#his profile is worth shattering the veil for

[ladyinthebluebox]

One Evening Sketch II/?? >> Harellan (n.) traitor to one's kin

[yinses]

red velvet | gustave ‘doc’ kateb x reader

this wasn’t a request but im trash for doc and really any combat medic. its my sin and i refuse to repent for it. amen. some good ole mature content for my man. 

“it’s-it… still feels degrading.”

you held back a laugh, still finding humor in the absolute seriousness the combative physician took in such a casual display of sexual dominance. frankly, most of your concern had been geared towards him berating the unprofessionalism of your offer in a public setting . but you should have known the frenchman would be more attentive to the unequal power display. 

but in a way you needed this, craved the opportunity to lose sense of the world for once in your chaotic career. upon trading the cushion trauma position at an esteemed center in paris, you had in turn given up the freedom of careless actions. it was imperative to your very existence to always be on guard and conscientious of your environment. 

so yes, at the expense of your reverence, as gustave seemed more perturbed by than you, literally nothing would please you more than the simple act of resting comfortably under his desk for a few hours with your lips sealed firmly around his cock.

with effort, you managed to work the exasperated smile off your face. “i want this because i trust you. you’ll enjoy it too.”

his lips curled downward, but he didn’t deny that obvious fact. still managing genuine resistance, the frenchman reluctantly allowed you to corral him behind his desk and into his chair. you knew for a fact that he had a long day of sorting charts and micromanaging the wellness profiles for the incoming recruits. it was a long, drawn out, and mundane task that could use some liveliness. truly a mutually beneficial arrangement. 

eventually you won out, a small liberty he granted you over his authority when not under direct supervision as the attending. your heart warmed at the sweet gesture of his offered pillow that you used to cushion your rump as you leaned into his thigh. gustave continued to be characteristically doting as he cupped your face and drew circles against the corner of your mouth with his thumb. your lips parted easily, tongue curling around the appendage and suckling firmly. pleased with the full body shudder that vibrates against your chin propped against him. 

you parted with a kiss against its pad,”just relax, gus.”

with his nod of consent, you finally began the task of losing the fastenings of his issued pants and drawing out his cock. the earthy musk was already comforting as your nose brushed against the darker skin. fisting your own hands at your sides, you fed yourself the length of him with the ease his flaccid state permitted. this wasn’t meant to be a blow job but a similar ode to your oral fixation. 

above, gustave groaned softly as you rolled the flat of your tongue against the underside to wet it properly so that it wouldn't stick uncomfortably to the sides of your mouth. you continued to mouth sloppily until a collection drool threatened to seep from the corners. 

likely combined with the hazard of doing this while at work, it only took a few kitten licks to transition him to a half hard state. but you planned for this to last in the long run and not make it uncomfortable for either party. so while you still had the ability to, you swallowed him down until the tip nudged your throat. settling into a near meditative state to even out your breathing came almost second nature to you now as you leaned into his thigh. 

unable to truly unwind without assurance, gustave checked in once more. “are you sure you’re alright?”

your eyes crinkled as you hummed, giving him more than what was asked. 

this was what you wanted. a world lost behind the heavy weight of your lover filling you and stretching your mouth wide. this close and intimate it made it difficult to think about anything other than the scent and heat of his person. occasionally the scratch of pen or rustle of paper would rouse you out of your pensive state but before alertness could trickle in, his fingers would curl into your hair and scratch at your scalp. 

time escaped you without effort as the two of you relaxed. past worries melted away, gustave began to derive a thrilling enjoyment from the leisure of your warm embrace without the usual vigorous movements. it surprised him how less strenuous it was for him to read through file after file. by this point, he would have been near ready to nurse a migraine but within this sort of proximity he found himself working through most of his workload without the strain. you provided to be a welcomed distraction, just active enough with an sporadic undulation of your tongue or languid swallow to pull him from the depths of his thoughts. he felt as though he could survive the entirety of his day like this. 

