#even in hectic conditions really makes an absurd difference) and i did get to see My Boy. My Favorite Guy. My Silly Goose when he got off

[readymades2002]

oh. MY god i hate my job

[imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl]

Stay With Me (Pt. 07 of 09)

Pairing: Daryl Dixon X Reader

Word count: 3 K

Summary: Daryl found you surrounded by the dead, stuck in the backseat of a car. You were wishing for death to take you away for quite a while now, but, as you slid back and forth into consciousness, there was only one thing keeping you alive. Him, the man with blue, worried eyes and kind voice. Your beaten up body was ready to give up, too wounded and broken to keep going. But this man, who went out of his way to save your life is the only thing in the world holding you up. And, because of him, you feel something you haven't felt in a very long time: hope. Wherever he's taking you, you want to get there, and not only to be buried. For what it feels like the very first time, you want to live. He takes you back to Alexandria, but even there, the nightmares and the terror from all the torture and pain you've been through keeps creeping closer, and Daryl, your hero, is the only one who can keep that all away.

Warnings: Mentions and description (not graphic) of past abuse; post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD); some violence at the end of the story (a little bit graphic, but not so much); blood.

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{The Walking Dead Masterlist}

I want to thank my awesome friend @jodiereedus22, who helped me (and still does) a lot to get this story done. She's also a writer and she's amazing so please go check her work!!

×

If You Love Me...

You've seen death. Often, cruel, cold. From afar and from up close. You felt it, in many different ways. At first when your family passed away, then your friends... And you felt it in your body too, in the months you spent held captive, wishing for it. And in the car, as you waited for it.

But it's different now. You were holding onto Melanie when she stopped moving, stopped breathing, the second after the baby cried for the very first time. Her whole body went numb, turned off. She knew her pregnancy was dangerous. Melanie is old, and she had a heart condition. That was the reason why she never tried for a baby before. But now, with the world on its end, she decided to try. Death is certain, she told you once, and if she died in the process of delivering her child, she'd die happy. With a purpose.

But of course, you never thought it would actually happen.

The commotion that followed happened in a blur. Carol passed you the child in a hurry, pushing you out of the room.

You know what happens now. Daryl told you a while ago. Everyone who dies comes back. Everyone is infected. You try not to think about it, to focus on life instead of death.

And that's what you're holding in your arms now. Life. Tiny and fresh, his little cries making your body move out of instinct, slowly swinging from side to side until he's quiet again.

When it's done, and Melanie's dead body won't raise up again, Carol comes and you help her clean the baby. Luke, after her late husband. Denise is quick to gather all the baby supplies needed, and she starts telling you and Carol what to do. Carol already knows, of course, because of her daughter Sofia.

It's quite obvious Carol will take care of the child. It's implied by how Denise is so focused on her, talking fast, gesturing a lot. She's a little funny actually, and easy to talk to. Once little Luke is clean and dressed in his first clothes, in a pale shade of blue, Carol picks him up and he starts crying, with powerful lungs. She starts mumbling, talking to the baby, but he doesn't stop.

“Alright, alright.” She whispers. “Shh.”

“Does he need anything?” You ask, watching as Carol bounces him slowly.

“We did everything. Maybe he's in pain.” Denise removes some of the hair that has fallen on her face. “Let's take him to the infirmary so I can take a look.”

“Ok.” Carol agrees, raising her voice above the baby's cries. “(Y/N), can you carry him? These bags are too heavy for you and–” You quickly step forward, once again welcoming the baby into your arms “–you still need to be careful with your...” Her voice fades as Luke stops crying, his tears shining on his cheeks.

He's so light you feel like you're barely holding anything. “He stopped,” Denise mutters. “I don't think he was in pain.”

Looking down at the baby, you stand there, motionless. “What do you think it was?” You ask in a low voice.

“Uhm, I don't know. Maybe he likes you.” She mumbles, hands on her hips. “Carol, do you think you can take care of him? If not we'll have to find a family willing to adopt.”

“We can.” You burst out, because suddenly the idea of giving Like into another family sounds absurd. “Can we? I'm sure you can teach me and I'll help.”

