how it feels to fumble a social interaction with someone who does not care about you (this is in no way trivial and will affect my life going forward)
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Sports News – Kings of Command 2026: Nine breakout pitchers to draft late
Tristan H. CockcroftMar 11, 2026, 07:02 AM ET
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Tristan H. Cockcroft is senior writer for fantasy baseball and football at ESPN. Tristan is a member of the FSWA Hall of Fame. He is also a two-time LABR and three-time Tout Wars champion.
Multiple Authors
There’s no better place on a fantasy baseball team from which to find big value than from your pitching staff — and specifically your later…
Sports News – Kings of Command 2026: Nine breakout pitchers to draft late
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Sports News – 2026 NBA mock draft: Who’s rising and falling ahead of March Madness?
Jeremy WooMar 11, 2026, 07:00 AM ET
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NBA draft analyst and writerJoined ESPN.com in 2023Covered the NBA and NBA draft for Sports Illustrated from 2015-2023
Multiple Authors
Whether you’ve followed this 2026 NBA draft class all season or are just tuning in for March Madness, it bears repeating: This is shaping up to be an exceptionally talented draft class.
Darryn Peterson, AJ Dybantsa,…
Sports News – 2026 NBA mock draft: Who’s rising and falling ahead of March Madness?
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Problem* only for me but w this new feature how can I look at all the comment reblogs on unintentionally ragebaitful posts… j like to scroll the backlash…
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Shopping for lingerie for my (very cisgender) boyfriend because despite all that dick in his pants he has a fat ass and I know he doesnt believe me but he’d look good in a black lace number. Like a bralette and some high cut underwear
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okay no but Jon deciding he was “quite an annoying child” when truly he was bored & not entirely wanted is so. Hold on. I don’t think what I was about to say is normal. I think that was too much about me and not him.
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“A Good Man?”
“He’s a good man” they say as if that’s fixes everything. As if we should have realized.
He’s a good man, but he corners my mom every Sunday to “talk.”
He’s a good man, but I charged the taser in my room “just in case.”
I never heard him compliment my Mom on who she was as a person never heard him say she looked pretty unless it was a sexual kind of attraction(and even that “compliment” was so rare I only remember one specific event)
He’s a good man but after 40 years of marriage he still doesn’t know that my Mom doesn’t like flowers for valentines and she certainly doesn’t like Red Roses.
He gets them anyway.
He’s a good man but we tiptoe around this house
He’s a good man but we panic when he’s home
He changes his tone based on who is listening.
If there is a witness suddenly he’s soft and kind and considerate “do you need any help honey?”
That same man who makes her cook and clean and sex him when she’s sick. When he’s told her he hates her.
When she’s back from a trip and there were no dishes because he’s been doing them but now that the “woman” is home there is a dish in the sink within the first few hours.
He’s a good man but when we try to include him in events he ruins them or complains most of the time.
Like the 4th of July my sister and her husband were here. My sister who is his favorite.
And he bought one pack of children’s fireworks because he didn’t want to spend money and complained about staying up a few hours past his bedtime the whole time.
Now all he does is stay up. When my Mom and I are begging internally for him to go to bed now he stay up and stays around.
He’s a good man but when my Mom said she needed space within hours he was asking her and crowding her.
He’s a good man but his pain is almost always are fault and our pain is irrelevant.
He hates woman. I know that now. We are a thing to be used and prop up his man ego…we don’t have wants, needs, desires or even personhood of our own…and we shouldn’t want it.
He’s a good man but we can’t say “no” without consequences.
He’s a good man but DEMANDS respect and never gives it.
He’s a good man but his version of respect is erasure of my Mom as a person.
He’s a good man but he invades our space and the house feels like it’s getting smaller around us.
He’s a good man but I don’t exist to him because I’m to troublesome and not at all useful.
He’s a good man but random men he’s never met are more important than us…and we must protect their feelings.
He’s a good man but “in 40 years he could never love my Mom because she won’t respect him” direct quote from January
He’s a good man but when my Mom brought up that fight(more of an attack on her whole being then a fight) he said she was “lying” or “remembering it wrong”
He’s a good man but there’s ALWAYS a gaslighting excuse about why he didn’t keep his word.
He’s a good man but I feel guilty, my Mom feels guilty for basic needs in this relationship.
WE lose sleep and he goes on with his life.
He’s a good man but you’ve never seen him angry…not really.
He’s a good man but got mad when my Mom put family photons in his phone and she had to delete them.
He’s a good man but we live so far from anything resembling life and future and civilization becuase it’s his promise land and we should love it even if it’s killing us and stolen our lives.
He’s a good man but we’ve pleaded for years to get out of here, to have lives and he just tells my Mom to “come into his world more.”
“His world MORE!?” We want to scoff!? How even would that be possible? We live where you want. We do what you want. She give him food and life and sex.
