My S6 weather app shows the temps in a circle, according to hour, with current temp in the center. I could tap the center to see hourly change in weather conditions, then tap again to see % chance of storms. After 9.5 update, the tap-to-switch-modes is gone. I don't see a mention of the change anywhere, and I don't see where the mode is a setting that might've been turned off.

Ive been trying to find a fix for hours but I burnt out and got here instead. Can someone aid me in the right direction.
I'll give a snippet of my code in regards to the modal. But for JS, I've tried icon.addListener("click",() => {}), modal.show();, modal.showModal(); and nothing is working. I even tried div's and im not getting a click from the plus button to the modal.
​
imgur: https://imgur.com/a/qlLZlTD
HTML

 ..... ..... Modal 
  
 New Task
   
 Name  Priority  Low Medium High   Date  
  Submit Task 
 Weather Page that also has the add task 
  Add Task 
   

CSS

.modal { display: flex; flex-direction: column; justify-content: center; gap: 0.4rem; width: 450px; padding: 0.3rem; min-height: 250px; margin-left: 50px ; top: 20%; background-color: white; border: 1px solid #000000; border-radius: 15px; 

}
.modal .flex { display: flex; align-items: center; justify-content: space-between; }
.modal input { padding: 0.7rem 1rem; border: 1px solid #ddd; border-radius: 5px; font-size: 0.9em; }
.modal p { font-size: 0.9rem; color: #777; margin: 0.4rem 0 0.2rem; }
.modal button { cursor: pointer; border: none; background-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: white; width: fit-content; border-radius: 10px; padding: 5px; margin-top: 5px; margin-left: auto; justify-content: end; text-align: right; font-weight: bold; font-family: "Outfit"; } .modal-wrapper { display: inline-flex; align-items: center; } .close-modal{ margin-top: 6px; margin-right: 7px; margin-left: auto; border: #000000; border-radius: 30px; cursor: pointer; } .modal select, input{ display: flex; justify-content: flex-end; margin-left: auto; } .modal label { display: flex; align-items: center; margin-right: 1rem; } .modal p{ font-size: large; color: black; font-weight: bold; }.calendar_weather i { /* CSS styles for the icon / color: red; / Change the color to your desired value / / Additional styles */ } .open-modal{ cursor: pointer; }
Javascript

// Working the Modal Popup: 

const icon = document.getElementsByClassName("plus-button")[0]; const modal = document.getElementsByClassName("modal")[0]; const closeModal = document.querySelector(".fa-solid.fa-xmark");
icon.addEventListener("click",() =>{ modal.showModal(); });

The Blackwood Forest has always been a source of legend in our town. Not for anything good, though. Everyone here fears it. They always remind newcomers to “Never go into Blackwood Forest.” Nobody who enters it ever comes back. At least, that was how things used to be.
​
One of the most famous incidents surrounding the forest occurred around 1989. A family of 6, the Franks, moved into a house not far from the forest. It had an expansive backyard, stretching up until the edge of the dense clusters of trees that make up the boundary of Blackwood Forest. One evening, they decided to eat dinner in their new backyard. They weren’t going into the forest, just the fire pit about halfway between their house and the trees. Another family of 3, the Andersons, joined them. At around 8:30, screaming was heard by nearby neighbors. The police were called. When they arrived, they found that the benches, tables, and chairs were soaked in blood. The grass was smeared with it in a path leading into the forest. There was no sign of either of the families. The police confirmed the blood of 9 individuals was present at the scene. Enough blood was lost to assume the deaths of all 9 individuals.
​
After that day, a massive fence was built around the forest, to keep us out, or keep other things in. The fence is 11 feet tall and designed to be impossible to climb over, with almost no footholds. A gate is kept locked tight, located at the end of a worn path leading out of the side of town. Nobody goes in, and nothing gets out. Not that anyone knows what took the Franks or Robinsons. Except, of course, for me. I’ve seen what lies beyond the gates of Blackwood Forest. I’ve seen the beasts that took those families, all those years ago.
​
The fence wasn’t really necessary to be perfectly honest. There aren’t really any trails to hike through the forest, and we don’t have many issues with kids doing stupid things like trying to sneak in for “fame.” Even if we did, the fence keeps them out. Therefore nobody has any reason to go into the forest. Everyone is too afraid.
​
But, although I listened to what everyone always said; “Never go into Blackwood Forest,” I was curious. My morning run took me past the fence and gate, and I would sometimes glance in to see what was in there. I thought it looked like a normal, albeit dark, forest. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was very off. There weren’t many animals, like birds or squirrels, and you couldn’t hear the ones that were there very well. It was oddly quiet. At night, no crickets would be heard. No fireflies during the summer. It was oddly devoid of animal life for a dense forest with so many places for a small critter to live or a bird to make a nest. However besides that, it really didn’t seem that dangerous.
​
A few weeks ago, my curiosity got the best of me. I decided to see if there were any openings that I could slip into. Sure enough, on the very far side of the fence, opposite the side with the town, I found a small gap I could squeeze into. I decided that the next morning, I would grab my phone and camera and explore some of the forest close to the fence. I was excited to see what lay within, and wondered about what sort of stuff I might find. After all, nobody ever went in there.
​
The next day came, and after eating breakfast, I jogged to the small opening I’d found the previous day. I had a backpack with some water and food, as well as the camera and phone. I pushed my backpack through first, and then squeezed through the opening.
​
The first thing I noticed upon entering was how dark it was. The trees blocked out much of the sunlight. It was hard to see very much. Thankfully, I could use both my phone’s flashlight and the one attached to my camera. As I walked, the quiet of the forest around me felt eerie. There should have been the sounds of animals beginning to wake up and start their day, but instead there was silence. Every sound I made, like stepping on a tree, quickly was dampened out, as if swallowed whole by the trees.
​
After a few minutes of walking and taking pictures, I came upon a worn path. I was confused, since there was no reason for any path to have been here because nobody had ever lived in the forest. I took another photo, and decided to follow the path. After another few minutes of walking, I noticed a clearing with sunlight pouring into it ahead. In the very center of it sat an old, decrepit stone building. Off to the side, there was an old well. The building had a very weathered but readable sign, identifying it as “Blackwood Church.” I took a photo of the church and well and decided to enter. I was very curious, as nobody should have ever lived out here, this deep into the woods. There was a church that had been built as part of the original town, so it didn’t make sense for this one to be there.
​
I walked through the place where the doors would have been, had they not rotted off of the hinges. I could see the space around me because of several holes in the roof allowing sunlight in. It seemed like it was once fairly normal, though weeds had sprouted up through the floorboards which were falling apart. I stepped outside after snapping some photographs. I was going to leave back along the path and get out of the forest. As I walked, I noticed that there seemed to be several old buildings, almost destroyed, spread out on the edges of the clearing. I began to see the old worn paths made of cobblestone and dirt, almost invisible, having been reclaimed by nature. This wasn’t just some church, this was an entire town.
​
I was both shocked and excited. I spent the next hour taking photographs of all of the somewhat intact buildings and their rubble counterparts. I spent around an hour exploring the town, exploring a butchers shop, clothes store, and general store. I finally made my way to the path I had come in on. I noticed, underneath all of the foliage, there seemed to be a sign. I brushed some of the growth away and read the faded words; “Welcome to Blackwood, Population: 349, c. 1903.”
​
At this point, on top of the confusion, there was a growing feeling of nervousness in my gut. I’d never heard of any town in Blackwood Forest. Our town, Greyrock Springs, was founded in 1909. I searched the other houses on the outskirts of this ghost town. In one of them, I found the journal of a 19 year old girl named Ellie. She had moved into the town with her family, the Wilsons, and another one they were close friends with, the Millers. They had moved in 1905. The first dozen pages were normal entries about life around the town, her friend, 19 year old Janie Miller, and her older brother, 21 year old Shaun Miller. She and Shaun were apparently set to get married in a year, something Ellie wrote almost endlessly about. The 20th entry, dated September 17, 1905, however, was different.
​
The 20th entry said that 7 townsfolk and gone missing suddenly overnight. It read, “Last night 7 of our neighbors vanished. The Smith family and Mr. H. The Sheriff doesn’t know what happened to them. Their beds appear to have been slept in, and their homes appear normal. But nobody has seen or heard of any of them since 8:00 last night. I’m getting worried, some of the other neighbors are talking about dark shadows in the trees snatching them away. I hope they’re alright.”
​
After reading this, my anxiety started growing. What could have happened to the people who lived here? I looked at the next entry, 6 days later. It read “Almost everyone has vanished. The night after the first disappearances, 14 people vanished. The numbers got worse from there. The Sheriff, the butcher, the schoolteacher, all gone. Last night, 34 people, including the Millers, vanished. There are only 115 of us now. Janie and Shaun are gone, their beds unkempt, everything else in place as if they just got up and walked out. It’s 7:52 at night according to my clock. There are things making weird screeches out there. I can see the shadows outside. They’re drawing closer. I think I’m going to join Janie and Shaun tonight. At least I won’t have to live on without my friend and love.”
​
Terror was beginning to take hold now. I looked around the room. I realized that it was now noon. I had been reading for so long I had lost track of time. I got up, grabbed the journal, and ran out of the house, the feeling of being watched nearly overwhelming me. I got to the path I had walked in on. It was then that the screeching and wailing began.
​
It started as an inhuman, deep, gravelly sound, and then cracked and sounded like a dying person giving a final cry for help. Soon, a chorus of these other-worldly howls filled the forest. Terror shot through my body. I felt chills. I turned and scanned my surroundings, searching for the source of the sounds.
​
That was when I saw one of Them for the first time.
​
I don’t know how to describe Them here, but I will do my best to give you an idea of what lurks in those woods.
​
They are tall, around 7 feet, with pure black skin. No light reflects off of any part of Them, except for their milky white eyes. Brown veins reach for the center of the eye, where the iris and pupil would have been. Instead, there was just more white. In some places, Their flesh clings to Their bones as though they have been vacuum-sealed. In others, the flesh is gone, and only bone remains. Their entire body has pulsating, grey veins spiderwebbing from place to place. And Their mouths stretch from one side of the head to the other, nearly to the hinges connecting the jaw to the skull. Their teeth are thin as a needle, and they have hundreds of them.
​
One of Them was standing close to me, looking at me. It let out a screech-wail and started to run towards me. I turned and bolted, running towards the church, hoping to escape through an window-opening. As I reached the church, I turned and glanced back, only to see It standing near the well, not moving. Instead, it was growling at me. As we stared each other down, more of Them began to appear. They formed a ring around the church. I was now trapped. Panic began to set in more deeply, as I looked through the window-openings, trying to look for a weakness in the circle I could use to escape, and there was one. Directly behind the church, there was a large opening in the ring of monsters surrounding me. Taking several deep breaths and becoming as calm as I could given the circumstances, I took my opportunity and ran. I jumped out the window and sprinting with more force than I have ever used in my life.
​
I made it to the trees, hearing their horrible screech-wails following uncomfortably close behind. I didn’t stop, running through the foliage like my life depended on it, which I could tell it did. Most of Them remained behind, but a few followed me deeper and deeper into the forest, not letting up. The trees and brush whipped at me, stinging and cutting my skin, but a continued, even going faster. I finally stopped when I couldn’t hear Them behind me anymore. By this point, it was closer to 2:00 P.M. I had run in the opposite direction I had entered Blackwood from. The adrenaline I had felt began to wear off, and I wanted to collapse from exhaustion, but I knew those things would keep looking for me until they found me.
​
I spent the rest of the day cautiously searching for the fence, but no matter how hard I looked, I couldn’t find it. By the time it got dark, I was exhausted. The adrenaline from the whole day had turned into a mix of emotions, namely fear and anxiety. I decided to hide in a tree, in the event They found me. As I sat there, looking, I began to hear that screeching wail and those deep growls and grunts. They were close. I held my breath as the first one approached. It looked around, peering through the forest, searching for me. I got the feeling it knew I was close.
​
It started to scan some bushes near the tree I was in, when It looked up suddenly. I fell from my spot in surprise, hitting the ground hard and with a grunt. It let out a wail, and started to approach me. I searched for something to use as a weapon, and found a sharp rock. I looked at the large veins covering It’s chest area. It seemed like the perfect target. It began to run, screeched and then lunged. I pulled the rock from behind my back and sliced with ferocity, cutting through the veins like paper. It screamed and shrieked, black ooze shooting out of the wound like a hose until it stopped. The creature let out a final wail before collapsing to the ground. I looked at it. I could hear a sickly breathing coming from the thing. Before it died, I heard a distorted but human voice mutter a weak “Thank.. you..” and then the breathing stopped. I was stunned. I didn’t have much time to think about it, because more wails could be heard approaching fast in the distance. I continued to run through the forest, more adrenaline pumping through my veins, fear at the back of my mind. I ran for a long time until I ended up back in that town. I hid in the church, underneath the floorboards. At some point, I fell asleep from exhaustion.
​
The next 6 days were awful. I spent most of them hiding, slowly running through my food and water I had packed. One morning, as I reached the last of my water, I realized I had to escape. Although They searched the forests for me, I thought I could slip past Them and make it to the fence. But after a few minutes of preparing, I heard those wails approaching from the distance yet again. I grabbed my backpack and stepped outside again. I looked, seeing the creatures from before step out from the trees. I prepared myself, and ran. All of them began to follow me, their screeches cutting through the quiet of the forest and reminding me of how close I was to death. I went down that same worn path, sprinting through the woods. One jumped out in front of me, forcing me to veer off the path and into the forest. I ran, nearly tripping and getting cut on the branches. That was when I saw it. Ahead of me, finally, lay the fence. I took off the backpack as I approached. There was the gap. I was about to escape. They were close now, just a few yards away. I forced the backpack through the opening, forcing myself through it just as they reached the fence.
​
I turned to look back at them, snapping one final photograph. I’m not entirely sure why I did that, but maybe I just wanted proof of the truth. That I wasn’t crazy. What I saw was real. I grabbed the backpack and ran back towards town, towards safety, towards home, their growls and wails fading behind me.
​
I want to say that I’m safe now, that everything is ok, but it isn’t. A week ago, I started to hear whispers from my neighbors of wails, screeches, and growls coming from the fence. If anyone looked in the direction the sound was coming from, it stopped. I had to walk past the fence a few days ago, and I heard it. I was all alone. The fence started to rattle as well. I turned to look, but only saw a tall shadow slipping into the darkness of the trees.
​
Last night, two people who were walking past the fence vanished.
​
That brings us to today.
​
I know what They want. They are angry. I wasn’t supposed to escape. I don’t want to do this, but I won’t endanger anyone else who lives here.
​
I’ll leave the photos, camera, and journal in my desk for safe keeping. That way people will understand what I saw, at least partially. People will hear the story of the townspeople of Blackwood. That is the reason I’m posting this. So more of you know.
​
I have accepted my fate. After I post this, I will walk to the gate, and I will be taken. I don’t know for sure, but I think I will become one of Them, cursed to walk Blackwood Forest forever. My consciousness will be left a fragment, my humanity gone, as I walk the forest and wail, screech, and growl. This is the end for me. If anyone cares, my name is Daniel. I am 29 years old. I live in Greyrock Springs. If you come here, to find me or Blackwood or those things, or maybe even the pictures and journal, remember one thing.
​
Never go into Blackwood Forest.

