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its-deputy-caleb · 3 years

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haiiiiiiiiiiiiii can we get a john x fem reader wherein the reader is the doctor and a friend of the macfarlanes and they patch him up after getting shot by bill LOL (rdr1!! i’m not sure if you’ve played that but if you havent it’s ok to ignore this tysm :3)

WOAHH this is long overdue but I haven’t played the first (don’t kill me) so I decided to watch a 10hr play through— I’m yet to finish it cause its long and I’m watching it in short segments but I think I could tackle this. I really hope this doesn’t flop bc idk what I’m doing lmao.

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It’s just a regular afternoon when Bonnie returns back to the ranch, you’re cleaning some of the medical cabinets, making lists of what needs to be topped up when you next take a trip to town or the Ranch’s general store. It’s light work for an easy afternoon but that all change pretty quickly when Bonnie came storming through the door, asking you for help on a man who’d been shot and needed urgent medical attention.

The list of medicines is dropped to the floor as she shows you to one of the units where he was currently laid out in the bed. You sat down, clearing his shirt and jacket to stop the bleeding and clean the wound. You were well focused on your work, stitching up the wound with practiced ease and addressing his other minor injuries like the small cut to the back of his head from hitting the ground and the bruising to his ribs from the bullet wound. Unbeknown to you, Bonnie has taken a stand behind your shoulder to watch you work.

“Damn fool thought he could take out Bill Williamson.”

“Bill Williamson?”

You could only stare down in surprise at the unconscious man before you. A man like Bill Williamson was not to be reckoned with, especially in a shootout if the evidence before you is anything to go by.

It took a few more hours of care but Bonnie stayed with you to make light of the situation and keep you company, only coming and going to bring back any supplies you needed. Once you’d properly bandaged his abdomen you stood from the shabby wooden stool you were sitting on and dusted your hands. You collected your tools into your bag and placed a soft hand to Bonnie’s shoulder.

“He should be fine now. He’s going to need lots of rest while his wound heals and he’ll probably be disoriented and dehydrated when he wakes but nothing more, you’ll find me if his condition worsens?”

Bonnie gave you a short nod in agreement, happy to stay with him for a few hours while you went and got some rest.

John woke with a splitting headache and a burning pain in his side. The events of the last few days coming back to him. He didn’t get time to think about it much however, when a golden haired woman came through the door, instantly giving him a light hearted lecture about chasing after Bill Williamson and getting shot at.

“Well while you may have done something stupid— we got to you in time and the Doc fixed you up real fine, got the bullets removed a few days ago. You’re a lucky man Mr…err?”

John made his way to the edge of the bed, sitting up and groaning at the pain that is usual for a bullet wound.

“Mr. Marston— John Marston and I suppose I should be thankin’ him for fixing me up.”

The woman leaned against the handle of the door, watching him shuffle on his feet awkwardly as she smirked at him.

“Bonnie MacFarlane. Miss, Bonnie MacFarlane and I hope you do thank her. She did a real fine job of takin’ care of you. She spends her mornings up on the hill by one of the large oak trees by the paddock, I suggest you pay her a visit before you start working off your medical bills.”

And with that, John picked up his hat from the wooden table that Bonnie had saved for him and started making his way over to you.

You were standing over by one of the smaller sheep paddocks off to the side of the MacFarlane Ranch and took in a deep breath, basking in the morning sun and leaning your elbows against the fence. You usually took the mornings to yourself, having half an hour to wake up slowly and enjoy yourself before you tented to a range of injuries and illnesses. Having been longtime friends to Bonnie and her father, your family had always been respected at the ranch and that came with certain privileges such as time off work in the morning.

Your peaceful moment was distributed, but not unpleasantly as you noticed the man who Bonnie bought in yesterday walking towards you. When he reached a certain distance his hat came off and held it in his hands, flattening his stringy hair as he addressed you.

“Pardon me ma’am, I didn’t mean to disturb you. Miss MacFarlane said you were the one needed thanking for taking care o’ me— so thank you.”

You noticed how he fiddled with the brim of his hat in his hands, trying not to look what you’d guess was embarrassed.

After you two introduced each other and you accepted John’s thanks, you offered for him to come and stand beside you by the fence.

“So who does a man have to be to go after an outlaw and bandit such as Bill Williamson?”

