#race & class-based oppressions

[rebellum]

I feel like... Perhaps... Arguing that transphobia is defined by murder and that anything other than murder doesn't even matter... May NOT be conducive to fighting for trans rights.

Like... people want the right to exist as they are. They want to have access to hrt and surgeries and prosthetics. People want access to clothes that fit them and reflect how they want to be seen. People want access to medical care (eg. Getting screened and treated for sex-based forms of cancer can be impossible if you have the "wrong" sex listed to receive those tests). People want to be respected and treated well. People want to not be sexually assaulted and beaten and abused. People want to have access to housing and jobs, and the protection to not lose those things for being trans. People want access to shelters for homeless people or survivors of domestic abuse. People want name changes.

Acting like all of those things don't matter because at least they weren't murderered by an individual (and instead die of suicide or state violence, or survive and suffer) isn't okay.

[envolvenuances]

as the masculine woman who wasn't allowed to use the girl's bathroom in school and to this day have straight women prefer to stand than sit next to me at the bus or question if it's "appropriate" to have me in school staff teaching teenagers. the only "gaslighting" in this is the pretense that it is either a new phenomena or increasing because of The Trans Question being divisive in current gringo politics. when it's classic lesbophobia that always existed and honestly if you ask me things have been improving. but then I do feel like transphobia itself is a restriction of homo/lesbophobia against the mostly visibly gender non conforming of us.

[coochiequeens]

Recommended Books

This page provides a list of recommended books about prostitution, pornography, the global sex trade, and surrogacy.

Prostitution

Pornography

Surrogacy

By and for men

Sex dolls

Prostitution

ANY GIRL by Mia Döring

“Any Girl is a ferociously honest, intensely tender and utterly unforgettable book that is as thought-provoking as it is timely.”

BODY SHELL GIRL by Rose Hunter

“Body Shell Girl is incredible. It is a captivating and honest account of a woman’s experiences, thoughts, and feelings in the sex trade.” – Cherry Smiley

The Sex Economy by Monica O’Connor

Drawing on extensive research, O’Connor challenges the idea that the sale of women’s bodies as commodities is acceptable and that men have a right to buy sexual acts from another person. She shows that ‘sex work’ is not a lucrative occupation for impoverished women and girls, and  exposes the harm that normalising the sex trade does on women’s lives, gender equality and society as a whole.

Being and Being Bought by Kajsa Ekis Ekman

“This is a riveting analysis of prostitution and surrogacy that shatters the great wall of lies about these two institutions. Brilliantly analyzing the parallels, Kajsa Ekis Ekman wages a multi-pronged attack on sexism and classism that leaves the reader with hope for change.” Melissa Farley, PhD.

See: A brief history of the ‘Sex work is work’ movement

Paid For: My Journey Through Prostitution by Rachel Moran

“The best work by anyone on prostitution ever, Rachel Moran’s Paid For fuses the memoirist’s lived poignancy with the philosopher’s conceptual sophistication. The result is riveting, compelling, incontestable. Impossible to put down. This book provides all anyone needs to know about the reality of prostitution in moving, insightful prose that engages and disposes of every argument ever raised in its favor.” Catharine A. MacKinnon

Last Girl First! Prostitution at the intersection of sex, race & class-based oppressions

A study into how all over the world and throughout history, women and girls from the most discriminated communities are over-represented in prostitution. Poor, Indigenous, migrant, asylum-seeking, displaced women, those from the lowest castes and from ethnic, religious and racial minorities are the first victims of pimps and sex buyer

Pimp State: Sex, money and the future of equality by Kat Banyard

Skilfully weaving together first-hand investigation, interviews and the latest research, Pimp State powerfully argues that sex trade myth-makers will find themselves on the wrong side of history.

Prostitution Narratives: Stories of Survival in the Sex Trade edited by Melinda Tankard Reist and Caroline Norma

This book documents the reality of prostitution through the lived experience of women who have survived it.

Exit! by Grizelda Grootboom

Grizelda Grootboom’s life was dramatically changed when she was gang raped at the age of nine by teenagers in her township. Her story starts there. It is a story about the cycle of poverty, family abandonment, dislocation and survival in the streets of Cape Town. She reveals the seedy and often demonised life of a prostitute and her ultimate escape from it.

Read our review >>

Body for Rent by Anna Hendriks and Olivia Smit

Childhood best friends Anna and Olivia were just 15 years old when they met Ricardo. He was older, charming and good-looking – and Anna and Oliva were easy prey. Manipulated, groomed and abused, within three years he had pimped the girls into the neon-lit windows of Amsterdam’s red light district.

Read our review >>

Shadow’s Law: The True Story of a Swedish Detective Inspector Fighting Prostitution by Simon Häggström

Detective inspector Simon Häggström is head of the Stockholm Police Prostitution Unit. He tells the true stories of the people he meets every day; young girls facing dangers they did not foresee, seven foreign women working and living together in a one bedroom apartment, Lovisa, born into a life of drugs and prostitution, and of course, the men who buy sex.

Not a choice, Not a job by Janice G Raymond

“This book dispels the smoke and mirrors and uncovers the horrific and complex truths of prostitution and the global sex trade. This is a must read for those who want to understand the facts about the harsh realities that so many experience.” Vednita Carter

The Pimping of Prostitution: Abolishing the Sex Work Myth by Julie Bindel

“Bold, brilliant and brave. This is Julie Bindel at her best, demolishing the myths around prostitution and asking us to listen to survivors, the women and men who know the ugly reality first-hand.” Joan Smith

The Nordic Model by Trine Rogg Korsvik and Ane Stø

In this book, feminists activists write about their enduring struggle for the abolition of prostitution. The authors offer valuable insights into the movement’s strategies, as well as its allies and opponents. The book unmasks the pro-prostitution lobby and confronts the myth that the Nordic model is harmful to women in prostitution.

River of Flesh and Other Stories edited by Ruchira Gupta

Twenty-one stories about trafficked and prostituted women by some of India’s most celebrated writers: Amrita Pritam, Bibhutibhushan Bandyopadhyay, Indira Goswami, Ismat Chughtai, J. P. Das, Kamala Das, Kamleshwar, Krishan Chander, Munshi Premchand, Nabendu Ghosh, Qurratulain Hyder, Saadat Hasan Manto and Siddique Alam, among others.

Not for Sale: Feminists resisting prostitution and pornography edited by Christine Stark and Rebecca Whisnant

This collection of essays connect feminist perspectives on the sex industry with radical critiques of racism, poverty, militarism, and unbridled corporate capitalism, and shows how the harms of prostitution and pornography are amplified by modern technologies.

The Natashas: Inside the new global sex trade by Victor Malarek

They’re the third most profitable black market commodity, after illegal weapons and drugs. They are women and girls, some as young as 12. They are sold into prostitution and kept enslaved; those who resist are beaten, raped, and sometimes killed as examples. In many cases, the men who should be rescuing them –from immigration officials to police officers and international peacekeepers – are among their aggressors.

The Johns: Sex for sale and the men who buy it by Victor Malarek

This book dispels the myths that justify prostitution and puts on display the rationales of ordinary johns, their beliefs, their behaviours, and their astounding brotherhood. It also shows us the darker side: the rise of sex tourism, the predators, the role of the Internet. Lambasting the pro-prostitution lobby, he explains why legalising prostitution can lead only to the greater enslavement of women.

The Industrial Vagina by Sheila Jeffreys

“This is an insightful analysis into the globalization and industrialization of the modern sex industry. Sheila Jeffreys makes the connections between prostitution, marriage, pornography, strip clubs, and sex tourism and how they all combine to exploit women who are most harmed. This book opens a window on global sexual exploitation and the institutions that support it.” Janice G. Raymond

The Idea of Prostitution by Sheila Jeffreys

This book investigates the claims of the pro-prostitution movement and the burgeoning sex industry, arguing that the sex of prostitution is not just sex; the work of prostitution is not ordinary work; and prostitution is a choice for the men who abuse rather than for the prostituted women.

See The Idea of Prostitution: Q&A with Sheila Jeffreys and Rose Hunter.

And Life Continues: Sex Trafficking and My Journey to Freedom by Wendy Barnes

Wendy Barnes was introduced to sex trafficking by her first love, the father of her children. And Life Continues is her story: how she became a victim of human trafficking, why she was unable to leave the man who enslaved her for fifteen years, and the obstacles she overcame to heal and rebuild her life after she was rescued.

Pornography

Pornland: How porn has hijacked our sexuality by Gail Dines

“Dines brilliantly exposes porn’s economics, pervasiveness, and impact with scholarship as impeccable as her tone is reasonable. This book will change your life. Ignore it at your peril.” Robin Morgan

He Chose Porn Over Me edited by Melinda Tankard Reist

“Shattering the popular myth that porn is harmless, the personal accounts of 25 brave women in “He Chose Porn over Me” reveal the real-life trauma experienced by women at the hands of their porn-consuming partners – men who were supposed to care for them.”

Read our review >>

Your Brain on Porn by Gary Wilson

“Your Brain on Porn is written in a simple clear language appropriate for expert and layperson alike and is rooted firmly within the principles of neuroscience, behavioural psychology and evolution theory … As an experimental psychologist, I have spent over forty years researching the bases of motivation and I can confirm that Wilson’s analysis fits very well with all that I have found.” Professor Frederick Toates, Open University.