[Sell][Perfume][US]
I have some scents that don’t agree with my nose. All were received in swaps. Shipping is $5.50. Thank you, for looking.
**Arcana Wildcraft: *Glittering Black- (5ml bottle, full) $15 black amber, black musk, ice-coated black metal, motor oil, smoky vetiver, and just a hint of our Glittering White (an opening of cold peppermint settles into a heart of sugar cookies, marshmallows, white chocolate, and vanilla musk)
*Surfers on Acid- (5ml bottle, top of shoulder) $15 based on the deliciously beachy (and rather wicked) cocktail, with sweet coconut milk, pineapple, and absinthe
**BPAL: *Crossroads- (5ml bottle, full) $15 a chill twilit garden of blooms over dry earth mosses, heavily laden with incense and offertory herbs
*Day of Skulls- (Halloween 2013) (5ml bottle, to shoulder) $15 white sandalwood, beeswax, and frankincense crowned by hydrangea, rose, and kantuta blossoms, dressed with tobacco, cocoa leaves and flowers from the sacred Cactus of the Four Winds
*Hippie Ghost- (ParaNorman) (5ml bottle, half full) $10 a faded snapshot of patchouli-stained peasant blouses, soft suede boots, and smoke
*New Orleans- (5ml bottle, full) $15 reminiscent of hothouse blooms on a humid night, ripe, but touched with decay, sweet honeysuckle and jasmine with a hint of lemon and spice
*The Embodiment of Funeral Gloom- (Order of the Dragon II) (5ml bottle, full) $15 a shroud of black agar wood, cypress, myrrh, and upturned earth, scattered with crushed lavender and creeping with moss-smothered stone
*The Ides of March- (Anno Domini 2010) (5ml bottle, top of shoulder) $15 a mixture of springtime greenery and classical Roman cologne: dark musk, spikenard, bergamot, lemon rind and vervain with costus, benzoin, gray amber, cardamom, and white narcissus
**Haus of Gloi: *Scarecrow- (5ml bottle, full) $15 dried corn husks, dust, straw, weathered wood, and a ruffle of inky black feathers
**Nocturne Alchemy: *Halloween 2017- (frosted orange bottle) (6ml bottle, top of shoulder) $20 hallow’d coconut rind, black cardamom pod, custard accord, Bastet’s ice cream accord, vanilla bean, crystalline absolute, santalum gold, ghost-white rum, a touch of nutmeg and allspice, fresh wormwood picked during the witching hour and singed wormwood-oudh on drydown
**Sucreabeille: *Dead Ringer- (5ml bottle, full) $15 powdery violets, myrrh, smoke drifting through a crumbling cathedral, red musk, candle wax, black roses
*Stone Rose- (5ml bottle, full) $15 moss-covered stones warmed by the sun and shining with a recent rain. Wild roses, heather, tuberose, and labdanum blend with a drop of oakmoss

2 hours and not a single order almost 0 hotspots, I 100% expect to be automatically de-activated. Any idea why it's so slow (despite the fact that the weather is nice)?