Your question was supposed to be lighthearted and fun, ready to tease him just as Bonnie had done for waltzing into Fort Mercer alone. You didn’t expect for John to answer you honestly

“An old friend…”

You stared at him in shock but he didn’t seem to notice as he stared out into the paddock of grazing sheep.

“Wait you know Bill Williamson?”

He could only nod for a moment, giving you a polite but almost sad smile at what seemed like a painful memory.

“Yes ma’am. There was a time when Bill and I weren’t so different.”

You actually spent a lot longer than you’d anticipated talking to John. For some reason unknown to you, John seemed to open up a fair bit. Maybe it all came down to the fact that you were approachable and kind, a quality you needed as the ranches doctor. Nevertheless he spent hours telling you about some of his time with the old ‘Van Der Linde Gang’. John spoke of train robberies and homesteads, what it was like to steal from folk and live wildly. He even mentioned gang rivalries and the epic tale of surviving a wolf attack.

He told you of some of the best times and even the worst but all of them were distance memories and he seemed quick to change the topic about why exactly he wanted to ‘reunite’ with Bill.

“What about you, Miss? How’d you end up here? Don’t see many female doctors around— w-with no offence intended ma’am.”

You let out a small laugh, hearing his curiosity turn to something desperate as he realised he may have been offensive. You kept your weight on one elbow, facing towards him and smiled.

“Well my daddy is the head doctor but he’s now semi retired. He’s a good man but he wasn’t always a doctor. A long time ago, when I was just a little girl our family were ranch handlers just like Bonnie’s family, but well… one season all the cattle got sick and were dying so my father moved to medicine. The MacFarlane’s are old friends and we’ve been with them ever since.”

John hummed, turning his gaze from you to stare at the vast Ranch that was almost a village in his eyes.

“Seem like good people— real decent folk.”

You nodded in response, growing up on this ranch became your home and you loved the MacFarlane’s very deeply.

“Indeed they are Mr.Marston, decent folk are hard to come by these days.”

Your pleasant conversation with John was suddenly interrupted by Bonnie who whistled down by the stables, clearly signalling for John to come and assist her with chores around the ranch. You could only hope that meant seeing more of John.

“It seems Miss MacFarlane will be needing my help. Thank you again ma’am, you saved my life.”

You didn’t get to say much as John took your hand in his, brining it to his mouth in a polite kiss to your knuckle before walking down the hill. He didn’t get far before you stopped him one last time.

“Oh Mr. Marston! I need to ride into town tomorrow to restock on medicines that they don’t stock at the general store. Would you be so kind as to accompany me?”

You eyes were full of hope and joy as he nodded and gave you a warm smile.

“It’s John, and I could think of nothing better than to help you ma’am”

You couldn’t stop the smile that spread onto your face as you watched John load his horse and ride of with Bonnie and a few others to work at various places around the ranch. You couldn’t stop the fluttery feeling in your stomach either at the anticipation and excitement of getting to see the mysterious but intriguing man John Marston.

(I will do a part 2 since i need more time to get a feel for rdr1!!)

#wow my first rdr1 fic #i have no idea what im doing #if this is horrible pls tell me bc i am soo lost #but i hope i did johnny justice here #and yes i promise a part 2 #john marston #john marston x reader #john marston imagines #red dead redemption 1 #red dead redemption #rdr1 #rdr2 #fem!reader

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axl-reality · 4 years

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!Common

It is one of those rare days Jakurai has nothing to do on his day off — no Hifumi to invite over another fishing trip, no Doppo to be checked up. It is one of those even rarer days Jakurai decides to take a stroll in a mall, stops by an arcade, with lots of crane machines lined up but with few to no kids to play with them, and chooses buy tokens to play.

It is funny to see a 35-year-old, 6-ft man ducking on the machine controls that only reaches his hips, maneuvering the crane over a pink and purple unicorn charm with the joy stick and tapping a button to pick the toy up. It will be better if someone, perhaps with the height of an elementary student, pink and purple locks that matches his equally bright teal jacket and a lollipop stick dangling on his lips, will do it instead. He's certain of that as he witnessed it years ago.

***

It happened on a rare day like this, an even rarer time when the members of Kuujaku Posse have nothing to do, no rap teams to defeat, no lessons to take.

