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dumbsoftheart · 9 months

Text

pas de deux

pairing: ballerina!reader x university!coriolanus snow

tags: 18+, mdni. dub-con, semi-public sex, oral sex (fem receiving), creampie, vaginal sex, dirty talk, power play, manipulation

summary: corio is tasked with writing an exposé on his university’s prized ballet student for the school’s newsletter.

notes: self indulging on my perfectionism being ruined for coryo’s self-pleasure!

word count: 4.9k

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coriolanus hated this assignment with the same fervour and passion he hated writing for his school’s publication. the only reason he’d even applied for the position was because he knew of the ways it would put him on the scene- articles and reviews with his name plastered over them were unavoidable to anyone who had half a brain to engage in thoughtful composition. he enjoyed writing critical pieces on political discourse or literature, anything that challenged him to peel back the layers of society and dissect it, persuade others to align with his mode of thinking, so the mere thought of his byline etched onto an article about ballet- of all things- made him want to curl up and die. he tried oh so desperately to pass on the assignment to one of his female partners, and even tried his hand at requesting his supervisor for a new assignment entirely, but he was coldly dismissed and cast away to the hallowed halls of the university's dance studio. he didn't notice how frustrated he’d actually felt until he flinched behind the sound of the studio door slamming behind him, clashing uglily with the buzzing noise of music that flooded his eardrums. it was unnecessarily loud, but he knew you could hear him enter. his jaw clenched the more you ignored his presence.

instead, you focused on the strains of music you’d become uncomfortably accustomed to. the melodic rhythm of the cantilena you choreographed to consumed your body in a symphony of music. each note was dictated thoughtfully with the graceful movements you now begrudgingly danced for the stranger, weaving a story that transcended words, one only understood through the language of dance. as you traversed the space, your movements harmonised seamlessly with the refined tune, a testament to the years of dedication and passion you poured into this art form. you grew frustrated at the way his presence clashed discordantly against the elegance of your dancing and disrupted the harmony of the room. you watched in the corner of your eye how he marched his way to the centre of the room, lingering only a few steps behind you as you danced. you caught him clear his throat one, two, then three times. it grated against your patience, forcing you to stop dancing abruptly and march past him with the same conviction as he did to shut off the music, a huff escaping your lips at the sudden quiet as you stared expectantly at the tall boy before you. you watched his fists clench and then flex before he turned to face you, his pearly blond hair falling ever so slightly out of place from the speed at which he’d turned on his heel.

"can i help you?" the words slipped from your lips, delivered with a flatness that barely concealed the tinge of annoyance behind it. your hand found its place resting on your hip, a subtle gesture reinforcing your composed stance, determined to maintain an air of indifference.

“coriolanus snow. i’ve been assigned to write a review on you and your dancing for the university newsletter,” his introduction sounded pompous, as though he assumed you already knew of his identity. of course, you knew the name very well- his reputation preceded him. you couldnt deny that you too had once or twice been privy to the occasional swooning over the quite popular boy, but you found that now as he stood in front of you, tall and beautiful as he was, you felt a growing discontent for the man and his obnoxiously bright hair. yet, you clung fiercely to the facade of ignorance, a guise of disinterest veiling the curiosity that lingered beneath the surface. you held your head high, refusing to grant him the satisfaction of acknowledging his perceived importance in your realm of artistry.

you pretended to think before a moment, before turning back to the speaker and switching the sound back on, gesturing for him to sit. you rolled your eyes at his request to turn the volume down. despite you hating everything that had to do with this review, you were aware of the potential impact this coverage had on your burgeoning career. you acquiesced, lowering the volume to appease his demand, a concession made not out of respect for the boy but rather with your future in mind. you knew the power coriolanus held with his words, as much as you hated it, and you knew you couldn't risk jeopardising your future at the sake of a little attitude.

so, with an inward sigh and a curt nod, you allowed him to observe. you positioned yourself within the room as you waited to pick up on the rhythm of the music where you left off, quickly finding your place among the complexities of the song in a manner that seemed impossible had it not been for your tireless work and memorization of every single note and harmony of the song.

as snow observed your movements, he jotted down comments in a small leatherbound notebook, his pen scrawling his disdain. "lacks depth," he muttered under his breath, pausing to look up pensively at your figure.

the comment caught you so off guard it took every bit of strength in you to not fall with the abruptness at which you stopped. lacks depth? what the hell would he know? you felt rage burn inside your chest, only fueled by the way he stared at you as if he had said nothing wrong.

“what about my dance lacks depth, snow?” the question hung in the air, and you watched his adams apple bob up and down through the mirror as he swallowed, glancing briefly at his notes before looking back up at you.

"the dance is fine, quite beautiful, i might say, but your movements lack the emotional vibrancy expected from a performance of this calibre," he responded, "there's an absence of connection, it feels superficial and fails to convey the intended depth of expression."

he spoke with a measured confidence, and you scrunched your brows at his words. you didnt expect him to know the first thing about ballet, and you still stood by that sentiment, but part of you wondered if he was speaking truthfully- a consequence of the sensitivity you harbour in relation to your artistry. dance was everything, and while ballet trained you to accustom yourself to harsh criticism, you always held those criticisms to your heart, and it pushed you to always do better than you had before.

despite this, your shoulders never slumped, nor did you show any physical acknowledgement to his critique, only moving to turn your gaze from his cobalt eyes in the mirror to look him in them truly, strutting your way back to the speaker and restarting the song, determined to prove him wrong.

“you restart the song when you feel i’m ‘lacking depth’, so i can know whether or not to call bullshit.”

the two of you went at it for a while. he only gave you a few seconds at first before he continuously restarted the song, but you danced for him nonetheless. over, and over again. when you thought you’d finally caught him, he’d restart the song a few seconds later, and it took everything in you to not scream in frustration at the top of your lungs. you wanted to strangle him, in truth, especially when you caught a glance at his smirk the 12th time he’d restarted the music.

it was nearly midnight by the time he’d given you some respite, and you made no effort to be hospitable as you collected your things and stormed out the door without a word. you pretended to ignore the scribbles on his notebook as you rushed passed him, unable to make sense of the haphazard writing. you hated him. the way he seemed to try seize control of your creative space and your studio made you go mad. additionally, you were convinced he was only trying to get under your skin, and you hated that it worked- even if you refused to show it (or more appropriately, tried not to show it, because coriolanus reveled in the fact that he did, in fact, get under your skin).

coriolanus, on the other hand, walked out of the studio feeling quite prideful. he adored the effect he had on you: how despite his ignorance on your mastered art, he absorbed the control in the room. he adored seeing you struggle to keep up to his standards, watching your face twist with effort as you danced over and over again, all for him. watching the muscles of your shoulders and legs flex, the arches of your back and neck, the way you exposed yourself to him repeatedly- it festered a strange desire in him to tear you apart. you were so meticulous with how you danced that it made you look fragile. with every twist and turn of your body coriolanus felt his breath catch in his throat as if he were afraid if you moved slightly too much, you would shatter. only, he wanted to be the one to break you: tear away that meticulousness and precision built into you and mould it in a way that was perfectly suited for him. he wanted to dismantle that untouchable image you carried, strip you away of your elegance and create a dependence that would tether you to him alone. it made him care about your performance more than he wanted to admit. not because he cared for you, per se, and your success, but because he’d developed a carnal urge to shape you into perfection solely for his own satisfaction. knowing that onstage, your dance was now catered just for him, to his own liking? the thought made coriolanus’s pants grow tight with lust.

the week progressed following the same routine: he would sit and watch you overwork yourself at his beck and call until your eyes filled with tears of anger and your body would give out and he’d leave you panting on the dance room floor, killing yourself until you got it just right. the boy was acutely aware of the mental struggles that accompanied ballet- the pursuit of perfection, the strive for excellence, the intensity of the competition and the pressure to excel. he knew how hardly you critiqued yourself and used it to his advantage; knowing if he played his cards right, soon enough he’d have you wrapped around his finger, begging him for that validation you needed to keep going.

your performance was on saturday, and the way you worked yourself over the dreadful symphony of music had you lacking sleep. you couldn’t stop- even after you and coriolanus parted ways. you found yourself practising in your dorm room, counting steps on your way to class- you knew deep down that coriolanus’s article really meant nothing, as the man knew nothing about what he asked of you, and your success wasn’t at all tied to his review; but you were unable to stop. a voice nagged at you that it did matter. that somehow his influence could ruin you and everything you’d worked for. you knew how badly he was getting to you when the two of you crossed paths on your way to class.

he took in the sight of you: your hair done perfectly, not a single hair misplaced, your pink tights and leotard, the pink cover-up skirt you adorned neatly wrapped around your waist with a perfect bow. he took in your lips, swollen and red from the anxious biting you’d fallen into the habit of doing again, the way you messily tried to cover up your dark under eyes with concealer and draw attention away from it with haphazards amount of blush. in passing, you’d simply given him a nod, but he was quick to grab you, looping his finger under your chin and forcing you to stare into those piercing cobalt eyes of his as he studied you.

“you should wear white instead. pink washes you out,” he mumbled to you before turning away, his tall figure disappearing into one of the lecture halls behind you. had it been a few days prior, you would’ve found it in you to bite back. only now, you bit at your manicured fingernails as you dragged your fingers across the silky white pointe shoes in your favourite dancewear boutique, followed by the white leotard and tights you brought home with you that night.

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“i need a break,” you sighed. it was the night before your performance, and only now did coryo have the decency to step back for a moment in his unrelenting pursuit of perfecting you. he nodded, shutting off the music as he watched you saunter towards your dance bag, downing half the contents of your water bottle with short pants. he stood to meet you, making his way behind you and resting his slender fingers on your tense shoulders.

“whats bothering you, bunny?” the pet name sent a small shiver down your spine, and coriolanus threw his head back slightly at the feeling of you shudder, gathering all his strength to contain himself. you turned to face him, and he felt his dick harden at the vulnerability in your eyes. the fire that once burned behind them was fizzling, and he could tell. your mouth was parted as you searched for the right thing to say, but the words caught in your throat.

“is it the dance?” he pressed, his face now dangerously close to yours, and you croaked out a small yes as his hand made its way up to your hair, his thumb stroking it gently, “you know it’s perfect, darling, you and i have been making it perfect all week long, no? show me which part is bothering you.”

your head spun as he spoke to you- his fingers stroking your hair, the way his voice was now all of a sudden so soft; contrary to the stern way he’d spoken to you all week. but what really dizzied you was the sudden validation he’d given you. the casual way he threw it at you; as if it was what was known all along, as if you were crazy to think otherwise.

you stumbled back towards the centre of the room, slowly positioning yourself as you waited for his go-ahead, form snapping into movement as soon as the music filled your ears. you watched in the mirror as coriolanus paced behind you, his chin in his hand as he watched you and pondered. your eyes closed with focus, moving with such ease that it felt second nature to you. then, the music seized, and you froze in place as you raised your head to look up at the man now in front of you.

