Bx19 bus near me

I (M23) go to university in Illinois and here I met my wonderful boyfriend (M25). We've been together for almost 3 years now and we're even considering marriage sometime in the future. Now before I get into the current situation, I need to give some context.
When I was a high school sophomore, I had come out to some of my close friends as pansexual and this ended up being discovered by my mom when she was looking through my phone. She didn't tell me about it right away but the next morning when I woke up both of my parents didn't talk to me and just ignored. Eventually my mom told me and I had to sit through them basically lecturing me about my own sexuality and what's "morally correct." Eventually I had no choice to lie and tell them that I was just pranking my friends and it was a lie which they SOMEHOW believed or I guess rather chose to believe.
When I left home for college and finished by undergraduate, I went to law school in Illinois where I met my boyfriend. For both of our safety I kept this hidden from my parents. In my family, only my older sister knew about it and when I was back home with my boyfriend (who I said was just a friend), my sister (F27) accidentally spilled it to my mom upon which she also told my dad. During this I was out with some of my high school friends and when I came back, I had to endure hours of yelling and crying from my parents. Luckily my boyfriend wasn't there but I just got up, picked him up, and drove back to our apartment near the campus. After avoiding their calls for days I even got a few letters from them. I hadn't told my boyfriend yet and he happened to read one of these stupid letters of theirs. I broke down and he tried to comfort me and I ended up telling him everything. I was planning to actually go and talk things over with them but he advised me not to. After a bit of arguing and crying I ended up listening. I haven't replied/talked to them for 3 months now and I've ripped up most of the letters they've sent until I saw the last one which basically said they will come over next week if I don't respond or talk to them. I plan to go through with the whole cutting contact thing. I've always been very emotionally weak but my boyfriend has goes me improve myself. Above all I wanted to ask whether I was in the wrong for doing to because I'm very conflicted here and idk whether I should go ahead with it.

Sorry in advance as this will likely be long.
For some background. I (32M) have dealt with anxiety for near a decade now. It started with health anxiety. Would spend weeks and months convinced I had cancer. I’d go to the ER 4-5 times a week. Barely sleep, always on my phone googling symptoms, convinced I was going to die. This came and went for about a year until I eventually got on lexapro. I started with 10mg and was on that for roughly 2 years with everything being perfect and then had another extreme bout. This time it was around me going to jail (no real reason) my wife being unable to afford our house, her leaving me, maybe committing suicide. Her family blaming me (rightfully so) and me being unable to cope which may lead to me committing suicide. At that point I was told to increase to 15mg and I’ve been there for the last 5 years or so. Overall I feel pretty good. I still have minor flare ups here and there, and while they still feel like hell at the time they’ve only lasted for a couple of days and I usually will go at least a year between them.
Weirdly enough my dad (66M) just started dealing with anxiety a couple of months ago. Prior to that he had never dealt with mental illness. It too started with health anxiety. I told him about my medication and so he went to a walk-in clinic (we have a family doctor shortage in my province) and got prescribed 10mg.
I was under the impression that the anxiety had resolved but in fact my parents were just not keeping me in the loop as they didn’t want to worry me. In fact he has gotten a lot worse and it got to the point where my mom got scared for his safety and broke down and called me looking for some help.
I drove down this past weekend (I live about an hour away) with my family to help out. I was informed that about a week prior he had upped his Lexapro on his own to 20mg.
I found him laying in the guest bedroom moaning. He wasn’t making a ton of sense, and would speak very ominously “we’re gonna lose everything”, “it’s too late” etc. we have a service where you can call to be connected to a psychiatrist so I called that but they were closed so I left a vm for them to call us back. That started to make him have panic attacks about having to speak to them when they called. He was also running out of his blood pressure medication and told me he had lied to my mom and told her he called and renewed it. As I’m typing I realize you probably don’t need so many details.
Anyway, the third day I was there was his worst. He told me he was positive my mom was going to kill herself and that it would be because we’ll keep her grandkids away due to his condition and then he’d be thrown in jail for her death. He also told me he didn’t see the need in taking his blood pressure meds or diabetes meds anymore. At this point I called 911 to do a wellness check. The cops and EMTs showed up, spoke to him and recommended we go to the hospital.
There was some extreme paranoia at the hospital but I’ll spare the details. When I told the doctor everything, he agreed 20mg of the lexapro was the right dosage and also gave him some lorazepam to take during the rough days. That was 4 days ago and he has had to take the lorazepam everyday.
I guess I’m looking for words of encouragement. Has anyone ever been so far gone and gotten through it? Or have experience trying to help a loved one through it?
Thank you