Read our review >>

Big Porn Inc: Exposing the Harms of the Global Porn Industry edited by Abigail Bray and Melinda Tankard Reist

“With contributions from leading world experts and activists, Big Porn Inc offers a cutting edge exposé of the hidden realities of a multi-billion dollar global industry that promotes itself as a fashionable life-style choice.

“Unmasking the lies behind the selling of porn as ‘just a bit of fun’ Big Porn Inc reveals the shocking truths of an industry that trades in violence, crime and degradation. This fearless book will change the way you think about pornography forever.”

Getting Off: Pornography and the End of Masculinity by Robert Jensen

In our culture, porn makes the man. So argues Robert Jensen in Getting Off: Pornography and the End of Masculinity. Jensen’s treatise begins with a simple demand: “Be a man.” It ends with a defiant response: “I chose to struggle to be a human being.” The journey from masculinity to humanity is found in the candid and intelligent exploration of porn’s devastating role in defining masculinity. You can download a free PDF of this book from Robert Jensen’s website.

Surrogacy

Surrogacy: A Human Rights Violation by Renate Klein

A radical feminist introduction to the reality of surrogacy as the commissioning / buying / renting of a woman into whose womb an embryo is inserted and who thus becomes a ‘breeder’ for a third party and how it is being heavily promoted by the stagnating IVF industry which seeks new markets.

Towards the Abolition of Surrogate Motherhood edited by Marie-Josèphe Devillers and Ana-Luana Stoicea-Deram

“In this eloquent and blistering rejection of surrogacy, a range of international activists and experts in the field outline the fundamental human rights abuses that occur when surrogacy is legalised and reject neoliberal notions that the commodification of women’s bodies can ever be about the ‘choices’ women make.”

Read our review >>

By and for men

The End of Patriarchy: Radical Feminism for Men by Robert Jensen

“The End of Patriarchy asks one key question: what do we need to create stable and decent human communities that can thrive in a sustainable relationship with the larger living world? Robert Jensen’s answer is feminism and a critique of patriarchy. He calls for a radical feminist challenge to institutionalized male dominance; an uncompromising rejection of men’s assertion of a right to control women’s sexuality; and a demand for an end to the violence and coercion that are at the heart of all systems of domination and subordination. The End of Patriarchy makes a powerful argument that a socially just society requires no less than a radical feminist overhaul of the dominant patriarchal structures.”

The Macho Paradox: Why some men hurt women and how all men can help by Jackson Katz

“With integrity and courage, Jackson Katz  has taken his message – that the epidemic of violence against women is a men’s issue – into athletic terms, the military and frat houses across the country. His book explains carefully and convincingly why – and how – men can become part of the solution, and work with women to build a world in which everyone is safer.” Michael Kimmel.

Sex dolls

Sex Dolls, Robots, and Woman Hating by Caitlin Roper

“Sex Dolls, Robots and Woman Hating exposes the inherent misogyny in the trade in sex dolls and robots modelled on the bodies of women and girls for men’s unlimited sexual use. From doll owners enacting violence and torture on their dolls, men choosing their dolls over their wives, dolls made in the likeness of specific women and the production of child sex abuse dolls, sex dolls and robots pose a serious threat to the status of women and girls.”

The Macho Paradox: Why some men hurt women and how all men can help by Jackson Katz

“With integrity and courage, Jackson Katz  has taken his message – that the epidemic of violence against women is a men’s issue – into athletic terms, the military and frat houses across the country. His book explains carefully and convincingly why – and how – men can become part of the solution, and work with women to build a world in which everyone is safer.” Michael Kimmel.

[heinousact]

Viktor being 'cured' of his disability, and spouting eugenics (not lettin yall side step that evolution shit ever.) To show that Something Is Not Right with him.

Much to think about.....

[orangerosebush]

"Pick me" reads as a clumsy (and ultimately unsuccessful) attempt to articulate a kind of (gendered) class traitorship; although the way this term proliferated on social media was impotent and tedious in many ways, this does render the boom in usage at the very least worthy of investigation, imo

[mmyneonlights]

:(

[apas-95]

How do you not realize your Marxist ideology is false when it says shit like a trans black woman small business owner is oppressing her cis white man employees?

I don't think you're, like, genuinely asking, or are curious, here, but I'll answer anyways, for everyone else who might be confused on issues like this: it's intersectionality.

You could make this argument about essentialy any axis of oppression - 'how do you not realise your LGBT ideology is false when it says shit like a cishet black person is oppressing their white trans gay employees', or, conversely, 'how do you not realise your racial ideology is false when it says shit like a white trans gay person is oppressing their cishet black employees'.

The point here isn't to have a rock-paper-scissors, Pokémon type-effectiveness ranking of which axes of oppression 'outrank' which others, it's to understand that each axis of oppression is an entirely distinct social system that overlaps with the other. A black business owner suffers from the social system of antiblackness, and benefits from the social system of capitalism. The specific overlap of their blackness and their class character also gives them an entirely unique character with regards to their segment of society. If they are USAmerican, for example, in their specific case the state and progress of the national liberation movement in the US means that they make up the rear of the revolutionary movement, despite being themselves petit-bourgeois. These systems of oppression are qualitatively different, and cannot be simply, quantitatively, summed up against each other.

With this in mind, it should be understood that the Marxist understanding of class as the principal contradiction does not mean that class is the most important, overruling factor, and that other axes should be ignored. Class is considered the principal contradiction because it is the contradiction that all other axes of oppression, genuine in their own rights, grew out of. Antiblackness was created by the slave trade (not vice-versa), and the slave trade was created by the growing European bourgeoisie's need to extract surplus-value, in the collapse of the Feudal economy. In the example you gave, the petit-bourgeois business owner exploits the labour of her workers, and is supported in doing so by an entire legal, political, and philosophical system based on the expropriation of the proletariat. She is also herself repressed and exploited on the basis of race, gender, and transness. These do not cancel each other out. However, given the ultimate source of racial, patriarchal, and cissexist oppress is political-economic class, her ability to genuinely fight for her interests in those fields will be hamstrung by her class position - just as her ability to attain and maintain that class position in the first place is itself hamstrung by her oppression in other fields.

Ultimately, there are no simple rules that society can be flattened down by. Each and every instance and scenario must be investigated in its own right. The idea that people are driven to Marxism because it provides an easy or simplified way of looking at the world is (perhaps unfortunately!) wrong, it actually means a lot more work!

[tododeku-or-bust]

could you elaborate a bit on that post abt (not) wearing headphones in public/playing your phone out loud? i was under the idea that it was nice to not play stuff aloud bc ppl might have migraines or be sound avoidant, but didn't realize i might just be seeing it from a white perspective, and id love to learn more

All right! First, check this link out: Xochitl does a far more eloquent job of explaining the idea than I would:

I assume that you're specifically honing in on my tag about the "white right of comfort".

Okay, so here's the thing. You're allowed to find public noise annoying. I too, find public TikToks and music annoying! And if you have migraines and such, I can understand how it would be impolite and inconvenient.

But what you're NOT allowed to do, is feel entitled to the public and prioritizing your OWN comfort in it over everyone else to the point of DEMANDING that it conforms to you or it's "bad". Especially when there are things you as an individual can do to prevent this discomfort.

While this gross sense of entitlement is very first world American in nature, it is extremely White American in nature because white Americans actually have the social power to enforce what they believe is the "right" thing based on their own standards.

For many cultures around the world and for many people of color, noise in the community is a GOOD thing. It's part of being a community. I feel safer if the people around me feel safe enough to be outside, to exist and to be, visibly in public.

And you got to understand, while many white people think they're genuinely in the right for believing that being loud on public transit or in the public is worth enforcing as a "bad" thing, people of color have literally already been killed for it. A Black teenager was shot in the face for playing music that a white man didn't like. A Black mentally ill man was murdered in front of EVERYBODY on a train because he was having a mental breakdown. This sort of policing ALREADY HAPPENS to us. Hell, even white gays with any sense of community should be aware of how queer gatherings would be shut down for "noise" (when in reality it was bc it was homophobia).

And now people want me to empathize that YOU'RE oppressed by... noise? On Public Transit?? IN PUBLIC?? Kiss my ass lmao.

I've been on trains where a man was legit growling at me like he wanted me dead. Another i saw Teens high on crack. Another where people beg and people sleep and people listen to music. And you know what I did? I turned my OWN music up and went on my way. Because at the end of the day, the only person I control is me!

And if people were REALLY concerned about others welfare, they would COMMUNICATE. no one is willing to say "hey, I have a headache, do you mind-" bc they're afraid of the rejection, so it's easier to demand "well EVERYONE SHOULD BE LIKE ME". Mhm. Learn to confront your issues. But you're not "unsafe" bc music. You're just annoyed, and you'll get over it.

In summary it really gives me "I can give you something to cry about" energy. Bc y'all swear y'all don't understand the existence of an HOA but here yall are replicating the same Karen behaviors, and y'all don't even realize (or maybe even care) how racist you sound. But why would you lmao, that makes you uncomfortable! And damnit, you have a right to comfort!!

[femalethink]

I detect in this question a pious hope that the oppression of women could be blamed on a particular form of society, a particular set of class arrangements. But it can't. If socialism—at least as it exists so far—is not self-evidently the solution, neither is capitalism self-evidently the culprit. Women have always been treated as inferior, have always been marginal politically and culturally. The oppression of women constitutes the most fundamental type of repression in organized societies. That is, it is the most ancient form of oppression, predating all oppression based on class, caste, and race. It is the most primitive form of hierarchy.