"Hey Jakurai, that plush is so cute! Let's get it?" Two small hands tugged on Jakurai's arm as he bounced towards the crane machines.

Jinguji Jakurai, being his first time he dropped by on this mall's area, has absolutely no idea how to play it but before he could tell Amemura Ramuda, his hands were on the controls, having a little tinge of disappointment upon seeing the colorful cat plush slip off the crane's claws.

"Aww, that's too bad, Jakurai!" The Pinkette teased, leaning more on adoring Jakurai's display of failure as he basked in it. "Let me show you how it's done." Ramuda's hands slipped on Jakurai's arms then settled on top of his. Even with skin hidden underneath his sleeves, he could feel their chill, a chill that went straight into his spine, making him shudder. Ramuda's small body pressed against his, he could feel the tiny yet erratic beating of the other's heart.

"Uhm, Amemura-kun I think you wouldn't be able to see the crane from this position," Jakurai pointed out, ignoring how the pounding in his chest matched Ramuda's.

"It's a-ok! I just have to stabilize your grip." There's no need to do so, the Doctor's mind said, showing only a hint of it on his amused smile. Ramuda's ways are too roundabout but his message comes across properly, he thinks. "Now pick a target then move the crane towards it." Jakurai followed Ramuda's instructions, moving the joystick towards the plush that was right on top of the rest and free from any obstructions. "Make sure you pick on the part where most of its weight would be then hit the button." The Doctor flicks on the joystick until the crane is set on the perfect angle before clicking on the button. It slowly went down, camping on its head securely however when it pulls it up, it slips again. Again, the disappointment pricked Jakurai. "Aww! It seems like this machine hates you, Jakurai."

"Seems like it." Jakurai tried to laughed it off, Ramuda just stared at him intently as if reprimanding him of discarding his feelings again. The Doctor returned it with a curious one. "Amemura-kun?"

"I'll get it for you!" He parted from him then moved right in front of the machine. "If I did so, call me Ramuda, okies?" Even before Jakurai could consent to it, the Pinkette slips a token into the slot, maneuvers the crane with great skill and as if all of the Gods decided on it, he got the plush. He started bouncing again as he proudly showed his prize. "I did it Jakurai!"

What was this tight feeling Jakurai's has as he saw Ramuda easily get what he wants? Jealousy? Envy? It was a bit petty on his side yet he couldn't shake it off.

"It's alright, Jakurai. All the positive and negative emotions make humans, human. Don't even attempt to ignore them if you can feel them," Ramuda whispered as he tied the plush on Jakurai's sling bag. Jakurai placed his hand on Ramuda's head, making the smaller man look up to him with a grin. He must be enjoying Jakurai's emotions coursing through his face right now. It's the Doctor who wishes to see more of this person's humanity yet he's the one exposing his ugly, human side. "Now, call me Ramuda from now on!"

"As you wish, Ramuda-kun."

***

The memory ends as Jakurai's hand is now holding the unicorn plush. He thinks of putting it beside the cat plush that has been on his bag for years now when he notices a flash of pink and purple locks, oddly strolling on the same mall as him.

It's a rare chance of meeting him here, even rarer that Jakurai approaches him, shoves the plush on his arms and gives him a small head pat before fleeing. Too bad, he's unable to see the rarest, most genuine smile the Fashion Designer shows as he hugs the prize.

#ヒプノシスマイク #ヒプマイ #hypnosis mic #hypnosis microphone #hyp mic #ramuda amemura #jakurai jinguji #drabble

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little-wicked10 · 5 years

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Purely Precious (part 3)

Pairing: Negan x Unnamed OFC

Warning: Swearing, mentions of smut, smut

Summary: How could something so beautiful, so precious, have been created from a man who lusted for blood? How could fate be so cruel as to make her have his distinct dark hair and his dimples?

Part 1 Part 2

She and Negan sat in the infirmary alone. Negan had an excited smirk on his face while she had her arms crossed in irritation. “Oh cmon, baby, don’t be mad at me,” he chuckled trying to hug her. She turned away from him, “No. This is your fault.”

“If I remember correctly, you’re the one who said, ‘Cum inside me, Daddy! Please!’” Negan laughed as she hit him.

“You’re not supposed to take it seriously!”

“What do you want me to do when my hot ass wife is begging me to fuck my baby makin’ juice in her?” Negan asked sarcastically.