Transmission
by Brian Martinez
Let me start my story by telling you something about me, the most important thing, in fact: I find things, and I fix them. That’s who I am. If you don’t know that, you don’t know me.
I’m a second-generation auto mechanic, born-and-bred. I’ve been repairing cars since before Ford Pintos were blowing up, when cars were made of steel and Route 66 wasn’t just something for the cartoons. These days I’m fortunate enough to own a shop downtown between two of those chain coffee places. It’s small, sure, but it has a reputation for saving cars so far-gone no one else will even touch ‘em. So if you live in the area, and you’ve ever been stuck with the sourest of lemons, or maybe your kid drove your minivan into the pool, we just might have crossed paths, you and I.
That reputation is what led to me getting a phone call from a guy I’d never met, saying he had something that might interest me. His name was Burt and he’d apparently just purchased a piece of property that sat unowned for the better part of twenty years. I knew of the area he was talking about. It’s out in the hills, where there isn’t much to look at. Most of the land there went to weed years ago; acres and acres of old woods and burnt-down barns just waiting for nobody in particular to see the value in them. And, well, it seems Burt was that nobody in particular.
I honestly didn’t know what Burt’s purchase had to do with me, and told him just that, figuring he must have had the wrong number. But the next words out of his mouth told me he knew exactly who he was talking to.
Apparently when old Burt started walking around his new property, digging around in the dirt, so to speak, he made an interesting discovery. So interesting, in fact, that it got me to grab my keys, hop in my truck, and drive up into the hills without so much as a pause to wash my hands.
Some things, you see, don’t wait for a man to look presentable.
As I drove up into the hills to meet Burt, I started to think about my father and the drives he used to take me on. He liked to get a feel for whichever car he was working on, and those drives, they always ended with a detour into the hills. ‘Nothing tests a vehicle like elevation,’ he used to say, and I have to admit, I still agree with that statement. All those long inclines, sharp turns and fast descents- not to mention the occasional slam on the brakes- really put a car through its paces.
Dad knew a thing or two about cars, even if he knew nothing about how to raise a family.
Other than maybe a slight fear of commitment, the main thing I got from my father was a passion for restoring old cars in my spare time. It’s a hobby of mine, and I do it in the garage at my house. I’m especially a sucker for rare cars, and the rarer the better. That little hobby of mine, more so than my day business, was why I ended up driving out to the middle of nowhere with dirty hands and a head full of ideas.
The road up was just as long and winding as I remembered. I almost missed the entrance for the property, a hidden driveway marked with little more than a broken mailbox and a rotting signpost. The private road got smaller and smaller by the minute until I swore the trees were going to swallow me whole and spit the bones back out.
When I finally reached what could pass for a clearing, a guy with a face like a junkyard dog was waiting for me next to the newest, cleanest Ford pick-up I’d seen outside of a dealership. He introduced himself to me as Eddie, an associate of old Burt. I told him I’d been expecting to meet Burt himself, but Eddie explained that Burt didn’t like to meet new people, and rarely came out in the cold weather. It was a bit raw, I had to admit, so I dropped the whole thing and let Eddie get down to the business at hand.
We left our cars behind and Eddie led me into the woods, where the walking was slow-going on account of the overgrowth of vines and dead branches. I’m not one to spook easily, but the more we walked the creepier those woods got, until I was fairly sure Eddie was going to use that French Mastiff face of his to tear my throat out. But just when I was thinking about turning back and saying screw it to the whole thing, I caught sight of what we’d come for.
The very first car I saw was a white, 1974 Pontiac Trans-Am. It was missing its door and tires, and it was buried under a layer of dead vines, but the body shape was unmistakable. Under the rust I could even see what was left of the telltale Firebird emblazoned across its hood in blue.
I couldn’t believe a car like that was just sitting out in the middle of the woods, waiting for anyone to come along and find it. As I got closer, though, I saw just how bad the condition of the car was. The insides were rotted out from rain and mold, and the floor was so eaten up by rust it was ready to fall out.
Before my brain could process the loss of such a beautiful machine, I caught sight of another car. This one was a Datsun 210 with a tree growing right through the hole where its trunk used to be. Wet leaves and newspaper filled the back seat, and the dashboard was an abandoned nest that crawled with leggy insects.
Old Burt hadn’t been pulling my leg: those woods were a graveyard for abandoned cars. From what I could tell, about three acres of woods were absolutely littered with the corpses of old autos. Some were in pieces, most were covered in dead leaves and rust and all the other things that happen when anything is left outside for years and years, but they were there. The sight of so many classic cars in one place, virtually unknown to anyone, both excited and saddened me.
For close to an hour I walked around random piles of tires and glass to stare at rusted-out Range Rovers and Jeeps with their headlights hanging out like popped eyeballs. Finally, like I’d woken up from a spell, I asked Eddie what Burt expected from me. And that’s when he told me the strangest, most interesting offer he could have told me in that moment.
He said if I could make every, single one of those cars disappear in three day’s time, at no cost to old Burt, I could keep them.
The words nearly knocked me off my feet. I’d have to call in every favor to every salvage yard and tow truck operator I knew, but it was possible. Still, nearly all of the cars I’d seen were beyond repair, even for a guy like me. At most I saw some parts that could be salvaged. Maybe a few of the newer, less damaged ones could be saved. I knew a few guys in my circle who might be interested, and I figured if I played my cards right I could make a few bucks out of the deal to boot- or at least land a good trade or two. Still, there weren’t any cars that I was interested in for myself.
Until, at the edge of the property, tucked away in a spot I’d nearly overlooked, I saw it. It was as if I’d been drawn there. Like I was meant to find it.
The car was familiar-looking, yet like nothing I’d ever seen. Cross a Chevelle Malibu Classic SE with the modern retro feel of the ‘97 Plymouth Prowler, add the large rear spoiler and flared wheel arches of a ‘99 Nissan Skyline GT-R, and you still won’t come close. It looked like something one of the big three manufacturers had made and yet I’d never seen or heard of its like ever before. It had no logos, no hood ornament, no identification of any kind. I practically ran around to the back of it to look for a name, a logo, something to identify it, tripping over hidden rocks and broken glass to do it.
