#redefining masculinity

[estellaestella]

redefining masculinity

[the-river-rix]

*taps mic* Owen Carvour and Curt Mega are both gnc (but in diff ways)

[theajaheira]

your tags on that fandom post got me thinking of how... defensive fandom is of the status quo kinda? like I'm white so this might come off like I'm absolving myself which I'm not, but so often I see "fandom is a queer run space that fixes canon! buuuut we're going to focus on the white men because they're the only ones with depth :) and we're going to make actually good female characters cookie cutter. and we're going to ignore black men and especially black women. but queer run safe space!!"

the minute i got this ask i knew i had to wait until i was at home with my laptop because my fingers cannot fly as fast on my phone as they can on the computer keys. this is literally so much of what is happening in the buffy fandom. the whole thing is built on intrinsic systemic racism n misogyny that's reinforced within the show and that many in the fandom do not critically engage with in the slightest. it is absolutely objectively insane to me that i can make a post going, for example, "hey, isn't it fucked up as hell that the show treats the romani people as evil for wanting angel to suffer?" and then people will come into my inbox or land in my reblogs and go "well, actually, the show treats the romani people as shortsighted and bad at long-term planning, and i choose to read them that way too :)" and fully not see that there is a hell of a problem with THAT statement as well (real thing that happened). OR that kennedy hate is still hugely in vogue because she's mean and bratty and terrible and doesn't know her place!!! OR kendra's death & how easily she is forgotten by the fandom!!!!! OR the entire trend of handing buffy to a person's favorite character like a little trophy they've earned for being tortured and sad, reducing her to a facet of a romantic relationship & implying that this is what she needs to feel and be complete!

OR OH MY GOD THE ENTIRETY OF EVERYTHING SURROUNDING SPIKE. where do i even start with spike. completely serious, i am honestly endlessly impressed by the people who can still handle being fans of spike, because being a fan of spike means having to wade through 20 million fics where That Bitch Buffy must be narratively punished for abusing poor baby spike who only ever wanted to love her and was totally out of character every time he hurt her (and also drusilla is a vapid whore who didn't love spike, ever.) like i am not at this point in time always strong enough to engage with spike content simply because there is so much spike content that is SOAKED in violent misogyny repackaged as Deep, Torrid Romance. it's exhausting to try and find the good stuff when sometimes even the good stuff will throw you a curveball in chapter five or shy uncomfortably away from the racist realities of spike's character. the fact that robin wood has been hated for so long because he had the Nerve and the Audacity to want retribution for his mom, and that he is framed as in the wrong for wanting that, is in and of itself so fucking upsetting to me.

AN Y WAY. i agree with you. and i get what you're saying. i think an awareness of the pattern and a willingness to feel uncomfortable within your own mistakes is always a good place to start. i try so hard never to dig my heels in if i can avoid it.

[higherunlearning]

BEING A LIGHTHOUSE FOR YOUNG MEN LOST IN STORMY WATERS

————— image source One of many things that became apparent amidst the start of the pandemic in early 2020 was how we were about to deep dive even further into a collective state of uncertainty. At that point it already felt like the social contract upon which we thought society firmly stood was deteriorating under our feet. We suddenly found ourselves collectively adrift in the depths of a…

[starried-lass]

Masculine vs Feminine Signs (YANG/YIN)

Concept:

The signs can be traditionally categorized in several different ways! One way gender-coded—masculine and feminine. Another way I’ve seen this conceptualized is Yin/Yang.

[As followed:]

Masculine (yang): Aries, Gemini, Leo, Libra, Sagittarius, Aquarius

Feminine (yin): Taurus, Cancer, Virgo, Scorpio, Capricorn, Pisces

Reconception;

I want to preface this with a disclaimer: this is not something you should use should try to use to predict the future; I don’t care for divinity. This is using astrology as a tool to reflect on ourselves and how we operate in this world—and how we can do better. I can’t decide what better looks like for you, or your life, but I want to give you some tools to do so yourself. Time to reconceptualize!

Embracing vs Surrendering

When it comes to masculine and feminine, I want to discuss how these two groups interact with different energies/situations and express themselves.