She listens to his hunting stories (I used to too before) even though she find them violent and strange.(not against hunting but against trophy hunting)
He’s a good man but he sometimes helps people kill as many as 12 elk a day and revels in it….and my Mom has to wash the bloody clothes even though blood makes her sick.
We have heads on our wall.
We had to keeep my Grandma alive for hours when she was dying because we live so far.
So HOW??! How exactly is she not in your world!? How exactly am I not in your world?
He’s a good man but he forgets what I’m allergic to.
He’s a good man but never asks how my Sister is doing being terribly sick with Lyme Disease.
Never asks about my Mom after her doctors appointment.
Never wonders how my Neurological Lyme is doing.
But he blames it and me for every struggle in our relationship…it must be so convenient to live in a world where all the things that break us are never his fault.
My problems are Lyme and Mom’s problems are because she’s been poisoned but her evil feminism daughter(I just believe woman matter too…why is that repulsive to you?)
He’s a good man but love is a transaction…if he does something my Mom has been asking for for months….He does it on his time…his effort level
(our dryer is STILL broken) and then expects sex.
He’s a good man but “I wish he would just hit me then it would make sense”
He’s a good man but he hid it all from my Mom before the wedding.
He’s a good man but he didn’t tell her they were marrying on the opening day of hunting season and when as wedding anniversary came and he was leaving and she was confused he told her “it’s opening day” and left.
He’s made me so afraid of men. Of giving my whole heart to someone like him.
He’s a good man but I’m terrified I’m like him and panic when I notice similarities.
He’s a good man but I want to SCREAM.
To You! He’s a good man to YOU!
Not to us.
When does us end? When do you believe us?
When does he stop being a “good man”?
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Brain Dump - consumption and personality
I have an awkward amount of time and nothing left to do on my laptop in terms of personal admin, which was left me with an open space for the anxious voices to surface. They tell me that I need to be doing something productive. That I’m running out of time to enjoy all the things that there are on this earth to enjoy, and so anything I try to enjoy feels like the wrong choice and a waste of precious time. And then I watch as the days and the months pass by and I’ve enjoyed nothing.
This isn’t to say that I am never enjoying anything. I enjoy my time. But I read and watch and listen to less than I’d like to, because of the paralysis of indecision and existentialism.
I feel a panic rising in me when I think too much about where my personality starts and algorithmically spoon-fed trend consumption ends. How much of this is real? How much of this is me? Who am I and what do I like when I cut off my access to the powerful suggestions of my social media feeds?
Anyway, none of this actually matters. These are tiny, privileged, first world problems. I should be thankful for the abundance of art at my fingertips.
But I’ve been thinking a lot of personality. What is mine like? How is it created? Is it innate or manufactured by environment? Is it consciously decided or unconsciously discovered? All of the above? If I enjoy something because I like the feeling of being connected to others’ who enjoy it too, do I actually enjoy it? Can both be true?
So many questions that don’t really have answers, and that leave me to time to even enjoy a good book or watch a movie.
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rick riordan saying only a human wouldn’t be an environmentalist and then having the god of nature die and saying that there’s no one left to protect it but them…..
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blog for playing vsynth toys
you will see my vision
i like the purple one and the orange one. but others too
contents may be weird/sensitive/suggestive/awesome, adult followers only please
FUB free ^_^
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wooooo! body horror!
[[MORE]]The flash light, the only true light in the entire market exposes her wounds. Six puncture marks swell in her skin. Two on each side between her ribs down her spine. Pulsing, the points of infection grow, dark bulging veins showing through the skin. River pokes and finds the veins hardened and stiff. Clotted. The skin bleaches around each wound and where her shirt had ridden up to expose her, smooth to the touch.
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ORIGIN RECORD — AUTHOR NOTE
Status: Unindexed / inspiration material
Source: personal notes
Related Character: Themis
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Authors Comment:
People who eventually read my story might assume that Hikari represents me the most.
And in some ways that might even be true.
But the strange thing about writing characters is that you inevitably leave pieces of yourself in all of them.
Fragments of perception.
Fragments of thinking.
Fragments of habits.
Ironically, this little sketch from my personal notes probably reveals more clearly than anything else what Themis has inherited from me (though there is some Hikari in this as well).
So consider this something like:
an origin fragment… or a small piece of character DNA.
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Fragment
“Do you enjoy this?”
His gaze was confident, almost amused, as if he already knew the answer.
His fingers tightened around my hand.
He had already been holding it far too long.
My lips pressed together before I could stop them.
“No.”
“No?”
He sounded genuinely offended.
Hurt, even.
It clearly hadn’t crossed his mind for even a second that this might be a possible answer.
“Well…”
I tried to meet his gaze, but his eyes were already drilling into mine again.
“I think I’ve explained often enough that I don’t like being touched. By anyone.”
“Interesting.”
His eyes slipped away for a brief moment, drifting down to our hands.
“And yet you’re holding mine.”
“Yes.”
My voice came out rougher than I expected.
“Because that’s how you communicate.”
He tilted his head slightly. His gaze sharpened again.