Our street was reconstructed in 2020 and the workers cut a large root, about 4-6” diameter, of this maple tree. A couple of years earlier it was aggressively pruned by workers who were cleaning up after a storm. A layer of sod was draped over the area in 2020 as part of the street construction.
Since 2020 especially, the leaves always look droopy and like they never quite opened up all the way. The maple is one of the first trees to turn colors in the fall. There’s one section toward the top of the tree that looks extra sad if the weather dries up and turns colors before the rest of the tree.
The tree is in the boulevard between the street and sidewalk. The soil is heavy clay, and now the amended material from the street construction below the asphalt. We get a lot of snow, so in winter it’s covered with 3’-5’ of snow, plus road ice melt. Last summer we had drought, but tried to water it with the hose on a trickle for an hour at a time. This past winter was very, very wet, so soil moisture should be good, but the tree still has droopy leaves.
The City arborist maybe drive by after we asked them to come out and said it looked fine. My husband was home the whole time and didn’t see anyone.
So, is the tree fine, and just needs time to grow new roots to recover? Is there something we should do to help it do better? Any advice is very welcome.
As an aside, emerald ash borer ripped through our area and so this tree also went from being the baby tree on the block to one of the biggest when the ash trees were removed.

Long time lurker, first time poster. English is my first language but forgive any mistakes due to nervous typing patterns. Trigger warnings ahead. If mentions of 'sewerslide' and OD will put you in a place that makes you feel scared or unsafe, I would very much like to ask you not to interact to protect your wellbeing. The last thing I want to do when asking for help is to put someone else into a painful spot. Also, this is going to be a novel but I know context is important and there's a lot of it.
I, (30 F), thought I had grown up in the most ideal situation as a kid of divorced parents. My parents never fought loudly if at all in any period of my childhood. Even after the divorce, while the romantic love had shattered, they still valued their friendship and communicated pretty well when it came to me and my younger brother. Now after incidents from Memorial Day weekend, I'm starting to relive moments growing up that I've begun to grow to resent instead of value as parts of my 'responsible' nature.
I guess it starts in childhood. My mom and dad were young parents. My mom was 19 when she had me and my dad was 17. He dropped out of school to work full time and my mom went back to school and worked so the first 6 years of my life I mostly remember being with my paternal grandmother. She was/still is a wildfire in my eyes. Not in a negative way. Even at 90 the woman could light the room ablaze with her joyous nature and just wants to enjoy what life she has left with humor and happiness. Once mom finished her degree and got work in her field/ had my little brother, it seemed to be the beginning of the failure of my parents marriage.
When I was 8 or 9, I came home from school for my mom to tell me that her and my dad were divorcing. She carefully explained what that meant I'm sure, I have very little memory of those days. She even got me with a therapist to help with the transition but according to the therapist, she told my mom I was actually coping well in the circumstances, likely due to my father's absent nature. I don't mean absent emotionally. I mean absent physically. While working for a national fast food chain, he was also travelling around and making money through music.
My N-Father has a talent for music. Even I can't deny that. Some of my fondest memories as a teenager was hearing him strumming away in his room while he recorded studio pieces he needed to complete for a deadline. Me already liking my solitary space, didn't mind the distance since I gave me room to explore my likes and wants for myself without interruption. Well, back to what caused the divorce. My N-Father cheated on my mom with one of his coworker. I'll call her SM1 (Step-mom 1). She seemed to be a kind woman with three kids I was quick to accept as my step siblings. Well, this is where one memory I used to praise as a moment of growing up, I realize was my first steps into parentification.
My younger brother, who's well into adulthood now with his own child (my niece is literally my world 2nd to my spouse), used to struggle with horrible growing pains. His legs would hurt so much from rapid development that my mom would crush up children's painkiller into his juice and set up a hairdryer to warm his legs to soothe the pain. Thankfully I was smart enough to watch her do this and during one of my N-dad's weekends I woke up to my brother's shrill crying. I was around 9 while my brother was barely 3 and if you've heard a toddler that age crying in agony, you know how scary it sounds as a child. I tried to wake up my father for nearly an hour with no cease to the crying. My step-brother (bless him) was doing everything he could to soothe my brother while me and my step-sisters were trying to wake our parents. With no hope of them hearing us, I rushed into the kitchen and grabbed the closest thing to juice they had, mountain dew. I found a ziploc bag and the ibuprofen and a spoon, crushing the pills as best I could and mixed it with the mountain dew. (I know. Dumb kid moment.) Finally after twenty minutes of giving my brother the drink, my step sisters succeeded in getting my father out of bed.
Let's just say he had just woken from a very 'intimate' nap and only covered his modesty in frustration of being woken up. Now that we've set the scene for the rest of this, it never ended. He divorced SM1, dated a woman fresh out of high school, broke up with her once her parents stopped funding his music, and then met SM2.
SM2 I still hold in high regards. She truly became a 2nd mom despite our 14 years age difference. She wanted children more than anything, but due to complications with her health, it wouldn't be an easy matter. What she didn't know either was my father had a vasectomy after my younger brother. So he played into her fantasy. She wanted a girl. At 12, who saw a woman who wanted nothing but a child of her own, I never held it against her. She always took me places with her and bonded with me while my father would play video games with little brother. No biggie. Father's and sons deserve bonding time at my brother's age at the time. I was 14, my brother around 7/8. One thing to mention, before they got married, my dad cheated on her too. With a coworker. Messed up, right?
Well, once that whole thing settled and they got married, things seemed to be great. All of my parents and step-parents were respectful to each other. I was happy, my brother was cared for finally, I could be a kid for once, right? No. After about 5 years, the marriage began to fall apart. My father revealed his vasectomy. Told SM2 is was irreversible. My poor SM2, so desperate to save her first marriage tried her damndest to be content with my brother and me. She never once made us feel unloved or unsafe and I don't think I could ever thank her enough for what she was to us. Well, her friend from school was in a rough patch. We'll call SM2's friend C. One weekend at our dad's, I was told my room was now being used to house C while she got back on her feet. Me, being my ever people pleasing self for my father's approval, just accepted the living room as my new bedroom.
I slept on that couch for almost a year until it came out C and my dad were getting too close. Dangerously close. Until a line was crossed. C was gone. I got my room back. But it no longer felt safe anymore. After my father was chased from the church he helped build up, he got caught flirting with the preacher's daughter at their new church. SM2 and my dad divorced, we maintained contact when we could and even met up for lunch as often as we could manage.
Things were quiet for a while until my wedding. In the weeks leading up the affair, my dad and I went on shaky grounds in terms of a relationship. I watched my mother go through a divorce from my N-Step-dad (a story that deserves its own post). SM2 calls me in fear. NDad broke down and cried about how he's having some (TRIGGER WARNING!!!!!)
"Dark thoughts".
Okay. I'm 20. I know those thoughts. I held some of my own for some time. But what she told me next I wasn't ready for. She tried to encourage him to stick around for me and my brother. Even after all this time, we were still her first priority and she hoped we were to him. We weren't. He only complained of how lonely he was. That we didn't need him. Given since he's alive and well, nothing happened, that was the first time I started to 'unlove' my father.
It only got worse from then. He and SM2 got back together, only dating, only to have it explode in chaotic fashion. According to Ndad, she tricked him to going to couples therapy with a therapist she was secretly sleeping with to coax him into giving her financial control. Which I now find funny considering my father had little money and since SM2 finished her degree, she was making bank. Sound familiar? Woman finds financial maturity and man gets to feeling small since he's not fulfilling his 'godly role' as the husband. And before you ask, yes, he's a pastor. Making me a PK (Pastor's Kid). If you know anything about that lifestyle, many of us would do anything to stay in our father's godly image to gain love and support even if we weren't fully understanding what we were selling away. Not to say there aren't PKs who fully love their place in God's eyes. That is not my place to stomp on. And not my relationship to ruin.
Well, I stopped talking to my father after he kept trying his damndest to make SM2 look bad in my mind, but after so much love and support she gave, I couldn't ignore that he was denying his wrong doing. So one long text later, I went NC with him at the age of 22. For two whole years, nothing really changed. Ndad never really called or texted anyways other than holidays and birthdays, which I did block him to avoid any temptations of caving to his lovebombing.
Then my younger brother was in the hospital. It's a point of disagreement on why he was really in there, but I believe my brother when he said he did it because he googled 'quick highs' on the internet and did something stupid with that information. My parents both think otherwise, but thats not the point. I had no way to get to my brother. My husband and I were sharing one car at the time and my mom was already at the hospital. So I had to do something I still hold shame for. I unblocked my father. I warned him my only concern was getting to my brother and that my asking for his help to get there was not a sign of my forgiving him. But if he agreed to do this for me, maybe we could start slow. (Important note: During those 2 years everyone, including SM2, were insistent I try to keep dad in my life. That he loved me, blah blah blah. But my brother wanted it more than anyone and as you can tell, I'm very protective of my brother.)
I let him talk the whole 2 hour drive to the hospital. I did listen, but never responded other than short answers. When we pulled up to the hospital and were entering the room, I won't ever forget the first words out of my father's mouth. My brother, who just overcame potential death, had his father, our father, spew out the words "You're so stupid." as his first words to him. I wanted to kick him out then and there, but my brother, doped up on painkillers, gave a weak chuckle and just said, "I know." So, I just let it be. Once I had a moment with my brother, my only concern was how he was feeling and all he said was, "It was nice to see you and dad entering together". That stopped the NC order for me and I caved to let my father back into my life.
By all means the chaos didn't cease, but since I was an adult, I was able to keep myself far away from my father's dating dramas. I think the worst one was SM 3, who I loved to call 'Evil Reba' because she looked just like Reba McIntyre but the woman had no room for disaggreeing POVs so I just ignored her since her and my father lived a state away. She started a Dating Psychos page for my father. And boy howdy, when I found it, I agreed with everything these women had to say. One of them even defended my brother and I from any backlash that may come our way. They were anonymous, but I hope they know I was/am happy to see someone else saw the truth before we did.