“Pull out! Now I’m pregnant again! I hope you’re happy!”

“I’m very happy actually,” Negan smiled.

She hit his chest again as he laughed. In all honesty, she was over joyed to be pregnant. She was only irritated at how reckless Negan was to get her pregnant again. “Cmon, baby. Imagine how good of a big sister Georgia will be. She’ll be so excited to have a little brother,” he smiled standing in front of her. “So confident it’s a boy?” she raised an eyebrow at him. Negan laughed, “I can feel it in my guts.” She just laughed and shook her head at him. With a content sigh, she wrapped her arms around his neck as he gently wrapped his around her waist. Negan’s smirk showed how happy he was. “Dada?” a little voice pierced the quiet. Both looked towards the door to see Georgia in the doorway with her fingers in her mouth. The little girl had been sitting outside while her parents found out their little family just got bigger. “Hey Angel,” Negan smiled turning towards her. Georgia gave a toothy smile and ran towards him with her arms up. She collided with his tall legs before Negan picked her up with a content groan, “There’s my big girl.” Negan ruffled her unruly dark hair and kissed the dimple on her cheek.

She giggled and put her chubby hands on his scruff covered cheeks. “Mama ok?” she asked pointing to her. She smiled at her little girl, “Yes. Mama ok.” It was hard to believe Georgia was almost two years old, and now they had another baby on the way. “Mama’s gonna have a baby,” Negan announced. Georgia looked a little confused at the information, observing her mother up and down before looking at her father like he was crazy. Negan laughed knowing it was hard for a two year old to grasp the idea of someone having a baby.

In their room, mother and father sat on the couch and watched Georgia play on the floor. Negan smirked as his daughter crawled towards his beloved bat Lucille. “Negan! Don’t let her play with that!” she chastised as Georgia tried to put the handle of the bat in her mouth. Negan chuckled as he took the bat from her, “That’s not for you, rugrat.” He stood up and placed Lucille out of reach from Georgia, who whined in protest. She watched as Negan picked up their daughter and blew raspberries on her cheek. “I hope it’s a boy,” she admitted resting her temple on her fist. Negan looked at her with a smile, “Negan Jr. has a ring to it.” She laughed at him, “Over my dead body we’re naming him Negan Jr.!”

Negan suddenly held Georgia upside down making her giggle and yank her back up. She smiled as the two played this game until an awful thought crossed her mind. Negan looked to his wife and saw that a dark thought crept into her mind. He could see it on her face. “What’s wrong, darlin’?” he asked, stopping the game and sitting on the couch with the two year old. Georgia decided to crawl into her mama’s lap and play with her hair, gently tugging on it and attempting to put the strands in her mouth. “I’m scared,” she whispered to her husband. Negan reached out and held the side of her face in his hand, stroking her cheek with his thumb, “Don’t be. Everything will be fine.”

“This is why I didn’t wanna get pregnant again. The apocalypse is a bad place to be giving birth. There’s nothing in case something happens.”

Negan sighed, “You’re over thinking, darlin’. Women been givin’ birth the old fashion way since the dawn of time.”

“I was lucky with George,” she looked at her daughter that still played with strands of her hair, “The doctor said if we had waited an hour longer she would have flipped and I could have died. The way she was positioned meant she was about to flip until I started pushing.”

Negan let the information settle in his brain. He sometimes forgot how dangerous it was to bring a human into the world, especially since it was more dangerous to attempt something like a c-section in case something wrong happened. All he’d ever wanted was a horde of kids to spoil and teach. He’d finally found the woman he wanted that with, but the apocalypse now put him in a position that if something did happen, he might have to choose between her or the baby.

Negan shook the bad thoughts from his mind and looked at her. He needed to be the rock right now. “You’re stronger than you think. Fuck, baby, you snuck outta here and to Alexandria without me noticing then gave birth. That’s some tough shit,” he smiled, “If anybody can give birth in the middle of this hellhole, it’s you.”

—•—

It had spread throughout the Sanctuary that Negan’s wife was having another baby. Neither of them could walk ten feet without someone congratulating them or giving Negan a dirty comment. It was amazing how fast shit like that traveled. Negan basked in the attention, mainly because of how proud of his virility he was. Mean while, she was having the on coming effects of pregnancy. Her morning sickness had luckily passed within a week, but the moodiness was much worse this go around then with her first pregnancy. The feelings were stronger, but it wasn’t anything she or Negan couldn’t handle. Especially on this specific occasion.