—Susan Sontag, “On Women.”

[hiiragi7]

I really wanted to like Whipping Girl (Julia Serano) but I just... really didn't. I read it some months ago, and I was quite excited because I had seen it recommended so often. I read the entire book and very quickly grew to hate it.

How do you write a book meant to capture what transmisogyny is without getting into race? Without getting into disability? Without getting into class? A disclaimer at the start of the book that you're white, middle class, and able-bodied and so your book isn't intersectional doesn't cut it.

If this book was framed more as only her own experiences, I wouldn't mind so much, but Serano writes such massive generalizations and assumptions based in her own privileges and writes it like it's fact. That is a big part of my issue.

I also felt deeply uncomfortable with how she talked about transmasculine individuals as well as genderqueer individuals, and how she talks about passing. I also found her ideas about how gender-nonconforming people supposedly want to be on top of the hierarchy and oppress everyone else really fucking odd.

I don't regret reading it, I always appreciate knowing where concepts come from and I feel like it's given me some context for why current ideas of transmisogyny are what they are, but I don't like the book. I don't like how she generalizes things and makes all of these incredibly unnuanced takes as facts. I don't like how she speaks about my trans siblings and the assumptions she makes of them and what they experience.

These thoughts have been bouncing around my head for a little while, needed to get them out somewhere. If you have other book recommendations, please give them to me. I really enjoy reading, just didn't like this one much.

[placeinthemiddleofnowhere]

Reign down on me - Part 7

Pairing: Ghost x Hybrid!reader (eventual poly!141)

No use of y/n or mention of gender/race

Summary: Reader is a wolf hybrid in a world that treats them like second class citizens, given a horrible start in life after being thrown into the military with no preparation. After years of struggle, they're finally taken away from their base by Ghost, now a permanent member of taskforce 141 reader struggles to come to terms with the fact that perhaps there's a life there for them - if only they reach out and accept it.

Warnings: hurt/comfort, Angst, abuse mentions, self doubt, violent scenes

Masterlist here

-🐺-

When you opened your eyes the world was drowned in darkness and you were in an unfamiliar room, sapping warmth from an oversized lump in the sheets. At first you froze like a statue, flicking your eyes around to see if you could make anything out. It was clear enough that you weren’t in your own bed, but even your advanced eyes couldn’t make a single thing out for the lack of any light. 

The lump groaned and shifted, sprawling out like a tiger skin rug before retracting again. A heavy weight draped itself round your mid section, an arm you realised, that caused you to curse and pant for inside it’s unyielding hold. Ghost. Who else had arms the size of iron girders? 

It should’ve been obvious to you, but your mind had been too foggy in the aftermath of your unexpected sleep. Had you taken a second to scent the air, you would’ve been greeted with his relaxing scent, but instead you’d fumbled around like a bear coming out of hibernation. At that realisation you scrunched your eyes closed and then opened them again, still feebly trying to see through the oppressive black of the room. It had to be Ghost’s room that you were in, the place was practically painted with his citrusy scent, with undertones of sage ever present and invading.

“Y’alright, Pup?” a groggy voice called out. 

It sounded as if a pile of rocks had shifted from right next to you. Your ears twitched back at the sound and all at once you relaxed in his loosened grip, turning around to face him. Your noses were inches from touching. Not that you could see his, but you could feel the steady streams of his breaths trickling out from his sleepwear body.

“Um…yeah” you whispered, unsure of how to answer. “Why’d you take me to your bed?” 

He yawned and uncurled his arm from your body, instead using his hand to trace little patterns up your arms. 

“You seemed upset when I left you in yours. Only calmed down and stopped whinin’ when I let you curl up here,” he explained, sounding as if he was moments from drifting off again. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” you said hastily. 

You couldn’t believe it! Why would you have whined at being left to sleep alone? Why would you stop when you got to sleep in Ghost’s bed? The revelations had you frowning and feeling markedly warmer than you already were. Your mind whirred at the idea that Ghost had witnessed you mewling like a little puppy at having to sleep in your own bed. 

“I know. I didn’t want you having bad dreams after what happened yesterday, so I thought it was for the best,” he said simply, as if what he’d done was completely normal. 

“I can handle those,” you said weakly. 

“You don’t have to.”

You gulped down a thick lump in your throat and let the silence settle over you both. Though the room wasn’t completely quiet of course. Ghost’s steady breathing and the sound of your own pounding heart rattled around in your ears. Though your chest calmed its frenzy when Ghost drew you close again, urging you to burrow your head under his chin and into the soft cotton of his worn shirt. 

The two of you stayed silent for a time after though neither of you fell asleep. Instead the time was spent mulling through your sluggish thoughts, wondering distantly if you should be trying to leave. 

“I think you should reconsider your nesting situation,” Ghost said suddenly, breaking the silence. 

“What?”

“You have a lot of bad dreams most nights. You were peaceful last night though,” he explained softly.

“Do they wake you up?” you asked, brows knitting together in worry. 

You’d woken plenty of times before in your old barracks from others' bad dreams and in turn woken the others with your own. It wasn’t lost on you how annoying it was to try to get to sleep after being jolted awake and kicked into an adrenaline rush, lying there in the grey light of almost dawn with a pounding heart and the knowledge that you’d have to get to work again soon. 

“Nah, told you before - I’m not a good sleeper. If I knew there was something that helped though I’d make sure I got to sleep properly every night.”

You huffed out an embarrassed laugh and shook your head, feeling his stubbly chin scratch the top of your head. It was only then that it occurred to you that he was maskless again. You wondered if that meant he was getting more comfortable around you, just as you were him.

“It was probably just a fluke,” you murmured, trying to hide your interest. “I’m not gonna hoard your clothes like some feral squirrel, Ghost.” 

He laughed at that, the bassy tones reverberating through his wide chest and against your warming skin. 

“It’s not hoarding and it doesn’t have to be my clothes. I can give you my duvet or I could get you a new blanket and sleep with it for a bit if you like, if that would make it feel more natural.”

“It’s not natural, its weird,” you huffed. 

“You’re a hybrid, S’not weird,” he affirmed, stroking circled down your back. “It’s normal for you to need comforting scents and materials. My old partner used to keep a nest, we had an arrangement and it was fine.”

At that your ears flicked in curiosity. He’d never mentioned this ‘old partner’ before. All at once your mind flooded with questions and as it worked hard to process them all, you could barely hold onto one tightly enough to ask it. 

“You had a hybrid before me?” you eventually said, voice small and unsteady. 

Ghost paused. It was if he’d only just realised what he’d just said. 

“Another wolf,” he confirmed, throat swelling and tense. “We were paired up after I passed my handler qualification. It was a long time ago - feels like a lifetime really. Spent four years together, he used to cuddle up with me just like this in my stupid little barracks bunk when he had rough nights.”

The elephant in the room stared down at you from on high. There was no avoiding it’s almost tangible bulk. So you asked the question that wanted to leap off the tip of your tongue. 

“What happened to him?”

Ghost was ready for that, answering quickly. Though it didn’t sound like it hurt him any less to say it when it was spoken through gritted teeth.  

“Killed in action.”

“Oh…I’m- I’m sorry.”

Was that the right thing to say? When other hybrids you’d worked with had died, there usually weren’t many mourners if any, though that was because you were under the care of Branhaven. You’d only met a few hybrids before that were in the care of handlers and it had been obvious that you’d always been intrinsically different from them, that they had far more value to their teams than you ever did as an unclaimed hybrid.

“Roach was a good lad,” Ghost said eventually. “He taught me alot in our time together, made me sharper with all his…’quirks’. Used to steal anything of mine that he could get his grubby little mitts on and drag it off to his bed, so to be honest it was a bit of a shock when I realised you weren’t going to be the same.”

Ghost laughed a little despite the sadness that tinged his careful words. 

“With a name like Roach, I can only imagine what other quirks he had,” you smiled. 

“Oh that one loved to get himself into trouble. I still remember the first time we went out with Price - very long time ago. Roach thought it’d be funny to steal his hat, this is before he started wearing the boonie mind you, at that point it was this old beanie that absolutely reeked of cigars. Found that out because while Price was ranting about having cold ears, I was asleep on top of it, before I got woken up by his bitching anyway. I took it out from under me when I woke up, confused as fuck as to why it was there, and then Price saw it and was going on and on about how childish it was to take it, and then I started arguing back and saying I wouldn’t do something so bloody stupid. All the while Roach was giggling to himself in the corner, the little shit.”

“He wasn’t scared of what Price would do?” You asked incredulously, trying to put yourself in the shoes of a hybrid that didn’t know the intimidating Captain half as well as you did. 

“Roach wasn’t scared of a damn thing, beyond whatever shit he used to dream about anyway. It’s the reason he got called Roach in the first place, his real name was Gary. He used to run headfirst into danger and come out fine almost every time, that’s what they told me when they handed him off to me- ‘that wolf’s like a bug you can’t squash’...Course his luck ran out eventually. We got captured by an enemy group in Mexico and the bastards didn’t see the worth in keeping a hybrid around. Said they only needed me.”

“That’s awful.”