“We sure can.” She affirms, and you smile. “Let's get going now. They will soon come to bury Melanie.” Her voice gets darker in the end, heavier.

The whole city attempted to Melanie's funeral. You stood there, beside Carol, little Luke in your arms. You felt anxious when some people came to meet the baby, offering you their condolences and any help you might need now. But eventually, she's buried, and you can't help but let a few tears roll down. Melanie was always kind and wise, and it breaks your heart that Luke won't get to know his mother.

In the next days, Carol has been teaching you everything about babies. Teaching you how to look after him. The baths, how to prepare the baby bottle, how to deal with fevers, and stuff like that. You make a hell lot of questions, eager to know every single thing you can.

Your days revolve around Luke, what is good because you don't have time to think about Daryl and the possibility of him not wanting anything with you. The possibility that those warm nights in his arms are over.

Carol helps you get into a good schedule with the baby. You take turns waking up when he starts crying at night, but despite him growing used to Carol, she takes longer to rock him to sleep again. Luke feels better around you, she says. And honestly, you don't mind one bit. Carol assures you the cryings will get worse. Newborn babies sleep a lot, and with time, he'll need less sleep and that's when things will get hectic. But you're ok with it. You're mesmerized by him, so tiny, so innocent. A beacon of light in such a dark world. It's like a miracle to have a baby here, in an Earth where now the dead can walk again.

As the days pass by, you notice that you easily learn your way with Luke. Carol calls it mother instinct, but you never thought you had it in you... You never really thought about kids, but now... Maybe you could have one...

This thought reminds you of Daryl. Having a baby means you'll have to be very intimate with someone. And you can't imagine being intimate with anyone who isn't Daryl. Sighing, you look through the window of Luke's bedroom. It used to be Daryl's, but since he's sleeping in yours, Carol thought it would be ok to change things. So all of his stuff were reallocated to give Luke his space. Even though he doesn't need much now, being so little.

You haven't told Daryl about it yet. Your talks are always brief, just enough for you to know he's alright and for him to know you're alright as well.

Today, another sweet and slow morning, you're at the couch, a sleepy Luke in your arms. Carol is doing the dishes and getting some stuff ready for lunch. The kids will be coming, so she has something special planned. You'll help her in a few moments when Luke is asleep enough so you can leave him in his crib upstairs.

“I'm going to make cookies for the afternoon. What do you think?” She asks from the kitchen in a low voice.

“The kids will love it.” You say, turning your head to look at her. “When are you going to tell me your secret ingredient?”

“Never, obviously.” She answers and you giggle. “You would have to–” Her voice fades suddenly, and you listen as she puts something down. “Honey, I think they're back.”

“What?” Your heart skips a beat. “Are you sure?”

“Let me check.” She says and walks out, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

Well, not alone. Looking down at Luke, you smile when he moves his hand, grabbing something in his sleep. He's so oblivious to the war happening in your heart now. In your brain. This is it. He's back one day earlier than planned, but even though you knew the time was coming, you couldn't prepare yourself for it. Breathing deeply, you caress Luke's forehead, very lightly as if he's a fragile little thing. His mouth moves a little as if he's trying to speak and you giggle.

“What are you dreaming about, little one?” You ask him, wondering if babies can even dream. Maybe Denise knows, you'll ask her later.

“(Y/N).” His voice startles you, and you immediately look up from Luke, meeting Daryl's blue eyes as he stands by the door.

“D.” Smiling you quickly scan through his body, relieved not to find any sign of injury. “You're back.”

“Aye.” He mumbles. “Ya always have a kid with ya when I come back” He adds, stepping closer to the cough and giving the baby a look. “Who's this?”

“This is Luke. Melanie's baby, she... She couldn't make it.” The happiness fades a little, and Daryl seems a little sad as well.

“Was it her heart?”

“Yeah. It just stopped.” Sighing, you keep your eyes on Daryl. His face softens a little. “She told me once you know... That she'd rather die bringing her child to the world than in any other way but I never thought it would actually happen.”

“Who's gonna take care of him now?”

“I'm the designated mother.” You mumble, smiling.