of course, that all shattered at the echoing knock against his door. startled, gustave all but tried to shove you off but by the time you drowsily submerged from the depths of your mind, the door was already opening. the perpetrator had taken gustave’s quiet hiss as permission to entrance and you silently thanked the person who decorated his office for choosing a well enclosed desk. as long as you remained soundless, your presence would remain unnoticed. 

unable to roll back and stand, gustave's only option was to tuck his chair towards the desk. a thoughtless act that forced his cock further down your oriface. squeezing your eyes shut, you fought the urge to choke and tried to tug back the strings of tranquility. 

overhead, you were pleased to know you had been interrupted by one of the office staff and not a fellow operator. a civilian with enough clearances to handle sensitive documents was nothing compared to a vigilant agent. 

“dr. kateb, i just need your signature for the next supply order.”

the hand not curled in your tresses, apparently waved attendant forward based on the incoming steps. his voice was pitched deep, heavy under the influence of lust as he did the best to interact without alluding to the inappropriate actions being conducted. 

“thank you, sir. is there anything else i can help you with? some tea or coffee perhaps?”

the strength of his grip began to tease the threads of pain and you wondered what his face looked like now. certainly not too frightening if the person had enough gall to continue to ask questions. turning your head the best you could, you burred your nose into his apex and let out a quiet hiss.

not completely unheard, as gustave caught on and loosened his hold. “no, that’s all. i'm about finished up now. thank you.”

the second the door closed, gustave was rolling back eyes widen with thinly veiled panic. you really shouldn’t have found the sight so humorous on a man who’d faced worse in battle. 

“i can’t continue with this,” he shrilled under his breath. you figured as much given his solemnity, but that didn't speak for the desire still glossing over his gaze. it wouldn’t be fair to put all your work to waste. 

you agreed yet your hand still came up to stoke at him. he was nothing like his past disposition, now hard and leaking considerably. you couldn’t just leave him so vulnerable after he’d been so considerate to your needs. you got what you wanted, now it was only fair to return the same courtesy. 

you gave the head a quick lick in concede. “sure, just let me-”

you didn't offer a window for complaint, already rolling into a shallow bob. it didn't take much to encourage him to start thrusting in turn, the way your hands cupped the backs of his knees gave more than enough instruction. the salvia you meant to utilize in your favor, spilled messily out of your mouth as gustave pressed forward again and again. it truly was the best approach as the aged gentleman came shortly after, timing it almost perfectly to when his cock reached the deepest, cum shooting straight down your throat without needing to swallow. 

what you assumed was his elbows, hit the desk above your head as he sagged into his seat. you cleaned what you could of the softened cock before yielding. you scuttled from underneath the desk, one hand wiping the excess mess from your face.

breathing heavily, you leaned back against the desk and gave him a cum stained smile. “see, told you it would be worth it.”

gustave was certain that you had managed to pin yet another nail in his coffin.

[jrazillashadowworks]

Footsteps into Anarchy: Chapter Two

Warning: Blood. Gore. Dark themes. 

Brinderburg (Center of District Three)

“Day 40,” the young woman rattled off to herself, her soft, professional tone bouncing off the walls of her office doubling as a lab.

Staring at the computer, she scrolled through full pages, lined with countless, names, labeled by sector, with illnesses bracketed beside them and picture profiles of each civilian. Tilting her head, she fixed her oval glasses, a pulsing headache setting deep in her right temple, not aided by the insanely bright florescent lighting of the room and the glare from the screen. She wished there was a dim function like in her home…before it was destroyed.

It was pointless to think about that now. With the world in its current state, it’s lucky she was even alive. Noting her daily assigned sector, along with taking a fully downloaded electronic registry device, she prepared the meds she would need to give out; antibiotics and the like, and added it to her leather, side pouch adorned with the bright red-cross, held together by Velcro.