I became seduced by my 'new' dad. He was accepting of everything I was. An ally to our LGBTQ relatives, and even supported me when I came out as Pan a few years back. Even more recent, he was perfectly okay when he found out I'm a practicing witch. Something I hid from everyone for almost 11 years. I thought I was healing. My innerchild was revelling in her father's words of acknowlegement of all the bad things we went through. My inner teen was vilified when he told me he should've never had me moved onto the couch when C lived with him. He apologized and 'lovebombed' my brother and I with all the money he made from his 50/hour a week job. That should've been my clue it was about to go wrong.
When my father craves affection, he'll give money. Do everything he can to appear the provider for his kids despite us both being grown adults. What did warn me that it was about to go wrong was my mother telling me in one of my father's new druken stupors, he texted my Aunt who's hated his guts since the divorce. She'd be nice and civil if he was around but I wish I could explain the deep hate my aunt has at my father for hurting her baby-sister. Well, he brought up this photo she hates (sadly my aunt does not have the highest self esteem despite how gorgeous she is but that's besides the point). How he wished he still had that photo. The photo in question? A bikini photo from one of the big family vacations. My father was flirting with my MARRIED aunt, who's been with the same incredible but quiet man for over thirty years.
I want to make it clear, for about 5 years, there were no red flags in his passing relationships of him flirting with other women. He was ever forth right with all of them of his past.
So hearing that from my mother, who I think knew I needed to hear it from her first, I knew it was about to get bad again. So that weekend, last weekend, we went to my father's to have dinner and hang out. Something we've done before. Now, in the last two years, my father started as a Flat Earth sympathizer. I have my own feelings on the whole back and forth of it, but in the last few months my father seemed driven to convince my brother and I that the earth is flat and that airplanes are named because the earth is truly one flat plane. The UN's map of the world. You name it, he's used it. Even going as far as using the bible to justify this knowledge.
Well, before the next discussion of our perceptions of reality, he proposed we do something I already love doing. Grounding. The practice of walking barefoot in the grass or ground to reconnect with the energy of the earth. I find it peaceful and tend to treat that time as a form of meditation. But as I'm laying in the grass, enjoying the nice weather and getting to share this kind of moment with family, he goes off again trying to coerce us of flat earth. I don't know my brother's position on it, but that's not my journey. And I will respect his journey. So I did what I used to do. Agree with everything he says until he shuts up. Now I'm unaware of how much my father had drank. According to my husband it was definitely more than three, but I've seen the man drink a whole case of Natty Lites (Natural Light Beer) and function like a sober person. Given he's now obsessed with Mexican beers because of, wait for it, his GIRLFRIEND. I really like this woman. I really do. Her and her son are an absolute delight but my father has gone from calling them by their names to now calling them 'the Mexicans'. Don't worry, they are actually Mexican, and made sure to tell my dad not to call them hispanic as they do not like it. No biggie. Respect.
But everything out of my father's mouth that day in reference to anyone different than him sounded more like an inconvieniece than an actual term of validation or respect. I went from 'Wonderful Witchy Daughter' to just 'Witchy daughter' with a look of mild discomfort. Everything I confided in him about, was now inconvienet knowledge. I pretty sure he even forgot I was Pansexual even though I was making plans with a cousin from his side to attend my first Pride since I've never had anyone to go with and felt unsafe in large gatherings without a safe person with me. Well, as the evening went on, there was a discussion between my father, me, my brother, my brother's girlfriend (who I wish wasn't there to witness any of this but I'm glad she was with my brother for the ride home), my father's girlfriend (E), and E's son.
This is where it's going to sound confusing and a little crazy. We were discussing slang in the modern age and my brother called our dad a SIMP. When my father asked what that meant, my brother explained and we were all in agreeance being a SIMP isn't always a bad thing. Especially when it's being used to downplay someones adoration of their partner. Well, then my father began to question my brother's perspective of the world and why he chooses these new slang terms instead of just speaking his own words. Well, little brother told him the truth. He had no other words of equivalence to use, as that is usually where I pull an equivalent word from the dictionary in my brain. Never got to. My father began to push my brother more to get him to explain why my brother labels people in such a way while my brother was trying to explain he just doesn't how else to express himself since he hasn't really taken the opportunity to learn more.
Well, somewhere in there, my brother was trying to discuss his feelings and understanding all the while my father was getting more and more frustrated. Accusing him of not seeing 'reality'. I feel so much guilt for this, but I fell back into old habits. Trying to play both sides to keep everyone happy. Put my mask back on and just tried to play peacekeeper to stop the hurt feelings from growing in both of them. My husband, who has his own fair share of family trauma, stepped in on my brother's behalf. Told my father he wasn't actually listening to what my brother was really saying. Then my father went on a tirade of how he works 50 hours a week and is always on call to provide for his family and how he works hard with no complaints. (Note: My brother has been struggling to find employment since the birth of his daughter and if you know anything about applying for jobs right now, you know it's not easy.) So, essentially, he attacked my brother's weakest point. I know my brother's trying. But with his health problems due to past troubles, it adds an extra level of complications that I know only make my brother feel worse.
My husband, during this, was packing up all our stuff. The baby bag for my brother and his gf, all of my stuff, and doing everything he could to get us out of there. I was standing there feeling shock and having flashbacks to the last time it got this bad. (Spoilers: it got physical between my father a brother.) In my fear, once my husband returned and gave me the look of 'we gotta go' I hugged E, her son, and even tried to hug my dad in fear of if I didn't, I'd only make it worse. All the while, he was screaming at my brother "Is that tree green?!" over and over. Looking back today I realized I wasn't in my body while the fighting started.
While we were all piling into our respective cars, my dad was still screaming but at my brother and husband saying "I love you too, husband!" "I love you, brother!" in an almost effort to make them come back and hug him or verify the sentiment was returned or as a play to see if he had control over them I'm still not fully sure.
If you're still reading, I hope I haven't wasted your time since I know it's something we'll never get back. Once I was in the car and the door was shut, I decided to call my mom since my brother and his girlfriend are living with her until they can get back on their feet. It's only been 2 months since the move so this isn't a long term thing nor has it been. I told her footnotes while hubs explained what he remembered knowing I was shutting down quickly. We just wanted to let her know in case my brother showed up still angry or very quiet just to assure her she didn't do anything and that dad 'messed up again'.
She understood the assignment and was about to check on me when my brother called. So we paused our conversation so hubs and I could talk to brother. Despite my anxiety, my brother sounded less angry but almost confident in his next choice. My father gets sober, or he never sees my neice ever again. I 110% will have his back if it comes to that since that's all I wanted when I went NC. And while I trust my brother to handle his emotions as best he can, I'm finding it hard. He sounded so sure, so confident and in the days past I thought I was going through the stages of grief. Now I'm not so sure.
When I did call my mom back after we were certain my brother was good and had his own plans of coping and someone to talk to, I asked the question I never thought I'd ask of my mom. "Mama, is Dad a Narcissist?" Her first words to follow were, "I hate to say it but..." She didn't have to finish. I got my answer. My innerchild cried. My inner teenager wanted to break everything in sight since she never got the chance to. My adult self almost disappeared since the other two were unsure of where they stood after getting everything they wanted only to discover they may have only been props to make my father look good for the next woman who had the patience to put up with him.
I feel tricked. Lied to. Shamed. Maybe even numb. Even worse, I'm pretty sure I have PMDD and undiagnosed autism because this past week I've been acting and feeling in ways I don't recognize since it's been so long since I've been like that. Crying until I vomit. Feeling undeserved anger towards anything inconvenient. So I'm also trying to navigate my real feelings from what my hormones are making worse. Logically, going NC should be easy. My father rarely reaches out anyways so ghosting him should be enough to give him a clue. My husband is prepared to defend my if he tries to show up. But I think what hurts most is the day after the incident, the only person to recieve an apology was my brother. The one with a kid. The one who can take away everything my father wants "A second chance to make it right." I know my father craves to be a dad now. Which sucks.
Anytime he'd lie to SM2 about kids, he praised to urge for a daughter. SM2 only wanted a girl because she had a name she loved. Now she's with a good man who gave her exactly what she deserved. A loving marraige and a daughter that she could give the name to. He just wanted a 'second chance'. And even when my brother's gf, who I honestly prefer to call my sisteSIL but I don't want to make things more confusing, was pregnant he wanted to be a grandfather to 'get it right this time'. Some days I wanted to scream "I'm right here! We can still make it right! Just because I'm grown doesn't mean shit!" But it's not me now that he wants. He wants that little blonde daughter who didn't know better. Who was praised in Sunday School for such a 'loving heart and giving soul'. A prop in his life to show he's a good person. Just like I think his girlfriend is realizing. "I can't be racist. Look who I'm dating!" Yes. He truly said that. I tried to speak spanish with them just because I can tell it's easier sometimes, but I was called racist for doing that. And if that does make me racist, please tell me. I don't want to make anyone uncomfortable because I overcorrect to make everyone comfortable.
I don't know what to do now. Yes. NC is definitely an option, but I want to move past these emotions. I want to move past this pain. It's so bad I can feel the toll it's having on my body. I won't go TMI but I know I'm not well. Sleeping, eating, even going to the bathroom, it's painful. My body is holding in all this stress and I don't know how to make it go away. My husband tries but he's even said he doesn't know how to help. He's so wonderful. He even scratched my back for me like my grandmother did when I was little to quell an anxiety/panic attack. How do I make it stop? What steps do I take? Therapy, while I know I need, is scary where I live. The local clinic doesn't have the greatest reviews but my brother had a good experience with one of their doctors but I feel weird requesting his old therapist. Anyone else in the area doesn't have many reviews and I haven't heard much good from Better Help. I want to do good by me. I want to be better. Not better good but better in wellness.
Anyone who's been through something like this, I'd love to hear your journey and how you cope/overcame these emotions. I'm tired of constantly feeling like my 14 year old self crying herself to sleep again. I just want to start healing and I don't know how to.
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TLDR: Just found out my father's a narcissist and don't know how to cope with the information and looking for tips to heal and grow from this.
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For the MODs: If I broke any rules, feel welcome to tell me bluntly. I tried to follow everything listed but I know I am human and will mess up.