But there was nothing. Nothing to betray the make and mark of the strange car in front of me. I even asked Eddie if he knew what it was. He only shrugged, clearly wanting to wrap up our little outdoor meeting. I half-heartedly agreed. It was later than I’d realized. Between the dwindling sun and the discovery I’d made, I’d started to get a chill I couldn’t shake. I had a bad tooth I’d been neglecting, and even that was starting to hurt from the cold.
So I agreed to Burt’s deal. I shook Eddie’s hand on it and got out of there, giving one last glance at the strange car in the woods on the way out.
The next day, after making more phone calls than a politician on election night, a swarm of flatbeds, wheel-lifts and salvage trucks descended on those woods. For two days they scooped out every piece of metal and glass in the place, while I oversaw the operation like a choir conductor from hell. I directed trucks this way and cutting crews that way. They snipped and cut and tore out every dead tree standing in the way so the truck crews could do the rest. I even got in there myself with the old chainsaw when it was needed.
It was an exhausting two days, but I managed to keep my word to Burt and clear every abandoned car off his property with about an hour to spare. Some of the cars went to the junkyard, others to various garages I’d made arrangements with.
I was dead on my feet by the time I got home. I was ready for a shower and a bed, in what order I wasn’t sure. And yet a crackle of energy went through me when I saw what had been dropped off in my garage.
My mystery car. Without the shadows of the woods hiding it, I could see it had been painted silver before the rust took over. It had been a fast sucker once, like a bullet to a werewolf’s chest. That had been a long time ago, and yet I sensed there was still some life in the old girl. I wanted so badly to start digging around under the hood, to see what I could find out, but my legs were ready to collapse and my eyes could barely focus. Intending to wake up early and hit the garage, I stumbled off to bed.
You know that feeling you get when you realize someone’s been talking to you for the past minute, thinking you’ve been listening, and you only just figured it out?
That’s the feeling I woke up to.
I sat straight up like a vampire rising from his coffin. My bedroom was still dark, which meant it was the middle of the night. In my half-sleep I tried to make out the clock on my nightstand but couldn’t read the numbers, so I fumbled for my glasses and shoved them on. It was just past two in the morning: way too early, even for me. No way was I getting up, strange feeling or no.
I was about to take my glasses off and lay back down when I heard the reason I’d woken up.
Whispering.
A man was in my room, whispering in the dark. I lunged across my bed and turned on the lamp, nearly knocking it over. I didn’t have a weapon, but if I could see the intruder I could do something about it. I spun back, back to the whispering, to see who it was, to shout at them or jump on them, whatever I had to do to save my life from the psycho in my bedroom.
But the room was empty. Just me and a pounding heart.
I was so confused, I jumped out of bed and tore around the room, making sure no one was hiding, but I didn’t find anyone. I was alone.
Then I heard it again, and I knew: the whispers were coming from down the hall.
With bare feet I followed it, trying to make out what it was saying, but it was too low to understand. I grabbed a knife as I passed through the kitchen and held it in front of me with sweat beading on my face despite how cold I kept the house.
I followed the whispering to the garage. The overhead light flickered on, lighting up the strange car in my garage. In my half-sleep, half-terror I’d nearly forgotten about it. But there it was, like a bear hibernating in its cave, waiting for the end of winter. It felt alive somehow. Not dead, just asleep and dreaming.
And it was whispering.
I knew how crazy that sounded, how crazy that was, but I swallowed hard and approached the car, knife first. The blade shook in front of me. The whispering got louder the closer I got, and yet I still couldn’t understand the words it was saying. Was someone hiding inside the car? Had I inherited a homeless man when I’d had it towed to my house? If so I had to get him out of there. Get him help, sure, make sure he had a place to sleep, but he couldn’t stay in my garage, whispering through the night. No way.
With my free hand I yanked on the driver’s side door. It didn’t open. Rusted shut. I slowly walked around to the passenger side and yanked again. It opened.
The whispering was louder now, louder but not clearer, like an old television tuned between channels, like a frequency not being picked up, like a…
Like a radio.
The whispers were coming from the radio. I laughed under my breath, realizing how ridiculous I’d been. But then I remembered there was no way the radio could be working. The car wasn’t turned on. If it even had a battery under the hood, it was probably little more than a square pile of rust and battery acid.
I clutched the kitchen knife tight, and with the other hand I slowly reached out to turn the volume knob. I needed to know if the whispers were coming from the radio, and if they were, I needed to know what they were saying. My temple throbbed as the whispers grew louder and louder, louder and louder, louder and-
The moment my finger touched the knob, the whispers stopped.
I felt like I was going crazy. I looked around the inside of the car, noting the strong smell of mildew and animal with a tinge of rotten leather. Other than my own breath echoing back at me, it was silent.
No whispers. No nothing.
I went back to bed, but I barely slept.
The next day was the day I usually took off from the shop, which was a relief since I woke up almost as tired as when I’d gone to bed. As I ate my breakfast, the night before still sat fresh in my mind. But the more I went over it, the more I thought it had been a bad dream, brought on by exhaustion and an imagination run wild. I had to admit the mystery car sitting in my garage had gotten my mind racing faster than a Formula 1.
I’m the kind of guy who likes a simple explanation, something I can touch and feel and, yes, fix, so I started to think that I could have picked up some kind of rogue radio transmission from a trucker, or even a passing plane. The police scanner I owned in my younger days had certainly picked up its share of random broadcasts, and when it comes to working on junkers I’ve learned to expect the unexpected.
After I’d eaten my breakfast and downed my coffee I got right to work on the car. I wanted to clear the air of whatever had happened, and I was dying to see what that baby had going on under the hood. The mystery of who the hell had made the thing was still heavy on me.
But the enigma only deepened the more I looked. Under all that rust and dirt and oil I couldn’t find one damn mark that told me who’d made the car. I almost wanted to say it was a custom build, but the work was too precise, the system too well-planned out to be an after-market job.
I worked on it all day, so wrapped up in it I forgot to eat lunch. I ate dinner like a raccoon digging through a dumpster. Then I worked on it some more.
I was just crawling into bed when I heard it again.
The whispering.