“you’re too tense,” he murmured, moving to press his hands into the soft skin of your shoulders, massaging the strained muscle gently. it did nothing at getting you to relax. inside, you were fuming as you replayed the past week in your head. you’d worked yourself dry all for the approval of a man whose opinion you couldn’t care less about. you let your guard down for a sliver of a moment and he used it to get inside your head. you hated him with every fibre in your being, and his breathing down your neck only fueled the fire burning inside of you.

“get off of me.”

“just relax.” the way he whispered it was short of anything kind, spat at you with annoyance as he tightened his grip on you.

“i said get off!” it was the loudest you’d spoken all day. it was barely a shout, but it was enough for the man to recoil from behind you. you breathed shakily, hands trembling at your side. when you turned to face him, you nearly flinched at the sight of him. his usually perfectly combed back hair was now a mess, curls fallen out of place as he ran his hand through the golden strands harshly. you both stared at each other for what seemed to be an eternity, panting heavily, waiting for the other to say or do anything to loosen the tension that filled the studio air.

he looked down at the floor for a second, tonguing his cheek with a smile before surging forward, crashing his chapped lips into your plump, soft ones with a groan. you tried to push him away, but his grip on your face was too strong- and you couldn’t ignore the way your legs turned to jelly from the way he kissed you with an undying hunger. one hand made its way down your waist as he moved you backwards into the large studio mirror, your head thumping painfully against the glass, pain mixing with pleasure as coryo attacked your lips and dragged his hands all over your body, savouring the warmth of your skin through the fabric of your garments.

“so good for me,” he groaned against your neck, the hot breath of his words sending shivers straight down to your core, “so perfect.. so pliable.. all for me. isnt that right, princess?”

it was truly embarrassing, the way his words made you moan softly and rub your thighs together with want. embarrassing how compliant you’d become for him, how eager you were to please him. he took notice of the pathetic state you were in, watching with glossy and swollen lips how your legs trembled and your hips stuttered in a desperate attempt to gain friction against your growing heat.

“look at that, so fucking precious,” he continued to watch you struggle, laughing softly to himself before snaking his hand between your thighs, cupping your cunt and slowly encouraging you to rock your hips back and forth. you whined at the contact, relief and pleasure swarming you as you ground yourself into the palm of his hand, gripping tightly onto the curls at the back of his head for leverage. lost in bliss, you barely noticed when the man made his way down to his knees, lip bitten so hard you swore you could smell the metallic scent of blood peer through your senses as he toyed his fingers across your clothed cunt. you moved to remove your small skirt, untying the meticulous bow around your waist and tossing it to the side. when your hand reached to remove your leotard, coriolanus removed his hand with a small chuckle.

“what do you think you’re doing?” he tutted, and you whined at the sight of him below you, willing and able to keep pleasuring you but withholding that power. you scrunched your brows together with confusion, and coriolanus thought you’d never looked so beautiful: face flushed with heat, writhing above him while your hips urged for his fingers to touch you again. too lost in the pleasure that lingered, head thrashing from side to side with pleads to keep going- he wanted to ruin you.

“good girls wait and do what they’re told. are you gonna be a good girl for me?” he chuckled at the way you shook your head aggressively, savouring your small moans as he returned his hand to where you wanted it most. a loud gasp escaped your lips when he ripped your tights viciously, the soft torn fabric now giving him better access to the skin of your thighs. he splayed his hands over them, massaging your muscles and soft tissue before pulling your leotard to the side and diving his tongue into the wetness of your folds.

he pulled back with a moan, gasping as he peered down at the mixture of his spit and your slick connecting your cunt to his chin, and he looked up at you like you were a god, sticky and wet from the most trivial of touches.

“you’re so wet for me, princess- such a good girl. you’re so good for me,” you couldn't get a word out before he took a long swipe with the flat of his tongue, lapping messily and so, so loudly- chasing the taste of you. he loved teasing you with his mouth. he thought about it that day, unashamed as he jerked his cock into nothingness when he caught sight of you on campus earlier that day, dressed all in white- just for him. the small gesture was enough confirmation to him that he’d won at the game you two were playing, that you let him break you into submission and you were now his to claim. the thought of taking ownership of you by reducing you to nothingness with his tongue alone had him cumming onto his stomach with a loud, broken cry. now, he had you right where he wanted- and he wasn’t going to let that pass just yet.

he relished every sound and movement you made when he flicked his tongue up and down your lips, relished the tears that fell when he slowly circled it around your swollen clit, rejoiced in the way you gripped his curls tighter when he tongued your hole, gazing up at your already fucked out faced with pure lust and admiration when you came undone and released yourself into his mouth. he continued to lap and suck every moan and whine out of you until you cried with overstimulation. he stood up, licking his lips and stared down at you like a predator who’d hunted its prey.

“you did so good for me, bunny,” he mewled, kissing your neck softly as you came down from your high. you had started to gain back your senses, and a wave of humiliation washed over you. the man you claimed to hate had just given you the best orgasm of your life, and suddenly you could no longer find it in you to hate him again. every fibre in your body ached when he praised you, called you good and cooed in your ear as you regained your strength. you continued to cry, no longer out of pleasure but in self-disappointment. you felt the urge to scream and lash out at him for robbing you of your senses, for reducing you to a state where the tiniest shred of approval clouded every bit your perspectives until you couldn’t figure out left from right. he continued to coo in your ear as you sobbed, but your eyes widened with fear when you heard the small sound of a zipper and looked down to see his cock in his hands, pumping slowly as he made his way into you.

he shushed every one of your protests, his lips pressed tight against your collarbone as you tried to push away from him when his tip made contact with your hole, “be good, bunny, be good for me,” he chanted into your skin and your body broke down into more sobs as you willingly let him push into you. alarms were blaring in your head for you to stop giving into him, but your body was unrelenting and begging with want- and so all you did was cry as he thrust slowly into you, small moans of praise nonsensically falling from his lips as your cunt struggled to take all of him in.

the way he mumbled his sweet words into your neck and the slow stretch of his cock prying you open had your brain short-circuiting, the sweet tone of his voice once again making you lose all sense of what was unfolding before you. you winced as he tried to thrust his length deeper into you.

coriolanus didn’t like that. he took the sounds of complaint as direct disobedience. he wanted to hear nothing but your begging- he wanted you to thank him for letting you have his cock, and hear nothing but your loud moans and pathetic mewls as he fucked you. he grabbed at your bun, yanking your head back with such force that the once perfectly smoothed back hair came undone painfully, strands falling to your face and wisping at your shoulders.

“does it hurt?” he asked, and for a moment you thought he was trying to take you with care, but when you nodded and his grip tightened on your hair, you knew you were oh so wrong, “i thought i told you to be a good, fucking. girl.”

he thrusted into you harshly with each word and you cried out in pain, his cock stretching you out far beyond what you could handle, overstimulation making your knees buckle and tears fall from your eyes again.

“thats it, baby. take it, be a good girl and take my cock.”

your fingers dug into his back and coriolanus let out a loud, lewd moan, unable to peel his eyes away from the sight of his cock thrusting without preamble into the slick mess of your cunt. he threw his head back as you moaned through your cries, and thrusted even harder when you wrapped a leg around him to let him fuck you even deeper.

he moved to rip off the top of your leotard, licking his lips hungrily as he watched your tits fall and bounce in tandem with his thrusts. he dove his head down, latching his lips onto your hardened nipple and sucking harshly, nipping and biting the soft flesh while his hand pinched and flicked at the other one.

you were incoherent. your stop’s had turned into more’s and your sobs turned into that of pure desire. you threw your head to the side and gasped at the spectacle the two of you were making of yourselves in the middle of the dance studio. the mirror you were pressed up against had begun to fog up along the silhouette of your body pressed up against it, the cool glass dripping condensation onto your back and through your ruined clothes as coryo fucked you into oblivion. he looked right at you now, his fingers making their way to lace into yours as he pressed you even closer to him, your arms now bound against the coolness of the mirror.

“fuck, princess, you’re so fucking tight. so tight for me, yeah? gonna make this pussy mine,” your head spun with his words and the constant pumping of his cock, unable to contain the obscene sounds you let out. you were so close, and the way you tightened around him as you chased your release almost had him cumming prematurely.

“you gonna let me make you mine, huh bunny?”

“fuck, yes!”

“s’at right? gonna let me claim you? such a good girl.”

you moved your hips against his with no rhythm, simply in pursuit of the orgasm that coiled in the pit of your stomach. you kept your eyes on his, your mouth open with pants as you urged him to keep going. he hiked one hand behind the knee you had wrapped around him, the other one pulling you up so you were off the ground, letting him fuck you in a way that hit all the right spots in all the right places, and you just about lost it right there.

he smiled, “you like that?”

“uh-huh..”

“you want me to keep going?”

“please- please dont stop, coryo, please!”

his cries got louder, moans twisting up into a slightly higher octave, his face scrunched with pleasure as your cunt clenched around him with each of his words.

“gonna fill you up with my cum, baby. is that what you want? for me to breed you?” he babbled, voice trembling, “gonna fuck you full of cum ‘n make you mine. no one else can have you.” his voice got weaker as his hips pivoted upwards to thrust even deeper. he was in complete in control of you; his elbows hooked beneath your knees and opening a new gateway to your soul.

“naughty fucking girl, huh? ‘s alright, good girls get to be naughty sometimes..”

“i’m gonna cum,” you whined pathetically, rambling over and over as it was the only thing you could think of. you were so close, and each word he groaned at you brought you infinitely closer.

“you wanna cum?”

“i want- i want it so bad.”

“s’at right?”

“please, coryo- god, please! ‘m gonna be good for you. so good for you, daddy—”

your words collapsed into meaningless cries and shattered sentences— fuckyesyesyes— and cumonmycockbaby— as you worked each other towards release. you pulled him deeper to your center, tightening around him as the coil in your stomach finally burst and you saw white. you both came with a loud moan, yours no doubt shattering through the walls of the confined space, and coriolanus released his load into you with a long, droned out fuuuuuck as he slowly pumped his cum into you, mesmerised by the way it mixed and swirled with the mess of your own release. you whined at the overstimulation, body still jerking from the aftershocks of your orgasm, but coriolanus only felt himself grow harder.