[As followed:]

Embracing; these are the signs that need to externally step into the energies they are presented with. They are the kind that puts things into action—they’re the fire and air signs [not to say that other half doesn’t operate like that; they just go about it in a different matter.] Imagine these energies as bricks: masculine signs weigh bricks to bricks they already have built into their foundation. They break their wall then rebuild to strengthen their original brick layering.

Surrendering; These are the signs that absorb the energies internally [our earth and water signs]. Think of these signs as sponges and the energy the come in contact as liquids they soak up and incorporate into whatever they already hold! This might be why they’re often categorized and described as “sensitive”.

{Final Thoughts}

The rest of the Astro!Talk:Signs series will be touching and building up on the concepts we’ve touched in this post; in order to understand theories behind the signs, you have to add up all these components. But that’s just the beginning—because then you get into the abyss that is the natal chart. But once you build a foundational understanding of the signs, the other concepts (planets, houses, aspects) become easier to grasp!

[delugeinacup]

someguy watching two dudes hug after a tragedy while one cries over a loss: ugh, thats so gay.

somegirl: it is? i thought that was just friendship. huh! well, guess i ship them now! lol

[gurucave]

The Colonial Mindset and Modern Relationships

Relationship dynamics have long been influenced by historical contexts, particularly colonial history. This history, infused with Eurocentric perspectives, has inadvertently shaped the expectations men and women have of each other, as well as their respective roles in relationships. Case Study: Marriage Dynamics in the U.S. A recent study conducted in the United States illuminated a notable…

[ethernights]

nothing pisses me off more than rdr tik tok guys who insist that Arthur is some badass, no emotion, silent type and traditional gun slinging cowboy…

like did you even play the game ?? Not only is he extremely silly, but that his badass persona is an act. Inside he’s very kind and gentle, he sketches in his diary, he enjoys nature and animals, he loves his found family but that he’s also dealing with major insecurities and self esteem issues. Yet through all that he’s strong, his story literally redefines his what it is to be strong and really unpacks many toxic parts of masculinity and presents a strong male character who deals with emotional and personal hardships without it being presented as feminine or weak.

[soaplantro]

Let's play a game called Process of Discrimination. We will eliminate faulty definitions for the word "transfem" one by one, hopefully ending with an idea of how transfemininity is erased in discussions of transfemininity. Someone smarter than me called it denial of epistemic authority.

Transfem does not mean "developed virilizing (masculinizing) traits." It does not mean "having facial hair, a deepened voice, etc."

Transfem does not mean "possessing traits that cause gender dysphoria," nor even "experiencing gender dysphoria." It does not mean "having a Y chromosome" or "having testicles." (This is the closest we will come to seeing earnest engagement with the social nature of transfeminization; one woefully underdeveloped acknowledgement of the significance of sex assignment.)

Transfem does not mean "raised male." (Children may socially transition at very young ages.) Transfem does not mean "not relating with any other identity." I will not repudiate the middle claim about having "all the same struggles and life experiences as AMAB transfems," because it is inherently unfalsifiable. I do find it interesting, however, that (AFAB) intersex experiences must always be distinguished and never erased. It is only "AMAB transfems" who can experience this all-encompassing overlap. The existence of intersex transfems AMAB remains pointedly unacknowledged.

Transfem does not mean "transitioning to have a more feminine body." I find this implication especially infuriating because transition technologies are frequently inaccessible to us. The phrase "masculine unaltered state" reveals much. I wonder, who benefits when masculine is treated as the default? Are we transfems only "altering" our innately "masculine" bodies, or are we engaged in a continuous and in some ways unique political struggle?

In other words, is transfemininity something anyone can "do" with equally (il)legible results, or is it something expressed conditionally through one's very being, inextricable from the totality of one's social circumstances? If it's the former, then "transfem" should remain a word anyone can adopt and redefine however they like. If it's the latter...best not to think about that. Moving on.

Well, if we simply must go there, allow me to indulge in the corollaries so you can marvel along with me at your own dehumanizing rhetoric. Transfem does not mean "biologically male." Transfem experiences are incredible varied and often cannot be neatly categorized the way AFAB people's can be.

So what is a "transfem?" Have I narrowed it down enough for you @status-quo-hater?