This time I ignored it, hoping it would go away on its own. But it didn’t stop. Not until I got up, walked across my house, went into the garage, and touched the radio. Then, it stopped.
I decided right then and there not to go to the shop the next day. There was just too much work to be done.
I’d been working on the car for four days straight before I got it started up. Four days of stripping and cleaning and rebuilding. Four nights of whispering. I was even starting to hear it during the day, but low, barely audible, like a television playing somewhere in the house.
After I got the engine started, the first thing I did was pull my code reader down from my tool wall and hook it up to the dashboard input. I’d been pleasantly surprised to find an input on the car, even though I was fairly certain it had been built after '96. To my shock the screen filled up with a bunch of random trouble codes I’d never seen before, then went blank. I tried to get it powered up again but apparently the connection had completely overloaded the device.
I’d had the reader for years and it had never given me a problem. I put it down and got back to the car, deciding to stick to the old-fashioned way and get a feel for what was wrong with it. Just like dad used to do.
With my foot on the gas I revved the engine good. It sounded better than I’d expected, like a beast waking up from deep sleep. But there was also something rattling around under the hood, something loose knocking around inside the carburetor or possibly even the manifold.
I tried a few options, opening up this and that, until I narrowed it down to something completely unexpected: the transmission.
With considerable force I managed to open up the transmission, and sure enough I found something inside. Something dark and red. I pulled it out and studied it under the light. It looked like a small rock covered in old transmission fluid. How it got in there I didn’t have a clue. But I decided to clean it off and get a better look at it, in case it pointed to a bigger problem. As I walked it to the slop sink, I noticed the whispering, usually a dull static during the day, had started to grow louder. I could almost make out individual words now. But I ignored it and ran the small rock under the faucet, watching the dark red fluid swirl down the drain.
That was when I discovered something I wasn’t prepared for. The thing in my hand wasn’t a rock- it was a tooth.
A human tooth.
The whispers had grown so loud I could barely hear myself think, barely feel the disgust rising in the pit of my stomach. With the whispers practically shouting in my ear I dropped the tooth and it bounced and clattered inside the sink, coming to a rest near the edge of the drain.
The whispers grew quiet again. A dull roar tickling at the back of my skull. I stared at it, the tooth in the sink, the impossible tooth from the impossible car. I had the urge to throw it out. To get it out of my house and never see it again. But I didn’t do that. I couldn’t tell you why not.
Maybe because that meant touching it again.
Maybe something else.
Feeling like I should give the car a rest, I worked on getting my code reader working again, otherwise I’d have to run to the store and buy a new one. I changed out the batteries and gave it a good, solid whack. A few seconds later I was happy to see the screen turn on. I thought I’d have to do a factory reset to use it again but I was surprised to find it worked perfectly fine. Not only that, the trouble codes it had read off the car were still stored in its memory.
There were pages and pages of codes like I’d never seen in my life, more than I think are even in the tool’s programming. In fact I couldn’t find a single one of them anywhere in the manual. I figured they were probably just random numbers, and yet there was something strange about them, like they had a pattern to them. I dusted off my old computer and typed in the problem codes, figuring if I could get a better look at them I might be able to figure out their meaning. If not, I could at least print them out and show them to somebody who could.
After twenty minutes I’d barely made a dent in typing up all the codes. I gave up on the idea that I could copy them all. I pushed away from my computer and stood up, rubbing my eyes from the strain. Between the glare of the old screen and the noise in my ears, my head was killing me. It all felt so pointless. So inconsequential.
Just before I shut the computer down, I happened to glance one last time at the screen. And when I did, I noticed something that made my skin go cold.
The codes. The pattern. The numbers and letters and spaces between them. They were starting to form a face. A human face, with two eyes and a screaming-
I shut the computer down as fast as I could, then unplugged it to be safe. Then I marched to the garage and disconnected the radio, practically ripping it out of the car.
The whispers stopped.
The house was quiet.
But not for long.
For three days I told myself to get rid of that car, tow it out of my garage and dump it somewhere no one could find it. Maybe even drench it in gasoline and light a match. For three days I ignored the whispers and the doorbell and the phone calls from my shop asking when I was coming back. For three days I buried my head under the hood and worked and worked and worked.
On the fourth day, when the whispers from the radio had grown louder than my own thoughts, louder but still unclear, without words I could understand, I lost it. I threw my wrench at the tool wall, knocking down chisels and socket wrenches and a dozen other tools clattering to the ground. I pounded on my ears, cursing them, willing them to go deaf and stop hearing the whispers.
But they didn’t stop hearing. And the whispers didn’t stop. So I decided. I decided that if I couldn’t stop hearing them, I at least needed to know what they were saying.
I went back to the slop sink. The tooth was still there, perched near the edge of the drain. I’d prayed for it to slip down and wash away on its own but there it was, round and sharp and real as ever. So I picked it up, and the whispers grew louder. Clearer. But still not clear enough to hear. Not enough to make out what the radio was saying. To understand what it wanted from me. It was like a broken antenna, only tuning in half the frequency.
The garage was a mess. I was a mess. Rancid grease stains everywhere. A hole in my tool wall where the wrench had struck it, the ground littered with hammers and screwdrivers and …
Pliers.
Before I could talk myself out of it, I grabbed the pliers from the ground, shoved it onto my mouth, got a good hold of my bad tooth, and ripped it out. It was easier than I expected, but it still hurt, and it bled a lot. But I didn’t hesitate. I pushed the tooth I’d found in the transmission into its place.
The moment I did, it was as if everything came into focus. As if the radio was inside my skull. No, as if my skull was the radio, and I was the antenna. I could hear the transmission clear as day now, a man’s voice inside my head.
Whispering to me.
Telling me where to find the rest of him.
I told you all of this, not because I expect you to believe me, but because I’m about to walk out my door and do something I might not come back from. And if that’s the case, if I don’t return today or any other day from this thing I need to do, I want people to know why.
Because I find things. I find things and fix them. If you don’t know that, you don’t know me.