“That’s correct. I need it to feel the energies.”
I nodded slowly.
Mechanically.
As if my body already knew there was no point correcting him.
Once again he had only heard the part of the sentence he wanted to hear.
“Which is why…”
He stepped closer and crouched down until our eyes were level.
“…you need to look at me now. So I can see you. And understand you.”
“You’re creepy.”
The words slipped out before I could stop them.
Something flashed in his eyes.
His grip tightened.
“So let me understand this,” he said slowly.
“I tell you that you’re good exactly the way you are. That you can be whoever you want to be. That you’re perfect as you are…”
He leaned closer.
“…and you call me creepy because I communicate differently than most people?”
Something inside me shifted.
Slowly.
Very slowly.
Sometimes it was better not to answer immediately.
“That’s not what you’re trying to say, right?”
His eyes were directly in front of mine now.
I looked away.
He nodded, as if that confirmed something.
Then he leaned forward again.
My hand found a loose thread on my sleeve and began twisting it.
Stimming.
He noticed immediately.
I said his name out loud.
My voice sounded different than usual.
Rougher.
Lower.
Sharper.
“What?”
“Stop.”
“Stop what? I’m just looking.”
“You’re staring.”
“So?”
“Stop.”
“Why?”
“Since when is not wanting something not a good enough reason anymore?”
His gaze didn’t move an inch.
But something flickered in his eyes.
“But how else am I supposed to read you?” he said.
“I need that to—”
“—communicate, yes,” I cut in.
“But you’re not listening. You’re just thinking about yourself.”
His other hand suddenly closed around the one that had been stimming.
If something inside me had shifted before, now it tipped completely.
His hand gripping mine too tightly.
His other hand holding my wrist.
Stopping me from stimming.
Forcing me to look at him.
It felt like someone had replaced the blood in my veins with something cold and thick.
My eyes snapped up to his.
For a moment he seemed pleased.
Like he had finally gotten what he wanted.
“Good,” he said softly. “You’re looking at me now, so I can—”
His breath stopped.
I was looking at him.
But we both knew something was wrong.
It didn’t feel like he was looking at me.
I could never hold eye contact for long.
A few seconds at most.
After that the urge to look away would start building until it became unbearable.
Even he noticed something was different.
His brain was already trying to process it.
Trying to reinterpret this behavior in a way that still fit his narrative.
“You’re disgusting,” I said.
“You know that?”
There it was again.
Word vomit.
His mouth opened slightly.
Now he was the one who looked away first.
“I told you I’m trying to speak your language,” I said quietly.
“And I’m very good at speaking other people’s languages.”
“Even when they aren’t mine.”
I lifted my chin slightly and waited until his gaze returned.
“And because of that…”
I turned my wrist until I was the one holding his hand now.
Not the other way around.
I squeezed as hard as I could.
“Let me literally hold your hand so you understand.”
His expression froze.
“Just because I speak your language,” I continued,
“doesn’t mean it’s the way I want to communicate.”
“You know perfectly well that I hate being touched.”
“And that I can’t look at people.”
“And yet you keep forcing me to do both.”
“Apparently ‘I don’t want to’ isn’t a valid reason anymore.”
“And on top of that you stop me from stimming.”
I could see the gears turning in his head.
The version of me who had met him earlier that day would never have said this.
“And then,” I added quietly,
“you try to make me feel guilty when I point it out.”
His mouth opened and closed.
“Yes… but…”
“What’s your problem?” I asked.
“Did I not react like your other test subjects?”
He frowned.
His answer came far too quickly.
“I don’t have test subjects.”
“…don’t have test subjects,” I echoed.
He blinked.
“You haven’t echoed anything in a long time.”
A laugh slipped out of me.
“That’s exactly the problem.”
“You don’t listen.”
“The echo always happens.”
“Even without echolalia.”
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Who’s Picking When? Your Complete 2026 NFL Draft Order for Every AFC & NFC Team
The entire sequence of selections for all seven phases of the 2026 NFL draft has been finalized. This year features 257 total choices, beginning with the Raiders holding the premier selection and concluding with the Broncos making the 257th pick.
On March 9, compensatory selections were declared; the Eagles, Ravens, and Steelers stand out, each securing four extra choices. A total of 33…
Who’s Picking When? Your Complete 2026 NFL Draft Order for Every AFC & NFC Team
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Automatic Draft Registration: Everything Old Is New Again
Automatic draft registration starts nationwide in December, but as Thomas L. Knapp argues, the system has long existed in practice – and serves more as a tool of state power than military necessity.
You may have only recently heard: As of this coming December, all American males will find themselves “automatically registered,” upon the occasion of their 18th birthdays, for a prospective military draft.
Given current events, that prospect understandably gives off sinister vibes – “but without a draft, who would do the necessary work of murdering Iranian elementary school students and Venezuelan fisherme … er, ‘narco-terrorists?’” – so you might be surprised to learn that it’s old news.