[leemeanhoe]

i just watched pp krit’s fire boy and i’ll do it how you like it for the first time and wow. i am definitely in deep shit in terms of gender comprehension now

[saveitlikesasuke]

I know it’s a terf talking point (or has been in my experience online) but the changing of lesbian to mean “non-man attracted to non-men” deeply annoys me tbh

[androgynealienfemme]

"Faggy butch was good. It accurately described my pink button-down shirts, my giggles, the fact that I talked with my hands. I once saw a tape of myself in which I made a gesture that looked more like it belonged in A Chorus Line than in the middle of an interview. Faggy butch was like genderqueer -- not quite this or that, a little of both, maybe. A friend once said to me, "I access my femininity through my masculinity."

I feel lucky to have grown up in a world with butch pioneers, and I feel lucky that I had an idea about what being butch might have meant. But instead of making me feel part of the community, these constructions of what butch was -- stereotypes really-- pushed me away from the word and identity. Instead I chose a newer term, genderqueer, which had yet to be defined; it was in flux, it was a new frontier. I may not have been butch "enough", but genderqueer was all mine to rewrite and redefine.

I still like the word "genderqueer," still claim it and own it and love the way it makes room for me, in all my complexities. But I'm coming back around to butch. Maybe its because the years of pink prom dresses are further and further behind me, maybe its because i'm learning from butch elders who talk in terms that make room for me, giggles and all. Maybe its because the people i know have no idea (unless I tell them) that i was never a tomboy. They only know me -- my short hair tightly bound chest, and button down shirts.

I think that every new generation feels the need to reject their elders, reject what came before them, and feel that they are knew gender rebels. We invent terms, we create new spaces, and sometimes, we come back to where our big brothers started -- home."

“PERSISTENCE: All Ways Butch and Femme, Coming Back Around to Butch” Miriam Zoila Pérez, On Butch and Femme: Compiled Readings, (edited by I.M. Epstein) (2017)

[tactfullyinappropriate]

Ohhh boy, I'm gonna get a lot of flak for this one but... masc lesbian =/= butch. You can be the most masculine presenting person the world has ever known and that does not automatically make you butch.

Butch is an identity and you kinda need to fit that identity, not make the identity fit you. E.g. "lesbians" who are attracted to cishet men. Sorry, hun, you're just not a lesbian. Find your own identity that fits. You are allowed to be your own kind of bisexual or pansexual but what you are not, is a lesbian.

Sure, there is a lot of room for being your own person within an identity. I am not the same kind of lesbian as the next dyke. But if I did not fit (or if I no longer fit) the definition of the lesbian identity, I wouldn't call myself one and insist that lesbians expand the definition to include me.

'Butch' as an identity exists within a certain context. It *is not* a synonym to man, and it's also not a synonym to 'a masculine presenting lesbian'. If you don't vibe with the whole 'chivalry' concept and the specific ways in with butch/femme courtship (as an example) happens, maybe consider if this is the right label for you before insisting that we expand or rather completely rewrite the definition to exclude those things from it.

Some of the discourse around 'we should redefine butch!' reminds me of the discourse around redefining manhood. "It's not fair that men are expected to have masculine hobbies," they say. "It's not fair that men cannot wear glitter and makeup and retain their manhood. It's not fair that men are expected to open doors, and carry heavy things, and to-to---" Yes. You are exactly right. But butches are not men.

'Butch' is an opt-in identity, not something that society at large expects and requires from you. In other words: if you think femmes gushing about being courted by their butches in what to you appears to be a 1960s play-pretend of patriarchy, is silly, objectifying or demeaning toward one of the parties... consider that maybe 'butch' is not the identity for you. That maybe you are a masculine person with their own unique take on masculinity.

But insisting that we redefine butch is like me insisting that we redefine 'yoga' because I vibe with the gymnastics but I don't like the spiritual aspect of it. I can just go to Pilates instead. Or do yoga and accept that other people in the practice experience it differently.

What I am endlessly tired of, as a femme, is being lectured on what I *should* and *should not* find attractive. I am not somehow betraying feminism, objectifying people and degrading myself by daydreaming of a butch who opens the car door for me or - the absolute horror - brings me flowers on a date. I recognize that other people have the right to their own attraction and that masculine lesbians deserve the freedom to explore masculinity on their own terms and be treated with dignity and respect regardless of where that exploration takes them and regardless of who does or does not find them attractive.