I am a 35 year old introverted Trans pan demisexual woman truck driver who lives near Dallas, TX. I enjoy MTG, video games, reading, YouTube , movies, anime, animals, cooking, and have always wanted to go dancing despite having no idea how.If you're interested in getting to know each other better, feel free to message me.

Looking at this 07 that is bone stock with 108k miles.
I had a PPI done at the local Mazda dealer and they handed me a long list of fixes. The primary issues were a random misfire, blown right front engine Mount, leaking shocks (R front and L rear), a cracked hose, and a shifter bushing that had worked loose and made 1st difficult to find.
The car was purchased new by the current owner, excepting a short stint owned by his son he has owned it and driven it for it's entire life.
Primary concerns for me were the shifter, misfire and engine mount.
The owner managed to fix the shifter and the hose. He compression checked the motor while warm and cylinder 3 was 165, while the others were near 180. Replacing the plugs seems to have resolved the misfire. The timing chain and CVT system were repaired at 70k miles as I find out today.
Long story short, the owner wants 7k, which seems fair, but what I don't want is a maintenance pig or a series of expensive repairs in the next few years. I have a Miata for a project car, I just want a fun commuter. So what is going to break on me soon and how bad is cylinder 3?

I've been at my company working as a front-end web developer for about two years now (making $90k and working remotely,) and I've been considering getting a new job, as the level of dysfunction in my company is bothering me. However, I want a reality check to figure out if this is just a case of the grass being greener. Here's how things are going right now:
Management-wise:
They have a habit of hiring new college hires in bulk (that's how I was hired) while also not compensating their senior developers properly, leading to mid to senior level developers leaving for better jobs, hampering productivity as there are too many heads without enough guidance to execute things.
A while back, the company laid off several hundred people (I'm not sure how many were developers) who received poor performance reviews. I talked to one of my coworkers who was laid off, and she said that shortly before she was fired, her manager told her she had time to recover from this review. Behavior like this is why members of my team have an appropriate level of distrust toward the management, and we regard their announcements with jaded skepticism.
Tech-wise:
We have been trying to convert our product from AngularJS to Angular. There was actually an attempt to do this a few years back (before I joined the company) but the effort was scrapped, so we basically waited until the eleventh hour to get it done, and much of our product still runs on (unsupported) AngularJS (we run a hybrid app.)
Our architecture is in shambles. We have one lead developer that knows all of the quirks and bandaids of our product (in one case we check if a user is logged in by throwing an exception, lol,) and one who was able to get approval to create an entirely new copy of our application from the ground up using proper architectural practices. As of a week ago we now run a hybrid app of her new application as well as the old (hybrid) app.
Not related to code architecture, but we've also been instructed not to put markup in our CMS database while also being told that it's already been done too much to try and fix it now.
Our environments are constantly breaking. It feels like most weeks at least one person's environment breaks, and only slightly less often does everyone's environment break all at once. This is usually resolved within a day or two, but sometimes can take longer. This is because even when we run our front and back end locally, we still depend on several remote services.
Our product is spaced out across multiple (interdependent) repositories and teams (and by multiple repositories, I mean literally dozens if not hundreds of which there are probably a dozen that are currently in use); often one team will make a mistake that takes out the environment for several teams, but since we only have access to our own repositories, we can't even help to diagnose and fix other teams' issues when they're resolved.
We have one lead developer that seems to be the only one that knows how to fix these environment problems. Whenever someone else helps me resolve my environment, they almost never know why it works but simply say that our lead developer explained it to them.
Task managers/Scrum leads have no idea what's going on. Often I'll make a change that's as simple as adding a CSS class to an HTML attribute (literally a one line change) but because of poor communication between the team that wanted the styling changed, the task manager, and the developer working on the task, it can easily take 3+ weeks for this change to be merged, during which there may be meetings scheduled where the expected behaviostyling is discussed, or the change may be merged to the wrong branch or repository.
It's nearly impossible to debug anything because the JavaScript console on the frontend and output in the backend normally return a ton of errors and warnings; when errors pop up that actually affect the environment, they're buried in the noise. It's likely that many of these issues are coming from other teams.
Currently it is kind of comfortable to stay where I am because so little is expected from me (and I can spend much of the day working on personal projects instead) but this job is absolute garbage for my professional development. While I live comfortably, I do have homeownership as an eventual goal and there's no way it's going to happen off of my current income.

I’m a nerd. My idea of a good time is staying home, reading a book or playing a game, and enjoying the solitude. I am your stereotypical introvert who frankly wouldn’t leave my house if I didn’t have to. I have lived this way most of my life and have been mostly happy, with one tiny problem. I want someone to share my boring life with.
I have been in very few relationships and none of them really lasted, my lack of desire to go out or ambition to do anything with my life kills them pretty quickly. I gave up on finding someone a long time ago, and now I’m a happy 36 introvert who only leaves to work.
I play a very popular MMO, Final Fantasy 14. Since mid last year I’ve been playing it nearly everyday with someone I met on there. We make each other laugh, we enjoy each others company, we’ve grown very close but barely talked about our lives outside of the game, and when we do we avoided details and only whined about work and stuff. We discovered we were only two hours apart, and met up in person over the weekend.
And then I learned she was only 22. Sigh. No idea why I never asked her age, we got along so well that I just assumed she was close to mine. She often talked to me about things like ninja turtles and transformers, the stuff I grew up with. It was awkward then, but I figured we’d just hang out and talk about the game and stuff, didn’t want to be rude.
Within the hour it didn’t matter anymore, we were actually out walking around town just laughing and joking with each other, went to an arcade, played laser tag, played mini golf. And then she just says she really likes me and asks if I want to go out on a more formal date. Being the nerd that I am, I got tongue tied and stuttered and eventually told her I wouldn’t be comfortable with that since she’s so much younger than me, and that she’s amazing and can easily find someone better than me etc etc.
She was disappointed but she seemed to accept it and we went our separate ways. Ended up playing the game together again that night and the next day and then she told me to let her know if I change my mind and that she still really likes me.
Whyyyy does the first person I really get along with and who actually expresses interest in me have to be 14 years younger than me! Argh!!! Even if the age gap didn’t bother me, she’s 22! She doesn’t know what she wants yet, not really. I’ve already talked myself out of any potential relationship, but damn a part of me feels like this will be my only chance to not be alone. I am so aggravated!