Opening the top drawer of her black topped desk, she looked over the rectangular screened device set in a protected layer of rubber and steel, her savior in any situation. Gripping it, she tapped once for the screen to blaze to life, the entire compound intricately detailed, flashing before her eyes into a map of colored shapes and lines. Pushing it in the pocket of her long, white, lab coat, she took one last glance into the drawer.

Sitting in the dark recesses, at the very back, was a locked box, she hesitated for a moment, staring intently, running through whether she would need to carry it. The past few days she had left it there, but for some reason, today there was a lingering unease in her stomach. Maybe just a symptom of the headache, she wondered. Clicking her tongue, and with little time to dawdle, she set the combination and clicked the lid open. Sitting in the velvet lined box was a small, custom, silver, 9mm pistol and three full clips. Eyeing the engraved ‘Little Sheep’ along with the running sheep carved under the wording, she holstered it to her leg and stood up, fitting the clips diagonally above it to the belt.

Letting her coat veil the weapon, she turned off the computer and left her lab, flicking the light off and locking the door behind her, leaving it in a void of darkness. She had learned her lesson about forgetting to lock the door only once. With so many civilians crammed in the building, it was bound to happen, but before, someone had raided her lab and taken all the meds in a mad scramble. They of course found them and thrown the one responsible out, most likely to their death but yes, lesson learned.

Hands shoved in her pockets, she slowly walked through the white concrete hallways, lined with painted, blue arrows. However, she kept glued to her device, staring down at the screen as a blip revealed her movements and directed her with a dotted line to her designation, along with an increasing step counter and a timer for how long it would take to arrive.

She paid little attention to her surroundings, to the lack of personnel as she walked, footsteps resounding in the mostly empty corridor. Only a few State’s Watch members guarded exits and doorways, standard issue assault rifles pinned to their chest and expressions of stone. This compound used to be well supplied with defensive measures and soldiers but with the all-out war, few remained stationed here. Passing by the main entrance, Mishy glanced at the doorway to the outside, protected by a massive, circular vault door of pure, reinforced steel. It did its job of keeping everything out whilst also locking them in. She had no idea if she would ever see the sky again. Although if that meant not looking upon the grotesque undead ever again, it was more than worth it. That’s what she told herself at least. Her medical mentality fought her always. Need that vitamin D if there is such a thing anymore, with the sky as it is now.

Lost in thought, she arrived at the section nine bunk room much quicker than she imagined. Letting her hanging ID flash against the door panel, the locks disengaged, bars sliding back. Entering, all eyes turned to her. Looking up, she met the distraught faces of the many civilians, dressed in identical, standard white clothes given to them by the State. It made her uncomfortable, the countless, defeated eyes on her, but she ignored it, keeping her professional expression locked on her face.

“Good evening,” Mishy announced, her soft voice barely reaching halfway down the expansive room. “Hope you are all doing well. I am here to give out medicine to those in need. If a new ailment has surfaced, please tell me and I will requisition new medications for your current affliction.”

Taking out the electronic registry, she went from the top, walking around the room to each of the civilians noted, passing out pills. The sickly gratefully accepted the meds with a cup of water from the watercoolers stationed gradually down the hall, constantly supplied by the underground resource, filtration unit.

Before long, she had made it to the bottom of the list, the last name being one Irene Fisher, an elderly woman in her late eighties. Looking towards the end, she saw her laying in the alcove bunk carved into the wall, withered arm hanging off the edge. Approaching, her coat tail was suddenly tugged lightly. Looking back, Mishy caught sight of a young boy clutching his stomach, eyes glossed over with bubbling tears. “My stomach hurts,” he whined, choked up.

Immediately, his parents pulled him away. “So sorry,” the father said. “He’s just hungry…” He looked away, lips curling downward. Urged on by the nod of a woman who must have been his wife, he stared at the medic, fervently. “The food portions aren’t cutting it. We need more.”

The medic’s expression remained stoic, though her head throbbed from the piercing cries of the child. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Food is rationed and distributed by the board of requisitions.”

“That’s not good enough,” he roared immediately, fists tensed up into balls at his sides, the veins pulsing.