Daryl looks up from the kid, eyes meeting yours. “By who?” You see a hint of anger in his eyes and you know why. He thinks someone pushed into it, and Daryl hates when people push you into things. Since the very beginning. He did have a fight with Rick when he first showed up here, wanting you to speak about your past. Now it's just a little bit worse. Daryl is very protective, and you can't help but smile to know this hasn't changed. Not yet.

“By him.” Tilting your head to the kid, you giggle when Daryl's face changes, softening again. “Kid likes me, what can I do?”

“Huh.”

“Wanna hold him?”

“Lemme shower. ‘M covered in mud and I don't wanna to give ya or the baby an infection or anythin’.” He says, already moving upstairs.

“Alright.” Settling down again, you bounce Luke a little, but by the looks of it, he's in deep sleep already. “What happens now, little one? Can you please tell me?” In a low voice, you ask him. If only anyone could answer that...

“Where's Daryl?” Carol asks as she comes inside, closing the door.

“Showering.”

“Let me put him in his crib.” She comes to the couch, and you carefully lies Luke in her arms. “You two need to talk.”

“Yeah.” You mutter, watching as she moves upstairs.

You don't want to talk to Daryl. Maybe you shouldn't have spoken to him about your feelings. What if it's too early? Things were perfect before and you don't think you can take it if he wants to... End things? Change things? “Shit.” Quickly, you get up, leaving the house. Running away is not your thing. Not when it comes to Daryl. The only running there is, is when you run into his arms. But now, you just can't. And you don't know where to go. So you just start walking downstreet, trying not to think too much. There isn't anywhere to hide here. If Daryl wants to find you, he will.

“(Y/N)!” Someone calls, and after the usual terror, you recognize Maggie's voice, turning on your heels to look at her. “Daryl's back. Go see him.”

“I-I know.” Stuttering, you look at the street, making sure Daryl isn't anywhere he can see you before you make your way over her. “I just...”

“I thought you two were ok. Before he left I swear to God I thought you'd kiss him.” She climbs down the few steps of the porch, but you gesture for her to go back inside.

“We are.” Maggie has become a close friend. And if you don't talk about this things with someone, nobody will be able to help. “Uhm... I...”

“C'mon in.” She opens the door and steps aside. “Glenn isn't here so don't worry.”

“Ok.” Sighing, you step in, moving to the couch and taking a seat.

“Now...” Maggie comes and sits beside you, a leg folded under herself. “...why aren't you in Daryl's arms right now?”

It's not a secret anymore, Daryl and you. It eventually got out of the house, you don't really know how. “Because I... Goddamn it! I told him I wanted us to be a couple. Right before he left so he could think about it and now I'm terrified of what he'll say and I'm running from him.” You speak fast, hands covering your face. “I freaking love him.”

That's it. The words just came out. You freeze, breathing fast, the weight of the acknowledgment making a few tears roll down. You lie back on the couch, eyes on the ceiling.

“So... Do you want me to act surprised?”

“I want him to love me too.” It comes out as a whisper because this can't be heard by anyone. Not even by Maggie. But that already happened.

“Daryl allowed you to touch him. In public. And he touched you. Again, in public.” Maggie touches your leg, shaking it a little to get your attention, only stopping when you sit up again. “If he didn't love you back, that wouldn't happen.”

“Daryl... May like me. He's very protective and I love that since... Well, since all that shit happened but... Maybe this is it.”

“I don't think so. Daryl always makes sure everyone is safe, but with you it's different.”

Sighing, you wonder if you should believe that. Maybe, if you keep your hopes low, you won't get hurt.

No. You'll get hurt anyways. “I think I should go...”

“Yeah, he'll come here looking for you.”

“Maybe...” Pushing yourself back at your feet, you take a deep breath. “I'll... Take a walk.”

“You know he'll find you, right?” She says, following you to the front door.

“I know... Thanks, Maggie.” Smiling at her, you walk away, always careful in the steps before heading to the garden on the West side of the city.