Several weeks ago, I made a post here regarding my puppy being over-stimulated the entirety of our first puppy class, which looks like him looking rapidly around at his triggers (people, dogs), wagging his tail the entire time and panting heavily, to the point of trembling. Advice ranged from pulling him from the classes altogether or asking for modifications like a visual barrier which wasn’t available. The classes were in a very small room which really didn’t help. After speaking with the trainer, they suggested we move to advanced classes as my puppy was still responding well in his high arousal state and the location was a lot bigger. We gave this a try and while he definitely was still over-stimulated, he did do really well and I saw progress over the weeks. We had a class outdoors and he was by far one of the best behaved. I was proud.
Until last night.
For whatever reason, last night, he couldn’t handle it. He went back to the same intense arousal as the first class in the small room, but worse. He was trembling so bad. I was going to pull him out after 30min, but then we moved onto a “leave it” game which didn’t involve proximity to other dogs and he knocked it out of the park. I should have pulled him out then though, because the next activity involved a “meet and greet” where we walked towards another owner and dog, with dogs on opposite ends so they couldn’t actually meet. My puppy couldn’t handle this and to my dismay he started jumping at the owners and lunging at the dogs. Other owners criticized us and I walked out early in tears.
I had a very bad feeling about the repercussions, and I was right. Today has been horrible.
He is getting intense zoomies indoors as soon as the crate door opens which NEVER happens. He was finally starting to settle on his own and now he just wanders and pants non-stop again. We have a routine as we walk down the stairs in our apartment where he checks in with me on each flight, and I might as well have not have existed to him today. I knew before we even walked outside what I was in for…
He was extremely hyper alert and over aroused. We live above a shopping plaza so he has been exposed to people, dogs, heavy traffic, all the bells and whistles since day one. I have worked on properly exposing him to these things so he doesn’t get over aroused. But today, he was the worst behaved that he has ever been. The moment he saw a person or dog, no matter how far, he hyper fixated and either stopped dead in his tracks while ignoring my commands or pulled towards them. He pulled hard towards every single person who passed us which was extremely embarrassing. He had almost no unprompted engagement with me even though I have worked so hard on this every single day. Normally he looks at me every minute or so. He has NEVER been this bad. All it took was one stupid puppy class.
We obviously won’t be going to the final class next week, and he will be getting conditioned to a halti to hopefully stop him from pulling towards people. I was so proud of him because he didn’t need one…
I think a big reason why it’s so bad is because we don’t have a yard for him to run around in (I do take him on long line walks all the time, but haven’t much for the past week because of car issues). Another big reason is probably because I have no friends that live near me, so he doesn’t get to play with other dogs or learn how to greet new people properly. I’m not only an introvert, but kind of anti-social in general… it is extremely difficult for me to try to make new connections. That’s why I got a dog, to be my best friend. But I have tried countless times to connect with others for this dog so he can get the outlets he needs. None of these times have worked out. I have gone way above and beyond what 90% of dog owners do for this dog (not just meeting strangers for dog dates, but multiple rounds of puppy classes, private training, many books and hundreds of hours spent researching)…. and it’s still not enough.
I really like this dog. I am bonded to him. I know he is bonded to me.
But if we can’t even go for a walk in our neighbourhood without him being overstimulated the moment we walk out the door. Or find a quiet trail without off leash dogs running around. I just don’t know if this is sustainable for either of us.
This is the closest I have felt to wanting to throw in the towel. And now more than ever, it’s not even about me, but about this dog and what’s best for him. I don’t know how much longer I should hold out before I tell the rescue that he needs to go to a home with either a yard or another dog, or ideally both.
I am just so, so exhausted. And I feel so, so bad for my dog. I hate this.

Preface: no one but myself is making me feel like this
I cannot get over the feeling of being a burden. I absolutely abhor asking for rides everywhere, having to coordinate with other people to make plans to get around, to make sure I'm not alone for too long, to make sure I can get dropped off to friends houses like a fucking play date.
I'm 31 years old. I developed epilepsy at 30 and while I know that's not nearly as long as others have suffered from it I'm still in the anger stage of grief and I can't get past it.
I had to take a few weeks off of work (thankfully they were really great about it) after my last seizure for my own mental health and I've just spent most days either crying, trying not to scream, or trying not to puke from adjusting to my new meds that my neuro gave me since my Lamictal wasn't getting rid of them entirely.
I miss my autonomy. I miss being able to do things.

Hi, I finished my first year of college and am interested in working as a Child care Specialist for children with special needs and disabilities. This would be my first job. There is a Special needs daycare near my home, which I applied for, and now waiting to hear back if I get the job. I have an Autistic sister who attends this special needs daycare. I helped my sister when she had big tantrums and made messes at home. I'm a bit nervous about this job because I have only been around autism, but the kids that go to this daycare have other disabilities. I want to be prepared on how to communicate and what I should practice to be a better supervisor for the other kids. This special needs daycare is intense and stressful, which worries me greatly. I want to work better with children with disabilities. Any tips or advice would be greatly appreciated.