Another silence ensued. It made sense that Ghost had had a hybrid before you, he’d had a long career and he was so knowledgeable when it came to training with you that it made sense that he’d had plenty of first hand experience. Though it made your heart ache to think that he mourned for someone that was ripped away from him so long ago. The way he told those stories, you could hear the emotion etched in every word.

“Didn’t think I’d take on another hybrid on after him,” Ghost sighed, making you tilt your head in question, “but Price told me about you and kept badgering on about me being the only one in the team that was qualified to take you, kept saying that you didn’t deserve to rot away back at your home base and that you deserved a place here. I figured I owed it to him to at least go and check you out and well, I knew you had to be mine the minute I saw ya.”

“You saw a soggy mutt that was getting punished in an outdoor kennel and instantly had that epiphany?” You snorted. 

“A soggy mutt that didn’t deserve to be there,” he corrected. “There was no way for me to have saved Roach while I was tied up and concussed to all hell, I made peace with that a long time ago. I knew that I was able to save you though; doing anything other than untying you and walking out of that base with the angry ball of fur in my arms felt like sacrilege.”

“Angry ball of fur,” you repeated with a tut, rolling your eyes so far back they crept into your inflection.

“You tried to bite me at least twice and you called me Mr.Bonejangles in the car. Angry ball of fur was about right, you little sod! Sitting there all wrapped up in your towel with your grumpy face and hair poking out every which way,” Ghost laughed. “I’m just lucky you calmed down after a good rest. Thought I was gonna have to take to permanently being in handling gloves after that first night.”

“I didn’t try to bite you that much.”

“You did. You were like a hungry crocodile. You had my life flashing before my eyes that day, was praying I’d get to keep all my fingers and toes.”

“Now you’re just being dramatic!” 

Ghost’s laugh echoed around the room, hitting off of unseen walls somewhere inside the shadows. As much as you hated to think about a time before you knew Ghost, and actively tried to fight him, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself as you began to see that day through his eyes. You could only imagine what it must’ve been like to have met you then, knowing about your sketchy disciplinary file and admittedly bad track record for biting and scratching, Ghost couldn’t have had any clue what he was in for. In that moment you couldn’t have felt luckier, pressed into Ghost’s chest and getting to relax against him in his nice warm bed, when you could’ve been left to rot in those kennels.

Moments later, just as you were both settling back into the furrow of the mattress and had adjusted sheets to your liking, a high pitched alarm tone blared out and sent you both groaning. Ghost’s phone lit up from his side, finally shedding a little light into the room. From there you could see his bed was pressed up into the wall, as usual you’d assumed you’d made sure to be closest to the exit - even in your drowsy state. You still couldn’t make out much of the structure of the place. 

“Suppose we better get up then,” Ghost groaned. “C’mon then.”

“I can’t see a thing in here, you’re gonna have to turn a light on or something,” you yawned, stretching out and readying yourself to start the day.  

It was then that he saw fit to snatch the corner of his black out curtains and yank them back, sending you flying under the covers just to save your eyes. The duvet provided you shelter from the cold blue light and from under their safety you actively felt your pupils slowly unshrink from the tiny pinpoints they’d been forced to become. 

“Why would you do that?” You groaned. 

“Reckoned you needed a bit of a wake up,” Ghost shrugged, lifting the cover up so he could meet your eyes. 

As annoyed as you were you were distracted from your grumpiness momentarily by his face. His smug smile was in full view, lips slanting to one side and pulling his scars taught. In the full light of the morning he looked like a weathered statue, bright highlights and harsh shadow carving out his sharp jaw like chiselled stone. You tilted your head at him and in turn he tilted his back in the opposite direction. 

“See somethin’ on my face?” He joked, teeth flashing into view. 

You shook your head and pursed your lips. A little heat rose to your cheeks. 

“Just planning out the perfect place to bite you,” you lied.

“That so?” He asked, a sandy blonde eyebrow raising. “Sounds like I’m just gonna have to get you first then.”

At that he pinched your side and sent you yipping and scrabbling off the bed. Though that wasn’t enough to escape him. He gave chase, leaping off of the mattress, the bed groaning at the change in weight and thumped on the floor. The air blew through the fur in your ears, you ran that fast. Unthinkingly running to your own room before considering anywhere else. 

With that you dove under your bed, dragging your sheets down to cover the space and yanking Simon in just as he’d fallen off the top. Ghost yanked your door open straight after, his bare feet slapping into the wood and taking careful steps forward. He sighed loudly when he reached the edge of your bed and stopped, feet stopping at your chest. 

“I’d like to think you’ve been trained to evade enemies better than this, Pup,” he drawled. 

You rolled your eyes, full well knowing you wouldn’t go running and hiding like that against someone you had full authority to kill. 

Rather than let him crouch down and drag you out, you threw Simon up at him as a distraction and skittered out around him. In a matter of seconds you managed to gather yourself into a crouch and sprang up at his back, wrapping your arms round his shoulders and legs round his middle. From there you gently grazed your teeth against his neck in a fake bite and growled, announcing your victory to the otherwise empty room. 

“Soap’s right, you’re a menace,” he laughed, untangling you from around him and bending backwards so he could set you gently back down on the floor. 

“You brought work into it,” you huffed, folding your arms indignantly.

“Yeah yeah, cheap shot throwing your teammate at the hostile. Poor little fella getting sacrificed like that,” he said, holding out the puppy stuffed toy with a fake grimace. 

“Simon woulda shaken it off, I had every faith in him,” you shrugged, setting him down on the bed carefully so that he rested against the pillows. 

“Simon?” Ghost repeated, choking out a strangled sound that sounded somewhere between a laugh and a guffaw. “You named it Simon?”

“Yeah, after the hybrid from my books,” you said, nodding toward the graphic novels that were stacked by your bedside. “Why's that so funny?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, watching as a few different emotions crossed Ghost’s eyes. He chewed on his lip a second, eyes going wide and zeroing in on your sleeping buddy until he shook himself out of it. 

“Nothing,” he smiled, clearing the awkward edge in his throat. “Good name that. Strong choice. Little Simon.”

“I think it suits him.”

“Yeah…Anyway, we need to get ready and get in for work. I’ve got a bit of a stacked day today, so we need to get you sorted. Gaz and Soap offered to take you through your exercises this afternoon and Price is gonna let you sit in his office till I can come get you in the evenin’. Pack your books so you’ve got something to occupy yourself with tonight, Cap’s not very chatty right now. Oh and remember, if you want anything for your bed just let me know, ok?” 

-🐺- 

Stacked day indeed. Ghost made you run laps through the assault course he’d had set up for you and just before he left, he’d made you practise some bite work with him. The irony wasn’t lost on you after your conversation that morning. He’d donned his leather gloves and neck protector and brought out a fake gun, making you attack him over and over so that you could practise non lethal takedowns.

As good as you were at the exercise, that didn’t stop Ghost from firing a couple foam bullets at you from time to time when you got too out of control, reminding you teresley that you weren’t supposed to be ripping detainees to pieces. As your wilder side took over during your work, you’d bark out raspy growls at him for the cheap shots, knowing full well he shouldn't be able to fire after you’d just decimated his fake arm. However the sensible part of your mind would echo out that it was far better than getting smacked with the plastic batons that your old trainers would carry to discourage your savagery.

“Well well well, what kinda training do you call this?”

Your head turned just as you’d brought Ghost down to the floor and you ceased your growling, tilting your head when your gaze landed on Soap. Gaz joined him at the side of the field moments later, just coming off of a phone call to see you still on top of Ghost. 

“Oh yeah, we’re just having a bit of fun, Johnny. You know how much I love being mauled” Ghost grunted, tapping your thigh in short order. “You can get up now, Pup. Reckon you got me.”

You looked back down at Ghost and let out an embarrassed huff of air before rolling off him and standing up, dusting your dirty fatigues off. Some of the soft dirt smeared down them, leaving what would surely become a rough crust in its wake.

“Can’t believe you get to play with nerf guns and call it work,” Soap laughed, “That or the fact that you took the time to paint that thing black just so that it’d match your gear.”

“Well you’re welcome to take over if you think its so fun,” Ghost grinned, eyes cresting below his mask.

He unbuckled his thick leather gloves and threw them onto the grass at Soap’s feet, then tore the velcro off of his neck protector with a loud scratchy rip. Soap then looked back at you and visibility stiffened up, considering Ghost’s offer like it might be his death sentence. Gaz shoved him and laughed, going instead to approach Ghost and reach out for his gun. 

“Look at this,” he whistled, turning it over and opening up the ammo compartment. “What is this? A ten round? You even got the grey bullets with the red tips. Very nice hardware, Sir.”

“Well it is the Elite Ranger PD-5 Blaster, Garrick. Fine piece of kit, so it is,” Ghost quipped. “Maybe one day you’ll earn your own one.”

“Well now I know what I’m asking Santa for,” Gaz smirked. “So, we taking over here?”

You looked back at Soap again who was eagerly looking at Ghost to find out the answer to that question. Ghost looked back at him and winked, a gesture you only caught because you knew to look out for their antics now. 

“Nah,” Ghost finally answered, roughly raking his hands over your ears. “We made good progress today, I reckon we set Pup on anyone we need back alive, we’ve got a great chance of bringing at least seventy percent of the enemy still intact now.”

“Hey!” you growled. “I can bring people in just fine.”