There are some people here, not much though, but you still keep a distance. By the wall, there's a small square, if you can call it that, with some benches and threes. The kids come to play here some days, but it's not their favorite place. Taking a sit, strategically by a three so it'll hide you, you cross your legs. The wind makes you shiver since the thought of bringing a coat didn't even cross your mind. But it's beautiful here, and lonely. Few people come here, and you rather be alone. At least now, to think.

“Never thought ya would run from me.” His voice makes your heart skip a bit, and you do feel a little guilty. You're not sure why though. Silently, you watch as he comes to stand before you.

“I'm not...” You're were running away. No reason to try to dissimulate. “I just needed some time. Thought you would need some too, so...”

“Had plenty of time out there.” Raising your head to look at him, you can't shake the feeling he always brings you. Safety, warmth, home...

“Yeah... But you don't have to... I mean, what I said before, you don't have to...”

“We need ta’ talk. But not here, c'mon.” He reaches out his hand and you take it, pulling yourself up. “Ya need me ta’ carry ya?”

“No, I can walk.” If he's about to end things, the best you can do it put some distance already.

You walk at the fastest pace you can, eager to just end this. To know what happens now and work from there.

The moment you get to the house, Carol leaves, telling you Luke is asleep and he won't be up for a few hours.

So you go back to the couch, sitting down and bracing yourself, preparing for the worst. Daryl sits beside you but doesn't say anything. Bouncing your leg, you curse yourself for what you did. You know Daryl isn't the one to talk about his feelings, and you don't want to push him to.

“I'm sorry for what I said. I shouldn't have–”

“Ya wanna be with me. Why?” He bursts out, and you look at him. Daryl has his elbows on his knees, eyes on the floor.

“Because I–” Are you really gonna say it? Can you tell him that? Isn't it too soon? Or too late? “I really, really like you... More than a friend or a protector.”

“Ya shouldn't. ‘M way older than ya and yer–”

“Daryl, it's not up to you to decide what I should or shouldn't do. Or feel.” Cutting him short, you turn your body towards him, touching his arm, relieved when he finally looks up into your eyes. “I know you think very low of yourself. I'm well aware of the age thing, but I don't care. What I need to know is how you feel about me.” Making a pause, you take a deep breath. This isn't easy, but you have to talk. To somehow make it easier for him, if that's even possible. “It's alright if you don't. I-I know you don't like talking about this, but I just need to know if... If there's anything else... If you feel this way about me too...”

“I like ya, (Y/N).” He says in a very low voice, you can barely hear it. “And ya shouldn't have feelings for me.”

“Daryl...”

“Nah, lemme talk.” He cuts you off, faking an angry tone. Raising an eyebrow, you nod. “Ya shouldn't. Yer... Young an’ pretty an’ I can't ruin ya. Ya deserve someone better than me.”

“I don't want anyone else, Dixon.” It breaks your heart when he talks like that. You wish he could see himself through your eyes. Who he really is, not this messed up an image he has of himself. “And you won't ruin me. I don't even know what you meant by that, but that's not true, Daryl, I... If you want this... If you want me, you won't ruin me. You'll make me very, very happy.”

You're happy you managed to say all that, despite the many pauses and all the stuttering. There is much more to say, but the time will come. For now, everything you need is to know how he feels.

“I think yer making a mistake, but... I've been thinkin’ and... I don't like bein’ away from ya.”

A smile starts making its way to your lips. “Does it mean that...”

“Yeah, I guess it means that.” He affirms, still not wanting to say the words.

“...Are we going to be a couple?” You have to be sure before celebrating it.

“Yeah.”

“Like... boyfriend and girlfriend?”

“Ya need me ta’ drawn it to ya?” He bursts out, an annoyed expression on his face.

Giggling, you raise an eyebrow. You love this side of Daryl and you hope to see more of it. “Sassy Daryl is one of my favorite Daryls.” You say, moving to his lap, straddling his hip. A second later you realize what you did, your cheeks burning. Daryl is red too, and he's not sure what to do with his hands, but you soon feel them on your waist. “So... Oh, I don't know if you noticed but your room was claimed by a newborn child.”

“Yeah, I noticed the crib.”