Negan sat in his office listening to a couple saviors go over the supply runs that were sent out this morning. Things had picked up lately, and it required his full attention to make sure none of these dumbasses messed up and caused problems. One of the Saviors, Henry or something like that, was going on about the surrounding communities and what they had collected. It was all tedious at this point. The boring meeting was interrupted by a knock on the door and it creaking open. “Negan,” his lovely little wife called, “Oh I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were busy.” Negan’s eyes lit up as she peered in, “Baby! Come on in. We’re just finishing up.”

She hesitantly walked in and past the group of men to Negan’s side. He pulled her on to his lap and kept an arm around her waist and a hand gripping her thigh. “Just let daddy finish things up real quick,” he smirked, trying to show off a bit to his men. Looking to his men, he urged them to continue with her sitting silently on his lap. The Saviors hesitantly continued and eventually ignored her presence. Negan listened and kept her in his grip at all times. Something was different though. She seemed to squirm a lot more than usual while sitting on his lap. Glancing down, he noticed how her hands were clasped together tightly in her lap.

Something was bothering her. Negan brushed his hand up her back to soothe her and felt a shiver run down her spine instead. The shift to have her thighs press together more surprised him. The smirk that dawned his lips told her he knew what she was trying to control. To confirm his theory more, Negan’s hand that rested on he thigh traveled a little higher, slowly tracing circles on the soft skin. Her body couldn’t hide the tremors this action caused. “Alright, that’s enough from you assholes. I think you guys can handle it from here,” Negan dismissed them. He didn’t miss the sigh of relief she gave when his men started to walk out. When they were finally alone, Negan turned to her, sitting back in his chair and letting his hand graze softly against her hip.

“Now, what is it daddy can do for you?” a playful smirk etched into his features.

“You know exactly what I want.”

“Do I? Or maybe I just wanna hear you say it,” Negan teased.

She bit into her bottom lip again. That lip was about to be more abused. He loved teasing her like this because of how much she didn’t want to admit that she was desperate for him. “Tell daddy, baby,” he whispered into her ear and gripped her thigh tighter. Her eyes suddenly went dark with lust as she finally released her lip and spoke, “I want daddy to make me cum so many times I’m begging him to stop.” Sitting on his lap allowed her to feel how much that comment effected him. Both suddenly acted on their instinct, crashing their lips together in a hungry and passionate kiss.

Negan stood, picking her up in his arms and laying her across the table in front of him. Her small hands went to work on his belt until he backed away from her hands to throw off his leather jacket. “Wait! Don’t take it off,” she stopped him. Negan’s smirk grew as he readjusted his jacket on his shoulders, “Damn, princess. You are just all kinds of kinky today!” Rough hands slid her skirt up to bunch around her waist and tore her shirt off over her head. His rough jeans rubbed against her center making her moan as he leaned down again to kiss her lips and neck. His teeth bit into her bottom lip and neck until both were bruised and abused to his liking.

HIs little wife writhed beneath him like a cat in heat, frantically reaching for his belt buckle as he switched to sucking on her tits, skillfully unclasping her bra and throwing it across the room. Negan grabbed her thighs and wrapped her legs around his waist as he heard his belt jingle and felt his jeans become loose. His jeans were worked down his thighs and her panties were pushed to the side. He released one of her legs, taking his length in his hands and rubbing the tip against her entrance. She whimpered and moaned, “Daddy please! Don’t tease me!” His smirk didn’t last long after he thrust into her, walls clenching around his cock made both groan. She dug her nails into his leather clad back as he started a fast and rough pace. “Fuck, darlin’. Daddy has been waiting all day to fuck this pussy!” Negan moaned, “You just couldn’t wait till tonight could you?” She didn’t respond, and he didn’t like that. He slowed down and chuckled at her whine. “Answer me, baby. You couldn’t wait could ya? This greedy little pussy couldn’t wait to have my dick inside it?” He questioned.

“Yes, yes, yes, daddy! Fuck please keep going!”

His pace picked up again, “There ya go, baby.”