“coryo, i cant..”

he snapped up at you, gaze softening as he took in your tear stained and fucked out face. he took your face in one hand, squeezing your jaw tightly and admiring the slight cross-eyed look you had on and the dribble of spit falling from your perfect lips. he cocked his head to the side, smiling coyly.

“oh, bunny, you don’t have a choice..”

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@dumbsoftheart, 2023

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus smut #coriolanus snow smut #tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes

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trans-axolotl · 3 months

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this is a shortened works cited from my thesis, pulling out the sources about American intersex history and activism from the past 30 years. i have pdfs for most of the sources there, if there's something that isn't linked send me a message and i can try to find it!

just thought i'd try to put a lot of intersex history sources in one place.

Works Cited:

Amato, Viola. “The Intersex Movement of the 1990s: Speaking Out Against Medical and Narrative Violence.” In Intersex Narratives: Shifts in the Representation of Intersex Lives in North American Literature and Popular Culture, 55–102. Transcript Verlag, 2016. http://www.jstor.org/stable/j.ctv1xxrsz.6.

Bauer, Markus, Daniela Truffer and Daniela Crocetti. “Intersex Human Rights.” The International Journal of Human Rights. 24, no.6. (2020):724-749.https://doi.org/10.1080/13642987.2019.1671354

Brown, Lydia X.Z., Erickson, Loree, da Silva Gorman, Rachel, Lewis, Talila A., McLeod, Lateef, and Mingus, Mia. “Radical Disability Politics.” In Routledge Handbook of Radical Politics, edited by A.J. Withers and Liat Ben-Moshe, 178-193. Routledge, 2019.

Cameron, David. “Hermaphrodites With Attitude.” Newsletter. 1994. https://isna.org/library/hwa/

Carpenter, Morgan. “Fixing bodies and shaping narratives: Epistemic injustice and the responses of medicine and bioethics to intersex human rights demands.” Clinical Ethics. 2024;19, no. 1. (2024) :3-17. doi:10.1177/14777509231180412

Chase, Cheryl. “Hermaphrodites with Attitude: Mapping the Emergence of Intersex Political Activism.” Journal of Lesbian and Gay Studies. 4, no.2, (1998): 189-211.

---, Hermaphrodites Speak! 1997; Rohnert Park: Intersex Society of North America. Video tape.

Cohen, Julie, dir. Every Body. 2023; United States: Focus Features, DVD.

Denny, Dallas. "Chrysalis Quarterly, Vol. 2 No. 5 (Fall, 1997 / Winter, 1998)." Periodical. 1998. Digital Transgender Archive, https://www.digitaltransgenderarchive.net/files/7s75dc39s (accessed April 08, 2024).

Davis, Georgiann. “Introduction: Normalizing Intersex: The Transformative Power of Stories.” in Voices: Personal Stories from the Pages of Narrative Inquiry in Bioethics: Normalizing Intersex, edited by James DuBois and Ana Iltis. 1-4. John Hopkins University Press, 2016.

Dreger, Alice. “Rejecting the Tranquilizing Drug of Gradualism in Intersex Care.” Alice Dreger (blog). November 2015. Accessed April 9, 2024. https://alicedreger.com/dsd_human_rights/

Dreger, Alice and April Herndon. “Progress and Politics in the Intersex Rights Movement: Feminist Theory in Action.” Journal of Lesbian and Gay Studies. 15, no. 2. (2009): 199-224.

Fausto-Sterling, Ane. Sexing the Body: Gender Politics and the Construction of Sexuality. New York: Basic Books. 2000.

“A Framework for Intersex Justice.” Intersex Justice Project. 2021. Accessed April 8, 2024. https://www.intersexjusticeproject.org/intersex-justice-framework.html

"FTM Newsletter #37." Periodical. 1997. Digital Transgender Archive, https://www.digitaltransgenderarchive.net/files/kd17cs89j (accessed April 08, 2024).

Hegarty, Peter, Marta Prandelli, Trove Lundberg, Lih-Mei Liao, Sarah Creighton, and Katrina Roen.”Drawing the Line Between Essential and Nonessential Interventions on Intersex Characteristics With European Health Care Professionals.” Review of General Psychology. 25, no 1. (2020): 101-114.

Hermaphrodites With Attitude. "Hey AAP! Get Your Scalpels Off Our Bodies! Flyer." Ephemera. 1990. Digital Transgender Archive, https://www.digitaltransgenderarchive.net/files/qj72p712h (accessed April 08, 2024).

“Hermaphrodites With Attitude,” Intersex Society of North America. 2006. Accessed April 8, 2024. https://isna.org/library/hwa/

“How To: Organize an #EndIntersexSurgery Protest in your hometown--a toolkit created by Intersex Justice Project (IJP.” Intersex Justice Project. 2019. Accessed April 8, 2024. https://webarchive.loc.gov/all/20191111232744/https://docs.google.com/document/d/1EgYy2jfSO04HF_FGv-8RXYEgWW422L-RB7oxMOaIiBc/edit

Hughes, Ieuan, Christopher Houk, Syed Faisal Ahmed, Peter Lee, and LWPES1/ESPE2 Consensus Group. “Consensus Statement on Management of intersex disorders.” Disease in Childhood. 91, no.7. (2006): 554-563. doi: 10.1136/adc.2006.098319

“I Want to Be Like Nature Made Me: Medically Unnecessary Surgeries on Intersex Children in the US.” Human Rights Watch. InterACT. July 2017, accessed April 8, 2024. https://www.hrw.org/sites/default/files/report_pdf/lgbtintersex0717_web_0.pdf

“InterACT Statement on Intersex Terminology.” InterACT: Advocates for Intersex Youth. 2015. Accessed April 8, 2024. https://interactadvocates.org/interact-statement-on-intersex-terminology/#:~:text=interACT's%20use%20of%20terminology%20and,of%20the%20term%20%E2%80%9Cintersex%E2%80%9D.

Lindhal, Hans. “Is PCOS an Intersex Condition? Here’s 5 Reasons Why Some Say Yes.” HansLindhal.Com (Blog). February 2023, Accessed April 7, 2024. https://hanslindahl.com/blog/is-pcos-an-intersex-condition

---., “9 Young People on How They Found Out They Are Intersex.” Teen Vogue. October 2019. Accessed April 10, 2024. https://www.teenvogue.com/gallery/young-people-on-how-they-found-out-they-are-intersex

“M.C v. Aaronson.” Southern Poverty Law Center. 2017. Accessed April 8, 2024. https://www.splcenter.org/seeking-justice/case-docket/mc-v-aaronson

Merrick, Ten. “From ‘Intersex’ to ‘DSD’: A Case of Epistemic Injustice.” Synthese 196, no. 11 (2019): 4429–47. http://www.jstor.org/stable/45220035.

Orr, Celeste. Cripping Intersex. University of British Columbia Press, 2022.

Pagonis, Pidgeon. “#EndIntersexSurgery Protest At Lurie Children’s Hospital Recap + 5 Ways To Get Involved.” Intersex Justice Project. 2018. Accessed April 8, 2024. https://www.intersexjusticeproject.org/blog/endintersexsurgery-protest-at-lurie-childrens-hospital-recap

Pagonis, Pidgeon and Sean Saifa Wall. “Open Letter to AIS-DSD Support Group.” EndIntersexSurgery. Intersex Justice Project. February 2018. Accessed April 8, 2024. http://www.endintersexsurgery.org/

Redick, Alison. “What Happened at Hopkins: The Creation of the Intersex Management Protocols. Cardozo Journal of Law & Gender. 12 (2005): 289-296

Reid, Graeme, and Minky Worden. “Caster Semenya Won Her Case, But Not the Right to Compete.” Human Rights Watch. July 2023. Accessed April 10, 2024. https://www.hrw.org/news/2023/07/18/caster-semenya-won-her-case-not-right-compete

Reis, Elizabeth. Bodies in Doubt: An American History of Intersex. John Hopkins Press, 2021.

---, “Did Bioethics Matter? A HIstory of Autonomy, Consent, and Intersex Genital Surgery. Medical Law review. 27, no.4, (2019):658-674. https://doi.org/10.1093/medlaw/fwz007

Rios-Espinosa, Carlos, Koomah, Syrus Marcus Ware, and Sean Saifa Wall. “Liberating All Bodies: Disability Justice & Intersex Justice In Conversation.” Webinar at the Crip Camp Impact Team and Human Rights Watch Film Festival, United States, October 2020.

Rubin, David, Michelle Wolff and Amanda Lock Swarr. “Creating Intersex Justice: Interview with Sean Saifa Wall and Pidgeon Pagonis of the Intersex Justice Project.” Transgender Studies Quarterly. 9, no. 2. (2022): 187-195. https://doi.org/10.1215/23289252-9612823

Sharman, Zena. “Intersex Justice and the Care We Deserve: ‘I Want People to Feel at Home in Their Bodies Again.’” Ms. Magazine. 2022. Accessed April 8, 2024. https://msmagazine.com/2022/02/03/intersex-justice-the-care-we-dream-of-queer-trans-healthcare/

Sharpe, Sam. “No one-size-fits all: Myths and Misconceptions about PCOS.” InterACT: Advocates for Intersex Youth. Advocates for Informed Choice. October 2022. Accessed on April 7, 2024. https://interactadvocates.org/no-one-size-fits-all-myths-and-misconceptions-about-pcos/

Spurgas, Alyson. “(Un)Queering Identity: The Biosocial Production of Intersex/DSD.” in Critical Intersex edited by Morgan Holmes. 97-122. Ashgate Publishing, 2009.

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---. “Advocates for Informed Choice: Newsletter Spring 2008.” Newsletter. 2008. AIC Legal.https://aiclegal.wordpress.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/02/spring-08-final.pdf

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---.. “June 2012: Promoting the Civil Rights of Children Born With Variations of Sex Anatomy.” Newsletter. 2012. AIC Legal. https://us1.campaign-archive.com/?u=f8291560ebb2dafc25097480f&id=b4d4dd90cf

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Withers, AJ. Disability Politics and Theory. Fernwood Publishing, 2012.

Woo, Elaine. “David Reimer, 38; After Botched Surgery, He was Raised as a Girl in Gender Experiment.: Los Angeles Times. May 2004. Accessed April 8, 2024. https://www.latimes.com/archives/la-xpm-2004-may-13-me-reimer13-story.html

#personal #intersex #actuallyintersex #intersex history #intersex studies

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bingwriterxo · 1 year

Text

the shakespeare exhibit - part 8

pairing: tara carpenter x reader

summary: in which you and tara both have things to talk about

warnings: mentions of stabbing, talks of substance abuse and verbal abuse

word count: 2700+

previous part | next part

Finals season was in full swing at Blackmore University, sending its students into poor sleep schedules and even worse diets as they attempted to cram a semester’s worth of information into their brains.