“I’m sorry,” she replied coolly, despite the random outburst causing her to cringe inwardly. “There are hundreds more people within this building that need to eat as well. At the moment, this is the way things are. It may change as time goes on. Please be patient.”

The man grit his teeth, eyes clenched shut, creasing lines in all directions. He trembled on the spot. She could tell he was contemplating something. Backing away, she kept her gaze on him, hand inching towards her hidden weapon. Within her chest, her heart quickened, and her breathing shallowed, as her mind raced. The last guards stationed were back a ways. This man could kill her before they arrived or at least cause some horrible damage. She was definitely not a fighter.

Others in the room tried to dissuade him, begging him to stop but kept at a distance. The boy was bawling, screaming, his father’s raised voice terrifying him. “I’m okay,” the boy cried. “I can wait until next breakfast!”

“Shut up! This b-bitch is going to get us more food whether she likes it or not!”

“Please,” she said, trying still to keep leveled. “Don’t do anything we are both going to regret.”

“A-Are you threatening me?” He growled, spit slathering down his chin. “You damn State Watch dogs are nothing but captors! I bet you have your own fancy room and more than enough food!”

“What I get is rationed t...”

“I won’t fucking hear it,” he interrupted with swat of his fist, coming between a few inches of her face. “Don’t you fucking lie to me!”

Hand trembling, she had her hand close to her gun now. “Oh I see,” he said with a dark chuckle. “You better be fast with that.”

“I don’t want to have to use this,” she said, a slight panic leaking into her voice. A bead of sweat raced down her cheek.

Everything around them dulled, the boy’s hysterical crying stifled by his mother who had pulled him into a tight embrace. Everyone had slinked towards the walls, covering their eyes and mouth’s. Heart pounding in her ears, the medic grasped the pistol grip. “Think of your son…”

Manic eyes shooting open, the man’s mouth ripped open to shout but it was another that took its place, a bloodcurdling, crackling shriek that couldn’t belong to anything human. Baffled, they both faltered, the man turning back to the horrid sound. Charging at him was the old woman, eyes corroded yellow and festering with hunger. Bony hands slashed out before her, jaws clacking loudly. In that split second of absolute horror, the medic flicked the gun from its holster and fired off a round, the blast, ear shattering. A sharp vibration shot up her arm.

She had no idea when she had closed her eyes but when they opened, a heavy blur muddled the scene before her. Ears ringing painfully, head ripping at itself, she blinked, a single, stinging tear rolling down her face. Arm dangling, she saw the gun, loosely in her grasp, a trail of wispy smoke rising from the downturned barrel into the air before evaporating. Afraid to look up, she gulped down the thick lump in her throat and forced herself to do so, but very slowly. The civilians were clutched to the walls, hiding in their bunks, shivering and weeping. Some buried their faces in pillows. The overhanging fear was almost palpable.

The raging man stood frozen on the spot, body trembling, looking not at the medic but at the corpse on the ground, head resting in a pool of fresh blood. All his anger had dissipated, fear taking its place. “Y-You shot her,” he managed to get out. “You are a…murderer.”

His words struck her chest, sending it to the deepest pit of her stomach. “She wasn’t…” She trailed off, staring forward blankly. Did she imagine she was undead? Impossible, she reprimanded. However, the question remained valid until she could check. However, she made no attempt to move.

At her back, the door burst open with two armed guards filling the doorway, rifles drawn. “What the hell happened?!”

“She killed the old woman,” the man shuddered, face sallow. “She murdered her.”

One guard ran up alongside the Medic. “Health Officer Mishy, is that true?”

Gun quivering in her grasp, she tried to speak. “I...Th...ought…”

Pushing past the man, the guard knelt by the dead body, noting the perfect, dead shot center of the bullet smoking in her forehead, the wound deep and crusted in thick mucus and puss, mixing with the trail of blood left behind. Carefully, he spread one of her eyelids, revealing a sickly yellow and brown cornea, all blood vessels burst into a sea of sickly infection. Mishy watched, the whole scene as if it was an out of body experience.

