it just sucks because nothing is ever fucking made for you, and if it is made for you like 75% of the time it gets chopped into little pieces by every person alive because this is the one thing you have, so it has to prove itself to you.
like, a thing can't just be for women. men need to assign it to women. women have to experience "must" or "should" before their hobbies and passions - women are allowed to do silly, passive things like tuck our ankles and titter behind a fan, or something. women are allowed to, they are welcomed to. like the world is a house and we are supposed to be in the kitchen and now we are being given the divine right to enter the living room if we bring chips
because when it becomes for you, or about you, that is when the thing is vile. you should/must wear makeup so you can appear beautiful to men. once you wear makeup for yourself, or because you yourself enjoy putting it on, then you are no longer doing the right thing. there is a reason men hate certain fashion trends. there is a reason men hate things like the pumpkin spice latte - because it's not about them. you are buying it because it is good for you. they degrade your passions and interests. there is a reason women-led fields are largely seen as being "not a real" profession. when you are a good cook, that is because you can provide for him. close your eyes. you're not going to be a chef, be honest. that is a man making food for himself.
bras are made so breasts will be appealing to men. they are rarely about comfort or support. you have given up entirely on the idea of pockets. young girls have to worry about a shorter inseam on their shorts. a girl on instagram gets her septum pierced, and men in the comments are rabid about it - i just want to rip it out of her face. she'd be beautiful without it.
and fucking everything is for them. even the media that is "for you" is for them, eventually. remember "my little pony"? remember how hard it is to convince any executive to believe that little girls are worth selling to? in the media that is for you, you see little ways that you still need to make it accessible for them - the man is always powerful, smart, masculine. he is a man's man. the media usually forgives him. it usually says okay, some men are awful, but hey! gotta love 'em. because if you don't hold their hands and say "this is literally just a story about my lived reality", they shit their pants about it. they demand you put them into the media that's for you.
these are people who are so used to glutting themselves on the world. they are used to having every corner and every dollar and every place of leadership. so you say can i please have one slice of cake, just for myself, please, holy shit. and they fucking weep about it. they say you're being unfair, because some of their one-thousand-slices aren't beautiful, and your singular cake slice doesn't have their name on it. and aren't you being rude by not offering to share?
and honestly. fucking - yeah, man. you were kind of surprised, because the cake is a little basic (you bake at home, you're way past this stuff). but holy shit, it was nice just to be offered cake in the first place. you're used to having to starve. you're used to getting nothing, but going to the party anyway, because you're expected (professionally) to show up. you liked that it is a simple cake, and that it is warm, and mostly: you like that there is, for once, a cake-for-you.
in the real world, outside of metaphor, it feels like fucking being slapped. barbie didn't even say anything particularly unusual; it literally just made factually evident points. there are less women in leadership than men. we can look at that fact objectively. that is a real thing that is happening. and the movie is aware that it has to defend itself! that it has to spend like half an hour just turning to the camera and saying: i know this is hard for you to understand, but this is a real thing that women experience.
it's just - this is that one kid on the playground who thinks its allowed to hog all the toys. he builds this hoard that nobody else is allowed to even look at, or he'll get aggressive. everyone's a little scared of him, so they let it slide, because his daddy gave him the golden touch. he hates when people cry and thinks bullying is cool. he writes boys only! on a big sign and makes all his friends take "alpha male" classes.
and then girls pick up barbies, because there was nothing left for them. and in the void they've been given, with their scraps: they make long, spiraling narratives about how barbie is actually descended from snakes and has given her righteous followers magical (if concerning) powers and can speak 32 languages (2 of which are animal related) and has big plans for infrastructure (beginning with the local interstate). and the boy comes over, and he has a huge fit about how the girls aren't "including" him. he wants to know why the girls aren't making the story about ken.
"we didn't like your story." the girls blink at him. they point to his war stories and the gi joes and the millions of male-led narratives and how still in the modern day men get two-thirds of the speaking roles in movies and they point to men making mediocre shows that don't get lambasted and they point to men encouraging toxic masculinity and they point to men everywhere, men and men and men. and they say: "how is this our fault? you had ken."
"no!" he is already back to screaming and stomping his feet and tearing at his hair and intentionally reminding them that men are holding back thinly concealed violence and he says: "if it's not for me, it's actually sexism."
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Whumptober Day 19: Psychological
I’ve been meaning to do something like this to Legend in particular for a while now, I finally had an excuse with today’s prompt (though all of them were a little weird...). I’ve also been getting Legend a lot I realized... oops.
Warnings: not too much. themes of loss/grief, heavy on the hurt/comfort
Read on ao3
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It was the perfect kind of day for lazing around.
Warm and sunny, with a cool breeze that rustled against the palm trees and stopped the sunshine from being too hot. The ocean waves rolling in the background, and the occasional cry of a seagull lending to the sleepy atmosphere.