What they both didn’t know was Negan’s saviors were standing outside the door listening to their leader fuck his pregnant wife. All of them had their ears pressed to the door listening to just how well fucked that little woman was getting fucked. Some of them had to admit their jeans got a little tighter hearing her call out for their leader and moaning in ecstasy.

Sweat ran down Negan’s forehead, determination to get his wife off before himself fueling him. Rough fingers found her clit suddenly and rubbed has hard and as fast as his thrusts. She started to clench around him. “Ooh are you gonna cum? C’mon, baby, cum for me. Soak my cock,” he growled. On command, her body seized and tremors went through her legs as her walls took a vice grip on his girth. Negan stuttered in his strokes, coming to a halt before unloading into her. Silence filled the room before they both began to pant. She was the first once to break the quiet, “I think you pumped twins into me.”

Negan laughed as he kissed her tenderly before slipping out of her and tucking himself back in his jeans. She sat up and slipped off the table, fixing her skirt as Negan handed her, her bra. Once both were dressed and somewhat fixed up, Negan wrapped his arms around her and kissed her head. “Damn, baby, I am enjoying the shit out of those mood swings.” She playfully hit his chest and giggled.

“I’m glad someone is enjoying them. They get exhausting,” she admitted.

(Part 4 maybe?)

#negan #negan x oc #negan x ofc #daddy negan #negan smut #twd negan #twd #the walking dead negan #jeffrey dean morgan smut #jeffrey dean morgan #jeffrey dean morgan fanfiction #jdm #jdm fanfiction

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9or10allgood · 4 years

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I love Tumblr. Far more than Facebook, which has become a seething morass of political partisanship, and while I’m all about seething partisanship when it’s discussed by people willing to engage their intellects, I’m less so when “debate” means posting memes and gifs which are, let’s be honest, the electronic equivalent of saying “nanny nanny boo boo”.

Anyway… Tumblr. You can, to some degree, control your content. If you are, like I am, mildly (*snort*) obsessed with a certain tall, lanky, Scottish actor, you can find like-minded individuals and follow them and bask in his glory to your heart’s content. Likewise, you can follow fandoms based on television shows and movies and plays and music… and you get my point. You’re all here so, of course, you do.

And, if you are interested in things like politics or social issues or the environment or science or all of the above (and more), that content is also readily available on Tumblr.

Generally speaking, I find the folks on Tumblr to be considerably more relaxed and open and accepting than on Facebook. I attribute that, for the most part, to the members being mostly younger. I’m a great believer in young people. The future belongs to them and I am, present circumstances notwithstanding, mostly optimistic about the future.

I’m a Boomer. I was born eleven years after the end of WWII. (Good Lord, I feel old!) There were no twenty-four-hour television or radio stations, and the internet wasn’t even conceived of, even by the most forward thinkers. Doctors still made housecalls as a matter of course. Milk was still delivered to your door every morning. The polio vaccine was still being tested. Putting a man on the moon was a science fiction fantasy.

As a generation, we “Boomers” were guilty of a lot of things, beginning with not quickly enough shedding some of the baggage from the generation before us. We were still largely segregated and we are paying the price still and we will until - I don’t know how long and that disturbs me more than I can say. We were too quick to distrust the other - just ask the immigrants that came to these shores during and after the War. There was a dear older lady in my church when I was in high school. A kinder, more charitable, more joyful woman you could never hope to meet. She was a German war bride - met an American soldier and they fell in love and married and he brought her home to his small, south Georgia hometown. Their first decade was tough - folks were slow to forget and she was sometimes ostracized. Even when I knew her, people would sometimes refer to her (in lowered tones) as Leroy’s German frau.

We were abysmal when it came to the environment. I mean, look at the cars we drove in the sixties and seventies before the oil crisis forced a turn toward economy cars. Gasoline was $.37 a gallon - and that was hi-test! What did it matter that my mother’s 1971 Mercury Grand Marquis land yacht only got 11 miles to the gallon? Gender equality? Seriously? Gender Identity?!?!? How you came out of the womb is what you were. Period. And if your family had that special uncle or the aunt with a Very Close Friend, well, it just wasn’t talked about, was it…

On the other hand, there were things we did do. That social conscience that drives our society today? You can thank those who loudly and visibly protested the Vietnam War for a lot of it. Sure, there were anti-war movements always, but the Vietnam War lit a fire that, with the availability of news cameras and microphones and news cycles, burned hot and bright until the last helicopter departed the US Embassy in Saigon on April 30, 1975. And when the war was over, there were plenty of other things to get riled up about: the environment, women’s rights, the right to choose, civil rights, gay rights. Anger over things that are wrong today didn’t just start in the 2000s. A lot of us - and I mean a lot! - have been pissed off for a while.