“She was turned,” the guard stated, dryly, with a very subtle hint of relief. “Mishy saved your life. Be grateful.”

Though the news should have relieved the medic, she remained in place, lost to everything around her. “Get Mishy out of here. I’ll deal with the body. Everyone else please stay at your bunks until the situation is concluded.”

Running over, the other guard that had waited by the door, pat her shoulder gently, before turning her away from the scene. They walked out into the hall, away from the others. “Are you alright?”

Mental state a jumbled mess, she could only manage half a nod. “Thank you. I-I think I need to lay down.”

“Understandable. Do you want me to escort you to your room?”

“I’m fine,” she replied dully, taking a few staggering steps away. “T-Thank you.”

Suddenly, the walls seemed to close in around her, whizzing to encase her in a claustrophobic box. Disappearing behind a corner, Mishy kept up her gait, but trails of tears lined her cheeks. They would not stop flowing, despite the many times she dabbed them away with the handkerchief she held in her free hand. In the other, she still grasped the gun, much heavier than it ever was before. Logic tried to pierce through, trying to promote reason. Even though she had been assured that she had saved that man’s life and had killed an undead, not a normal human being, it still weighed heavily on her. Impossibly so. This was however the first time she had ever shot anything other than a target.

Sniffing, she didn’t realize it, so lost in the aftermath of what just happened that she had just been walking blindly down the halls, taking turns without thinking. Retrieving her portable mapping device, she hovered her finger over it. Finally pressing it, a sudden, staggering boom shook the entire complex. The tubed fluorescents running along the walls shook and flickered.

Nearly toppling over, she straightened up quick before another blast rocked the building, this time coming from a different side. Gasping, she lowered to the floor, the icy sting of fear locking her joints and freezing her insides. “A-Are we being attacked?!”

Cued, the hidden alarms started blaring, a hollow, jarring whirl that echoed eerily down every hall. Then another earth rocking explosion took out the lights completely, and silencing the alarm, leaving Mishy in blackness and total silence. Fumbling, she pressed the map that blazed to light, blinding her, the only sound coming from her frantic breathing. Focusing on the blip, she tried to remain calm, though at this point, it was comical to assume she could manage such a thing.

Fiddling with the touch screen, she found the option to press to remap her location. Upon pressing, a vibration exuded from the device, shaking in her hand and a little bleep sent a sonar out in all directions. It took but a moment to return but the map flashed with three massive, empty spaces in the exterior walls on multiple sides of the complex. ‘How? How?!’

In the darkness, a ghastly orchestra of guttural moans leaked into the halls that pricked every hair on her body to stand on end. The undead had got in. How soon would it be before they completely overtook the entire compound?

Pointing the device away from her, the bright light cast a glow a few feet ahead of her in a cone. Lifting the gun upwards, she hesitated, feeling her index finger tensed on the trigger. ‘Where do I go?’

Command was at the center. But to get there, she would have to make it through whatever entered from those cavities. Shuffling feet encroached on her and then a gangly form came into the light. Peering up, she locked eyes with a tall undead. It hissed, patches of skin missing from its lifeless face, shredded layers hanging between an exposed set of broken, and gnashed teeth morphed in a deadly grin.

Mouth agape, Mishy struggled to raise the gun to face level and squeezed the trigger, watching as its head imploded from the bullet, splattering a mess of ooze on the walls around her and on her. A wet chunk slid down the left lens of her glasses. It was cold against her skin, the sensation sinking deep under her flesh. Wiping off the glasses systematically, she backed away as others came into view, groaning, torn garments revealing their infested and putrid, grey forms.

Feeling her legs threatening to become rubber, she wheeled about and ran opposite of the increasing numbers of the dead. “Help,” she screeched. “Anyone!”