Please Do Not share, repost, or otherwise use this text outside of JUSTNOMIL :)
My FMIL is visiting, we’re halfway through the visit and I’m struggling! Maybe I’m overreacting and overthinking everything. I want us to get along, we live far away and I only see her 1-2 times per year, but I am so overwhelmed and exhausted!
Here are some of the more bitter moments so far:
-Told me I need to ‘let SO be a man’ after I checked oil/fluids in his car and tried to troubleshoot a car issue (he asked me to help, I’m pretty handy in general).
-Rarely has an opinion of what she wants to do, eat, etc. it’s always ‘we need to leave the house right now and do something!’ but when given suggestions she doesn’t care, says it all sounds fine to her. We’ll make a plan to go a beach or park and in the car it’s all ‘It better not be crowded, I just hate being around people’, and constantly asking what the plan is. Then the hikes might be too long, the weather is too cold, too much driving, waterfalls are noisy, ‘people and their dogs’, she doesn’t like the food, chairs are not right, too shady/too sunny.. always something and always said aloud.
My SO really wants her to have a good time, but is also super indecisive and now I realize he’s probably just afraid she won’t like what we do, even though anything we do won’t be right.
-Asks me every morning if she can wake up SO to get on with the day and go out. Then when he’s up and ready to leave she’s suddenly super hungry and hasn’t eaten so we need to first make breakfast/lunch, or she isn’t dressed or prepared at all and we end up waiting around even longer.
-When it’s the two of us, she tries to talk about my SO and her concerns. Sometimes it’s really uncomfortable like she told me she thinks his friends aren’t intellectual and he needs to be around people that are more mentally stimulating for him?!
-I’m currently working towards a PhD, my SO has master’s degree and a good job, he’s content with what he’s doing. She keeps telling him he should go back to school to get a PhD, even though he tells her that’s not a goal for him.
-The three of us were out to dinner and she asked if she could wear my engagement ring ‘for like an hour’ because it was so pretty.. She went on to say that her ex-husband never gave her a diamond and she always wanted to be with someone who would give her one. (I said no).
-My dogs are well trained, and we continue to work on their behavior. We both asked her to not give them table scraps, and explained one needs to lose weight, and both will start begging/reverting to bad behaviors. She told me she just hates being wasteful and the following days kept ‘accidentally’ dropping food.
-She constantly asks me to try on clothes while shopping, even when I say I don’t want to, or that I don’t care for it.
-One day she was cooking dinner, and my SO said he was going for a run. She started asking him to do a bunch of really small favors one after another. He finally leaves for his run, and not 10 min later she’s trying to convince me we should just eat without him because he’s taking too long.
But then again, here I am complaining about someone to strangers on the internet.. maybe I’m also not a nice person :(

2023 NCAA BASEBALL TOURNAMENT - STANFORD REGIONAL

Game 4

(2) Texas A&M vs. (1) Stanford

Klein Field at Sunken Field- Stanford, CA
9:00PM ET 8:00PM CT 7:00PM MT 6:00PM PT
TV: ESPN+/ESPN2
Radio - A&M Stream [SU Stream] - couldn't find
Live Stats
Weather: 74 °F, Wind NNW 12 mph, Sunny, Real Feel of 75

I just thought I will share this historical person’s story. Ever since I’ve heard this story for the first time, I’ve been fascinated by it. So, are you ready for the most amazing, but saddest historical story ever? Here it is (mostly from Wikipedia):
Isabella Maria Ludovica was born on 31 December 1741 at Buen Retiro Palace in Madrid, Kingdom of Spain as the first child of Infante Philip of Spain and his wife, born Marie Louise Élisabeth of France. At age 18, she was forced to marry a man for political reasons: Maria Theresa, Holy Roman Empress followed a marriage policy intending to strengthen the relationship between the Houses of Bourbon and Habsburg. When Maria Theresa's eldest son and heir, Archduke Joseph came of age, he was presented with a list and portraits of marriageable princesses fitting his mother's political goals and he picked Isabella.
After the wedding, it became apparent that while Joseph fell in love with her, she did not reciprocate his feelings, remained reserved towards him and found more fulfillment in her relationship with her sister-in-law, Archduchess Maria Christina, 'Marie' or 'Mimi'. The two quickly developed a very close relationship and spent so much time together that they earned a comparison with Orpheus and Eurydice. Despite living in the same place, they exchanged countless letters and small notes in French. Only those written by Isabella have survived (those of Marie were burned after her death) but even these amount to almost two hundred.
The two sisters-in-law liked each other from the time they met, but it seems that Isabella was also romantically and sexually attracted to Marie early on. The latter's feelings developed more gradually. Maria Christina was most likely bisexual: when she met Isabella, she was recovering from her love for Louis Eugene of Württemberg, after their relationship had been ended by her mother who considered him inferior to an archduchess.
In the beginning of their relationship, she addressed Marie formally, but soon started calling her mon cher ange, 'my dear angel', mon plus précieux trésor, 'my most precious treasure', ma consolation, 'my consolation', and many other nicknames. She also regularly portrayed the two of them as a heterosexual couple, in these depictions, Marie was Eurydice and her was Orpheus. The two women agreed on dates in hidden places. If the weather prevented Joseph going on a scheduled hunt, the sisters-in-law cancelled their date in hurried, disappointed notes. Isabella once wrote: “I am told that the day begins with God. I, however, begin the day by thinking of the object of my love, for I think of her incessantly.”
They were also clearly worried to keep their relationship a secret, with Isabella writing a letter in March 1761 to remind Marie of her 'given word' not to ever talk of something, „for there is nothing in the world as shameful as going against nature”. While earlier historians dismissed the heated language of these letters as a fashionable, overly emotional expression of friendly love, (who surprising…), later it became consensus that the two had a secret lesbian affair. In the 19th and 20th century, a few historians tried to publish the censored versions of the letters, leaving out the parts that proved that they've been more than friends. We had to wait until 2008 to have the whole thing published. They censored parts like these:
"All that occupies me at this hour is to say if I could only see her, what sweetness it would be, what happiness, what inner satisfaction I would feel, if I could only contemplate that nose turned with such grace and attractiveness, which has so often carried me away, that mouth so suited to console with its kisses, those eyes whose language is so touching. I forget where I am, I forget those with whom I am. I think only of this new desire that I seek to satisfy, whatever the price."
"I love thee like a madwoman, in a holy way or diabolically, I love you and will love you to the grave."
"The face is a little sick, but your favourite place is not."
Isabella was a very intelligent and well-educated woman especially interested in philosophy, morality, music, history, physics, and metaphysics. She was also artistically inclined, painted, drew, sang, played the violin (something rare even among men), and wrote poems and studies. She studied mechanics, worked on various machinery, and enjoyed doing sports. She distributed much of her income to the poor.
Her physical appearance was the opposite of fashionable among noble ladies: she had olive skin and short hair. (!)
Isabella was also „melancholic”, as depression was known in the 18th century. Despite her usual liveliness and love of sports, she had sudden periods of being unable to move and sitting in her place staring in front of herself. It has been suggested that her problems, probably a form of bipolar disorder, were hereditary. Her mother's death also had a horrible effect on her, and she soon became convinced that she would not live for more than four years from then. Burdened by her marriage, difficult pregnancies and homosexual desires, she became suicidal. She admitted in a letter that she would feel 'great temptation' to commit s_icide if it was not forbidden by the church. As reasons for this she listed that she felt she was good for nothing, only did bad things, and saw no way for her salvation.
It seems that Marie was the great love of Isabella's life, who was not romantically or sexually attracted to her husband, but Marie looks to have been more reserved but did return her feelings. This inequality made Isabella unhappy in the relationship, while their shared perception of homosexuality as sinful led to feelings of guilt. Isabella also felt guilty because she did not return the love of her husband and properly fulfill her duty as a wife. This worsened her depression and convinced her that the only solution was death. She wrote to Marie that „only the Almighty knows how gladly I would part with this life in which grievance is inflicted upon Him daily”.
As an archduchess, it was her duty to produce an heir as quickly as possible, and everyone except for her was delighted when she became pregnant in late 1761. While not enthusiastic about pregnancy, she was still relieved that she did not disappoint her family. Her pregnancy was especially difficult with many physical symptoms accompanied by depression and a lingering fear of death. This was only worsened by her inexperienced husband not understanding her problems.
On 20 March 1762, she gave birth to a daughter. The court rejoiced at the birth of the imperial couple's first grandchild, and Joseph especially adored the baby. How Isabella felt about her child is unknown, but she only made one fleeting mention of her in her most intimate correspondence, and a friend said that her love for her child 'did not show much on the exterior'.
Soon, she was pregnant again, miscarrying in August 1762, and once more in January 1763. Maria Theresa was so worried by this that she counseled Joseph to wait for six months before trying for a son again, so that Isabella could recover. She became extremely thin, had a continuous dry cough, and experienced pain in her sides. Her pregnancies and especially her miscarriages had deepened her depression, which in turn eroded her will to live. Her death anxiety was aggravated by the well-known risks of child birth.
Isabella left many writings from the time of her marriage, analysing her life, her philosophy and the state of the world around her. She wrote her own, humorous autobiography under the title Les Aventures de l'étourderie, 'The Adventures of Amazement'. In her "Christian Reflections", she contemplated many religious questions and especially death.
Isabella also wrote a highly critical piece examining the status and behaviour of men in highly patriarchal contemporary European society, titled Traité sur les hommes ('Treatise on Men'). She argued that women were at least as good and capable as men if not better and mocked the male sex. Somewhat humorously, she described men as 'useless animals' only existing to 'do bad things, be impatient, and create confusion'. Based on her experiences, she concluded that men 'deprived of feelings, only loved themselves'. In her opinion, a man is born to think, but instead spend their lives 'with entertainment, yelling, playing heroes, running up and down, in other words, doing nothing but what flatters his vanity or requires no thought of him'.
She summarised why, in her opinion, men were nevertheless above women in society: firstly, so that their 'faults can make [women's] virtues shine brighter', secondly to become better every day, and, thirdly, 'to be endured in the world, from which, if they did not hold all power in their hands, they would be exiled entirely'. In conclusion, Isabella argued that the 'slavery' of women is caused by men sensing that women are superior to them.
One of Isabella's writings is a study titled „The Fate of Princesses”, in which she wrote that princesses were the 'victim of the a minister's unfortunate policies', saying that it was for some public good. She criticised the idea of allying countries through marriages, saying that this cannot lead to a lasting alliance. „They want to marry her off. She is therefore condemned to leave everything behind, her family, her homeland, and for whom? For a stranger, for a person whose character and way of thinking she does not know, for a family who will perhaps only look at her with jealousy, but in the best case with suspicion”.
Her "Reflections on Education" was Isabella's rejection of the traditional upbringing of children, and specifically a condemnation of the cruel tutors of her brother, as well as of their parents who put them in charge. In Isabella's opinion, the use of violence against children only reveals the adult's lack of understanding and talent in pedagogy. Instead of these methods, which she said had been gaining in popularity, she argued for kindness. (Again, remember, we are in the mid 18th century..…)
In 1763, she was heavily pregnant again, and reports of smallpox cases were made around Vienna. Isabella developed a fever, and it soon became clear that she had caught the disease. The fever induced labour three months early, and on 22 November, she gave birth to a second daughter. The baby was baptised as Maria Christina, as Isabella had requested, but died the same day.
Following the birth, Isabella was rarely conscious, but displayed a courage bordering on indifference. On 26 November, the doctors had to tell Joseph that Isabella was agonising, and she died on the next day at dawn, one month and three days before just her 22nd birthday. There is no record of Marie's reaction to Isabella's death. She stayed next to her until the end, and took care of her daughter until the girl herself died at seven.
According to a letter by Maria Theresa, Isabella entrusted her papers to her mother-in-law shortly before her death, saying that 'not everything was viewable' for Joseph. In what could be called her last will and testament, Isabella wrote a long letter to Maria Christina. This was a part of her preparation for death, as she was certain that she would die young and even looked forward to this. The Conseils à Marie ('Advice to Maria') consisted mostly of descriptions of their family members, including Maria Theresa and Joseph. Those advises helped her to become the only one of the empress' children to choose her own spouse and marry for love as she married Prince Albert Casimir of Saxony and lived a happy life with him.
After Maria Christina’s death at age 56, a miniature of Isabella and her daughter was found in her prayer book. On its back, she had written the date and cause of Isabella's death and that she was her best and truest friend who had 'lived as an angel and died as an angel'.
….
So this was the story. And the most tragic part I believe is: imagine what her life could’ve been in our lives, in the times of gay marriage, feminism, antibiotics, therapy, etc.. Just imagine how happy her life could’ve been. I’ve been fascinated by this story for a long time. How did this girl end up in the 1760s? She lived in the times of George Washington! She should be a historical heroine on Sappho level.
I really believe that her life should not be forgotten and I wish more people knew about her.