Hi! I’m looking for people to mostly play genshin with! I’m AR 34 with my highest character being 60 rn, so it’d be nice to play with people who are more near my level. I’m also interested in getting back into VR chat and I’d love to become friends with someone and play together!
Some other games I play occasionally:
BO2 on Plutonium Minecraft (rarely) Sims 3 and 4 ( a lot lol)
I’ve wanted to try other games like phasmophobia or back rooms but I didn’t want to commit to buying them if no one would play with me, so if we become friends and you like those games then I might buy them to play! I have a pretty decent laptop so I could handle most games if there are any suggestions. PST time zone would be appreciated but I’m okay with going up to EST unless you’re up during normal PST hours. I also tend to stay up late recently, especially with having summer off from college. Dm before discord please!

We see this asked from time to time on this sub. It's an unfortunate fact that Orthodox churches aren't as easily available as other Christian churches in America (in some countries not available at all). Inquirers in this situation often ask if they should be Catholic (usually) instead. When we think of the many Orthodox who were/are martyred for their faith, any other sacrifice seems trivial.
Is it fair to expect someone to, for example, move to a place with an Orthodox church or travel a great distance to attend? Is it enough to watch livestreams and do reader's services? If someone is willing to become Catholic instead, does this mean they don't believe Orthodoxy is the true church of Christ? What are your own experiences?

Ok. So I need to know if I'm the crazy one here. My daughter (5) is going on her first ever trip Wednesday and this is what was sent home:
Kindergarten classes will be going on a field trip to (redacted) farm. Please make sure your child dresses appropriately for the weather and layers are always a good idea. Please also make sure that your child wears appropriate footwear to walk around outside at the farm. We have been informed that there will be lots of water and mud and most likely, the kids will end up dirty. Mud boots or at least winter boots would be best, and clothing that can get dirty. Closed-toe footwear is a must! Inappropriate footwear will result in students not being allowed to attend the field trip.
I read it, tried to look up the farm to talk about it with my kid and get an idea of where it was (because they walked to the fire station and she has cerebral palsy so she needs support sometimes) and it doesn't come up on Google so I sent the teacher a message:
Hi; I please had a few questions about the field trip. Do you have an address for the farm? What does the farm produce? Will they be riding on a bus there? Are there chaperones? Thank you.
I specifically asked these questions because my daughter is disabled; with mild cerebral palsy and sometimes needs a para and also because.. none of that info is in the slip!!!!
She messaged me back, answered all the questions normally except for this doozy: I don’t think he’d want me to share his address
😳 EXCUSE ME?!
I feel it's crazy town to NOT tell me where you're taking my kid. Am I the one wrong here?
I didn’t message back because I didn’t feel anything I’d say could possibly get thru or make sense and instead stopped in before class today.
I knocked, tried some levity and explained I wasn’t putting them on a mailing list for Tupperware… I just would like to know where my kid will be…
She said do this field trip every year, it runs smooth and there’s tons of help … and said as a teacher she feels she has a duty to protect people’s info and she just was not comfortable sharing the address but if I need it I can get it from the office.
What?! I’m just so confused and honestly angry but my kid is so excited for this.
So; WIBTA if I go to the office tomo, get the address from the principal and tell him she refused to give it to me?

I’m hosting the first official post meet up after party and wanted to invite some talented growers to come hang out. We have a cannabis consumption bus outside of the bar and got some of the local brands to sponsor. It’s invite only but free tickets! Msg me if you’re interested in coming by.

Hello everyone!
We just adopted a 10 month old mixed breed dog (Australian Shepard, Jindo, and other breeds) and as the title says, she is absolutely terrified. When we took her out of the car and I was holding her to carry her inside, she peed and pooed. We brought her in and laid her on our old dog's bed until our dog crate arrived.
It has been less than 24 hrs, I know it takes time, but please read on I have been trying to leave her alone, not making eye contact and just throwing treats near her. She doesn't take them right away, but eventually she eats them. I have put a bowl of her food with her and a water dish nearby and she hasn't touched either. I have to physically take her out to go potty and she just freezes and pees and poops right where she is standing, then tries to run.
I don't want to stress her out by doing this anymore. She is obviously terrified and hyperventilates for a bit and grinds her teeth. The crate came, so now if she does have an accident, it will be much easier to clean.
A vet told us in the past to get a dog to hydrate, give them plain chicken broth. We were thinking about doing that and adding it to some of her food for it to be more enticing. Right now she is in the crate (door open) with a cover over it. I don't plan on bothering her as I know it takes time for them to acclimate to their new environment, so I don't expect her to cuddle with me by tonight, just for clarification.
Does anyone have any advice on getting her to go potty, eat, and drink without me stressing her out more than she already is? Thank you for any help!

Basically it was a compilation that i used to play on windows 95/98 it contained popeye 2 dos game, huckleberry hound in hollywood capers, and

1. the game im looking for (it was part of the same compilation disc) was basically 2 puppets or dogs one grey and orange in colour, you start out in the kitcken and you can go to different rooms of the house it was a platformer adventure type game, it was 2D
2. another game i am trying to remember (part of the same compilation disc) i just remember the image from the main menu you click on it was a picture of a bus. I am more interested in the first game so its alright if its too vauge to remember.
3. Even the name of this disc would be great as I am keen to play this. the amount of games in this compilation was about 5-6 and the way the menu worked was you load the game on your windows 95/98 and click on the picture that represents the dos game, there is no text if i recall recorrectly. I wish i could find the disc its probably lost somewhere.

if more information is requried let me know but i was very young at that time its hard to remember.