“Oh sure, you can bring em’ in - in separate pieces of course - but you’ll get the job done,” he drawled, soon producing strangled notes as if he was choking. “‘Sorry sir, I would’ve given you the information but that damn wolf got my tongue.’”

Ghost laughed the way he always did when he was being cheeky, the rasping cackle crooning from his throat like a bear scratching up a tree. You had half a mind to do some scratching yourself, but instead you snatched the nerf gun from Gaz and shot Ghost in the chest a couple times. All of you silently watched as the foam bullets arced into his torso only to bounce off pathetically into the well trodden grass. 

You knew then that you should’ve aimed for his forehead like he’d done to you. 

“Friendly fire, is it?” Ghost questioned.

“Got you back,” you replied, tilting your chin in the air in defiance. 

He tutted at you and mussed up your hair once again, rubbing his hands over your head with enough force to almost knock you back.

“I’ll remember that next time we train together,” he said menacingly, jabbing your side just as he’d done that morning. 

You yelped and rubbed the tender spot, trying not to give into the laughter of the ticklish spot. 

“For now though, you two have the absolute pleasure of learning hybrid hand signals,” Ghost said, directing his attentions toward Gaz and Soap. “Sad that I have to miss such a fun exercise, but I’m sure you’ll have plenty of giggles without me. I booked out building three and left you a handler’s manual open on the page there. I had some corporals set up a basic simulation for you, so you should be good to go once you get in. Anything you’re confused on, Pup should be able to explain.” 

At that you groaned, shoulders slumping with the anticipation of the boring afternoon ahead. Back at Branhaven when they were training up new batches of handlers, you all had to take turns helping them through their coursework and modules - one of which being the hand signal module. That often meant long boring days being slowly and dramatically led around short courses and wildly gestured at until the new recruits were able to get the motions correct. 

“You couldn’t have just let me do more biting?” you sighed.

Ghost chuckled and picked up the rucksack of things he’d set off to the side.

“What? And terrify this one half to death in the process? I don’t think so,” Ghost said, pinching Soap’s cheek playfully. “You’ll survive one slow afternoon. I’ll even sweeten the deal, you keep the nerf gun and if they get something wrong you have my permission to shoot them.”

Soap rubbed at his cheek with a glare and slapped Ghost’s arm away soon after. His blue eyes were all storms and indignation and his jaw was clenched tight as a vice. Meanwhile you were doing everything you could not to yip with obvious delight, settling instead for a slow tail wag. 

“You don’t get to authorise that,” Soap said, rolling his eyes.

“What rank am I again?”

“That doesn-”

“It does actually. Have a good day, Sergeant,” Ghost interrupted, softly pretending to punch Soap’s shoulder. “Do me proud!”

Gaz laughed from next to you and waved Ghost off as he made his escape, narrowly avoiding getting hit by one of the leather mitts he’d set down earlier. Soap didn’t give chase after the failed throw though, instead he just stood grumbling to himself and eventually gathered the gear together and slung it into the holdall that Ghost had neglected to take with him. Once the bag dangled from his shoulder, he turned to you and Gaz and flung his head in the direction of the training buildings. 

“So what’s this about hand signals? We gonna have to make you sit and fetch?” Soap asked. 

“You tell me to go fetch and we’re gonna have problems,” you said, pumping the nerf gun’s ammo chamber for emphasis. 

“Christ in heaven,” Soap muttered, heaving himself off across the field. “The things I put up with.”

-🐺- 

The room was heavy with thick silence as you traversed your way around it. You might as well have been glued to Gaz’s side, one of the few sounds that were allowed to permeate the quiet was Gaz’s breathing and the metallic ting of the ancient filament lights. Every second that you walked, you obsessively watched Gaz’s hands, fixing your eyes on them as if they might hold untold treasures.

This was it, the last run through. Gaz paused at the same doorway you’d had to wait outside at least a dozen times already, and quickly held up his fist for ‘halt’. It helped that it was just the same as the standard hand signals that he’d been taught already. From there he pointed two fingers to his side and signalled for halt again. You nodded and moved next to him, looking from his hands to his eyes in quick succession while you waited for further instruction. 

From there he cupped his hands by his ear and pointed at you. You twitched your ears, adjusting yourself so that you could listen out for any tell tale sounds of Soap skulking around from inside. Though there was nothing beyond the annoying skittering of the old ticking clock inside the fake office, so to confirm the silence you shook your head. Gaz then held his finger to the side of his nose and pointed at you, but you held your palm up and waved your other hand around it. Unclear. Smell was little use when you’d all run the training course together so many times, everything stank of the two men at that point. 

Gaz nodded and thought for a second. Time might as well have been a sound, the continuous buzz of the lights or the shaking hands of the clock behind the door, your senses felt like they were blending into a big mush. You were glad when Gaz finally patted his back and held out his palm and then a single finger, signalling to walk back to back with him and watch his six. 

You nodded again and did as asked, making quick work of slinking through the door as quietly as possible and advancing down the corridor beyond. Gaz looked right and left, checking through the first office room on the right quickly and efficiently and kept things moving down the hallway, readying to advance to the next room at the end of the hallway. This was it, there was only one place Soap could be now, you thought. 

However, just as Gaz was heading down the corridor, you could’ve sworn you heard a noise. A faint almost wooden gasp, but it was something nonetheless. You grabbed Gaz’s arm and forced him to a stop, holding your hand to your ear so that he knew you heard something. He narrowed his eyes, honey irises appearing chestnut from under his shadowy gaze. After another few seconds you heard the sound of something making contact with the floor, hell you could've sworn you felt the vibrations of it at that point.

You looked up at Gaz with wild eyes and motioned your head down the hallway from the office that Gaz had assumed was safe. It wasn’t like there was much to sweep that you hadn’t already looked through on all your other runs, so he hadn’t been sloppy to dismiss the empty space. There was just a single desk with an exposed underside, the wall clock and a fake sink set up. The sink had a cupboard but it also had a slew of fake piping that made it impossible to squeeze inside. Or rather it should’ve. 

As soon as you crept back down the hallway, you both stumbled onto Soap emerging from the cupboard like a spider creeping from a crack. He was all arms and legs as he tried to slyly remove himself from the tiny space and before he was able to see you and Gaz, Gaz blasted him with the nerf gun and you ran toward him, ensuring you were out of firing range and jumped up in front of him. Pieces of loose plastic piping scattered from all around the bottom cupboard, and he just about exploded from his skin when you got your face up close to his.

“Steamin Jesus! How’d you know I was in here?” 

“We didn’t, I heard the cupboard opening though,” you explained, wagging your tail all the while. 

Soap sighed and leaned back into the cupboard clutching his hand over his heart for a moment before sitting back up. 

“I suppose I should be happy you’re on our team with those big satellites, fuzzy lugs,” Soap sighed. 

“Hey!” You whined, flattening your ears. “They’re not big satellites.”

“Well not when you put them back like that,” Soap said, a sly smile piercing through his eyes before it reached his lips. 

“Better big fluffy ears than big fluffy hair,” you huffed. 

“Oooh,” Gaz smirked, “Get ‘im.”

“You canny insult the hawk,” Soap sniffed, running a hand through his messy locks. “Nothing you say will convince me this isn’t stunnin’.”

You rolled your eyes and sat back from Soap, about to let him get up when Gaz stopped you both. He held out his hand and demanded you wait a minute, causing you and Soap to turn to one another and frown until all became clear. 

“Gotta get a good photo of our quarry, Pup. All the best hunters get their trophy photo,” Gaz explained, while holding his phone up and adjusting the angle.

Gaz adjusted his pose, tilting his nerf gun so that it crossed his chin and partially obscured his faux serious expression, meanwhile Soap sat back amongst the loose piping and accepted his fate, holding his fingers to his forehead in a fake gun gesture as if he were shooting himself. You weren’t sure what to do. No one ever asked you to be in pictures that weren’t mandated for the government website, so you didn’t know how to pose. 

At the last minute you tilted your head and pulled out a cheeky grin just before Gaz took the photos, the screen flickering black a couple times before he started tapping at his screen and laughing. He walked over to you both and lowered his screen, letting you see the resulting photo that oozed chaos with the silly toy gun and you and Soap sitting atop the mess of piping.

“Ooft, sexy,” Soap whistled. “Get that up on tinder. You’ll get all sorts of tail with that.”

“Oh yeah, caption writes itself - ‘anyone wanna hold my blaster?’” Gaz sniggered, tapping away again. “That’s going on insta.”

You huffed out a surprise breath at that.

“You’re actually putting that up on your socials?” you asked, frowning. 

Gaz ceased his tapping and tilted his chin up at you. 

“Was gonna, why? do you not want it up?” he asked, showing you the photo again. 

The screen tilted round to reveal a confirmation page with the photo sporting a slightly more dramatic filter. He’d been about to post it with a slightly less ridiculous caption at least ‘Mission success: blockage identified - Soap too big for the sink.’

That didn’t stop you from snorting at it of course. 

“I don’t mind - just figured you’ll get people being strange about you showing off that you hang about with the little hybrid weirdo,” you shrugged. 

“Aw, furball. You don’t have to worry about people finding you weird. Your ears aren’t that big and strange you know,” Soap said, rubbing your arm in mock sympathy. “They might not even qualify as full sized satellites, maybe just small radio towers or- Hey!”