Welcome back to another Pick'Em thread!
This post can be used to discuss your picks for 06/04/2023. If you have any feedback or suggestions on improving the thread further, drop a comment below or message the moderators.
Don't forget: picks must be submitted during the twelve-hour window before Noon EDT on game day, you can only make one selection per day, and missed days count as losses, so choose wisely and don't delay!
Games for Sunday, 06/04/2023:

Matchup and Team Records	Probable Pitchers (Season ERA)	Estimated Win Probability
St. Louis Cardinals (25-33) @ Pittsburgh Pirates (29-27)	Miles Mikolas (3.75) / Rich Hill (4.76)	52% / 48%
Tampa Bay Rays (40-19) @ Boston Red Sox (30-27)	Taj Bradley (3.60) / Tanner Houck (5.30)	52% / 48%
Philadelphia Phillies (26-32) @ Washington Nationals (25-33)	Ranger Suarez (7.13) / Trevor Williams (3.93)	56% / 44%
Toronto Blue Jays (31-27) @ New York Mets (30-28)	Yusei Kikuchi (4.47) / Kodai Senga (3.44)	48% / 52%
Oakland Athletics (12-48) @ Miami Marlins (31-28)	Paul Blackburn (2.25) / Sandy Alcantara (4.93)	35% / 65%
Milwaukee Brewers (30-27) @ Cincinnati Reds (26-31)	Adrian Houser (4.07) / Ben Lively (1.99)	55% / 45%
Los Angeles Angels (30-29) @ Houston Astros (34-23)	Griffin Canning (4.89) / J.P. France (4.00)	40% / 60%
Colorado Rockies (26-34) @ Kansas City Royals (17-41)	Kyle Freeland (4.22) / Brady Singer (7.12)	49% / 51%
Cleveland Guardians (25-32) @ Minnesota Twins (31-27)	Triston McKenzie (-) / Joe Ryan (2.77)	44% / 56%
Detroit Tigers (26-30) @ Chicago White Sox (25-35)	Matthew Boyd (5.96) / Michael Kopech (4.52)	42% / 58%
Seattle Mariners (29-29) @ Texas Rangers (37-20)	Bryce Miller (3.00) / Nathan Eovaldi (2.42)	44% / 56%
Baltimore Orioles (36-21) @ San Francisco Giants (28-29)	Tyler Wells (3.29) / Anthony DeSclafani (3.48)	46% / 54%
Atlanta Braves (33-24) @ Arizona Diamondbacks (35-23)	Michael Soroka (6.00) / Zac Gallen (2.72)	54% / 46%
Chicago Cubs (25-31) @ San Diego Padres (26-31)	Marcus Stroman (2.59) / Ryan Weathers (4.28)	39% / 61%
New York Yankees (34-25) @ Los Angeles Dodgers (35-23)	Domingo German (3.98) / Bobby Miller (1.64)	45% / 55%

1. All columns are Away / Home. Records are typically current as-of the time of posting, and do not always contain the matchup results from the day of posting.
2. A bolded matchup means that there is a "Probability of Precipitation" greater than 50% in a non-domed stadium at the time of this post.
3. An italicized matchup means that it is Game 2 of a doubleheader, which for Pick'Em purposes will not be applicable (only Game 1 is counted, but Game 2 is still included above so that you can be aware that pitching management may be different than a non-doubleheader game day).
4. Probable pitchers and stats sourced from mlb.com (via the MLB-StatsAPI); weather data soured from the OpenWeather One Call API.
5. Estimated chance of winning percentages sourced from FiveThirtyEight’s 2023 MLB Game Predictions, an ELO-based, easy to understand ratings system.

Details such as probable pitchers, winning odds, and match certainty are subject to change. Note that a pick for a team in a cancelled game (weather or otherwise) is automatically counted as a correct guess.
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It’s warm, people are outside again, the weather is amazing, and it’s the perfect time of year to enjoy the beginnings of a passionate and discreet relationship with *you ~
I’m interested in getting to know a lovely woman… I’m an average looking older MWM, (maybe a bit better than AVERAGE, but don’t we all think that!?) … I’m average height, in good shape with a nice body ~ funny, sexy, flirtatious, fun, fit, intelligent, and interesting.
I’d love to find someone special, someone who is attractive, maybe “out of my league” who would cater to me, be affectionate with, and submissive to me - someone who will make me the center of her attention… and in return she’ll feel appreciated, understood, desired, and as fulfilled as possible during our time together…
I’m looking for a long term relationship, friendship, a mutual benefit-ship that stays in the discreet shadows where we secretly count the minutes until our next rendezvous, anxious and excited for our next moment together, our next stolen kiss, our next hour hidden away from the world ~
I’m looking for a special kind of witchcraft, and I’m hoping that I might find it in you ~

I have a couple parameters for a quirk that for the last hour I have been trying to make them fit together, but weather due to writers block or a lack of creativity I have been stuck trying to find a solid quirk that included all of these. So I am looking for some help from this community.
I am trying to make a quirk based on Aquaman or Namor. A Super-Strength based quirk that while good on land. Turns amazingly powerful in water. Being average on land and turning into a All Might like user in the depth of the ocean. With potential to grow and leave the restriction of being submerged in water and become just as destructive a force in land.
Some ideas I have been throwing around in my head. That while I didn’t exactly like where just ideas.
Pressure Amplification - The user can manipulate the pressure they put on objects or pressure they feel. Allowing there attacks to become super strong while not being able to lift at the same level of strength. While within the water they become insanely strong. Since there id a constant force of pressure acting upon the user and there enemies. Allowing him to manifest his strength in whatever way he wishes within water.
Rise To - Whenever the user is confronted with a force they grow strong enough to next time stalemate the same force. So if the user say has a building fall in them. If the user survives there body grows to the strength needed to hold that building after the event.
Both these quirks are both fine. Just not exactly what I am looking for. So I would love some help. Also as I realized neither of these support a need for air and oxygen. Which for a character where that is supposed to be there domain is a big weakness. Any and all help is appreciated.