“So you're now permanently stuck in my bedroom. Hope it's not a problem.” Smiling, you wrap your arms around his neck. You then realize you haven't kissed him yet. And, hell, you want to.

“Not at all.”

“Can I kiss you?” It comes out suddenly, too fast, and you look down, wondering if he can listen to your heart since it's beating insanely fast.

“Ya want to?” He almost stutters, his voice barely a whisper.

“Yeah...” Nodding, you move closer, eyes closing, and your skin burning in anticipation.

You jump to hear the front door opening, head immediately turning to find Carol. Her eyes go wide at the sight of you and Daryl like this...

“I–”

“Carol, I need you to go away. Like right now.” You tell her, urgency in your voice. You don't want the moment to pass, and you just need to kiss him. Right now. It's like a matter of life and death. “Please.” You decide to add.

“Alright, alright.” Raising her hands, she quickly goes upstairs, and you settle down again, hoping Daryl hasn't changed his mind.

“Ok... Can I–”

You feel his lips on yours before you can finish, and you don't mind at all. Pushing yourself closer to him, you deepen the kiss, completely inebriated by him. The pace is slow at first, as if you're getting to know each other, feeling each other, but then it changes, faster, full of need. You get the sensation he doesn't believe this is happening, by the way his arms hold you as if you would disappear. You won't. This is where you want to be, right here, with him.

×

@funeral-7 @heyyy-hey-babyyy @twdeadfanfic @soraitmnt @winchester-angel @bvbwestfall @shawtygonemad @cameronsails @pulplorrd @browneyes528 @btsiguess-kpop @a-dlv @bibibeauelle

[gamearamamegathons]

Trauma Center: Second Opinion: Bombs Are Basically Organs, Right?

[Content warning for surgery stuff, and euthanasia, a topic which this game *also* handles poorly]

Circe here! So, now that Derek has learned to use dark magic and defeated evil lung monsters, he's caught the attention of Caduceus, a super research lab that's all about curing incurable diseases. GUILT, admittedly, seems pretty curable with basic surgical tools, you just have to be really good with them, but I guess wielding the healing power of dark magic is worth taking notice of. Derek decides it'd do the most good to roll with Caduceus, so our next surgery is going to be the last one at this hospital before we move on. Here, we've gotta fix a young girl's heart. Hopefully the music can free her whenever it starts. But her heart, unlike the music, is actually stopping quite a lot instead. I hope you remember how to use the defibrillator! I skimmed over it before, but basically you have to push the remote forward, then press B and Z with specific timing, and you get to try again until either you get it or the patient dies. Yay! Here, we need to replace her heart valve with a fake one, but her heart stops, like, every ten seconds, which makes things a bit tricky. I, um, I'm sure she won't suffer any long-term effects from her heart stopping like a dozen times in the space of five minutes, right? Definitely. She's fine. It's fine. She's fine. She's *fine*.

But okay, time for another aside with Dr. Weaver. This time, a shady guy needs her to remove some real bad tumors from some other guy. These tumors are...weird. Each one is surrounded by three veins that have to be severed with a scalpel before it can be removed. Things get pretty wild near the end, and we find that Dr. Weaver, unsurprisingly, also can use dark magic. So it's all good. It seems like Dr. Weaver is seriously indebted to this shady guy, which is why she takes whatever work he needs her to do. Apparently something went bad in Japan, so she had to change her name and leave -- she used to go by Dr. Kimishima, although I'll admit, that name doesn't mean anything to us right now.

Back to Derek! He's off to Caduceus. Unfortunately, Angie's going with us. We're also introduced to a pretty big cast of characters, but I'll just kinda touch on them as they become important. Our first surgery at Caduceus is basically just practicing on the same tiny disease monster as last time, which we now know is called Kyriaki. There's a ton of different strains of GUILT, and it's basically just a catchall for whatever made-up anime disease monster the devs wanted to stick in.