An explosive rattling sounded ahead. Gunfire. Sprinting towards it, her coat whipped behind her, her shoes clapping against the floor. She kept calling out, incessantly. Then suddenly, passing by a door, she heard a click and the door shot open. Suddenly, a wall of invisible bodies slammed into her, knocking her to the ground, glasses flinging off along with her mapping device, skittering off in the distance. A myriad of undiscernible sounds mixed together into a collage of anarchy. Disoriented, she fumbled to reach out for her glasses, the light of the device being filtered through many moving, blurred shadows. Her hand was trampled on more than once, striking pains up her arm.

Hissing in pain, she kept flicking her fingers out until they miraculously found them. Putting it on her face, she snatched the device, its light revealing the jigsaw cracks in her lenses, obscuring her vision. It was almost impossible to see through them. She could make out however, many people running away. Civilians. The locks must have been released. With the urge of the horde behind her, she found her footing and followed after the others.

Her thin body ached. Dizzy, she slugged along the wall, but rushed as best she could. Peeking back periodically, she gratefully couldn’t make out the dead in the glow of the device. They clearly lagged behind. Unfortunately, however, the civilians had all but disappeared from sight as well. Though being rag dolled around that stampede would have most likely killed her.

Then came the screams. Chilling to her very core. The very sound made Mishy’s skin crawl as if thousands of ants crossed over her nerves. Snarls mixed in with the screaming, ripping and shredding following. A reddish light filtered out revealing a tight corner a foot away. With no other choice, Mishy plastered herself to it and peeked out. Before her, the escaping civilians had met a force of the undead, some tackled to the ground and ripped open. A macabre feast unfolded before her very eyes. The dead’s jaws clacked on whatever they could latch onto, ripping apart chunks of meat. Bodies were rent asunder and intestines cleaved from stomachs, eyes, guts, all manner of extremities snatched free. Gurgling, the victims flailed futilely in their grips. Some had escaped, through the gaps, running out into the night to some unknown fate.

Panic and adrenaline pin balled inside of Mishy as she hid behind the corner and glanced at the map, looking for another way out. Out of sheer luck, she found she had just passed by a door that miraculously led down to an emergency exit. This would have been used would they have known of the attack, all personnel and civilians in this sector led out in file. It was her only chance. Going back, she found the door just as the zombies from the other side caught up and silently shut it behind her. Catching her breath, she followed the tight corridor without looking back. She had no idea what she was going to do or where she was going to go once she had escaped but that would have to wait for her to actually get out. Meeting another door at the end, she opened it, entering what looked to be a colossal garage bay.

Her device revealed fully armored, military Humvees, prepped and loaded with mounted 50 caliber M2’s. Maybe she could take one. Abruptly, shrieking, grinding metal suddenly made her leap out of her skin and duck down instinctively, inhaling so sharply it hurt her chest. Clicking the mapping device off, she moved behind one of the vehicles as the grating continued, wrenched by something powerful. A rolling wave of crimson light filtered over the floor. The bay doors were opening. Inhaling, she clasped both hands over her mouth, scrunching her knees to her chest as tightly as possible. With a mighty slam that shook the ground, the room was now bathed and visible.

Booming footsteps announced that someone or something had entered the bay. A powerful, sharp hiss spewed out into the air following more clomping, deep steps. As it grew closer, Mishy scurried onto the other side, away from it. A dangerous, biting curiosity snapped into her fear, but she refused to look at whatever it was, the image of her sharing the fate of those citizens keeping her rational. Instead she looked outside and her eyes shot open as far as they could go at what was revealed to her.

The curved hill that led into the streets were paved in an intertwined pathway of mutilated corpses, nothing left by grotesque mush and severed limbs and bones. It was beyond anything she had ever beheld. Pinching her nose, she tried to stay silent as the putrid stench clogged her senses, filling her throat with threatening bile. Whatever was inside, moved towards the door Mishy had just came through and halted. Going round the front of the Humvee, the medic clung to the grating and stuck one eye out the side. She immediately cursed herself for doing so.