That being said, the whole narrative of 'if you find chivalry hot, then you are objectifying butches and you are, in fact, an entitled selfish person' is tiresome. Not all femmes are women but in being chastised for our turn-ons and romantic daydreams (unless we're the Cool Girl who doesn't like flowers and rolls her eyes at romance) I see a lot of the admonishment directed toward cis straight women who dare to swoon when they read romance where the male lead is courteous and generous.

Except, again, butch/femme *is not* man/woman. It's a particular subculture within the lesbian identity and no one is pressuring anyone into conforming to it.

[transform4u]

I was raised in a Christian setting, but I was always so proud growing up about being openly gay and flamboyant. Now that I’m older, all my old school friends are getting married and starting families. I used to think those straight guys were so boring and mundane for wanting to settle down. Now I feel so bored with my long time boyfriend. I keep having this weird urge that I need to breed and spread my seed. The more my values change, I feel my breeder kink growing stronger. Can you help me understand what’s happening to me?

It's late at night, and the verse from Corinthians weighs heavily on your thoughts. "Act like men, be strong." Those words, ingrained since childhood through Sunday sermons and Bible studies, echo in your mind like a mantra. You've never truly understood them, I mean it was all just boring, conservative values your parents tried to install in you. But you were nothing like that were you. You wanted to be out and proud and attend every Pride parade you could, putting on rainbow beads and tight clothes----but that's not what those words mean "Act like men, be strong."

Yet, as you mull over these words, a realization dawns on you. Your concept of what it means to "act like men" has been shaped not only by your Christian upbringing but also by societal norms and expectations. Society has painted a picture of masculinity that emphasizes toughness, stoicism, and dominance. It's a definition that leaves little room for vulnerability, sensitivity, or exploration of emotions.

The urge to conform, to live up to these ideals, is strong. It's ingrained in your psyche, reinforced over years of conditioning.

As you reflect, your mind drifts to your boyfriend, the person you care deeply for but who seems to fall short of the masculine ideal you've been taught. You try to reconcile his kindness, his gentleness, with this notion of strength and manliness. Your lip quivers slightly as conflicting emotions surge within you.

A smirk begins to form on your face—a smirk tinged with bitterness and a hint of rebellion. You think about how predictable your relationship has become, how safe and comfortable yet lacking in passion and excitement. The thought of being with another man, someone more assertive, more daring, stirs something inside you—anger mixed with desire, disgust intertwined with curiosity.

You can't help but feel a growing anger and hatred towards your boyfriend. He's not strong enough, not manly enough to satisfy you. You start to question why you ever fell for him in the first place. His kindness seems like weakness now, his gentleness a sign of femininity.

As your self-inflicted homophobia begins to creep into your soul, you find yourself disgusted by the idea of having sex with another man. It goes against everything you believe in; it goes against the Bible. Your mind fills with rage, a rage that will fuel your changes. You know what needs to be done – break up with him and find someone who can truly make you feel alive again.

Your smile morphs into a cocky grin, reflecting a defiance against the norms that have shaped your understanding of masculinity. The rigid expectations seem suffocating now, and you wonder if you've been playing a role, conforming to a stereotype that doesn't fit who you truly are.

It starts as a simple sigh, a release of tension and uncertainty that has gripped you for so long. The weight of expectations—societal, religious, personal—pressing down like a heavy mantle. You yearn to break free from these constraints, to redefine yourself beyond the confines of what others expect you to be.

As you exhale, the sigh deepens into a grunt, a primal sound of frustration mingled with determination. You feel it in your gut—a sudden surge of energy, a tingling sensation that spreads through your entire body. It's as if something dormant within you is awakening, stirring to life with newfound vigor.

You let out a deep, loud, and obnoxious "buuuuurrrrrrrrrp" that echoes through the room. The sound reverberates in your ears as you feel it pulsate throughout your muscles, filling you with energy. You stand up straighter, chest puffed out proudly as if to say "I am here."