You and Tara, unfortunately, were no exception. For the past week, the two of you had holed yourselves up in either the library or one of your apartments, your noses stuck in your books and your hands fumbling around for an energy drink whenever you needed a pick-me-up.

The only time you had taken a break was to celebrate Tara’s 20th birthday, but even then it was hardly a celebration. You had gathered all of her friends at her apartment, had a small party consisting of drinks and movies, and then went right back to studying, Tara in tow.

Safe to say, the stress levels were at an all-time-high, especially for Tara, who was experiencing her first round of finals in university. You had offered her a few studying tips, since you had already gone through the struggles of freshman-year exams the year prior, before immersing yourself in your own revision.

You were in the midst of reviewing for your Romantic Literature course--the last final that you had for the semester--when your mother called you, leading you to slip out of Tara’s bedroom and into the hallway to speak to her.

Tara sat at her desk, grumbling as she tried to study for her Introduction to Literature course. This is just as stupid as it was when I was studying for the midterm, she thought, eyes scanning her notes about Emily Dickinson. Maybe it’s even more stupid now.

Your voice broke her concentration as you walked back into her room, and she twisted her chair around to face you. “Yeah, that sounds good. I’ll ask her, alright?” You rolled your eyes and pointed at your phone, mouthing, she talks so much. Tara giggled softly, extending her arms for you to stand between, and you sighed as you slid into place, her fingers rubbing over your hips. “Okay. Yup. Yeah, okay. Yeah. Right. Okay, bye, mom.”

“What was that all about?” Tara asked when you hung up, throwing your phone onto her desk. “Did Eddie pull another prank on the Dylan Thomas statue again?”

You chuckled, thinking about the photo that your brother had sent you the week before—he had put a wig, makeup, and a shaving-cream beard on the statue of your grandfather’s late friend. “No, no. The statue garden has gone untouched this week.”

She shook her head, a grin on her face. “I still can’t believe you guys have a statue garden,” she said. But of course her family does. Because why wouldn’t they?

“Well, my dad’s always been big into statues. Like, when he was younger, he--” You cut yourself off. “That’s not important. Anyway, my mom invited us to spend Christmas at the house.” Tara’s eyes lit up, a type of joy that she didn’t know existed rushing through her. Us? she thought. I’ve been invited to family Christmas? “Do you want to go--”

“Yes!” she exclaimed immediately, nodding her head fervently. “Please, yes.” Shit, I’ll need to buy presents. What the hell do you get for kids who could buy anything they’ve ever wanted?

You giggled at her enthusiasm and tilted your head. “Are you sure you and Sam aren’t going back to California for the holidays?” you asked.

Back to California? Back to…Woodsboro? She furrowed her eyebrows, biting her bottom lip. “Why would we go to Cali?”

You squirmed a little where you stood. What’s she so nervous about? she wondered. “I just thought you might want to see your mom?” Your voice pitched on the last word, and Tara tensed, her arms falling to her sides. You frowned and reached out, but she pulled back, swallowing.

“No, there’s--we’re not--no,” she stammered out, her voice short. She shook her head. “I’ll be here.”

You nodded. “Okay.”

Tara wanted the conversation to be over, but your lips were pursed like you still had something you wanted to say. “What?” she asked.

You shook your head. “Nothing!”

She clenched her jaw and narrowed her eyes at you. “No, you look like you have something to say. What?”

“I just…you’ve never spoken about her. Maybe we could--”

That’s because there’s nothing to say.” She’s good for nothing, she thought. “I don’t like to talk about her.” I’d rather read Shakespeare, which is really saying something.

“But--”

“No.” Her voice was stern, clear-cut, and she watched as you deflated a little, your eyes flitting around the room. She sighed, running a hand down her face. “I’m not doing this right now, okay? I’m not talking about her.”

“Tar…” The nickname came out as a coo, soft and careful and meant to be comforting, but it ignited a strange irritation beneath Tara’s skin, and something in her snapped.

“Listen, we can’t all have a perfect-fucking-family, okay?” she shouted, and you flinched, taking a step back, your eyes widening at her sudden outburst. “Just because you have parents who are there and who care doesn’t mean everyone does! I mean, Jesus, my mom didn’t even come to see me last year after--” After Amber stabbed me half-to-death, she finished in her head.

The air was tense, quiet. You stood in front of her, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth, and Tara cursed herself when she noticed that your hands were trembling slightly.

“Baby…” She reached out for you, but her fingers met open air as you shook your head and crossed the room to grab your things from her bed.

“It’s fine. I--I shouldn’t have pushed,” you rushed out, your voice shaking. You threw your notebook and laptop into your backpack hastily before hurrying to the door. Tara stood, desperate to do something to stop you from leaving, but she didn’t get the chance as you said, “I’m sorry.” Of course she’d apologize when I snapped at her. “I’ll see you later, yeah?”

The door shutting behind you pulled all the air from Tara’s lungs, and she fell back into her chair, holding her face in her hands.

“God fucking damnit,” she groaned. “Stupid, stupid, stupid.”

* * *

Hours later--during which Tara had sat in her bed and moped--there was a knock on her bedroom door. For a brief second, she thought it was you. But there would be no reason for her to come back after I got mad at her, she reminded herself, and any hope she had disappeared when Sam walked into the room, a frown on her face.

“I thought Y/N was staying for dinner so you two could study through it,” Sam said, bringing Tara’s attention right back to the fact that you had left. She stepped into the room, her arms crossed over her chest, and asked, “What happened? You’re all”--she gestured at Tara--“sad.”

Tara huffed, glaring at her sister. “Nothing,” she grumbled.

Sam scoffed. “Oh, please. You and Y/N have been attached at the hip since the start of finals.” She shook her head. “Scratch that--since you two began dating. So, what happened, Tara?”

Stupid Sam, being a good older sister. Tara sighed and relented. “She asked about mom.”

“Oh.” Sam frowned. “And what did you say?”

“I--” Was a bad girlfriend and got mad at her for no reason, Tara thought, shame seeping into her veins. “I snapped at her. I didn’t mean to. It’s just…mom’s a tough topic, and it’s even harder because Y/N’s family-life is so perfect.” She clenched her jaw and glanced away, ignoring the spark of jealous lighting in her chest. “She’s got two parents who are there, and they have money, and she’s just…” Perfect.

Sam tilted her head, walking over and sitting beside Tara. “You know, it wasn’t easy for me to tell Danny about mom, either. He’s in the same boat as Y/N--well, not the super rich family part, but his parents are together and there.” She shrugged. “It’s hard not to envy that, but she’s your girlfriend, so you’ll need to talk to her about mom at some point. She deserves to know.”

Tara nodded, hanging her head. “I know. I feel horrible for getting upset with her.” She gestured lamely at her phone. “I tried texting and calling her, but…” She pointed across the room, where your phone still sat on her desk. “Obviously that didn’t work.”

Sam hummed. “I’m sure it’ll be fine, Tara. Maybe she just needed a minute.” She rested her hand on Tara’s shoulder. “Plus, she’ll need her phone.”

“What if she comes back and breaks up with me?” Tara asked, looking up at Sam with wide eyes. What if she never speaks to me again? she thought. What if this is it? What if--

“Every couple has arguments, Tara.” Sam smiled softly at her. “She’s not going to break up with you over this. That girl’s head over heels for you, even more than you are for her. It’s gonna be okay, okay?”

Tara bit the inside of her cheek. “Yeah, okay,” she said, not missing the sorrow in her own voice. “Thanks.”

“Of course.” Sam stood, her hands on her hips and her head tilted. “Now, should we get Chinese food or pizza?”

* * *

Sam was right: you did just need a minute.

It was as Tara was getting ready for bed that she heard a knock on the front door. Sam’ll deal with it, she decided as she climbed beneath her sheets, ready to lay in the darkness and wallow for a while. Just as she was reaching over to turn off her bedside lamp, a certain name caught her attention.

“Oh, hi, Y/N!” Sam said loudly from the living room, and Tara knew she had raised her voice so that she would know who was at the door. She sat up immediately. Y/N is here? What? There was some mumbling before Sam’s voice came again. “Yeah, she’s in her room. Go ahead.”

Moments later, there were soft knocks against her bedroom door, and Tara scrambled out of her bed, rushing across the room to open the door for you. There you stood, your lips pulled in a downturned smile and your eyes wide with worry.

“Hey, pretty girl,” you muttered. You were still wearing the same clothes from the day, and your backpack was still hanging off your shoulders. Did she not go home? she wondered, furrowing her eyebrows. You pulled your arm out from behind you, revealing a small bouquet of flowers. “Got you these.”

Tara blinked. She bought me flowers?! “I--Thanks?” She took them from your outstretched hand. “What are you doing here?”

“I said I’d see you later, didn’t I?” you tried to joke, but your voice was strained, like you were trying to be careful, and Tara felt guilt prick at her knowing that she was the cause. “Could I come in?”

“Oh, yeah. Of course. Always,” she rushed out, moving to her bed to sit. She placed the flowers on her bedside table and watched as you sat in front of her, fingers playing with her blanket. “So, what’s up?” ‘What’s up?’ Really? That’s the best I can do?

You sighed, a shaky breath falling from your lips. “I want to apologize,” you said. “I didn’t mean to push you into talking about your mom earlier. I know she’s a touchy subject.”

Tara frowned. “Why are you apologizing? I’m sorry for shouting at you. I shouldn’t have done that.”

You shook your head, glancing up and finally making eye-contact with her. “No, it’s okay. You didn’t want to talk about her. And, that’s okay.” You shrugged and offered her a comforting smile. “You don’t have to tell me about her…ever, if you don’t want to.”

“I should, though. I mean, we should talk about her.”

“Tara, you really don’t have to--”

“No, I--I want to.” Want’s a strong word, she thought. But I should.

“Okay,” you said, nodding and giving her your full attention. “You have the floor.”

She sighed heavily. “Well, my dad left when I was 8. My mom started working more so that she could afford Sam and I, but it turned more into an obsession for her, I think. Next thing I knew, she was never there. Sam left home when I was 13, and it was just me.” She shrugged, glancing down and fiddling with her fingers. “Then, Sam came back after I was attacked, and my mom wouldn’t talk to her, so we made the choice to cut her off. I haven’t spoken to her since we moved.”

Tara clicked her tongue, looking back up at you. To her surprise, your face wasn’t full of the pity she was used to seeing after telling people about her past; you were watching her carefully, looking close to tears.