Through the broken lens, she made out a tank of a man bulging with thick plates of cement armor and rippling, muscle the likes she had never seen. It had the form of a human but there was no way it could be. A high rise, mechanical neck brace veiled their head and their hands were encased in monstrous gauntlets, thick pistons attached to its sides. Glowing, red designs flowed through the brace and gauntlets, pulsing. On its back plating, the insignia of the Xenolith revealed clear as day, etched deep within the armor.

Horrified, though morbidly curious, Mishy wondered how he was going to fit within the confines of the hall. With no means of escape, with this beast so close, she kept glued to the spot and observed as he reared his long, behemoth arm back. The gauntlet hissed the same as before, the pistons jutting screwing outwards. Pulling back as far as it would go, the tank thrust his fist forward with a speed and force she could not make out and with a ruptured blast, the wall exploded into a gaping hole that left a cloven path as the rubble and dust cleared, marring the entire area in a brown haze.

Mishy had fell back from the blast, left nearly deaf save the intense ringing. The Humvees had quaked, nearly toppled onto their sides. Shaken, rattled and scooching back, the medic watched the monster trudge on ahead with each staggering stomp. In an unnerved spike of anticipation, she hopped up, and snuck outside, running as fast as she could despite her muddled condition. Stepping between the bodies, her flats squelched against gore and blood, lashing out against her legs and coat tail, sullying it. Least that thing could not have heard her, especially after such a blast and distance between them.

And with one last, inquisitive glance back, her entire body locked into place as a pair of blazing eyes of absolute flame glared at her from within the shadowed compound, searing into her very soul. Her heart beat slowed before kicking up. Nearly choking on air, she found the energy to dash away, fully expecting him to mow her down. No beastly steps charged after her however and she had escaped across the cleared street, under the shadow of the light way, Tram Bridge.

But to what end? The place that had kept her protected was now destroyed and she was stuck out in the streets. Where would she go now? Flicking on the mapping device, she pushed outward, to the country view and noticed again how bad her glasses were. Scoffing, she snatched them off her face in irritation and tried her best to focus on the map. Compounds like this one, were all marked as blue blips in each district. Marking the next one closest to her, she sighed heavily. She needed to at least attempt to get there and warn them of the sudden attack. With the enemy having such a monster on their side, it was hard to imagine what could possibly be done about it but it was all she could come up with. It was her only logical option, join with more of the State’s Watch. Alone, it was blatantly obvious that she wouldn’t last for long.

Then again, there was no way of knowing if the other compounds weren’t already like this one. The stressful and panicked thoughts reminded her of the throbbing headache that had turned into a full on migraine. Digging into her coat pocket, she felt a bottle and pulled it out. The label was hard to discern but she could make out enough to realize it was aspirin. Plopping two in her mouth, she leaned her head back and swallowed.  Exhaling she rubbed her eyes. Checking the clip in her pistol, she closed her eyes and regained her composure, organizing everything in her head. “First things first,” she groaned, knowing it must be done. “I’m going to need to find some new glasses.”

[justinjohn]

1.23.17.  Exposure.

I wasn’t going to drink tonight but I can’t really handle what’s going on in politics, so I needed a beer. I mean, what the fuck is happening? I feel like I’m in the Twilight Zone. I watch all these damn people going back and forth on message boards- white men with crosses as their profile pictures telling women they’re glad planned parenthood is finally defunded, saying things like, “Well, a muslim woman started it- what does she know about women’s rights? They’re all oppressed in Islam.” There are about 45 things wrong with that statement but most importantly: You’re a man. What the fuck do YOU know about women’s rights? 

Just to digress a second: is anyone pro-abortion? No, seriously, though. Like, no one fucks to get pregnant to go get an abortion, right? I mean I have talked to women who have had them, and abortions sound like they: A) are incredibly painful and leave you physically injured for weeks and B) they incur large-scale emotional carnage as well. C) Having to have one is just a really tough, agonizing decision over which I think women anguish and never forget.   Point being: even if planned parenthood were to be executing 100% of abortions 100% of the time, I think they would still be 100% terrible, haunting decisions for any woman who goes in there. It’s not like popping a pill, or waking up the next day and possibly forgetting about it, aka being a man. 