Your eyes narrow into a fierce glare as you think about all the changes that need to be made. No more will you settle for mediocrity or complacency; it's time to take control of your life and become the person you were always meant to be – strong, confident, and unapologetically masculine.

Your gaze lowers instinctively to your stomach, where once a softness resided, now replaced by a transformation unfolding before your eyes. The smooth contours give way to something altogether different—a ripple, a shift beneath the surface. Thick, cobblestone abs begin to form, each muscle defined with startling clarity. You watch in disbelief as your body undergoes a metamorphosis, sculpting itself into a form that feels both alien and strangely exhilarating.

A deep, booming laugh escapes your lips, echoing in the room. Your Adam's apple thickens perceptibly, your voice dropping several octaves in pitch. It resonates within you, a newfound resonance that reverberates with power and confidence.

Your biceps swell, veins popping with every flex, pulsating with strength. Your chest rises, pecs transforming into hefty mounds of muscle and flesh that demand attention. You can't help but marvel at the physical changes taking place, each movement involuntary yet empowering. "Holy shit," you say to yourself, feeling your muscles grow underneath your skin. "This is fucking awesome!" You flex your bicep and watch it bulge outwards like a rock-hard mountain peak. A grin spreads across your face as you imagine what else might be possible now that these changes have begun.

Involuntarily, you flex, feeling the newfound strength coursing through your veins. A laugh, almost primal in its intensity, escapes your lips—a laugh that breaks through the constraints of expectation and conformity. It's a laugh of liberation, of embracing what it means to be yourself, unapologetically.

As you stand there, caught in the throes of transformation, you're acutely aware of the societal expectations weighing upon you. Masculinity, as defined by the world around you, seems to demand a certain mold—one you're unwittingly beginning to fit into. The laughter that bubbles up from within feels almost intoxicating, a euphoric rush of newfound strength and vigor.

But with each laugh, something shifts. It's subtle at first, like a distant echo fading into the background. Your thoughts, once sharp and nuanced, begin to blur. The intricate web of ideas and knowledge that defined your intellectual prowess starts to dissipate.

You chuckle, the sound now more boisterous, more carefree. The complexity of language and the depth of thought seem distant, replaced by a simplicity that borders on naivety. Words become harder to grasp, sentences more challenging to string together. The transformation is not just physical but cognitive—a gradual erosion of the sharpness that once defined you.

In its place, a new narrative emerges. Football dominates your mind—Nick Bosa's stats, the plays of the 49ers. It's as if sports trivia and player statistics fill the gaps left by receding memories of literature and philosophy. Workout routines and protein shakes become your daily rituals, intertwined with memories of frat parties where showing off your gains was a source of pride and admiration.

You remember vividly the time when you and your bros were goofing off, teasing each other for acting like fucking homos. Endlessly in the mirror, flexing your biceps and pecs until they shine with sweat. You could feel the burn as blood rushed to your muscles, making them grow bigger and stronger by the day. The sense of accomplishment after each workout fueled an insatiable desire to push yourself even harder next time.

You remember being at the gym with your bros, pushing yourselves to the limit during a grueling workout. The smell of sweat and testosterone filled the air as you grunted through each set, encouraging one another to go harder.

One day, things got a little out of hand when you decided it would be funny to rip a gross protein fart in someone's face during downtime. PFFFFFFTTT Laughter ensued but so did an overpowering stench that lingered long afterward – even in the showers later on, you found yourself growing dumber by the minute as if unable to process basic information like addition or subtraction anymore due solely to this lingering odor clouding your mind.

The once-keen mind now swims in a constant haze, like a permanent state of drunkenness. Thoughts are simpler, actions more instinctual. You revel in the camaraderie of locker rooms, the adrenaline of the field, and the thrill of physical prowess. Intellectual pursuits fade into the background, replaced by a newfound appreciation for physicality and camaraderie.

You awaken and find yourself at a raging frat party, where the air is thick with excitement and the beat of music pulsates through the crowded room.

As you make your way through the crowd of the party, the changes become palpable. Your face, once marked by youthful innocence and boyish soft features, begins to shift. There's a subtle hardening of your jawline, a chiseling of your cheekbones into a more angular shape. The lines of your face sharpen, mirroring a rugged determination and confidence that exudes from every pore.