“So, that’s that,” she said awkwardly.

You inhaled sharply, blinking your glassy eyes away. “You didn’t deserve any of that, Tar, and I’m sorry that you had to deal with it.” You reached out, your hand cupping her cheek, and she leaned into your touch. “I’m so happy that you’ve found your family.”

Her heart fluttered at your words, her mind flashing to Sam and Mindy and Chad. “Yeah,” she agreed. “I am, too. I really love those guys.” And I’ve found you, too, she thought. You make it all complete.

You grinned, and she practically melted into her mattress. “Good. They’re good--all of them.”

She giggled. “C’mere.” She wrapped her arms around your shoulders and pulled you to lay down with her, your face nuzzled into her neck. She laughed at the feeling of your nose against her skin, and said, “I love you. Like, a lot.”

Your arms wrapped around her waist, and you squeezed lightly. “I love you, like, a lot, too.” You sighed into her. “And I’m sorry for leaving like that earlier. I just…I don’t do well with raised voices.”

Huh? Suddenly, she was on high alert. Why not? What happened? “Any particular reason?”

You twisted in her hold so that you could lay beside her, your gaze trained on the ceiling. She scooted down so that her head was level with yours and looked at you, tracing your side profile with her eyes. So pretty, she thought. Wait, stay on topic, Tara.

You clenched your jaw. “We’ve never talked about it, but, um, my dad…” You closed your eyes. “When I was younger, my dad had a big drinking problem.” Her eyebrows furrowed. Her dad? That man? Really? “He was never physical,” you said, shaking your head lightly. “But he had a temper when he was drunk, and everything I did was always wrong.”

“Oh, Y/N,” she sighed, intertwining her fingers with yours. Your grip was tight, like she would float away if you didn’t hold on.

“He’d yell a lot, at me, at my mom.” Oh, baby. Your thumb rubbed over the skin of her hand. “But he’s good now. He got better after the boys were born--got sober. He hasn’t had a drink since.” You turned your head, looking back at her.

“He’s not, like, obsessed with apples, or anything,” you said. What does that have to do with the conversation? she wondered. “But, he eats them a lot when we have parties. That was his thing--eat an apple when he wanted a drink. It stuck, so we keep the fridge stocked, and any time someone sees him even look in the direction of alcohol, we get him an apple.” You smiled. “He eats them begrudgingly, but he’ll never have an apple out of his own volition now.”

Tara chuckled softly. “I’m happy he’s better now, but I’m sorry you dealt with that. I’m sure it wasn’t easy.”

You shrugged, leaning closer so that your forehead rested against her cheek. “It’s okay now. I’m alright,” you promised. “Just…never buy that man an apple, alright?” you joked, easing the tension in the air.

“Deal,” she agreed, nudging your head up. She leaned in, kissed you, and said, “I guess no family’s perfect after all, huh?” when she pulled away.

“I guess not.” You grinned, leaning up on your elbow to hover over her. “But, maybe ours could be the first.”

Her heart practically stopped, and she couldn’t help the smile that took over her face. Ours? she thought. She felt like she wanted to burst from the amount of joy that came with that thought. Yeah. Ours.

“Okay.” She pushed herself up and kissed you again. “Ours will be the first.”

#tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter #tara x reader #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #jenna x reader #museum tara #scream 5 #scream 6

648 notes · View notes

hwaslayer · 1 year

Text

project: make you love me (jyh) | five.

♣︎ spotify playlist | series masterlist

—summary: yunho can’t stand how you’re so wrapped up in the notorious campus fuckboy, park seonghwa. he would gladly love you the way you deserve, despite being shy, awkward and the complete opposite of seonghwa. thus, when he finds himself spending more time with you over literature reviews and random study sessions, he decides to take on the challenge to win you over.

—pairing: jeong yunho x f. reader x park seonghwa

—genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers/friends to lovers, college au | fluff, angst, smut

—word count: 4.5k

—chapter content/warnings: some cussing, witty & sweet yunho, seungmin being the true best friend that he is, college mcdonalds runs lol, yunho and oc talk a bit about the past, they also talk about seonghwa a bit, quick flashback scene - crying & heartbreak :/ , yunho really thinks oc is the cutest, i promise we are making progress even though it seems slow!!

It's been a couple of days since you last heard from Seonghwa, and to be quite frank, you don't really care much for it. It does suck, and it does hurt. But, at this point, you've done enough on your end and you can say you've always tried.

Seonghwa? Not so much.

"I'm fucked." You let out a heavy sigh as your face falls into the palms of your hands, stressing about your literature paper due.

You barely have the two paragraphs done, and your notes are all over the place.

What are you even saying anymore?

You're going in circles, and Dr. Nelson will know you didn't even try to make this work. The best part? This wasn't the only major paper assigned for the semester— you're not even sure how you'll tackle the other ones without leaning on Yunho for help.

"Doing okay there?" You hear a familiar, husky voice, followed by the sound of a bag being placed on the shared tabletop. You look up to see Yunho, and you're really relieved he's here. Even if you weren't going to try and bother him much about this paper, his presence was comforting.

"I don't know."

"That's not good." He chuckles before sliding his laptop out of his bag. "How can I help you?"

"Well, first of all, I'm really glad you're here."

"It is the booth I frequently work at." He teases with a smirk. "I see you've grown a liking to it."

"It's nice and quiet. Plus, I know I can find you here." He smiles and nods. "Second, it's Dr. Nelson."

"The paper?"

"Yes." You whine, again placing your head down onto the desk. "Why is this so difficult? Words are not coming to me, and even if they do, do they even make sense? I don't even know—" You mumble on and on, and Yunho can barely make out what you're saying. But, it's clear you're distressed and Yunho can't help but be a little endeared seeing this.

At least you care enough to do your best.

"Y/N." He calls for your name softly. "Slow down, it's gonna be okay. Let me know how I can help you." You finally look up with a pout.

"I don't want to rely on you."

"You're not relying on me when you ask for help. It's okay." He tries to lighten the mood. "Now seriously, how can I help? Do I need to run and buy you a mochi donut?" You giggle and shake your head.

"No, no." You pass along your laptop to let him view the screen. "Read this introduction. Does it make sense?" He furrows his brows a bit while reading your paragraph but nods to acknowledge what you've written so far.

"It does. Why do you think it doesn't make sense?"

"I guess I'm just not sure where to take this."

"Hm. You should give yourself more credit than that." He smiles at you. "You've already stated a couple of general ideas here. Why don't you take those and develop your body paragraphs that way? Those obviously stood out to you the most, so I'm sure you'll remember where to find it in the book."

"True."

"Don't second-guess yourself. I know it's hard because Dr. Nelson is in your head, but you really have the right idea. You just have to give him more than what he knows. Almost like—" Yunho tilts his head for a second as if to show he's deep in thought. "—Like okay, do you journal?"

"Yes, sometimes. Not all the time."

"You don't have to give me details, but what do you journal about? Just in general." Yunho patiently waits and keeps his eyes on you while you think.

"Feelings. Thoughts. Emotions."

"Right. When you're sad, you talk about why you're sad and how it affects you, your day, mood. Everything. You write about all these details and elaborate on the feeling."

"Yeah, exactly."

"Then, it's just like that. You already write about these things in your personal life. It's the same elaboration, same kind of thought process." You nod as Yunho pushes your laptop back towards you. "What I'm trying to say is, don't think much about it. Just write what comes to mind and don't overthink it."

"You know what, you're right. I need to stop overthinking and just do it." You grab at your laptop, feeling better after Yunho's advice. "Thanks, Yunho. I needed that."

"Happy to help."

"Are you going to leave soon?" He shakes his head.

"I was hoping to get some work done." You look at him and he catches the way your eyes light up.

"You're going to stay?" You ask him again for some kind of reassurance.

"Mhm." A smile tugs at the corner of your lips just as you start to type away more confidently.

"Sorry I took over your booth." You say with your eyes glued to your screen, making Yunho chuckle.

"I'll share it with you." You let out a tiny laugh at this response.

During the entire two hours you spent with Yunho at the booth, he was diligently finishing up his own paper before switching gears to focus on the remaining aspects of his other project. In between, he would patiently read your paper when you asked, giving you his feedback and some areas of improvement. You took them positively, adding in Yunho's tips into your paper and finishing off a good chunk before it could get way too late in the evening.

Of course, there comes a point where you get hungry and restless. That moment feels like now, especially when the words are starting to blur together in the last bit of the body. Oh well.

Yunho must be good at reading people though, because he picks up on the dwindling excitement, the dying energy, your tone change; the way you restlessly shake your legs and shift in your seat.

It's time to call it a night.

"Did you drive today?" You shake your head.

"No. I'm stuck here until Seungmin is done with his group project. But, I guess it's good since it'll force me to work on more things."

"Do you have to work on more things?" You giggle.

"Yes, but not really? They're due next week, and they're quick assignments."

"Cool. Down for some McDonalds, then? I can drive us. I can bring you home afterwards too, or back here. Whichever works." Yunho zips up his bag and patiently waits for your response. "No pressure, though."

"I'm down for some McDonald's." You chuckle, packing up your things. "I think I've done enough, right?" Yunho laughs a bit while watching you.

"You've done more than enough for today, Y/N. You're almost done with your paper. That's big progress."

"Thank you." You smile at him while zipping up your bag. "Alright, I'm ready." Yunho gestures for you to slide out of the booth first, with him following behind. He twirls his keychain around his finger as the two of you walk out of the library— the air hitting your face just as the doors swing open; cold, but refreshing.

"Cold?" Yunho looks down at you, almost ready to shed off his light jacket in order to keep you comfortable.

"Um, no. I should be good." You look up at him. "Besides, I don't wanna keep taking your jackets." He chuckles.

"I don't mind. Just let me know."

"Okay." It falls silent for a bit before you break the silence, kicking the rocks beneath your shoes. "How's your project coming along?"

"Hm." He hums. "It's going. As good as it gets for now, I guess."

"You and Yeosang don't team up for these things?" He laughs.

"Not really. We've talked about assignments before, but it's not a hot topic in the apartment. I think I might have brainstormed around Yeosang but he doesn't do much besides give off the usual 'sounds good to me.'"

"Mm, I see. He's quite the mystery." You gently nudge his arm. "You both are."

"Yeah, can't deny that." He lets out a small breathy laugh, flashing his key fob towards his car so that it unlocks. "Got lucky with parking today."

"That's always the best." You chuckle.

"Speaking of roommates, Seungmin knows you're coming along right? Don't want him to go looking for you."

"He knows. Trust me, even if he didn't, he wouldn't look for me." He smiles a bit when he sees your phone light up in your hands, signaling a text coming through. "Actually, speak of the devil."