As promised, one of the characters is now important! Introducing Tyler Chase, Derek's friend from med school. Remember the shady whisperings about a 'death doctor'? Well, it turns out Tyler's our guy. Today, in a very special episode of Trauma Center...let's talk about euthanasia. After Derek finds out about this, Tyler talks about how he just wants to end unnecessary suffering, and that's why he euthanizes patients. He talks about Derek 'turning him in' for this, so with the full breadth of context, it seems very much like Tyler is euthanizing patients in secret, illegally, and without asking them. Which...I think is actually murder, not euthanasia.

This comes to a head when we see Tyler's kid sister Amy. She's infected with an incurable strain of GUILT, and all the surgery that has been done on her hasn't helped. Tyler thinks we should just stop, rather than prolong her suffering, but Derek cannot allow that, so he insists on operating. When we go to Amy's room, she says she wants the surgery, and this one moment of a patient objecting to being allowed to die abruptly changes Tyler's mind completely. Which, again, confirms that Tyler has really not been asking anyone if they want to be euthanized. I should hate Tyler more, but this plot point is so bizarre and artificial that I can't really work up the same kind of reaction as I did to Angie. At least there's a sort of driving logic behind Tyler's actions, even if they're, like, kind of awful. This exchange also tells us a lot about the core ethos of Trauma Center, but I think I'm going to save a discussion of that for the end of this game, after we've really had a good chance to just...take in this game's worldview in full.

The surgery itself is more GUILT-based absurdity. This kind if called Deftera. It's made up of red and blue parts, which the game calls tumors, and claims that they only appear to move by replicating their DNA very rapidly. I can only figure that this is confirmation that their tiny monster appearances are kind of...visual metaphors for disease, I guess? But it's kind of sloppy and imprecise so I'm going to continue to treat them as totally literal. Anyway, when a blue and red one crash into each other, they start trying to consume each other, and they can be damaged in this moment. When they're damaged enough, they start freaking out and damaging the patient a lot, but then we can cut them out and remove them. It takes me a couple tries, because it gets kinda hectic once the game introduces two of each color. But eventually we manage it, and Tyler realizes that actually people don't want to die. Hoo-ray.

After this, Derek heads off to an international doctors' conference with another Caduceus doctor, Cybil Meyers. Apparently she used to be a cop before becoming a doctor, and remember that, it's going to be important later. Oh, we also meet Victor Niguel, who's one of Caduceus's R&D guys. Actually, I don't remember if he does anything important, so nevermind him. At the conference, an important-looking guy says that GUILT is being spread by a terrorist organization called Delphi, and we found one of their labs in Africa, where they were experimenting on people. So we should, like, go there and take a look. Everything's good until suddenly, the lights go out and the emergency doors lock everyone inside, and we find a bomb. Cybil makes the logical decision, which is that if we're going to blow up anyway, we should definitely try and just defuse the bomb. I said she's a former cop, right? Apparently she dated a member of a bomb squad, so she like, totally knows about bombs, and how to defuse them with surgical instruments.

Yes, that's right. It's time to operate on a bomb.

As you'd imagine, this patient is a bit unlike any of the others. We need to turn the screws to open the cover, and we need to figure out which way to turn the screws or else the bomb will blow up. After that's done, we need to mess with the voltage, which is just, like, messing with pins till a meter goes right. It's not that interesting. No, the *next* part is where it gets interesting. The bomb core is surrounded by white panels, and at any given time a small number of them will be flashing red. You need to zap the white ones with your laser and avoid the red ones, till they're all gone. I'll admit, it's kinda tense. God, I can't imagine doing this without direct mouse control. Once we get the last of these, we expose the bomb core, but it's surrounded with spinning patterns of red tiles, so we have to laser it without hitting them. It's easiest to use Derek's dark magic here, they go pretty fast. With that done, the bomb is defused, and all the doctors are saved.

Time to go to Africa!

Wait, hold on. First, on the plane over, one of the passengers gets sick, so we have to drain his bad stuff out. This is a pretty conventional surgery, except you're regularly interrupted by airplane turbulence. I also found it kinda boring. You spend way longer than necessary draining fluid from this guy.

OKAY NOW WE'RE IN AFRICA. We find this village abandoned, but after some searching we find this one kid, who conveniently leads us to Delphi's lab. There's not much there, it's been totally abandoned too. The trip turns out to be a wash, but worse yet, when we see the kid again, he's caught...TRIANGLES.