Legend sighed happily, and rested his head on Marin’s where they were flopped together in the grass.
“You’re being so clingy, Link,” she teased as he nestled in, and he held on a little tighter, making her squeak in surprise.
“I only just got you back, I’m going to enjoy every second,” he said determinedly, and she laughed, the sound musical and warm.
Goddesses he’d missed her.
He’d had a quiet hope during all of the time he’d been traveling through portals with the other heroes that maybe... somehow... he’d find Marin again. They were traveling through time, right? Anything was possible... maybe she was alive and well somewhere.
He hadn’t dared to hope too loud, but then the most recent portal they’d gone through had left them on a beach by the ocean. His only warning had been a shocked gasp before he’d turned around and found himself being hugged by the girl he thought he’d never see again.
Marin.
He sighed in happiness, and he knew Marin was smiling at him, her hair tickling his chin.
“I really missed you,” he admitted quietly, voice still thick from his earlier tears, and Marin hummed, nestling into his arms.
“Me too, Link.”
The shouts of the others as they messed around in the water drifted by on the wind, and Legend closed his eyes, content to stay exactly where he was. He hadn’t felt this relaxed in ages, not since they’d last been able to rest at the ranch, and he was going to enjoy every second of it.
Something flickered in his mind then, and the noise of the others momentarily grew.
Legend opened his eyes, something cold suddenly trickling through his chest, and he sat up, taking his head off of Marin’s.
“Link?” she asked, and Legend looked at her, studying her features. Brown eyes, red hair, freckles dusted across her nose... just like he remembered.
She sat up as well, and he put a hand on her cheek, feeling her skin under his palm, warm from the sunshine. Legend carefully rubbed a thumb under her eye as he looked at her, her eyebrows raised. She looked exactly like he remembered. Exactly the same, but why...
“Link, what’s wrong?” she asked again, and Legend looked at their surroundings, then back at her, trying to focus on her face again.
He couldn’t quite do it.
The cold feeling grew, settling deep into his chest, and the world faded around the edges, just a bit. Dread began to overtake him, and Legend took Marin’s hands in his, feeling at her skin with shaking fingers.
She felt real. She felt real and looked real and sounded real, and earlier when she’d suddenly kissed him she’d tasted real, but—
But—
“This is a dream,” he choked out, and Marin looked at him, her brown eyes brimming with sadness.
“It is,” she said quietly.
Legend held on to her still, almost desperately, but the world was fading the more he tried to cling to it, the ocean slipping away, Marin’s brown eyes fading the longer he looked at them.
“I’m sorry Link,” she said gently, then disappeared with everything else.
Legend woke up alone.
He opened his eyes, staring dully at the ceiling, and swallowed, closing them again with a shaking sigh. That dream. Again.
His fists clenched as he tried to get his emotions under control and not think about it. Anger and grief and a swirl of all sorts of other awful feelings raced through him without his permission, and he clutched at his blanket, shaking slightly.
He hated that dream. He hated it.
He’d had it multiple times since he’d come on this stupid quest, and every time was worse. Every time he desperately let himself believe that it was real, that they had gone through a portal and he had found Marin, but every single time he woke up.
Legend swallowed thickly, scrubbing his arm over his face, and only feeling more angry when the sleeve got damp. Great. He’d been crying in his sleep.
And the worst thing was, it had been tears of joy.
“Legend?”
He flinched, and wiped his face again before glancing beside him, seeing Wind and Hyrule both awake and looking at him, some of the others stirring.
“Are you okay?” Wind asked in concern, and Legend turned away, his shoulders hitching up.
“Fine,” he choked out, then threw his blanket off and left the room they’d all been sleeping in.
All of them except for Time of course, who was sleeping in his own bed with his red-haired wife who’d probably triggered his stupid dream because he only ever had it when they were here—
Legend forced himself not to stomp down the stairs or slam the door as he went outside, despite how sorely he was tempted. He’d let the others get some sleep at least.
He certainly wasn’t going to get any more.
Legend sat down with an angry huff on the steps of the porch of the farmhouse, his elbows on his knees. Resting his chin on his hands, he glared out at the mostly-darkened fields as his breath shook, lit only by a thin sliver of moon. A cricket was chirping somewhere, and Legend listened to it, struggling to calm down.
He wasn’t going to cry. It had just been a dream. It hadn’t been real, so there was no reason to cry about it.
An owl hooted, and he tensed up, hunching over and burying his head in his hands.
He wasn’t.
The door behind him creaked, and Legend snapped his head up, prepared to send one of the others back upstairs with a sharp word, but the words died in his throat as Malon stepped through the doorway, her red hair almost brown in the shadows.
Great. It was the last person he wanted to see right now.
“Sorry if I woke you,” Legend muttered as Malon crossed the porch over to him, wrapped in a shawl against the chill.