"Oh, so he wouldn't look for you?" Yunho asks in a teasing manner, making the heat rise to your cheeks.

"It really must be your lucky day cause he doesn't always do this."

"He's your friend, he wouldn't leave you."

"He wouldn't! But, he'd also assume Chaery or Soobin might have already picked me up before asking." You laugh. "Can't stand him, but love him."

"Cute." Yunho says just as he drives off to the nearest McDonald's. It's only an exit away from where campus us located, and it's a quick drive being that it's pretty late in the evening.

seungmin: bro where r u

seungmin: r u with park seonghwa

you: noooo! sorry i was gonna text you but you surprisingly beat me to it

you: i'm with yunho, gonna grab mcdonalds then he'll take me home. want anything?

seungmin: oh, did you guys end up working together in the library? and i'm good on the mcdonalds. ty ☺️

you: mhm! alright. did you finish your project?

seungmin: almost, was looking for you because i wasnt sure if you still wanted to stay and i was gonna take you home. i truly think we'll be here till closing..

seungmin: rip me

you: aw seungmo

you: almost done! goodluck! don't worry about me 😬

seungmin: don't worry i'm not

you: lol sick of you, go away

You giggle to yourself as you tuck your phone away and return your attention to the road ahead.

"So, what are you getting?" You turn to Yunho, who is focused on driving carefully with you in his passenger's seat; one hand placed on the wheel, while the other rests on his lap.

"The entire menu at this point." You laugh. "I'm starving."

"You didn't eat today?"

"Barely. Just grabbed something small in between the break I had."

"Yunho." You look at him with concern. "That's not good! You have to eat."

"Yeah, I know. Trust me, I'll never pass up the opportunity on purpose. Just had bad time management today, I guess."

"Should I send you reminders?" You joke, but he shrugs.

"No, but that'd be cute if you did." He laughs. "But seriously, I'm usually better."

"Okay, Yunho. I'm holding you to it." You give him a toothless smile just as he pulls up into the McDonald's drive-thru.

"You know what you want?" He asks as he momentarily stops in front of the menu before pulling up to the main drive-thru speaker.

"Mhm. Can you please just get me the 10 pc nugget meal?"

"Anything else?" You shake your head and wait patiently while Yunho relays the orders. He pulls up to the first window to pay before he heads to the second to grab the orders. He gently hands the two bags over to you before setting the drinks down in his cupholders. "How much do I owe you?" You ask as he pulls out of the lot.

"Don't worry about it."

"Yunho? Stop. Let me pay."

"Nope." He glances over at you as you cross your arms and furrow your brows. "Still a no." He laughs.

"Come on, really?"

"It's not a big deal, Y/N. I got you." You sigh.

"Fine. I'll just have to get you brunch again."

"Don't. Please just let me treat you to something. You don't have to repay me." You look at him and find that he's serious. So, you nod and let it go.

"Where are we going?" You ask when you realize you're traveling in the opposite direction of your apartment complex.

"Oh, sorry. I know this view, and I thought I could take you there while we eat. I-Is that okay with you?" He clears his throat again and taps his fingers against the wheel. "I-I mean, I don't mind driving back. Really, it's whatever you wanna—"

"Yunho, please." You giggle. "I would love to eat at a view."

"Okay. Cool." He simply says, relieved that you're down to eat with him at a view. It might sound really cliché and pathetic, but he loves coming here when he just needs a moment—

A moment to breathe,

A moment to just be.

And right now, he feels like you could use that. He doesn't really know what else happens in your personal life, and he doesn't wanna ask unless you start that conversation yourself. But, shit happens. Life is life; we're all going through it. He knows you've been stressing over classes, over Park Seonghwa [even though he damn well doesn't deserve it].

Yunho just wants you to relax.

He pulls into a very tiny spot off to the side near a residential and backs into the open area. In front of you is the view of the ocean; the sound of waves crashing against the rocks, the shore. Stars dotting the night sky.

It was a perfectly clear night. A perfect night.

"Hm, I never knew this existed." You say observing the almost hidden, tucked away area of this part of the beach. "It's really pretty."

"I come here if I just need to be away for a second." You nod.

"Perfect place to have your me-time."

"Mhm." He agrees.

"When are you seeing your mom next?" You suddenly ask as you both dig into your bags and start chomping on a few fries.

"This weekend actually."

"Aw, no Yunho for the weekend."

"It's not like you'll be missing much."

"Hey, don't say that. You're great company, I told you. I meant it." You dip a nugget into your cup of honey mustard sauce. It makes his heart melt when you say things like this, when you unknowingly reassure him in many different ways— when you're so full of positivity and all you do is share it with him, your friends.

How could Seonghwa be so dumb?

Oh well.

One man's 'trash,' that's another man's come up.

"Thanks."

"Course." You smile at him before eating some more. "I'm glad you're seeing her this weekend. I'll try not to bother you during family time."

"You're never a bother."

"Still. I want you to give your mom and aunt your undivided attention."

"Ah, they always have my undivided attention." He chuckles and sips his drink. "Are you feeling better, by the way?" Yunho sticks a fry or two into his mouth before looking back out to the view.

"Feeling better?" You tilt your head before it dawns on you. That's right, the call. The fucking call where you whined about Seonghwa even though you really didn't have to, especially to Yunho. "Oh, right. Honestly, yeah. I think I'm okay."

"You sure?"

"Yeah." You sip on your drink. "It was a spur in the moment kind of thing. I didn't really think much about it at the time and acted on what I felt at that second. But you're right, I didn't need to feel guilty. There was no reason to."

"There wasn't." He looks at you. "Have you two talked?" You shake your head.

"No, we haven't. It's fine, though. I'm surprisingly.. not bothered by it like I used to be." You let out a small sigh. "I used to be really bothered by not hearing from him. I used to cave during every disagreement we had and I'd run back to him."

"Maybe this is you moving on." Yunho shrugs. "Like I said, I wouldn't know much about things like this. But, I can only imagine it gets tiring."

"Yeah." Is all you respond with before calling his name. "Yunho?"

"Mhm?" He responds at the same softness as you do, doe-eyes glancing back over at you just as you chomp on a nugget.

"How were your past relationships, if you don't mind me asking?"

"I don't. But, past relationships?" You furrow your brows a bit in confusion, but Yunho lets out a laugh. "My only serious relationship was in high school. We dated since freshman year, then we broke up right before we went to college."

"Oh, I'm sorry. That must have been tough."

"It was. But, it was for the best. I didn't wanna hold her back and vice versa from a new chapter in our lives, plus she was going to college overseas. There was no way it was going to work."

"I'm sure it could've since you two loved each other."

"Yeah, but I think at that point love meant letting her go and letting her experience things freely. I would've felt selfish and guilty about it." Yunho thinks back to that moment, and the feeling settles in his gut a bit. Not like it used to, no. But, those times weren't his favorite, and they've always left a mark on him.

♣︎ FLASHBACK

"Hey." Yunho says lowly, already not wanting to be here. He looks at Hayun with sadness in his eyes, and it's clear that she already knows where this is going too.

"Hi." She quietly says, head dropping as she steps aside to let him in. It's quiet in the house and Yunho hates it. It's quiet, even though his thoughts are extremely loud.

He hates this.

Hayun shuts the door and leads the way up to her room. Yunho is so familiar with this, but today— it feels oddly unfamiliar, awkward. Hurtful. Sad.

Different.

She steps inside and her movements are small. She sits on the edge of her bed just as Yunho shuts the door and takes his place next to her. He lets out a breath, hands dug deep into the pocket of his hoodie. They both stare out her window, admiring the view together knowing this is probably the last time they'll get to do so. But, Yunho breaks away first, looking over at Hayun and admiring her features.

She is beautiful. She is sweet. She is everything to him.

But, he knows he has to do this. It's only right.

"You're leaving this weekend, right?" Hayun meets his eyes and nods with a tiny smile creeping at the corner of her lips.

"Mhm."

"You're going to enjoy it there. I know you will."

"Maybe." Her head falls again, eyes now focused on her hands as she fiddles with the thread of her pajama pants.

"You don't sound too excited."

"How am I supposed to sound excited when I know you're here for a specific reason?" She looks at him, and he sees the tears welling up in her eyes. It breaks his heart, but he knows he has to do this. It's only right.

"I'm sorry." He says lowly. "You know it's for the best, love." The tears are welling up in his eyes now— he truly, truly hates this. "I'm so sorry."

"Then, why?" She cries. "Wouldn't we be able to make this work? I'd call, and I'd come home to visit and—" He shakes his head and wipes her tears, thumb caressing the surface of her cheeks.

"See, that's exactly why. I don't want you to make this experience about me. You should be enjoying yourself, you should be experiencing everything you wanna experience out there. You shouldn't be shaping college around me."

"But I'm not, I can do both. I can—"

"Love, listen." He says close to a whisper. "You and I both know we're only prolonging what'll eventually happen. We're so young, we have so many things yet to experience. Being this far apart, we'll outgrow each other, and we'll end up hurting each other in so many ways." Her bottom lip trembles and pokes out, tears continuing to streak her cheeks. But, she doesn't say anything. She knows this is what needs to happen. She knows Yunho is only doing the right thing. She knows that everything he's saying is true. "I'll never be able to forgive myself if you don't experience all of this at your full potential. You have so much ahead of you, Hayun. And because I love you, all I want is for you to be happy. That's all I want for you."

"Yunho." She cries. "I'm so sorry. I hate this. I'm so sorry." She repeats, over and over again; though, Yunho isn't sure why she's apologizing. He doesn't want her to regret anything about them, about this. Yunho pulls her into his arms, hugging her tightly while repeatedly kissing her on the top of her head. He whispers sweet nothings against her head, reassuring her that he loves her, that he just wants the best for her.

That he's okay.

Even though, he's far from okay.

♣︎ END

"True." You pause to nibble on your food some more. "You haven't dated anyone after your ex?" He shakes his head.

"No. It wasn't really a priority for me. Plus, we had been together all throughout high school. I needed the time to myself." You nod.

"Understandable. Have you talked to her since then?"

"Not really. I ran into her one summer, and she acted like she didn't really know me. Kinda sad, but it's whatever."

"It's not whatever. You can be sad about that."

"It's just sad how people go from doing everything together and being really close, to suddenly being strangers again. We were very different when we ran into each other." He shrugs. "I just hope she's doing well."

"And I'm sure she wishes the same for you. Maybe she just didn't know how to approach you after so long."

"Maybe."

"Maybe." You repeat as you trace the lid to your drink while you sip on it, Yunho watching your small movements while remaining quiet for a bit.