Putting a man on the moon belongs to the generation before the Boomers, obviously, but the drive to continue space exploration - the space shuttle, the probes that are still sailing toward places beyond our solar system, the International Space Station, the Hubble telescope - belong to us. Medical advances? Advances in diabetic screening and treatment, the MRI, treatment of HIV/AIDS… Cancer research was largely theoretical until the ‘70s. The idea of DNA re-sequencing as a therapeutic treatment? Late ‘70’s.

And as for culture? My generation embraced the idea of embracing the accoutrements of other cultures. Clothing, jewelry, hairstyles, music, food… we were all about it. I see people commenting on “cultural appropriation” as if it’s a bad thing. We - my generation - considered it to be a tangible form of acceptance.

(As an aside, I have a dear friend who is battling uterine cancer. She has lost all of her hair due to chemotherapy. On one of her “good days”, she and her family took in an Indian (the country) festival and, while she was there, saw an artist creating henna tattoos. On impulse, she asked the woman to create one for her scalp. It was a masterpiece, absolutely glorious, and it gave my friend so much of her joy back. For the first time, she was proud to show herself without a wig or scarf. I think if I’d heard anyone say anything about “cultural appropriation”, I would have punched them in the mouth.)

My point to this ramble is this. Lately, I’ve been seeing anti-Boomer things on Tumblr. Boomers are rude. Boomers are backward. Boomers are outdated. And while I get that it’s just a thing for generations to complain about each other, it’s the absolutism that I see that bothers me. When I was young and dealing with my parents’ generation, I didn’t consign the whole kit and kaboodle to the Dark Ages. And, from my viewpoint as an older person, I don’t heave a great sigh and clutch my pearls over the entirety of the Gen X'ers, the Millennials (raised one!), or the Gen Z'ers. I may get annoyed with one or two individuals and have a sudden urge to shake my cane and yell “get off my lawn, whippersnapper!” but I manage to contain myself. (There was the young man in the electronics department at WalMart who, in his most condescending manner, asked me if I knew what a USB port was. I wanted to tell him that I’d been working with computers since before his father first bought his mother a malt at the chocolate shoppe. Instead, I just gave him The Look™ and he mumbled an apology.)

Absolutism about anything is corrosive. I mean, think about it. It lies at the heart of so many of the evils that are tearing at us now. It feeds the desire to hate all of the “other” because of a crime perpetrated by one or a few. Wars result from this kind of thinking. Down through history, you see it. And it’s so much more easily spread now with social media. Again, I would abandon FB altogether - except that it’s how I keep up with the folks back home - because it’s become a political, partisan, largely unintelligent cesspool. All because those on the Left believe that those on the Right are the Minions of Satan and those on the Right think that those on the Left are Bloodsucking Snowflakes. And, of course, they don’t all think that, but it’s so easy to click a “Like” or a “Share” without really thinking about the message they are sending, and before you know it things are out of control and we’ve put a dictator wannabe in the bloody Oval Office!

(Sorry. I’m still upset.)

There are those who ask why boomers are offended. I mean, “ok boomer” is just a joke, right? Well, yeah, but that same reasoning has been applied to how many derogatory labels. (I read one comment that “Boomer” isn’t an ageist slur. Except it kinda is, y'know?) And, again, it spreads and it gets blown out of proportion and there are those who are just ready to jump on a bandwagon - any bandwagon! - and the next thing you know, it’s trending on Twitter and we’ve got one more thing to get mad about that shouldn’t be anything at all because there are so many other things that we really should be mad about and trying to do something about…

Do you get my point?

If someone of any generation gets on your last good nerve, by all means, express yourself. (Short of violence, obviously.) But ease up on projecting the “they’re all bad" mentality. It isn’t true. It doesn’t make anything easier. And we’re all better than that.

Aren’t we?

#boomers #ok boomers #just a few observations #by a boomer

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