I’ll try to keep this brief: new to education, this year as an education assistant, hired next year to teach special ed in first grade at the same school.
The school is a public charter housed in an old building in Minnesota, and last week there was an electrical fire. We were outside in the sun (minimal cover) with our kids in 90° weather for nearly 2.5 hours and there was no plan for what came after evacuation. Other EAs and support staff ended up going to a nearby gas station to get water to ration as leadership didn’t communicate any sort of “disaster” plan. Somehow no one got heat stroke or heat sickness beyond exhaustion and sunburn, and dismissal and early pickup executed as cleanly as could be.
Classes were cancelled the next day - the fire was minor, but they think everyone running their window AC units caused the wires to catch. Their solution? A patch job with “guidance from an electrician” done by the custodian. We returned the next day with instructions that we can’t use AC. We’re on a streak of 90° days through year end, which is thankfully Thursday.
All state testing is complete. There is no more instructional merit to these last few days. Our students and families are largely within a refugee population and all are at or under the poverty line. Many don’t have health insurance. I asked what to do if a kid has heat stroke - was told to send them to the office (we don’t have a nurse, just admin) and that “her son was in a classroom for a day with temps over 100 and was fine.” Apparently it’s not a state regulation that we need AC to hold classes, and ops/leadership has made it clear they’re prioritizing ending the school year without extending since we’re at quota for missed days with this winter’s storms.
Additionally, I take some psychiatric medications that put me at increased risk of serotonin syndrome (which can be lethal), higher risk with excessive heat. I’m worried both for the kids’ and staff but also my own, and have just been appalled at the handling of this entire situation. It feels so reckless and like such a safety issue.
TL;DR: an electrical fire at school leads to no use of AC for the rest of the year in 90° heat.

My name is Laura, and this is my story. It's a tale of fear and the unknown, of love and betrayal, and of the strength of a mother's love. It all started when my husband, Adam, and I decided to start a new life in a beautiful villa by the lake in the small town of Kruklanki. The villa, standing alone amidst the vast expanse of nature, was like an island, symbolising our isolation. The lake, with its calm surface hiding unknown depths, mirrored the unknown we were about to step into.
We were a young couple, full of hope and dreams. Adam, with his easy smile and infectious laughter, was my rock. We dreamt of a peaceful life, of raising our child in the serene surroundings of the villa. We shared a love for the outdoors, often spending our evenings stargazing, our hands intertwined. The villa stood tall amidst a lush emerald forest, its weathered stones blending harmoniously with the vibrant foliage. Sunlight filtered through the dense canopy, casting ethereal patterns on the moss-covered path leading to the entrance. The air was fragrant with the scent of damp earth and wildflowers, inviting us to embark on our new life.
But even as we unpacked our belongings, I couldn't shake off a strange feeling. Adam, usually so attentive, seemed distant, his mind elsewhere. I dismissed it as stress from the move. Little did I know then, it was a sign of the betrayal that was to come. Soon after we settled in, I couldn't shake off a sense of foreboding. The villa, once a symbol of our dreams, was starting to feel like a prison, its grandeur overshadowed by a chilling silence. And the lake, once a symbol of peace, now seemed to whisper of hidden dangers beneath its serene surface.
Soon after we settled in, I began to experience strange and terrifying events. At first, they were just subtle nuances: shadows moving along the corridors, whispers in the night, vague movements nearby. I tried to dismiss them as figments of my imagination, but they became increasingly disturbing and intense, filling me with a chronic sense of fear.
Adam, my husband, was sceptical. He believed that these were just products of my imagination, the result of stress from the move and adapting to a new place. Adam, ever the rationalist, tried to reassure me. 'Laura, it's just the stress of the move and the pregnancy,' he would say, his eyes full of concern yet disbelief. 'There's no real danger.' His words, meant to comfort, only served to widen the chasm between us. But I could feel it, something was not right.
One night, I woke up to a chilling whisper. It was so close, as if someone was right next to me. I turned on the bedside lamp, but there was no one there. The room was empty, but the feeling of being watched was overwhelming. My heart pounded in my chest, my palms were sweaty, and I was shaking.
'Adam,' I whispered, nudging him awake. He groaned, turning to face me. 'Did you hear that?'
'Hear what?' he mumbled, his eyes half-closed.
'The whispering. It was right here, right next to me.'
Adam sighed, rubbing his eyes. 'Laura, you're just stressed. It's the new house, the new surroundings. You're imagining things.'
I wanted to believe him, to write it off as a product of stress and fear. But deep down, I knew something was not right.
The next day, I noticed something else. The shadows in the house seemed to move on their own, even when there was no one around. I could hear soft whispers, but when I tried to locate the source, there was nothing. I felt like I was being watched, followed. I tried to tell Adam about it, but he just brushed it off, saying I was just stressed and needed rest.
But I knew something was wrong. I could feel it in my bones. The house was not just a house. It was something else, something sinister. And I was trapped in it, with no one to believe me, no one to help me. I was alone, and I was scared.
The days turned into weeks, and the strange occurrences in the villa didn't cease. If anything, they became more frequent, more intense. I started noticing mysterious figures around the villa, always on the edge of my vision. They were close, yet always just far enough that I couldn't make out their features. Their presence filled me with a sense of paranoia and constant danger. I felt like a prey being watched by predators, waiting for the right moment to strike.
Our neighbours, Mr. and Mrs. Graverson, began to show an unusual interest in me. One afternoon, as I was tending to the garden, Mrs. Graverson approached me.
'Laura, dear,' she said, her voice sweet yet somehow unsettling. 'How are you finding Kruklanki? Is the villa to your liking?'
Her questions seemed innocent, but there was something in her gaze that made me uneasy.
Mrs. Graverson's eyes lingered on my stomach for a moment too long, a strange smile playing on her lips, something I couldn't quite define. Mr. Graverson, with his piercing gaze, and Mrs. Graverson, with her constant, unsettling smile, were always too eager to help. Their behavior was suspicious, their questions too probing. They seemed particularly interested in my pregnancy, their eyes lingering on my growing belly a moment too long. I couldn't shake off the feeling that they were hiding something.
One day, Mrs. Graverson came over with a basket of freshly baked cookies. As she handed them to me, her gaze lingered on my stomach. There was something in her eyes, a strange intensity that made me uncomfortable. I didn't know it then, but it was a hint of the dark intentions that lay beneath her friendly facade. I was pregnant at the time, and her eyes seemed to hold a strange fascination for my unborn child. It was a fleeting moment, but it sent chills down my spine.
As time passed, I began to suspect that the Graversons were part of a cult practising occultism, planning to use my unborn child in a dark ritual. It was a terrifying thought, but the pieces of the puzzle were starting to fit together. The strange occurrences, the mysterious figures, the Graversons' unusual interest in me and my child, it all pointed to something dark and sinister.
I started finding evidence of their involvement in other dangerous activities. I found strange symbols carved into the trees around their house, symbols that I later found out were associated with occult practices. I also noticed that they would often disappear during the night, only to return in the early hours of the morning, looking exhausted and secretive.
I suspected that they were responsible for the strange events and observations. The fear was overwhelming, but I knew I had to protect my child. I was alone in this fight, with no one to turn to. But I was determined. I was a mother, and I would do anything to keep my child safe.
In my desperation, I turned to the local clergyman, Father Christopher. He was a quiet man, always keeping to himself. I had often wondered why he seemed so distant, so detached from the rest of the town. Little did I know, his aloofness was a sign of the secrets he was hiding. I found him in the church, his eyes filled with a quiet serenity.
'Father Christopher,' I began, my voice trembling. 'I need your help. There's something... something wrong in the villa.'
He looked at me, his gaze thoughtful. 'Tell me everything, Laura,' he said, his voice calm and reassuring.
I went to the church, hoping to find some solace, some protection. I wanted to tell him about my experiences, ask for his support and protection. But to my surprise, Father Christopher seemed to be absent and avoided contact with me.
I tried to reach out to him several times, but each time, I was met with silence. His absence was strange, and it made me wonder if he was involved in this intrigue. The thought was terrifying, but I couldn't ignore the possibility. I felt even more disoriented and anxious when I discovered that Father Christopher might be involved in the conspiracy.
I started to suspect that he himself was a member of the cult or was being intimidated by them. This discovery made me feel even more alone and defenceless in the face of the impending threat. I was desperate and isolated, and I had to fend for myself.
I decided to seek information on my own to uncover the truth and find a way to protect myself and my unborn child. I spent countless hours researching, trying to understand what was happening. I read about occult practices, about cults and their rituals. The more I learned, the more terrified I became. But I knew I had to keep going, for the sake of my child.
One night, as I was poring over an old book about local legends and myths, I came across a passage that sent chills down my spine. It spoke of a cult that had once existed in Kruklanki, a cult that practised dark rituals involving unborn children. The description matched the Graversons' behaviour and the strange occurrences in the villa. I knew then that my suspicions were not unfounded.
I decided to confront the Graversons. I knocked on their door, my heart pounding. 'I've noticed you've been acting strangely,' I said, trying to keep my voice steady. They exchanged a glance, their smiles never reaching their eyes. 'We're just concerned for you, dear,' Mrs. Graverson replied, her voice too sweet. But their reassurances did nothing to quell my fears.
I was up against something far more dangerous than I had imagined. But I was not going to give up. I was a mother, and I would do whatever it took to protect my child.
As my due date approached, I realised that time was running out and the threat was becoming greater. I had a recurring dream, a nightmare really, of a clock ticking loudly, its hands moving faster and faster. It was a chilling reminder of the impending danger, a foreshadowing of the race against time that lay ahead. I had to act quickly to save my child and uncover the truth. My maternal instinct and determination had strengthened, giving me the power to fight against the unknown and dark enemy. Despite the exhaustion tugging at my eyelids, I poured over the ancient texts, my fingers tracing the cryptic symbols. I wouldn't rest, not until I had found a way to protect my child, and I made a decision that would change everything.
I decided to find a mysterious book that, according to legend, had the power to protect against dark forces. I began an intensive search, scouring old libraries, archives, and places connected with the history of Kruklanki. I studied ancient writings, mythologies, and ancient rituals, trying to find clues and the key to solving this dark mystery.
During my search, I uncovered a horrifying history of Kruklanki. It turned out that many years ago, similar rituals had taken place in the town, bringing a curse and evil upon its inhabitants. The town's past was steeped in blood and dark secrets. Now, the cult wanted to renew this power and use my unborn child in their dark plans.
I spent countless hours in the town's library, pouring over old books and documents. I found references to a cult that had existed in Kruklanki centuries ago, a cult that had been banished after a terrible event. The details were vague, but it was clear that the cult had been involved in dark rituals and practices.
The more I learned, the more terrified I became. But I also felt a strange sense of determination. I was not just fighting for myself anymore, I was fighting for my child. And I was not going to let anything harm my baby.
I knew that finding the book was a long shot, but it was the only hope I had. I had to believe that it existed, that it could help me. As my due date approached, the Graversons' interest in me seemed to intensify. They would drop by unannounced, their questions becoming more personal, their gazes more intrusive. I had to believe that I could protect my child, that I could find the mysterious book and put an end to this nightmare.
In a dramatic turn of events, I discovered that Adam, my husband, had been bribed by the cultists and intended to give them our unborn child. A cold numbness spread through me as I read the words, each sentence a dagger to my heart. I could barely breathe, the paper trembling in my hands and fueled my motivation to fight even more. At first, I refused to believe it, but the evidence was overwhelmingly strong.
I found a letter hidden in his drawer, a letter from the Graversons. It spoke of a ritual, of a promise of power and wealth, and of our child. I couldn't believe what I was reading. The man I loved, the man who would hold me during those terrifying nights, was planning to betray me and our unborn child. Was it the promise of power and wealth that lured him? Or was he manipulated, ensnared by the Graversons' cunning words? The betrayal cut deep, but I had no time for despair.
I confronted Adam, my heart pounding in my chest. 'Adam,' I said, holding out the letter. 'What is this?'
He looked at the letter, his face paling. 'Laura, I...'
'You were going to give our child to them, weren't you?' I demanded, my voice shaking with anger and betrayal. He fell silent, his silence confirming my worst fears.
The look in his eyes confirmed my worst fears. I felt a wave of despair wash over me, but I knew I had to stay strong for my child.
I had to face Adam and defeat the dark forces that were plaguing Kruklanki. I pushed the boundaries of my courage and strength to protect my child and prevent the cultists from performing their dark ritual. I also had to confront my own fears and doubts that accompanied me.
In the hours leading up to the confrontation, I prepared myself for the battle ahead. Father Christopher had given me a small cross, a symbol of faith and protection. Clutching it tightly, I steeled myself for what was to come. As I entered the church, the cultists turned towards me, surprise flickering in their eyes. I stepped forward, my voice echoing in the silence, 'This ends now.' Adam was among them. Our eyes met, and for a moment, I saw a flicker of the man I once knew. But it was gone as quickly as it came. He stepped forward, trying to dissuade me, but I stood my ground. 'You won't take my child,' I declared, my voice steady despite the fear coursing through me. It was a moment where the power of a mother's love and courage broke through the darkness and triumphed over it.
I stood in the church, my heart pounding in my chest, as I faced the cultists. I could see the surprise in their eyes as I confronted them, as I defied them. With Father Christopher by my side, we fought against the darkness that threatened to consume us.
In the end, love and courage prevailed. I managed to save my child, to protect him from the darkness that had threatened to take him away from me. It was the hardest thing I had ever done, but I would do it again in a heartbeat for my child.
In the aftermath of the confrontation, the town was eerily quiet. The cultists had been defeated, their dark plans thwarted. Adam was nowhere to be found, and I was left to pick up the pieces of my shattered life.
In the days that followed, the weight of the ordeal began to lift, replaced by a newfound strength within me. I made the decision to leave the villa behind, a physical representation of the darkness that had consumed my life. With each step I took away from that place, I felt a sense of liberation and determination.
I found a small house nestled in the heart of Kruklanki, a place where the warmth of the community embraced me. As I settled into my new home, I realised that my journey was not just about protecting my child, but also about finding my own strength. Through the trials I had faced, I had discovered a reservoir of resilience and courage within myself that I never knew existed.
Father Christopher, my steadfast companion, continued to provide guidance and support. We spent countless hours in conversation, sharing our experiences and searching for meaning in the darkness that had enveloped Kruklanki. Through his wisdom and unwavering faith, I learned to embrace my role as a protector and a fighter.
As time went on, I saw the transformation within me. The fear that once gripped my heart had been replaced by a fierce determination to rebuild and find joy in the simple moments. I laughed with neighbours, embraced the beauty of the lake, and reveled in the innocent smiles of my child.
In the midst of the darkness, I found my own light. The journey had not only saved my child but had also saved me. I was no longer the frightened woman who arrived in Kruklanki, but a mother fortified by love and an unyielding spirit. Together, my child and I would create a new story, one filled with hope and the resilience to face any darkness that may come our way.
Despite everything, I found hope. Hope in the kindness of Father Christopher, hope in the strength of my love for my child, hope in the possibility of a new beginning. I had faced the darkness and come out on the other side stronger and more determined.
This is my story, a story of fear and courage, of darkness and light, of despair and hope. It's a story of a mother's love, a love so strong it can conquer even the darkest of evils. And it's a story of Kruklanki, a town that faced its dark past and emerged stronger.