"What about you?" He chimes in, finally having the guts to ask you.

"Past relationships?" You shrug. "I did date two people in high school. Came to college and was seeing someone I met through mutual friends. Never got super serious though, and we eventually agreed to just stay friends."

"I see."

"We're still good friends so it's nice we were able to actually get past that."

"That's good. What about Seonghwa? How did that start?"

"He came up to me after one of my performances, exchanged numbers then.. viola." You make a gesture with your hand. "This mess started." You chuckle to yourself, slightly in a more pathetic sense because yeah, it is a mess. Has been.

"It's alright. We live and we learn. Just unfortunate he's too immature to realize what's in front of him."

"Yeah, well." You set your cup down. "I think that's done with."

"Good, that's a relief." It is a relief to Yunho because that means many things:

One, you won't be with Seonghwa.

Two, you won't be with Seonghwa.

And three, you won't be with Seonghwa.

He's not even sure of his own feelings when it comes to you, but he does know that he really enjoys your company and he feels comfortable with you. It's easy to fall for you and Yunho might be heading in that direction— he just doesn't wanna scare you off, especially if you don't seem to feel the same way. Before Yunho can do a whole deep dive of his thoughts next to you, he clears his throat before stumbling on his follow-up: "I-I mean, it's good because he doesn't deserve you at all. You shouldn't continue wasting your time on him or anything." You giggle.

"Thanks, Yunho. You did help me realize that over the phone."

"I didn't say or do much. You're making your own decisions and doing what's best for you." He gives you a small smile. Another comfortable silence falls between you two as you look out at the view and appreciate the stars that are visible in the night's sky.

"Hey, Yunho?" You finally break the silence again, and it's clear Yunho doesn't mind. He truly doesn't mind all the questions you've had, and he likes hearing you say his name the way you do. It's cute.

You genuinely want to know more about him, to learn about him.

"Mhm?"

"Would it be weird if I said that I really like being with you?" He lets out a small laugh.

"Well, I would hope so." He gives you a soft smile while you giggle. "But no, not weird at all. I feel the same way."

"That's nice to know."

"Yeah, it is." He crumples his napkin and throws it into his bag, reaching out a hand for yours. "Finished?" You nod and hand him your trash, watching as Yunho makes his way to the nearby trash can.

"Thank you." You say just as he walks back towards the car.

"My pleasure." Yunho stretches.

"Hold on, I wanna see the water up close." You step out and head towards the railing, leaning over to watch the water crash against the rocks, the wall. Yunho smiles to himself and digs his hands in his pockets, slowly coming towards the rail. He looks at you from behind, watching as you admire the sea, the night sky.

Meanwhile, he's admiring you.

He lets out a breath and shakes off the thoughts, coming next to you and letting his arm brush against yours. He also leans over to watch the water more closely, foot resting on the lowest rail for more stability.

"It's so pretty." Yunho looks at you and he can't help but agree— because yes, you are.

"It is." He responds outloud.

"This was really nice, Yunho." You look up at him with a tiny, toothless smile. "Thanks for sharing this with me and for taking me here."

"Just wanted to see you smile." You feel the heat rise to your cheeks, and Yunho feels his ears getting hotter. How embarrassing. But, thank god it's nighttime and you can't see him visibly getting shy, embarrassed. "Ready to head back home? You must be exhausted."

"I am." You yawn as you start to walk back towards the car and get settled into the seats. "But, I did get lots done."

"You did." He starts up the car and starts heading back towards the apartment complex. "What are you gonna do when you get home?"

"Probably just lie down and talk to Chaery in the room." You chuckle. "You?"

"Hop on a game or just watch some stuff."

"I wanna see what your apartment looks like." He laughs a bit.

"One day."

"Promise?"

"There isn't anything special about it, Y/N. I promise you that."

"But, I just wanna see what Yunho's space is like." You say in a playful tone.

"Yunho's space is boring." He retorts.

"I'm sure it's not. So, promise me? One day I'll get to see it?"

"Sure."

"Say it, please." You pout, making Yunho shake his head.

"Promise."

"Better." You giggle, settling more into the passenger's seat. You and Yunho continue to talk a bit about the remainder of the week, not realizing that the weekend was quickly approaching.

By the end of the conversation, Yunho is pulling into the complex parking lot and effortlessly parking into his usual spot. He grabs your things from the trunk and hands over your bag, following behind you as you walk towards your building.

"Yunho, I'm just here. You don't have to walk me."

"I sure do." He replies. "It's fine, I need to make sure you make it to your door in one piece."

"I appreciate it." You give him a small smile. "Thanks again for today. I really enjoyed it, well— minus the work that had to get done first."

"Of course." Yunho smiles, stopping at the stairs. He digs his hands into his pockets, watching as you reach the top of the first flight and turning to face him.

"More McDonald's runs in the future?"

"Sounds good."

"Goodnight, Yunho."

"Goodnight, Y/N." You give him one last wave before you make your way to your apartment. When he hears the door shut, he turns on his heel to make his journey to his own apartment.

♣︎ taglist: @s-nsanshine @soupbinlily @tyongff-ff @jiminiscricket @g1g1l @staytinyinmybpack @woomyteez @gfksz @bitchwhytho @savluvsmingi @thisisntmyrightera @hyukssunflower @miriamxsworld @tmtxtf @kuromibabe04 @lmnhead @carrietwrites @tournesol155 @persphonesorchid @txt-yaomi @marsattacks @mxnsxngie @h-nji @mundayoonimnida @jalapeno-princess @nakiiko @asjkdk @kunikku @idkwgoh [bold = can’t tag 😔]

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literary-illuminati · 2 months

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2024 Book Review #38 – Play It As It Lays by Joan Didion

Didion is one of those canonical authors I always feel like I should already have read at some point (isn’t that what high school English class was supposed to be for). Of course this was a very vague feeling, and not attached to a single scrap of actual information about her and her work beyond the general time period and cultural milieu – so I grabbed this from the library and started it entirely blind (partially my own fault for skipping the introduction by a different and much worse author tbf). Fascinating book, artistically successful and emotionally affective, but not one I’m able to say I really found enjoyable, or even necessarily beautiful (it’s no Giovanni’s Room, to compare another bit of canonical latter-20th century high literature).

The book follows Maria Wyeth, an (increasingly former) actress in 1960s Hollywood, through her slow decline from up and coming starlet and wife of a prestigious young director to an enforced retirement as an isolated upscale sanitarium/hospital resort. Which is hardly a spoiler – the book starts at the end and jumps through the timeline freely, and in any case the whole thing feels telegraphed to the point of inevitability. Maria’s life in LA is contrasted with how she grew up in a tiny desert town in Nevada, so small it at some point stopped existing, and in the process more or less gives you the narrative of her life.

Which is as close to a plot as the book has, really. Maria and her internal monologue are the near-sole focus, and her view of the outside world and what’s happening around her basically always says more about her than the world. Watching Maria’s life falls apart really is watching a car crash in slow motion – you’re never really surprised at any point, but the shearing metal and flesh are hard to look away from.

The book’s very much capital-l Literature, here meaning that the style and prose is at least half the reason to read the book. The story’s told through short vignettes (I’m not sure a singe chapter was more than ten pages, whereas the vast majority were two or three) and the deliberate, generous use of white space, both figurative and literal. Maria is pretty relentless in her self-deception and lack of self-awareness, and in any case is quiet elusive and vague with descriptions of people and events – reading between the lines is quite necessary. This overall really does work for me - the imagery is vivid and memorable, and Maria’s head is a compelling and believable place to be.

It’s also just intolerable. I have no particular issue with deeply unsympathetic, tragically unselfaware, or wince-inducingly self-destructive characters, but Maria sure is all three of those to a degree I rarely see. More than that, she is just profoundly passive. It is, for me at least, far easier to be invested in operatic delusion and hubris leading to ruination than a just resolutely thoughtless and pettily cruel person letting her life rot around her. Which is a failure of literary empathy on my part, probably, but did make this a somewhat frustrating book to read. You’re left want to scream at Maria to just do something (anything!) that she isn’t led to by people around her like an ornery goat to water.

This is probably exacerbated by the supporting cast. Who are all very much portrayed as hopeless, clueless gamblers and unprincipled, hypocritical Hollywood decadents,, absolutely – but despite that, keep trying to reach out and offer her lifelines or support. Which is mostly surprising because she might literally not say a single kind word to another human being in the entire book, is relentlessly caustic in her internal monologue, and sure isn’t doing favours or advancing the career of anybody. The real tension of the book ends up not being whether or not she’ll destroy her life and more how long before everyone around her just lets her.

It’s a blisteringly cynical novel overall, really – both in its portrayal of individual characters and of society as a whole. I joked while reading it that it felt like American Psycho without a Patrick Bateman, and while that’s a bit too far – everyone’s still very recognizably human, most of whom do care about at least a few things besides status symbols and dick measuring contests – but the portrayals of Hollywood and Wall Street certainly feel like they rhyme.

Though the implicit politics of that cynicism do feel do feel very different here. Very possibly because the back cover called it something like ‘a blistering satire of the excesses of the ‘60s’ (paraphrasing from memory), but the book definitely ended up feeling very (socially) conservative, full of worries about broken families and marriages of convenience and just generally decadence. The whole plot where Maria gets a motel-room abortion to deal with the consequences of her affair which almost kills her, sends her spiralling into months of total, life-ruining depression, and destroys her relationship with both her husband and her paramour feels like something you’d only see coming out today in explicit pro-life propaganda, for example; certainly it’s a trope I’ve seen complained about more than (until now) I’ve ever actually seen done. The fact that Maria’s foremost redeeming feature is always her love for and desire to be with her (disabled and permanently hospitalized for vague reasons), and that the climax of the book is a suicide directly caused by infidelity, also. None of which should exactly be surprising, really – a book almost as old as my parents has dated opinions on social issues! - but for some reason I always expect canonical authors to have been free-wheeling libertines and bohemians.

Speaking of being written nearly sixty years ago – the time capsule quality of this book is positively fascinating. Which I say whenever I read something from before the millennium, but still – the ‘60s are still so profoundly mythologized I do love the chance to see anything written about them at the time, if only for ‘the past as a foreign country’ tourism reasons. The Hollywood of exploration, drug abuse, meaningless sex, vicious gossip and every combination of the above feels like it could almost be written about today, right up until the point where an easy divorce means finding an amenable judge and finding a witness to corroborate the husband’s admission of wanton emotional abuse (which becomes a stark reminder of how horrifying even a historical five minutes ago was when you consider what happens if you can’t meet any of those conditions). The illegal abortions, the utterly casual homophobia, the auteur theory being a hot new thing, the cult of the open road. It all adds up to an interesting effect.