The party scene materializes—a frat house buzzing with energy, filled with the scent of sweat, alcohol, and the faint hint of testosterone. You remember the cheers, the high-fives, the sense of camaraderie that surged through you like a tidal wave.

Amidst the revelry, a cross necklace slips around your neck—an unexpected accessory that feels strangely comforting. It's as if with each clasp, a subtle shift occurs within you. The liberal, woke ideals you once held dear start to fade, replaced by a deepening conservatism and a newfound faith.

You find yourself thinking about how liberals are just a bunch of whiney pansy-ass snowflakes, crying about their lame-ass woke agenda.

You find yourself immersed in conversations about sports, politics from a conservative viewpoint, and the importance of faith in shaping moral values. Your vocabulary shifts, becoming peppered with phrases like "alpha," "bro," and "dude." reflecting a growing sense of identity—one that aligns with traditional notions of masculinity and righteousness. You bump into your best bro, Chaz, a linebacker for the college football team. He's already fucking wasted as shit. He's got a beer in one hand and the ass of some sorority bimbo in the other.

"Hey man, how's it going?" you ask as you give Chaz a fist bump.

"Fuckin' great," he grunts in response. "I just beat the shit out of some faggy snowflake loser who thought he was too smart for his own good."

You nod along in agreement, feeling your blood boil at the mere mention of liberals and their woke ideals. "Yeah bro, those guys need to learn their place," you say with conviction. "They think they can just walk around being all sensitive and shit...well not on my watch!"

Chaz chuckles before patting you on the back. "That's my boy," he says proudly.

You become more assertive, bordering on brash. Your actions are bold, filled with bravado—a display of confidence that borders on arrogance. At the party, you're the center of attention, regaling others with tales of conquests both on the field and in bed. The admiration and envy in their eyes fuel your sense of self-importance.

As the night wears on, you find yourself surrounded by like-minded individuals, bonding over shared ideals of masculinity, conservatism, and Christian values. The party becomes a celebration of these newfound convictions, a reaffirmation of identity that feels both liberating and confining.

As you navigate through the pulsating crowd at the party, your steps grow increasingly unsteady with each sip from your red plastic cup. The alcohol courses through your veins, emboldening you with a false sense of confidence. Your demeanor shifts subtly, from casual revelry to a more exaggerated swagger—a display of bravado that borders on arrogance.

Through the haze of the party lights and the din of music, you spot her—a pretty girl, a pretty drunk girl with her friends, laughing and chatting animatedly. Her long, flowing hair catches your eye first, illuminated by the flickering lights. She's wearing a stylish outfit that accentuates her figure, exuding a natural allure that draws you in.

As she laughs with her friends, her smile lighting up the space around her. She's wearing a tight, revealing outfit that accentuates every curve, drawing attention effortlessly.

You find this chick incredibly hot. Her tits look huge in her tight outfit, straining against the fabric as she laughs and talks with her friends. There's no denying that she's dressed like a fucking slut, there's no way she's not looking for some action tonight.

You can't help but think of all the ways you could pleasure her; how good it would feel to have those big tits bouncing up and down as she rides your cock while she moans your name. The thought alone makes your blood rush and muscles twitch with anticipation.

Without hesitation, you make your move towards them, hoping that tonight will be the night where all your fantasies come true.

With a surge of bravado and a newfound sense of confidence, you make your way towards her, navigating through the crowded party. Your muscles tense subtly beneath your shirt as you approach, a smirk playing on your lips. You know you've got her attention even before you say a word.

"Hey there, sweetheart," you greet her, your voice carrying an edge of cockiness and slurred drunkenness. "Enjoying the party?"

She looks you up and down, her gaze lingering appreciatively on your physique. "Oh, definitely," she replies, a playful glint in her eye. "Especially now."

You can't resist showing off a bit. With a confident grin, you flex your biceps, the muscles bulging impressively. "Like what you see?" you tease, punctuating your question with a quick pec dance, causing your chest muscles to ripple under your shirt.

Her friends giggle in response, egging you on with cheers and playful banter. The girl herself leans in closer, her demeanor flirtatious and unapologetic. "Very impressive," she remarks, her voice teasing.

