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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emotional support part 3 of physical therapy au
--
It is not exactly a short walk to Dream's flat, but Hob drops him off at his door anyway. Dream can't remember the last time someone did something like that for him. Took so much time just to make him feel safer.
He should just thank Hob and go in, but instead he hesitates in the entryway. He can't deny how it makes him feel, Hob's kindness, and interest in Dream's art, and then him jumping to Dream's defense so viscerally and unapologetically. Hob is... good. Kind. Dream does not know if he deserves it, but for a moment he allows himself to want it.
"You going to be okay?" Hob asks. His eyes are so kind. And Dream wants. It's been so long since he's wanted.
He leans in to kiss Hob and--
--Hob catches him with a hand against his chest.
Dream jumps back, shame coiling hot in his throat. Even when he thinks someone kind might want him, he is still only misreading--
"Dream," Hob says. His expression is still kind, though his smile is a bit pained. "I can tell you're spiraling, love."
That word again. Why would Hob say it if he does not mean it?
"If I am wholly wrong and you do not feel anything then please just say so," Dream sniffs, trying and failing not to feel completely stupid.
"You're not," Hob says--which catches Dream before he can fall completely into the net of melancholy that had begun to entrap him. "I'm just--" he runs a hand through his hair with a self-deprecating laugh, his general self-assuredness slipping for the first time Dream has seen. "I'm trying to be sensible."
Dream doesn't understand. It's true that Dream is not exactly a sensible choice in partner, that's been proven, but--
"It just doesn't look very good does it?" Hob continues. "Chase off your asshole ex only to come onto you at your own home? That's real respectful, isn't it?"
"I came onto you," Dream points out. Hob wants to be respectful of Dream? The bar is currently low when it comes to respecting Dream. Dream thinks he would rather have the kindness than the respect. "And I do not mind."
"Well, that's the problem, isn't it?" Hob says. "Look, believe it or not, and you'll probably believe it, but I've been widely known to be impulsive as hell. But I still don't want to be the guy jumping on you the moment you get out of a bad relationship."
This... had not truly occurred to Dream. "I do not think you will be like him."
Hob takes his hand then, the bad one, the one he's fixed. He does it carefully. "No, I know. But I'd hazard you didn't think he'd be like that before you got together, either."
"I... suppose not." Hob is different, though. He knows it.
"Let's just finish our work with your hand first, yeah?" Hob says, squeezing his hand lightly. He seems genuine. He does not seem like he is just making up reasons to turn Dream down. "I think you need to get back to some normalcy, and then you'll know for sure if you really want this."
"I do want this," Dream says. He does not want to lose touch with that feeling. Of wanting something for himself.
"Then you'll still feel that way later on, hm?"
Dream can't find fault with his argument. Though he can't help but still feel that little curl of shame. Embarrassment.
Hob raises Dream's hand to his lips and kisses his knuckles. Dream's breath catches.
"Goodnight, Dream," Hob says, letting his hand go again. "I'll see you next week."
And with that, and a smile, he leaves Dream standing in his entryway.
Dream presses his hand to his chest. Perhaps Hob is right. Perhaps he is too... fragile... for this right now. He certainly feels fragile. But Hob makes him feel less so. Not more.
But Hob is not the one who ended up in a relationship with someone who reacted to disappointment by smashing his hand with a hammer. So perhaps Dream should heed his relationship advice, and not his own.
He retreats into his empty flat. Shuts the door, locks it, deadbolts it, and shoves a heavy box of unpacked books in front of it for good measure. Then sits on the floor where there should be a couch and takes out his paints. It still hurts his hand to hold the brush for any length of time. But even to this day, it's the only thing that soothes him.
~~
It's just typical that the time Hob really wants someone is the time he decides he needs to be responsible for once in his life. But he just... he needs time. He needs to know that Dream isn't just... fixating on him because Hob's actually treated him nicely when the last person who cared for him didn't. He doesn't want to do this if Dream is just using him as an emotional rebound from a bad relationship. He's become too enamored with him for that. And he's no king of ideal relationships himself, but he doesn't think it's the best time to be starting a relationship when Dream is still carrying the literal scars of the last one.
Damn if he doesn't regret turning him down, though. Just a little.
He hopes Dream doesn't decide to bail on their regular appointment. In fact, since dropping Dream home, he's been so fixated on the possibility that he fucked it all up that he's stress-cleaned his entire flat. Then he bought finger paints to see for himself how well it works as an exercise. All he's really succeeded in doing is proving that Dream is better at art with one and a half hands than Hob is with two, but maybe it'll make Dream feel better.
He brings his attempt at finger painting to their next appointment. And he's so relieved when Dream does show up. He looks a bit more balanced than he had the other day, too. The hurt in his expression when Hob had turned him down had been painful.
"I decided to try out your exercise," Hob tells him. "To prove to you how well you're doing, if nothing else." He shows him the painting.
And Dream bursts out laughing.
"Hey," Hob protests, but can't stop his smile at the joy on Dream's face. "Don't be mean about it or anything."
"What is this meant to be?" Dream asks, taking the painting and studying it.
"It's a landscape."
Dream turns it ninety degrees. Squints. "Ah, yes, I see that now."
"Well now you're just being a dick about it."
Dream only smiles, then puts the painting away in his bag.
"Oh, you're taking it with you, too?"
"You have mine," says Dream, pointing at the painting of cats that's still propped against the wall by Hob's desk. "So I will put yours on my fridge."
"Oh, great," Hob grumbles. But he can't be upset about the smile on Dream's face.
He's glad to see that putting a pause on things hasn't hurt their developing friendship. If anything it seems better. Perhaps Dream's had time to think things over, too.
"But you see, don't you?" Hob says. "Even while you're recovering, your skills are still way better."
"I... see, yes," Dream agrees, ducking his head. "I. I did try painting again. But it hurts."
Because you're probably overdoing it, Hob thinks. "How's your hand feel now?"
"...Sore," Dream admits.
"Can I see?"
Dream gives him his hand, and Hob feels victorious that it's with less hesitance than he had once done. He starts massaging Dream's palm where it feels the most tense, and watches Dream's wary expression--he must have thought Hob was just going to move his hand this way and that and make it hurt--melt into surprise.
"Do you do this with all of your clients, Hob?" he asks, weakly.
"Only the ones I really like," Hob says, and winks. Can't have Dream thinking he's not interested, after all.
Dream blushes, but lets Hob keep playing with his hand. He really does have such gorgeous hands. If Hob ever runs into that ex again he might have to do more than punch him.
"That helping?" Hob asks, and Dream nods, but he's still blushing so it's somewhat unclear in exactly what manner it's helping.
"Good," Hob says anyway. And finds he's truly hopeful that they'll get there. With Dream's dexterity, with... other things.
It's just going to take a bit of time.
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