Maybe that title is a bit too cheesy, but I really do like exploring the night sky. Helps especially since my hometown was a great place to do so. That all aside, hello! I am Pydras, fat cat collector, lessor avatar of chaos, and most boring of all, corporate accountant. I am to find people to potentially connect with and see what develops. Whether that leads to friendship or something more will remain to be seen, but life is short so have to get out there and try!
A little more about me! As stated earlier, I am a corporate accountant, working in BC, currently saving up to buy a house. I am quite fond of cooking, and decent enough at it as well! I would say at least 67% of it would be tolerable to most people. Since my job is basically just sitting around all day, I try and workout at least three or four times a week to stay active and in shape. That being said I do have a sweet tooth that I am quite good at managing, except for my weakness of homemade baked goods. Art wise, I really have no skills in most of those areas except for writing (use to do some RP back in the day). Well, I do make quite the horrible MS Paint masterpiece if the inspiration hits, so that might count. Politically I am quite on the left side, and religion wise I tend to fall more into agnosticism and atheism.
For subject interests, my top three would probably have to be history, geography, and geology. One of my favourite things to do when bored is open Google maps and go to a random area and see what I can learn of those three for it. However, my absolute biggest interest and the one I hold closest to me is music. While I can't really play an instrument (have been trying to relearn piano), I usually have some sort of playlist on if I am not too busy or in a loud environment. I can literally go into paragraphs upon paragraphs about some of my favourite songs. Just about what I like about them, how they make me feel, etc. I am always up for sharing or creating playlists with someone, I truly feel like music is one of the better ways to get to know someone. My usual genres end up to alternative, indie, and math rock, but I will really just listen to anything that I like the sound of.
Hobby wise, it sort of depends on what time of the year it is. If the weather is nice in the spring or summer, I love to go for long walks and hiking. Just being out in nature beings a sense of relaxation and peace you can't get anywhere else. Plus, the views, just all the amazing views and secrets you can come upon. When the weather is not as pleasant or it is winter (so quite a few months here), I am usually found being a homebody. Probably no surprise, but gaming is a major filler of my time when I have nothing else to do. My main game right now is FFXIV, realized today that I have been playing it for over half a decade at this point, how time flies. I do enjoy the Paradox Interactive games as well, especially with all the amazing mods some of them have. Like music, I could spend hours talking about some of my favourite games. Would also love more people to play with, generally not picky about what, as long as you don't mind me potentially sucking. Gaming with people is always such a joy and fun time. I can be quite the reader if a particular book or series catches my attention. Once burned through a trilogy in a week since it captivated me so much. One of the dangers I found with me reading is I'll always go for one more chapter, then suddenly it is 3 am. Don't really have any specific genres in particular, though I am quite the sucker for some good worldbuilding.
I could probably keep rambling about myself, but why take away all the fun? As said before, I am looking for someone to see what kind of connection we can build. Location wise, for something more than friendship, you would likely have to be in Canada or have plans to move here. While I do enjoy all my friends in the US, I have no desire to move there unfortunately. Either way, if I intrigued your interests feel free to send me a DM and we can connect from there!