You smiled smugly to yourself after flicking Soap on the nose, but quickly dropped the grin when Soap yanked you back by the shoulders and blew a big gust of air into one of your ears.

“No! Disgusting!” You squealed, wrestling him off and slapping him away while he laughed.  

You rubbed at your ear, screwing up your entire face while you tried to work the feeling of Soap’s breath out of your fur and inner canal. The uncomfortable pressure ceased after a few seconds and finally you were able to stop cringing away from Soap enough to see Gaz shaking his head at you both. 

“Aaand its posted. C’mon, we better start clearing out of here. You can fix that mess with the Pipes, Soap.”

“Fuck sake,” Soap cursed, looking around at his mess. “Thought this was gonna be worth it as well.”

His grumbling didn’t stop as he got through his work either. As he put the sink back together you sat on top of the desk by Gaz while he sat on the chair and scrolled through his phone. You didn’t really have anything to do, so you twisted the manual round that you’d been teaching the guys from and started flicking through the old yellowing pages. The corners felt like they might melt away from even just fingering through them, it was so ancient, but that wasn’t the only sign that the book wasn’t from your lifetime. After skipping to a random page, your eyes widened into saucers and your mouth almost dropped to the cold concrete below. 

“What the fuck,” you breathed out loud, reading over the page contents with a dry mouth.  

Gaz’s interest peaked at that. Out of the corner of your peripherals you saw his eyes drift from his phone to look over the page you’d pulled.

“Yo! What the hell is that about,” Gaz cackled, pulling his chair up and scraping it over the concrete to get a closer look. “Proper Maintenance of your Hybrid’s Hygiene? That’s nasty.”

Soap looked over from his work and frowned.

“What’s so nasty about that?” 

“Nah, I can’t tell you. You gotta come over here and see this, mate.”

You frowned down at the book, casting your eyes over the frankly awful illustrations therein with a sickening mix of horror and gratitude for not having to have experienced anything depicted in them for yourself. Below the section title, In the two little boxes with smaller boxes off shooting from them were mirror images of a man standing over a bathtub with a hybrid in it, however in one box there was a female hybrid and the other a male. In the smaller boxes were close up pictures of the illustrated hybrids' tails, ears and genitals with captions that explained the proper way to keep them clean and healthy. 

“As you will well know, being experienced handlers in training,” Gaz read aloud, using a posh old timey voice, “Hybrids do not have the mental capacity that humans possess. As such, they are simply not capable of keeping themselves adequately clean, which means this is a care requirement you must oversee yourself at least once a week. Following the diagrams above you must draw a bath for your hybrid and have them clean their bodies under your guidance and ensure their tails, ears and extremities are maintained to regulation. You must make sure to prevent water flooding their ear canals, as this can cause infection, you must clean and detangle/deshed their tails using a long tooth or a short tooth brush depending on their fur texture, and you must ensure their genitals/nethers are kept cleaned of any discharge, excrement, c-crust build up or- fuckin hell I can’t. This is actual slander. How did they get away with writing this?”

“This is some absolute specist nonsense,” you scoffed, taking the manual from Gaz, who was slowly losing it to soundless laughter, and turning it so that it faced you.

“So in this section it’s basically hammering it into you that I’m apparently too dumb to wash my own shit covered ass, and then in thiiiis page…” you trailed, flicking back a few pages to a title that had almost caught your interest before, “yeah here. In this section it details ‘training techniques and guides for making your hybrid competent in use of blades and blunt weapons.’ So essentially I have to be watched to make sure I get my fuckin ‘crust’ or whatever cleaned off because I’m an incompetent beast, but I can also be reasonably expected to wield a fucking machete! What kind of bullshit is this?!”

Soap and Gaz were dead silent for a few seconds, lips sealed firmly shut and eyes wide as you waved the page around that had the giant sword diagram. That is, until the moment they both looked at each other. After that they burst out into floods of laughter, clutching their chests and howling like animals themselves until tears started falling down their cheeks. 

“It’s not funny!” you growled, taking another look through the ‘guide’ for anymore terrible tidbits. 

“It’s not, it’s really not,” Gaz affirmed, trying to hold in his giggles. “It’s really fucked up, but c’mon, mate. Crust!”

“They didn’t even have to go into that crust shite, but the fact they went on and actually specified the parts in the diagram that had to be cleaned and all that,” Soap wheezed, “I don’t know who the experience is worse for! Where did Ghost even pull this crap from? Did he time travel back to 1945?”

You groaned and turned to the front page, ears drooping back when you found the publishing date. 

“Man, this is from the fucking seventies,” you frowned, realising what torments could’ve befallen you had you been born just a bit earlier. “Wait…you guys don’t think this is Ghost’s personal copy…”

You cut yourself off. All of you were silent.

“Well its possible they could’ve just issued Ghost with an old copy rather than print new ones,” Gaz shrugged, voice weak from laughing so much already. “You know what budgeting’s like.”

“Hold the bus, I’m gonna google something,” Soap announced, pulling his own phone out his trousers and quietly muttering to himself. “Hybrid hygiene, British army regulations…here we go…from the 1960’s hybrids were able to voluntarily join the army or be transferred in from institutes for displaced hybrids and… hygiene was taught in handler training courses and monitored by…then up until 20- steamin’ jesus.” 

“What?” you and Gaz sounded off in unison.

“Essentially says here that the practice of teaching hybrid hygiene and monitoring it didn’t completely end in all British bases until well after Ghost joined up which means…-”

“Ghost is probably a certified crust inspector,” you said gravely. 

At that you all burst out laughing. The room practically shook, none of you could contain yourselves, the sounds ricocheted off the walls and exploded in your ears. Though you couldn’t muster the wherewithal to care. For a few moments you all laughed in a joint heap until slowly you all came back to yourselves and closed the manual, doing all you could to stop yourself from launching it out the skylight above. 

“That’s fuckin awful stuff,” Soap said, finally getting back to finishing up with the sink. “Glad I never signed up for any o’ that pish. I’ll gladly take apart a bomb before I have to supervise you in the tub, furball.” 

“Me too,” Gaz sighed, leaning back in his chair. “Least you’ll never have to get bathed and de-crusted. Almost puts a silver lining on Branhaven if you never had to deal with that, huh?”

“God, I never thought I’d say it, but thank you Maddox for being a neglectful dick,” you muttered, giggling after Gaz snorted from next to you. 

-🐺- 

Later on that day, after Soap and Gaz had dropped you off with Price, the full schedule that you’d been handed weighed heavily on you. You drooped over Price’s sofa and were barely able to read more than a few pages of your new book until you gave up and slumped fully into the cushions. 

You happily dozed off with the sound of Price’s accompanying pen scratches and mutterings, your lips curving into a soft smile against the saggy old cushions. Cigar smoke and musk cradled your prone form and with just the gentlest hint of spiced citrus, you were letting it carry you off to sleep. 

However, before unconsciousness could fully take you, a loud unfamiliar knock sounded at Price’s door and shattered you from any notion of rest. Your heart beat rapidly, chest thumping heavily and you sat up fully and at attention.

You looked over at Price, watching as he put down his pen and shuffled his papers. He made a brief second of eye contact and shrugged as if to tell you that he didn’t know who it was until he looked back toward the darkened door. He’d yet to turn his main light on, instead he sat commanding the room from his lamplit desk. 

“Yes. Who is it?” he barked, rubbing his weary eyes.

“Captain, it’s Major Kelly, I need to speak with you about an incident involving your team’s hybrid. Can I come in?” Called a lilting Irish voice.

Your ears perked up and again you looked at Price, but he didn’t look back at you this time. He set his jaw in a tight line and folded his hands up across the top of his desk, thumping them heavily into the wood. 

“Door’s open, Major,” he called, voice booming in a way you hadn’t heard it before. “Let’s hear it.”

[taylortruther]

also re: the racial component of TS/fan base, if you haven't you should watch Alex Avila's video on Taylor Swift, I think it was really well done

this is SO good. thank you SO much for this recommendation.

i really liked how avila noted how masterfully taylor blends authenticity and social normativity - "the reason taylor swift seems so authentic to young girls is because she's conforming to an image [of white patriarchal girlhood] that young women internalized from a young age." similarly, the popular feminism of 2014 (when 1989 was released) was flimsy and did not challenge patriarchal norms, and we see how she made feminism part of 1989's branding.

and he asks a question i often pose: is there anything subversive in idolizing the most popular cultural object? does poptimism (the critique of pop music as a serious form of art) simply reinforce existing power structures??

taylor swift and whiteness

understanding how someone becomes a legend and icon means understanding how they challenge, but also reinforce, the biases in society, which includes race, class, gender, and so forth. and "there IS something deeply white about [taylor's] image" (1:18:33). her image is cultural whiteness! taylor swift's relatability (which is and has always been part of her brand), her social capital, her social normativity, is directly tied to the neoliberal racial philosophy that, instead of calling whiteness superior, establishes whiteness as the norm (1:21:23).

millennials want celebrities to be morally pure. this is a mistake.

also - LOVE that he points out that millennials don't judge female celebrities by their sexuality or modesty anymore, but instead they judge based on political awareness, which is just another way of continuing the "patriarchal history of regulating narratives around women's actions" (1:42:39). avila focuses specifically on millennials here, cautioning us not to consider this a a sign of true political engagement from millennials. as he points out, systems of oppression adapt to our ever-changing culture. when we try to 'cancel' or 'hold a celebrity accountable' for their ideologies or missteps, sometimes it's because they're truly terrible, and other times it's because we hold women to "unrealistic standards of purity." ie, this isn't necessarily real political engagement, it is just another example of judging women. often it's both (pointing out missteps, and also being sexist.)