Speaking of the cult of the open road – Maria’s only real sense of peace, happiness and self-control in the entire book is when she’s spending all day cruising the highway at dangerous speeds just for the sake of it, without itinerary or destination. No real coherent point to make, just that there’s something truly and incredibly American about that? The descriptions of the Nevada desert and highways, too.

But yeah, an expertly written novel that’s positively lovely in places (the opening monologue is near-sublime, for example), but not one that really awed or oved me the way some other literature has.

#book review #literature #play it as it lays #joan didion

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nightbunnysong · 2 months

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The Massive Benefits of Morning Aerobic Exercise

A Focus on Hiking

Abstract

Aerobic exercises, such as hiking, provide a multitude of health benefits that contribute to overall well-being. This article explores the physiological, psychological, and social advantages of engaging in morning aerobic activities, with a specific focus on hiking. Through a review of current scientific literature, the benefits are detailed, illustrating how this form of exercise can enhance physical health, mental clarity, and social connections.

Introduction

Aerobic exercises, characterized by sustained and rhythmic physical activity, play a crucial role in maintaining and improving health. Hiking, a popular form of aerobic exercise, combines the benefits of physical activity with the enjoyment of nature. Morning exercise, in particular, has been shown to yield unique benefits due to its alignment with the body's natural rhythms and the environment's characteristics at this time.

Physiological Benefits

1. Cardiovascular Health

Aerobic exercises such as hiking are known to improve cardiovascular health. Regular participation in hiking can lower blood pressure, improve cholesterol levels, and enhance heart function. Studies have shown that consistent aerobic exercise reduces the risk of heart disease and stroke by improving the efficiency of the cardiovascular system.

2. Weight Management

Engaging in aerobic exercise in the morning can kickstart metabolism, aiding in weight management and fat loss. Morning exercise increases the resting metabolic rate, allowing the body to burn calories more efficiently throughout the day. This is particularly beneficial for individuals aiming to maintain or reduce their body weight.

3. Musculoskeletal Health

Hiking strengthens muscles, improves joint health, and increases bone density. The varied terrain encountered during a hike engages different muscle groups, enhancing overall muscular strength and flexibility. Additionally, weight-bearing exercises like hiking are essential for maintaining bone health and preventing osteoporosis.

4. Enhanced Immune Function

Regular aerobic exercise has been linked to a stronger immune system. Morning hiking can boost the body's immune response, making it more effective at warding off illnesses and infections. This effect is partly due to the increase in circulation and the body's ability to mobilize immune cells during physical activity.

Psychological Benefits

1. Mental Clarity and Cognitive Function

Morning exercise has been associated with improved cognitive function and mental clarity. Engaging in aerobic activities like hiking increases blood flow to the brain, promoting the growth of new neural connections and improving memory and concentration. This can lead to enhanced productivity and cognitive performance throughout the day.

2. Stress Reduction and Mood Enhancement

Aerobic exercise stimulates the release of endorphins, known as the body's natural mood lifters. Hiking in the morning, in particular, can reduce stress levels and alleviate symptoms of anxiety and depression. The combination of physical activity and exposure to natural environments has a synergistic effect on improving mood and overall mental health.

Social Benefits

1. Social Interaction and Community Engagement

Hiking can be a social activity that fosters interaction and connection with others. Morning hikes with friends, family, or local hiking groups provide opportunities for socialization, which is essential for mental and emotional well-being. Building a sense of community through shared activities can enhance feelings of belonging and support.

2. Connection with Nature

Hiking offers a unique opportunity to connect with nature, which has been shown to have numerous psychological benefits. Exposure to natural environments reduces stress, improves mood, and enhances overall well-being. Morning hikes allow individuals to experience the tranquility and beauty of nature, setting a positive tone for the rest of the day.

Conclusion

Morning aerobic exercises such as hiking offer a comprehensive range of benefits that contribute to physical, mental, and social health. By incorporating regular morning hikes into one's routine, individuals can experience improved cardiovascular health, weight management, enhanced cognitive function, reduced stress, better sleep quality, and stronger social connections. As research continues to uncover the profound impact of aerobic exercise, it becomes increasingly clear that activities like hiking are essential for a healthy and fulfilling life.

References

1. Lee, I. M., Shiroma, E. J., Lobelo, F., Puska, P., Blair, S. N., & Katzmarzyk, P. T. (2012). Effect of physical inactivity on major non-communicable diseases worldwide: an analysis of burden of disease and life expectancy. *The Lancet*

2. Warburton, D. E., Nicol, C. W., & Bredin, S. S. (2006). Health benefits of physical activity: the evidence. *Canadian Medical Association Journal*

3. Biddle, S. J., & Asare, M. (2011). Physical activity and mental health in children and adolescents: a review of reviews. *British Journal of Sports Medicine*

4. Cohen, S., Alper, C. M., Doyle, W. J., Treanor, J. J., & Turner, R. B. (2006). Positive emotional style predicts resistance to illness after experimental exposure to rhinovirus or influenza A virus. *Psychosomatic Medicine*

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khensaptah · 8 months

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Mystic Egyptian Polytheism Resource List

Because I wanted to do a little more digging into the philosophy elements explored in Mahmoud's book, I took the time tonight to pull together the recommended reading he listed toward the end of each chapter. The notes included are his own.

MEP discusses Pharaonic Egypt and Hellenistic Egypt, and thus some of these sources are relevant to Hellenic polytheists (hence me intruding in those tags)!

Note: extremely long text post under this read more.

What Are The Gods And The Myths?

ψ Jeremy Naydler’s Temple of the Cosmos: The Ancient Egyptian Experience of the Sacred is my top text recommendation for further exploration of this topic. It dives deep into how the ancients envisioned the gods and proposes how the various Egyptian cosmologies can be reconciled. ψ Jan Assmann’s Egyptian Solar Religion in the New Kingdom: Re, Amun and the Crisis of Polytheism focuses on New Kingdom theology by analyzing and comparing religious literature. Assmann fleshes out a kind of “monistic polytheism,” as well as a robust culture of personal piety that is reflected most prominently in the religious literature of this period. He shows how New Kingdom religious thought was an antecedent to concepts in Hermeticism and Neoplatonism. ψ Moustafa Gadalla’s Egyptian Divinities: The All Who Are The One provides a modern Egyptian analysis of the gods, including reviews of the most significant deities. Although Gadalla is not an academic, his insights and contributions as a native Egyptian Muslim with sympathies towards the ancient religion are valuable.

How to Think like an Egyptian

ψ Jan Assmann’s The Mind of Egypt: History and Meaning in the Time of the Pharaohs is my top text recommendation for further exploration of this topic. It illuminates Egyptian theology by exploring their ideals, values, mentalities, belief systems, and aspirations from the Old Kingdom period to the Ptolemaic period. ψ Garth Fowden’s The Egyptian Hermes: A Historical Approach to the Late Pagan Mind identifies the Egyptian character of religion and wisdom in late antiquity and provides a cultural and historical context to the Hermetica, a collection of Greco-Egyptian religious texts. ψ Christian Bull’s The Tradition of Hermes Trismegistus: The Egyptian Priestly Figure as a Teacher of Hellenized Wisdom provides a rich assessment of the Egyptian religious landscape at the end of widespread polytheism in Egypt and how it came to interact with and be codified in Greek schools of thought and their writings.

How To Think Like A Neoplatonist

Radek Chlup’s Proclus: An Introduction is my top text recommendation for further exploration of this topic. It addresses the Neoplatonic system of Proclus but gives an excellent overview of Neoplatonism generally. It contains many valuable graphics and charts that help illustrate the main ideas within Neoplatonism. ψ John Opsopaus’ The Secret Texts of Hellenic Polytheism: A Practical Guide to the Restored Pagan Religion of George Gemistos Plethon succinctly addresses several concepts in Neoplatonism from the point of view of Gemistos Plethon, a crypto-polytheist who lived during the final years of the Byzantine Empire. It provides insight into the practical application of Neoplatonism to ritual and religion. ψ Algis Uzdavinys’ Philosophy as a Rite of Rebirth: From Ancient Egypt to Neoplatonism draws connections between theological concepts and practices in Ancient Egypt to those represented in the writings and practices of the Neoplatonists.

What Is “Theurgy,” And How Do You Make A Prayer “Theurgical?”

ψ Jeffrey Kupperman’s Living Theurgy: A Course in Iamblichus’ Philosophy, Theology and Theurgy is my top text recommendation for further exploration of this topic. It is a practical guide on theurgy, complete with straightforward explanations of theurgical concepts and contemplative exercises for practice. ψ Gregory Shaw’s Theurgy and the Soul: The Neoplatonism of Iamblichus demonstrates how Iamblichus used religious ritual as the primary tool of the soul’s ascent towards God. He lays out how Iamblichus proposed using rites to achieve henosis. ψ Algis Uzdavinys’ Philosophy and Theurgy in Late Antiquity explores the various ways theurgy operated in the prime of its widespread usage. He focuses mainly on temple rites and how theurgy helped translate them into personal piety rituals.

What Is “Demiurgy,” And How Do I Do Devotional, “Demiurgical” Acts?

ψ Shannon Grimes’ Becoming Gold: Zosimos of Panopolis and the Alchemical Arts in Roman Egypt is my top text recommendation for further exploration of this topic. It constitutes an in-depth look at Zosimos—an Egyptian Hermetic priest, scribe, metallurgist, and alchemist. It explores alchemy (ancient chemistry and metallurgy) as material rites of the soul’s ascent. She shows how Zosimos believed that partaking in these practical arts produced divine realities and spiritual advancements. ψ Alison M. Robert’s Hathor’s Alchemy: The Ancient Egyptian Roots of the Hermetic Art delves deep temple inscriptions and corresponding religious literature from the Pharaonic period and demonstrates them as premises for alchemy. These texts “alchemize” the “body” of the temple, offering a model for the “alchemizing” of the self. ψ A.J. Arberry’s translation of Farid al-Din Attar’s Muslim Saints and Mystics: Episodes from the Tadhkirat al-Auliya contains a chapter on the Egyptian Sufi saint Dhul-Nun al-Misri (sometimes rendered as Dho‘l-Nun al-Mesri). He is regarded as an alchemist, thaumaturge, and master of Egyptian hieroglyphics. It contains apocryphal stories of his ascetic and mystic life as a way of “living demiurgically.” It is an insightful glimpse into how the Ancient Egyptian arts continued into new religious paradigms long after polytheism was no longer widespread in Egypt.