Okay, so let me break this down, because this is where the game starts getting mean. This kid's organ is getting covered with triangles, which basically will petrify it. This will kill him...obviously. This thing is made up of two parts: a regular pattern of triangles, and thorns that stick out of the points of the triangles. A triangle can only be removed when there are no thorns touching it, but the thorns grow back fairly quickly. Also, whenever you remove a triangle, they will attempt to go through a growth cycle. In a growth cycle, an empty space becomes a triangle if it's adjacent to a triangle and two thorns are touching it. There's also another condition, which I only learned about from the wiki, where a triangle with no other triangles next to it will generate three new ones, one on each edge, if it has any thorns touching it at all. Phew. You can see how this could get out of control quickly. I appreciate how this is sort of a puzzle, but it also feels like it doesn't take very many mistakes before you may as well just start over, because if there's a lot of triangles, beating back the growth of thorns is brutal. Also, some thorns will dissolve into mist, and if you don't vacuum the mist out, it'll spread even more triangles. This isn't very hard, but the biggest problem is that it distracts you from your flow of removing thorns as quick as possible, and can lead to falling behind very quickly. It's hectic and difficult, but with a bit of quick thinking and careful action, you'll get rid of every triangle.

At this point, we've actually just hit a chapter break, so I might see about breaking these posts into single chapters from now on. We'll see how that goes. So let's review: shocking a small child's chest a dozen times, tumors with vein shields, amazing fighting color-coded tumors, a fucking bomb defusal with a scalpel and a surgical laser, and of course the peril of triangles. That is all, see you next time!

[bibliophilechelsea]

12 January 2020 - What is Good Taste?

***Wow.  You let yourself get behind for one day, and then everything snowballs.  I went to Austin with students for the State Congress Debate Meet for 4 days, and then, of course, was behind once I got back.  It has been a hectic couple of weeks, but I am determined not to give up on this resolution, so I am going to attempt to do 2-3 readings a day until I catch up.  Right now, I have managed to wake up early to finish this one in hopes that it will jump-start my energy in catching up.***

“A Turkish sultan, relates Burke, when shown a picture of the beheaded John the Baptist, praised many things, but pointed out one gruesome defect.  Did this observation show the sultan to be an inferior judge of art?”  (Edmund Burke born Jan. 12, 1729.)

Read:  Burke On Taste..........Vol. 24, pp. 11-26

...for if taste has no fixed principles, if the imagination is not affected according to some invariable and certain laws, our labour is likely to be employed to vary little purpose; as it must be judged a useless, if not an absurd undertaking, to lay down rules for caprice, and to set up for a legislator of whims and fancies.

You say this, Burke, but then isn’t that exactly what you do for the next 14 pages??

Burke does make a good point that the best method of teaching is one in which investigation is well utilized.  I learned best when I would take what we were doing in class, be interested in part of it, and then teach myself by reading more in-depth on what interested me to give myself a more well-rounded knowledge base.  I have yet to figure out how to externally motivate students to do what i did naturally, however.

Burke uses like 3-4 times as many commas in a sentence as I do, and I thought that I was bad!  I am just going to quote some of the interesting passages for a bit...

All men are agreed to call vinegar sour, honey sweet, and aloes bitter; and as they are all agreed in finding these qualities in those objects, they do not in the least differ concerning their effects with regard to pleasure and pain. They all concur in calling sweetness pleasant, and sourness and bitterness unpleasant. Here there is no diversity in their sentiments; and that there is not, appears fully from the consent of all men in the metaphors which are taken from the sense of taste. A sour temper, bitter expressions, bitter curses, a bitter fate, are terms well and strongly understood by all. And we are altogether as well understood when we say, a sweet disposition, a sweet person, a sweet condition, and the like. It is confessed, that custom and some other causes have made many deviations from the natural pleasures or pains which belong to these several tastes: but then the power of distinguishing between the natural and the acquired relish remains to the very last. A man frequently comes to prefer the taste of tobacco  to that of sugar, and the flavour of vinegar to that of milk; but this makes no confusion in tastes, whilst he is sensible that the tobacco and vinegar are not sweet, and whilst he knows that habit alone has reconciled his palate to these alien pleasures. Even with such a person we may speak, and with sufficient precision, concerning tastes. But should any man be found who declares, that to him tobacco has a taste like sugar, and that he cannot distinguish between milk and vinegar; or that tobacco and vinegar are sweet, milk bitter, and sugar sour; we immediately conclude that the organs of this man are out of order, and that his palate is utterly vitiated.