I guess what it is, is I am just so sick of people telling other people to whom they have no relation or biological understanding whatsoever how to run their lives because of their own beliefs, or worse yet, religion. 

I grew up Catholic. I went to Catholic school for 17 years of my life. I think I am a better person now that I’m not religious than when I was. I was self-hating because I was gay, self-righteous because I thought I was ‘chosen by God’, making ignorant judgments about other people just because I felt justified and backed by my church, which was all white and consisting of people with similar beliefs. You know what made me a better person? 

College. 

And New York.

Exposure.

I didn’t know what fucking sushi was when I got to the University of Chicago. I came to that campus wearing an enormous cross choker around my neck (which I wore for about the first two years of school to my now-chagrin), mostly because I felt like it protected me or something like some magic amulet, when really I was hiding behind it. I wore my belief-system around my neck which, in actuality, acted as a display to the everyone I met that I was a sheltered, middle-class, white kid from the suburbs who probably had no black friends, liked the band Creed, and probably was closeted (I did say choker, didn’t I?). Which was all true. Religion can be used for incredible good, but it can also be a shield to ignore facts and science and to simply block out the rest of the ‘heathen’ world and grip ever-more-tightly your ‘God-taught’ values. 

It wasn’t until I had experiences that allowed me to do things I never imagined, like expressing my sexuality with other genders (in this case, my own), and races, and to understand cultures like my Nigerian roommate’s (and that delicious food he used to cook that I still dream about daily), to try drugs and engage in the ensuing belief-shattering conversations, and find like minds like that of my Korean friend, Diana, who re-shaped my understanding of goodness and worldliness and acceptance, and the occasional need for things like contraceptives and the “okayness” of a one-night stand, or, in the worst case, the need for an abortion. For some, this is absolutely horrifying; to me, it’s exposure. 

I so easily could have ended up a priest, or working retail in the mall, still wearing that idiotic cross that was so enormous it would flip up in the wind and I would have to push it back down like the hood of a car. But I didn’t. And I think it’s better this way because I have had the privilege to witness the larger scale on which the world operates, and in a real way (not the way I used to think it did where my hometown, Lemont, IL, was always somehow the center of the globe in my head), to question the ways in which I was brought up, which were so purist and good, but protective in ways that they didn’t allow me to venture out on my own; and now, I am so grateful I can now see the world in color. Beautiful color that allows me to be a male feminist and fight for women who I think are so powerful and underrepresented, to see beauty in all genders and races (however one chooses to identify..) who still fight to simply be treated like I am in the same interview room, to want to enable a world for the disabled who are so often forgotten, to even the playing field which, is a fact, is uneven, and to never simply take the world at face value, to question stereotypes, and to use empathy as a tool to understand the mind of someone who challenges me to comprehend his/her way of thinking.  

This has been something that’s taken me thirty years to learn, and I am still practicing every day. 

I guess what I’m saying is that I see both sides. I know where I came from. And it frustrates me because I can’t make religion see outside of itself. I can’t make someone who chooses to safely inside of the veil of his/her protective belief system to do that. I can’t make someone sitting behind the cross profile picture who generalizes all abortions as ‘baby murder’ to understand the complicated layers of biology and rationalization behind this occasionally necessary practice. And they can’t. Because they’ve never been exposed, and internal beliefs always seem right. And to hear out this argument would be blasphemy. Which I suppose fundamentally, in some ways, is why red states are red and blue states are blue, and we just can’t see eye to eye. 

People are good people; they just fight for what they know. If there were a way that I could join our forces so we could see through the same lens, I would make it happy. But I know for many, the unknown is scary, or wrong, or unapproachable. 

And to me, it is what makes life worth living. 

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