“Oh you didn’t,” she said, looking back at the house. “Wind and Hyrule were whispering right outside my door, and they woke me up.”
Legend huffed out a small laugh, and looked out at the darkened fields again. “Sounds about right.”
“...May I sit?” Malon asked, gesturing to the steps.
Legend shrugged, not looking at her. It wasn’t like he could stop her, they were her steps.
Malon hummed, and settled herself down next to him, Legend relaxing slightly at the distance she left between them. At least she was giving him space.
A bit of her hair caught the moonlight, and Legend swallowed, looking at his feet.
He wasn’t thinking about it. Nope.
“I’m sorry to pry hon, but... I’ve noticed you don’t seem to sleep well when you’re here,” Malon suddenly spoke up, her voice gentle. Legend stiffened. “Is there any way we can make things more comfortable for you? I know it’s stuffy being crammed in that room with seven other boys.”
“No, it’s plenty comfortable,” Legend muttered, not looking at her. “It’s not... it’s not that.”
Malon was silent for a minute, and Legend slightly curled in on himself, wishing he’d taken his blanket with him. It was kind of cold out here, and he hadn’t even put on socks or anything.
A part of him was relieved it wasn’t warm though. It made it easier to keep the memory of his balmy dream away.
“You know, I’ve sat on this porch in the middle of the night many a time,” Malon said softly, looking up at the moon. “When I was a little girl now and then, but mostly right after me and Link were married. He’d try not to wake me, but his adventures left a lot behind. He rarely slept through the night. Still doesn’t, sometimes.”
She breathed in, and let out a deep sigh, looking over at Legend with a sad look in her eyes.
“I hate to think you’ve been through even half as much as him,” she said softly, and Legend hated the sting that started up in his eyes. “And I know a few kind words aren’t going to fix any of that. Especially from me, I know you don’t prefer my company.”
“...What?” Legend startled, and looked at her.
“Well, I assumed you weren’t too fond of me since you always avoid me when you boys end up here,” she said in surprise, and Legend stared at her, then shook his head, just stopping himself from letting out a bitter laugh.
Of course. Of course he’d pushed her away and made her think he hated her.
He was awfully good at that, wasn’t he?
“No, no Malon, you’re not...” he tried to explain, but his voice caught in his throat, a sudden lump making it impossible to speak. He swallowed thickly, and Malon waited patiently for him to finish, remaining silent as he tried to gather himself, not pushing.
Legend swallowed again, and looked over at her.
“You look... like someone I lost,” Legend said thickly, and closed his eyes against the tears gathering in his eyes. “I-I wasn’t trying...”
His voice broke, and he harshly cleared his throat, nearly shaking with the effort not to cry. A hand cautiously settled over his own, and Legend looked down at it, his lip quivering.
He couldn’t cry, he wouldn’t cry, he refused—
“Oh hon, I’m so sorry,” Malon said in a gentle, grieved voice, and Legend couldn’t stop the sob that hiccuped out of him.
Malon immediately scooted closer, and Legend didn’t resist when she gathered him into her arms, shaking as he entirely broke down. It was like a dam had burst, and Legend sobbed into Malon’s arms, equally hating himself for crying and feeling utterly overwhelmed at the emotions that were rushing past his defenses.
He’d only let himself cry for Marin and Koholint once before. But now all the grief and guilt were pouring out, with him unable to stop them one bit, and he choked on another sob, tears pouring down his cheeks.
He hated crying.
Malon held him the whole time while he sobbed, gently rocking him, running a hand through his hair. Her arms were warm and tight, and Legend wondered distantly if his mother would have held him like this if she’d still been alive.
It could have been a couple minutes or an hour later, but Legend’s tears finally slowed, and he sighed, feeling entirely rung out.
Malon ran a hand over his head, and Legend felt heat rise in his cheeks, embarrassment hitting him almost as hard as the sudden surge of emotion had earlier. He’d just spent the last however long it had been crying onto a woman he’d only met a handful of times, and his tear-stained cheeks felt hot.
He quickly raised his head and wiped his eyes, and Malon gave him a gentle smile.
“Better?” she asked, and Legend gave her an awkward nod, sniffling a little. He did feel better, come to think of it.
“Sorry I—” he began to apologize, but Malon stopped him, squeezing his shoulder.
“No trouble at all, hon.”
Legend stared at her, then nodded, ducking his head down. He still felt wrung out and embarrassed, and the ache was still there if he thought too hard about the dream that had woken him, but... he also felt warm.
Like everything would be okay.
...He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt like that.
Legend exhaled, and when Malon tucked her shawl over him, he found himself leaning into it.
Neither of them said anything else, and they sat together on the porch for a long time, Malon occasionally running a hand over Legend’s hair, until the sky began to change from navy to pink, stars winking out.
And after that night, whenever Legend found himself at the ranch, he slept the entire night through.
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