But when we talk of any peculiar or acquired relish, then we must know the habits, the prejudices, or the distempers of this particular man, and we must draw our conclusion from those.

But things do not spontaneously present themselves to the palate as they do to the sight; they are generally applied to it, either as food or as medicine; and, from the qualities which they possess for nutritive or medicinal purposes, they often form the palate by degrees,  and by force of these associations. Thus opium is pleasing to Turks, on account of the agreeable delirium it produces. Tobacco is the delight of Dutchmen, as it diffuses a torpor and pleasing stupefaction. Fermented spirits please our common people, because they banish care, and all consideration of future or present evils. All of these would lie absolutely neglected if their properties had originally gone no further than the taste; but all these together, with tea and coffee, and some other things, have passed from the apothecary's shop to our tables, and were taken for health long before they were thought of for pleasure. The effect of the drug has made us use it frequently; and frequent use, combined with the agreeable effect, has made the taste itself at last agreeable.

It may perhaps appear, on this supposition, that there is no material distinction between the wit and the judgment, as they both seem to result from different operations of the same faculty of comparing. But in reality, whether they are or are not dependent on the same power of the mind, they differ so very materially in many respects, that a perfect union of wit and judgment is one of the rarest things in the world. When two distinct objects are unlike to each other, it is only what we expect; things are in their common way; and therefore they make no impression on the imagination: but when two distinct objects have a resemblance, we are struck, we attend to them, and we are pleased. The mind of man has naturally a far greater alacrity and satisfaction in tracing resemblances than in searching for differences: because by making resemblances we produce new images; we unite, we create, we enlarge our stock; 

I finally got to the Turkish quote given with the assignment when I got to page 19.  Essentially, Burke lists many examples of how a painter may have created something through imagination that stirs the soul, but if a shoemaker came in, he would critique how the shoes were formed since he has more knowledge of that then the painter.  Likewise, an anatomist would critique how the muscles were formed, but would not notice the issue with the shoes.  A Turkish sultan would remark on inaccuracies of how the skin acts near a severed head on a painting of St. John the Baptist’s death by beheading, because he has more knowledge of what that looks like in real life.  Essentially, while taste is universal, the amount of knowledge a person brings to something can change their perception of it.

When talking about how people seem to have different tastes when it comes to, for example, poetry, Burke states that the taste is still the same and that the knowledge is the difference.  In comparing Don Bellianis to the Eneid, Burke states that both have passionate adventures, but if someone has trouble with the language of the Eneid, they are not going to enjoy it as much.  Similarly, if someone prefers the Eneid over Don Bellianis, it may be that they see it as childish due to their higher range of linguistic knowledge.  If the Eneid was written in the style of the Pilgrim’s Progress, the person who originally did not like it may give it another change.  This is VERY interesting in regards to my teaching.  The language is often what trips my students up.  Someone may like the graphic novel of a Shakespearean play, but hate the original due to the difficulty in deciphering it.  Unfortunately, but job is to give them the necessary knowledge to hopefully one day enjoy these classics.

Men of the best taste, by consideration, come frequently to change these early and precipitate judgments, which the mind, from its aversion to neutrality and doubt, loves to form on the spot. It is known that the taste (whatever it is) is improved exactly as we improve our judgment, by extending our knowledge, by a steady attention to our object, and by frequent exercise.

Summary:  Beauty is in the eye of the beholder is BS.  You are just ignorant.

Sorry, but that is really what I got out of this essay.  It was quite interesting, but it got a bit repetitive through such minute examples and was too preachy for me.  I guess Burke would say that my taste is not yet well-formed due to my ignorance.