whiteness again

avila goes on to discuss how white women have long been held up as virtuous, moral centers of american families - and while this is a racist and sexist practice, given that woc aren't seen as virtuous, it also lays the foundation for why white women in particular dominate conversations about politics in the public sphere. it is an Event every time a white celebrity frames their political awakening as a personal, spiritual journey of self-realization. yes, this act is important, because women must learn about their own oppression, and talk about it, in order to educate others.

but when taylor (or any other famous white woman) frames politics solely through the personal, it relieves her of the obligation to critique systemic issues. her own political awakening is all that matters - she must prove her own political purity (instead of sexual purity, as before.) there is a deep problem in society demanding this, rather than larger systemic change, but we'll get to that later.

this personal political purity awakening earns her a lot of goodwill, but her resistance ends with herself. and this is a pattern that we see happen all the time, in what robin james calls "neoliberal resistance discourses" in pop: someone is damaged by oppression (sexism), she overcomes it brilliantly with an awakening (miss americana/lover/denouncing trump era), and she absorbs this goodwill into her brand. these individual damages and awakenings supposedly symbolize society's own awakening and resilience(!). (1:52:48)

🚨 some readers might be getting tired/annoyed at this; i can hear y'all saying "well, what do you even WANT from her omg!!!" just stay with me here. 🚨

she holds a mirror up to society, tho

what avila so brilliantly points out is that... this cycle of damages and resilience isn't helpful. it goes nowhere! and we are all at the mercy of the same patterns as taylor. it's not about taylor, it's about us, and how capitalism commodifies everything, including social movements! including personal 'goodness'! a neoliberal system wants individuals to care about their individual choices and looking like good individuals; it encourages the use of "purity tests" and "commodified algorithmic social movements" to discourage challenges to systemic issues (reminds me of the celebrity blackout situation earlier this year, and conversations we have about politics, well, daily on here.) and the pattern of a person failing politically as an individual is part of this machine. if we're too busy policing individuals for their purity, we won't ever organize together for shared material goals. unfortunately, unlike taylor swift, most of us are not extremely powerful, wealthy, and influential as individuals. she does have more power than us in this regard.

taylor as cultural hegemony

anyway, avila goes on to talk about how taylor had this musical renaissance with folklore, and became more honest about her masterminding her own career in midnights. she has shown herself not just to be a musical chameleon, but a cultural one as well, positioning herself as white teenage purity when the culture called for it (circa 2008-2010), neoliberal pop feminism (1989 -> lover), pandemic escapism (folkmore) - and the culture has become part of her brand, part of her music. music that is already heavily wrapped up in her own life. she is the brand she is the culture. of course she put the work in, and not just anyone could do this. but imo, her whiteness (which, again, gives her this "default" "neutral" background to work with) is part of this success. "sure, she's challenged the institution but all in the effort to become the new face of musical hegemony" (2:06:25.) she challenges systems to assimilate into them, or create them in a way that requires assimilation.

of course, this is all based on her REAL experiences, her REAL life. she is living her own life, and also living it in this metacognitive way that mirrors culture.

but we don't have to hate taylor, actually!

and MOST interestingly, avila closes out by suggesting: it's not actually super healthy to always be suspicious and critical of art (2:17:24.) yes, there is a long political history of "paranoid reading," of critique based on marx, freud, and nietzsche's philosophies. it is the basis of A LOT of our frameworks for thinking about the world, including art.

as i've said before, it's interesting to discuss taylor or celebrities because they hold a mirror up to society. but we can't just relentlessly critique ourselves - after all, the critique is supposed to protect us from being bad! the critique is what keeps us good! and it's why we project so much onto them (the celebrities, or "bad" people.)

this video dove into a term that may be new to a lot of people (i only learned of it recently) - "reparative reading." rather than relentlessly critique art or what-have-you, engage with it in ways that is "affirmative, creative, and caring." this does not mean you toss out critical readings - reparative readings can coexist, and give us hope, optimism, feelings of beauty/appreciation, and affirmation.

for example, it's why -while i enjoy critiquing taylor (or what she Represents) - i am also here to just... have fun. i don't want to linger 24/7 on her emissions, or what she hasn't done, or who she's friends with. it's also why, as a fan of color, i hate that she is often dismissed and minimized to "white musician making music for white women." i find affirmation in a lot of her music, regardless of her race; i find optimism and hope in the way women so deeply relate to her, and how queer fans (also like myself) relate to her! (which avila points out too 2:21:00.) it's why i stopped debunking stuff, because queerness - like any other aspect of the fandom - is such a critical, significant part of why her music is beloved. it's so important for people to recognize that she is more than just 'music for straight white heterosexual cisgender women.'

[fleshwerks]

there's also the issue of how for three games tevinter has been this absolute monster of an empire that is entirely built on magocracy and slavery, active conflict with the qunari, and its conflict with the south based not on just its previous occupation of the now sovereign nations of the Marches, Ferelden and Orlais, but also a schism in Andrastianism.

Even in Inquisition when the Venatori war bands came at you, their melee units were dressed in gladiatorial garb and wearing padlocked collars around their necks, indicating slavery.

Don't tell me that Dorian Pavus and friends not just managed to abolish slavery in scant 10 years, but somehow turned the place around to a point where an elfie can freely traipse around with nary a jab at their big ears, and a qunari skulking about doesn't get as much as a lazily raised eyebrow.

Here on earth at least in America, slavery's been abolished for more than a century, yet racial tensions and grievances still run near the boiling point.

On one hand it is relaxing for I guess new players but also old elven enthusiasts for finally getting to play as an elfie and not having to defend your very existence as an elf at all times. On the other hand, it also entirely robs dedicated elf players and the in-game elves of the catharsis of emerging as an independent faction and set of traditions and beliefs and feeling like the millennium long bloodied and bruised fight for it bore fruit.

A part of introducing such great injustices into the narrative is fighting against it and succeeding. The catharsis lies in being able to courageously look into your oppressor's eye and see them impotently gnashing their teeth, or seeing contriteness and acknowledgment of this past fight against injustice. And for players specifically, especially those who are discriminated against in real life on the basis of their race or class status, a part of what makes elves and freedom fighters as a PC appealing is the shared struggle, and the joy of being able to spit your oppressor in the eyeball.

Having now watched full playthroughs, none of it is there anymore in any significant capacity. The joy and pain of being the ferocious underdog fighting for justice for the oppressed is gone.

There's an argument to be made that this new threat has unified people against it and all old squabbles are put on hold until the threat's been dealt with, but in real life, again and again, times like these would sow even greater chaos and discord among people, because they want to take their fear out on someone, they want to maintain a sense of control and power in the face of the untouchable, insurmountable beast of total war and gods coming to delete the earth, and they reach for the targets they actually can touch: their fellow people, the outgroups.

I get that Veilguard wanted to strictly focus on a smaller scale and chose 'power of personal friendship' as their focus, but it comes at a cost of lore. And it comes at a cost of the catharsis of actually addressing this chaos and fear among different groups of people, and telling convincing them that if for nothing else, then we need mutual respect and equality and united overarching goals right now to show this talking toilet seat, the human centipede and their pet dragons what's what so that we'd even have an earth to oppress each other on.

Intergroup issues don't cease to exist in the face of a greater threat, they actually tend to increase. Where are the massive slave armies of Tevinter? And where is the protagonist's chance to tell the oppressors that 'you know, you'd have a much better chance at fighting this threat effectively if you allowed your slave army to fight for their future, not just yours?

I remember when we were still all speculating about Tevinter, I'd expressed unhappiness about ditching Southern Thedas, but I had ceded that politically, Tevinter is a setting that is absolutely rife with political and social intrigue, given that Tevinter is responsible for so much of what we as players dealt with in Southern Thedas, from the Blight to the anti-mage sentiment, to even the faith schism, and of course Tevinter sourcing slaves from Orlais and Ferelden. Not to mention its occupation of Southern regions. Kirkwall alone was a pitch black crowning jewel and a hotspot of Tevinter's terror and scars coupled with the fact that the location most likely sits on top of a possibly corrupted titan, and something besides human error and greed is driving Kirkwall insane. But now Kirkwall's been destroyed and all the plot hooks and intrigue along with it.

And Tevinter? Tevinter is a kitten compared to the rotten, roaring dragon it was made out to be in the past lore.

Not to mention that Tevinter isn't the destroyer of the Elvhen empire, it's its inheritor, it scavenged all its evils from the ruins of an Elvhen empire that collapsed on itself thanks to Chin Gigachad with shiny new veneers, and his equally deranged buddies. You'd think that this would cause insane strife among elves and the rest of the races, and that the dwarves especially would have some words to say. And you'd think that elves in Thedas could retaliate with 'and you humans especially learned fucking nothing from it so you're no better than our ancestors, and also, I, an elf, wasn't even alive and neither were 99.8% of my fellow elves back then so your issue is not with us, get the hell off our backs, you humans just continued what the worst of our own kind did to us, shut your flat tooth mouths, you wanted Elvhenan's power for yourselves, well, now it's come knocking, it looks ugly, and it looks a lot like YOU'.

