighter as yamamoto's arms around him turn lighter. tsuna keeps hugging him until he melts into the hug, burying his face in his hair, exhaling a slow, deep breath that steadies them both.
lambo gets a hug too. tsuna holds him close, sitting down to curl protectively around him, hiding him from sight, keeping him hidden and safe from the world. he's mischievous with his hug, letting one hand wander to poke at his sides, strokes at his nape or just behind his ears, wanting to make him laugh. he grins in his hair when lambo lets out his first giggle, relief coursing through him, both of them laughing when he starts to wiggle, pretending he wants to get away but clutching tightly at his shirt, his hands shaking. he whines and complains and orders tsuna to stop and let go of him, and laughs all the while, because it's okay now for him to do that. tsuna-nii's safe, bakadera and everyone else is too, and he even helped make it happen! and it was terrifying, but it's over now. he's safe too, tsuna-nii will keep him safe, and the louder and livelier he gets, the more everyone smiles and laughs.
tsuna bumps his fists against ryohei first things first, both of them smiling at each other. he helps him with his bandages when need be and when they have the means for that at hands, removing them and putting on new, clean ones, or as clean as possible. he washes the sweat and blood off of his hands with water, both his opponent's but his too, his knuckles busted and his skin scraped and bruised all over his fingers; or cleans them when he can, apologizing softly whenever ryohei winces and hisses in pain. otherwise he intertwines their fingers together so slowly, so very gently, unwilling to hurt him more, squeezing his hands only as much as ryohei has already squeezed his.
chrome and him link arms together, pressed against each other shoulder against shoulder, leaning their weight against each other. chrome rests her head on his shoulder and tsuna on top of hers, nuzzling his cheek against her hair every time chrome's fingers dig into his skin. they stay like that long enough for their breathing to sync together, shoulders raising and falling at the same time, warm against each other. they're alive, they're alive.
mukuro barely allows him to come within arm's reach the first time. tsuna doesn't push, makes do with that, trailing his eyes over him from afar, trying to assess the damages and asking with his eyes without having to say it out loud if he's okay, and if he'll still be okay if left alone to take care of himself. mukuro lets him come closer a little more each time until tsuna can touch, until he can brush his fingertips against the building headache in his temple, against the throbbing veins of his right eye and the piercing ache that follows every time. until tsuna can brush his fingertips over his eyelid, closing his eye for the briefest of moment, allowing him to surrender to the pain that always comes with using his right eye, and make it more bearable even if only for a split second.
i don't know. something something, what comes after enough blood was spilt? what do you do with the sight of it laying at your feet, staining your hands, dripping from them? how do you reconcile the proof of the violence you're able of with the idea of your hands still being worth doing anything else?
and something something, tsuna, of course, making it a point for the answer to be picking up every piece of chipped kindness, gentleness and love among the blood, and guiding them to find their way home again within themselves.
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