"Yeah, been hitting the gym hard," you boast, leaning in a little closer to her. "But enough about me. What's your name?"

As you flex your biceps, she can't help but feel the thickness of your muscles beneath her fingertips. Her eyes widen in surprise and admiration at the sight before her.

Blushing deeply, she bites down on her lower lip – a telltale sign of how horny you're making this little slut. It's clear that this girl is interested in more than just conversation; she wants to explore what else lies beneath those bulging muscles.

She introduces herself, her smile widening as she matches your flirtatious energy. The conversation flows effortlessly between you, punctuated by laughter and lingering gazes that speak volumes. You revel in the attention, enjoying the rush of attraction and the validation of your confidence.

"You know what they say," you smirk, leaning in closer to her. "Want to see what a real man is like?"

Without waiting for an answer, you yell over the music and laughter for your bro Chaz. He appears moments later with a keg in hand, grinning from ear to ear at the sight of this potential conquest. You motion towards him and he slides the keg closer before taking off again into the crowd.

Grabbing two plastic cups from somewhere nearby, you start to fill them both up with beer before handing one to her. As she takes it from your hands, your eyes travel down her body – lingering on those "big tits straining against her top and that fat ass encased within tight jeans…god damn she's hot little slut!" you think. With each pump of the keg comes another surge of desire; any notion of your old boyfriend is washed away by now replaced instead by an overwhelming need feel manly tonight here now this very moment right here right now while also experiencing deep-seated homophobia. The thought of two dudes kissing makes you want to puke. You can't stand the idea that someone might think you're gay just because they saw you hanging out with another guy.

Your disgust for fags only fuels your desire for the chick in front of you. She represents everything that's feminine and attractive - everything that a fag isn't. As she grinds against you on the dance floor, all thoughts of fags disappear from your mind as your horniness reaches new heights

Nothing else matters; the only thing that matters is getting laid tonight. As she takes a sip from her cup, your dick hardens in anticipation. Without hesitation, you grab her fat ass and pull her closer for a drunk makeout session while Chaz cheers you on from nearby.

"Babe," you slur in your thick New Jersey accent between kisses, "you're so fucking hot." Your hands roam over her body as she moans breathlessly into your mouth. "I wanna fuck you so bad."

"Giovanni—Gio—take me! You big Italian stallion; I need your thick cock!" she moans breathlessly, with that cocky smile still plastered across your face, there's no turning back now…your fate as the biggest college douchebag ready to plant his seed across campus has been sealed. You fuck the dumb slut with all the passion and aggression of a true alpha male. The cheers from your fellow frat bros only serve to fuel your ego, making you feel cockier and cockier with each thrust. This is what it means to be a man – taking what you want when you want it without hesitation or remorse. And right now, all that matters is claiming this woman as yours while satisfying your primal urges...

You wake up the next morning, hungover as fuck but feeling pretty damn good about yourself. As you stretch out your muscles and roll over in bed, two dumb blonde cheerleaders suddenly appear – tickling your thick abs and impressive pecs playfully.

"One of you sluts gonna suck it?" you ask with a grin on your face. They both smile back at you knowingly before climbing onto the bed to fulfill their duties as groupies...

As the two hottest chicks on campus go to town on your dick, you can't help but think: "Lord forgive me." But who cares about forgiveness when you're experiencing this kind of pleasure? Their lips and tongues work in perfect harmony as they take turns sucking and stroking your cock. You moan loudly, lost in the moment – enjoying every second of this decadent morning after.

[firedancewithme]

the sheer fact that fantasy high includes :

- an aroace goblin who's so nerdy and so feisty at least 50% of tumblr users can identify w him

- either incredibly messy or incredibly wholesome sapphic relationships

- men redefining masculinity for themselves (fabian's bard arc, gorgug's rage arc, riz' arc w his dad, gilear being gilear, jawbone being jawbone...)

- lydia barkrock ???? as an incredibly badass yet incredibly sweet buff chronically ill woman (and mom !!)

- poly parents, swinger parents, adoptive parents, parents who make mistakes, religious parents, parents who do their best, parents who don't know how to parent

is EVERYTHING to me and more. the quality of representation is so soothing. thank you to the leftist american nerds i guess