But no. All of that depth, the terror, and the player's chance to stand up to that terror, all but gone.

I reiterate, I see the merit in allowing elves and qunari to finally be unapologetically themselves, it must be relaxing. But that's not why people by and large play elves and qunari. They play them because the two races in Thedas struggle against something that they can unfairly and sadly have to struggle with in real life. Except in real life, winning against oppression is damned difficult, but in a video game, like I said, you have the ability to actually do something against the oppression you face, and do it effectively.

And the Venatori don't count. Because they're a cult, but in real life there aren't many convenient cults to rail against, in real life, it's a problem that infests the society as a whole. And it's infinitely more cathartic to be able to take your suffering and address the entire society on your own terms than just delete a few cults and it's all peaches and cream after that.

Fantasy worlds hinge on suspension of disbelief: You can have fantastic elements, but it needs to be relatable. And Tevinter especially being sanitised of its historically absolutely rotten elements for... what? Ain't it.

Contrast the entirety of Veilguard to waltzing into Halamshiral's Winter Palace, being treated with derision and suspicion for who you are, and acing it so well the masked morons can't help but bow in deference because you the player took their prejudice and completely unmasked it (heh), and rubbed their noses in it. That was nice, right? Halamshiral is, after all, one of the best-regarded parts of the Inquisition BECAUSE of the intrigue, the prejudice, and for the underdog to not just confront it, but force feed their own prejudice to them while remaining if not magnanimous and better than them, then at least being given the joyous opportunity to be just as petty and reclaim equality based on shared traits like pettiness, gossip and prejudice. To show them, they can throw what they like at you, but you'll match them step for step, and they can just deal with it.

Where is all of that in stinkin' Tevinter?? The mother of all of Thedas' societal ills. I say 'mother' because the daughters in the south inherited a lot from mother, but went on to be awful in their own independent ways, too.

Disclaimer: I have seen one playthrough, so of course I have missed details and nuances, but that's the problem, you know? Most players only play it once. You need to get out as much info and lore as possible on the first time, because most people will not be returning for seconds. It's on par with the other thing BioWare does, hiding a metric ton of lore in supplementary material, books and comics. No. That shit needs to be in the game, and it needs to be visible.

And Tevinter... You could sell Fenris back to slavery. You could rescure an elven slave and take her in. You had an entire alienage being sold to Tevinter magisters. You had Calpernia. What even happened to Calpernia? Did she ever even matter? You had the rebel mages stumble into Tevinter indentured servitude in Redcliffe. Why is Tevinter suddenly done a 180 in just ten years due to a few upstart magisters' impassioned speeches? We know what happens to real life freedom fighting activists in real life. They get shot. On government's orders. They get shot even more when times are tough and a government is trying to maintain the status quo in the face of an even greater threat.

And if it was all some kind of commentary on Donald Trump and his crazies... and what's going on right now with hybrid warfare waged by Russia against all of the Western world, you would assume that all of the Northern nations of Thedas would be hotspots of even greater oppression, internal strife and division, suspicion and distrust, hostility between various civilian groups and so on.

How satisfying would it have been to be able to witness that, confront it, and had the opportunity to address it all with extreme prejudice instead of bickering at the dinner table about bringing too many books on an expedition with a companion whose race is currently in active, extremely oppressive conflict with damn near all of Northern Thedas, like who Taash or possibly Rook is beyond their gender identity wouldn't get absolutely brutalised by being, you know, not just Qunari by philosophy, but an actual member of the race driving an active war in all of Northern Thedas. We got an one-two punch in reputation for daring to be a secular Qunari mage in Halamshiral ball, but the North's response to a Qunari is 'oh look, a Qunari.'

Where is the established lore and established struggles? What happened to all those hooks?

[tanadrin]

My duties towards the beings of my own species had greater claims to my attention because they included a greater proportion of happiness or misery. Urged by this view, I refused, and I did right in refusing, to create a companion for the first creature. He showed unparalleled malignity and selfishness in evil; he destroyed my friends; he devoted to destruction beings who possessed exquisite sensations, happiness, and wisdom; nor do I know where this thirst for vengeance may end.

This passage clearly seems to me to read “My duties meant I should not create the creature a companion; the reason I should not create the creature a companion was that he is malignant, selfish, and evil. I know he is malignant, selfish, and evil because [list of crimes that only occurred after the creature had been abandoned and deceived, like the murder of Frankenstein’s wife, which was explicit revenge for reneging on creating a companion for it].” Unless I am misremembering the order of events earlier in the book (which is possible--again I haven’t read it in years), that seems pretty clear-cut to me!

In describing aesthetic revulsion as the basis of race science, what I mean to describe is more the internal narrative of Victorian race-science, the one that adherents would use in accounting for the justification of both their political project and the hierarchy of aesthetics built into it. Of course the real historical picture is different, but the internal account is what is of interest to me here, because of the way it resembles Frankenstein’s own prejudice against his creation.

Do you think Frankenstein is about not meddling with nature, or is it about being unprepared and isolated from society?

I think Frankenstein is one of those thematically rich texts that you can get a number of very different interesting readings out of. It would be very difficult indeed to argue it was about only one thing. “Don’t play god/meddle with nature” is one reading, but in some ways it’s the least interesting one (cf. “Caveman Science Fiction”), if only bc we have so few real opportunities to play God and most hand-wringing over the idea feels to me either contrived or like mundane technophobia.

Here’s one reading: In Frankenstein, it’s made pretty clear that however horrified he is by it in retrospect, Victor’s act of creation isn’t what rendered his creation monstrous—it was his subsequent cruelty and neglect. The “monster” had in him all the capabilities of reason and perception, it’s just that Victor’s own revulsion kept him from seeing that. That’s not playing god and suffering the consequences—that’s being driven to hate your own offspring by the narrowminded moralism of your reactionary worldview. Frankenstein’s sin isn’t inquiry, it’s fear of the result.

In that result we are shown a lesson society still refuses to internalize: monsters are made of men when we treat men like monsters. Nobody, not even an unnatural science experiment, is born monstrous so long as he has the capacity for reason (which the creature plainly does); only cruelty, born from the expectation of monstrosity, engenders it. Indeed I would argue we abuse and despise precisely those people we want good reason to hate: when they fulfill our expectations, we are pleased, seeing this as justification for our hatred from the beginning.

Frankenstein explores this dynamic in a one-to-one relationship, but of course it applies to social dynamics that appear at a much larger scale. The Frankensteins of this world will always misidentify their original sin as one of too much kindness or tolerance—as situated in the act of creation. This is ego flattering nonsense: “My problem is that I have an overabundance of virtue.” Their real sin is perfectly ordinary fear and disgust, which was just looking for a target to fixate on.

[yuri-for-businesswomen]

me when i have some severe vitamine deficiency and start talking out my ass

no but for real this is ridiculous. both these cases are examples of oppression based on race; these men would have still been part of the oppressor class towards women. what i love the most about these types of takes is that they casually forget black women exist. okay white women can have power over black men in certain situations, that doesnt mean they dont still hold male privilege…

„umm people should look up emmett till, take that feminists, men are oppressed by women too“ like get a grip. these people talk about oppression and dont know the first thing about the concepts of oppressor class and axes of oppression.

[autolenaphilia]

Farrell's Fallacy

One of the most common forms of antifeminist arguments is something I'm now going to call Farrell's Fallacy. I've discussed it before in this essay, but now I have a snappy name for it and what I said bears repeating. Farrell's fallacy goes like this.

"Feminists say we live in a patriarchy and men have male privilege. But look at this group of men undeniably experiencing marginalization and oppression. Where is their male privilege? Checkmate, feminists!"

It's named after Warren Farrell, "father of the men's rights movement." This is admittedly partly for alliterative reasons, but also because he used an early version of it in his 1993 book The Myth of Male Power, where he used the fact that working class men are exploited by capitalism and are drafted to die in wars to argue that, well, male power is a myth and in fact "men are the disposable sex."

Yet you can substitute any group of marginalized men in the argument, and the argument is pretty much the same. The "group of men undeniably experiencing marginalization and oppression" can be non-white men, disabled men, gay men, trans men, and so on, sometimes all of them at once. It's therefore very popular here on tumblr as a way to sell antifeminism to social justice people who have a poor grasp of feminist theory, because it appeals to their understandable desire to support marginalized groups.

And it is a fallacy, because it relies on a strawman. It presumes feminists are doing the most simplistic analysis possible of patriarchy and male privilege, where only gender is taken into account and complicating factors like class and race are ignored. In reality intersectionality has been an important part of feminist analysis for over 30 years.

And while Farrell's Fallacy uses real oppression as part of its argument, it dishonestly contextualizes that oppression. It ignores that the oppression is not on the basis of these men's gender, but on other factors. These men are oppressed, yes, but it's because of systemic injustices based on class, race, disability and queerness and so on.

This often means their male privilege is severely curtailed, but it doesn't remove it. Women also suffer from these forms of oppression and they are often worse for women because they often intersect with the misogyny of patriarchal society, which is why we have terms like misogynynoir, lesbophobia and transmisogyny. It is in comparison with similarly marginalized women that we can see the male privilege of marginalized men.

This is one of the most common antifeminist arguments, especially here on tumblr. And i hope this post helps you recognize it for the nonsese it is.