I recently got attacked on a thread for saying I have 6 tubes of mascara - I don’t feel like I need to explain why I have more than one (and you don’t owe people an explanation, either!).
Over the last month, I got a little more daring by buying palettes on clearance - easier to afford a palette missing one or two colors for whatever reason, and I was recently told you can spray alcohol on a previously used eye shadow and not expect to have any sort of problems.
Well - today, I woke up with a stye. I don’t know if I bought something that was previously used or expired, or if it has anything to do with nearly stabbing out my eyeball with a sharp eyeliner applicator.
So yes - playing “fast and loose” (buying clearance eye make up) definitely has its consequences. I don’t have health insurance and if I have a staph infection, the end is near for me. A word to the wise….. use better make up habits, wash your brushes, and be careful.

Building a new home. Did the walkthrough with the electrician and asked about putting cameras outside. He followed up and said $4k. Didn’t tell me how many or what kind and wouldn’t get back to me. So I just asked the builder’s realtor (who had been brokering all communication) to have him run 4 CAT 6 cables, 3 under eaves and one near front door.
I just got a reply about it today and at the bottom it said “Camera (wiring only) $3,000”. I feel like this is an absurd cost but want to run it by my friends on here before I say anything dumb. Anyone know what this should cost? I’m guessing max 500ft of cable needed.
Thank you!

(Shoutouts to u/TheSlyKoopa for the match concept!)
Scenario: Isla de Piedra, Somewhere in the Mediterranean Sea — 11:44AM
Dédalo Viatger, adventurer, archaeologist and explorer extraordinaire, had filled his travelog with countless exploits on his never-ending quest to uncover the secrets of the ancient world. Following the trail of the lost civilization of Pieduro was proving to be his lengthiest entry yet. Armed with powerful Pieduron artifacts known as the Temples, Dédalo and the Pieduron entity ｢Perdida｣ had forged a path across the Mediterranean, getting ever closer to solving the mystery of their disappearance.
With assistance from Cullinan Dwarf Star, Patron of the House of Muses, Dédalo and Perdida were on the verge of discovering the final piece of the puzzle. Their journey had come full circle, and Dédalo and Perdida’s adventure would end where it began; on the island of Isla de Piedra.
Situated between the coasts of Southern Spain and North Africa, Isla de Piedra had been uninhabited for all of recorded history, though not for lack of trying. The dense forests and greenery that covered every square meter of the island made it a ripe target for logging companies and greedy colonists to strip it for all it was worth. None had succeeded—their abandoned camps had long since been reclaimed by the forest.
The only other sign of human life on the island was the ancient Pieduron outpost where Dédalo’s journey first began, and where it would now hopefully end. The trek to get there was as difficult as the first time—but he didn’t have to do it alone now. At his side were his ever faithful companion Perdida, the inquisitive swordswoman Ninian, the extraordinary android 2095, and the illustrious ice skater Electra (although he didn’t call them that out loud).
Dédalo led the party up a long, winding stone staircase, pointing out the many partially-disabled traps along the way. He and Ninian had long been in contact, and the latter could personally vouch for her +1s—2095 one of the few Bastards she could trust and Electra having earned her trust in for her actions against Enyalius & Enyo Pharmaceuticals in San Battista.
“...and here’s a wall of spikes that shoot out when you pass over that threshold,” he pointed out with a tour guide’s enthusiasm. “I managed to jam up the mechanism with some cloth, but we should probably tread carefully around here.”
Electra rolled her eyes, even though Dédalo couldn’t see the gesture. “Should have just blown it up,” she muttered, annoyed. While her experiences in San Battista had somewhat melted her frosty demeanor, it had still been a long, hot, exhausting trip to get here, and old habits died hard.
“Watch your tone, miss,” Perdida said from behind her ear, making her jump. “My people’s architecture is not something to “blow up”.”
“And it might not have worked,” 2095 chimed in. “If this outpost could survive all those centuries of wear, I doubt a mundane explosion would do much damage to it.”
“The Piedurons built everything to last, from their treasures to their traps.” Dédalo gingerly ducked under the blade of a massive pendulum axe that jutted out from the ceiling. “Fortunate in some ways, unfortunate in others.”
At last, they reached the center chamber. Carved from stone and coated with moss, it appeared just as untouched as the rest of the outpost—save for the podium in the middle of the chamber and the conspicuously empty space on top of it, where the moss grew a little bit thinner.
“Ah, this brings back memories,” Dédalo chuckled. “This is where Perdida and I first met. The El Cor Terra necklace lay in this very spot at the heart of the chamber. When I unfastened it, poof! There she appeared in all of her resplendent glory. We hit it off right away.”
“He tried to cut my head off with a machete.”
“In self-defense!”
“Ok, move it along, lovebirds,” Electra huffed. “Where’s the thing we were looking for? It’s somewhere in here, right?”
Brushing past the “lovebirds” comment, Dédalo retrieved a piece of parchment from his explorer’s pack marked with the symbol of the House of Muses. “According to Cullinan, the hidden door should be right over on that wall.” He pointed over 2095’s shoulder at the northern wall of the chamber. “The question is…how do we open it?”
2095 gave the room a once-over. Aside from the layer of moss and vegetation covering the chamber, it was pretty bare. Its only noticeable feature seemed to be the podium.
“Perhaps the podium could offer some answers.” The party gathered around the stone podium—a stone cylinder, atop which stood a carving which vaguely resembled the neck and collarbone area of a human, with a thin groove running where a necklace would hang. Perdida instantly recognized the Cleria stone inlays around the circumference of the podium.
She traced a finger along the length of the groove, and the Cleria stone beneath it glowed—and, at a volume only audible to 2095’s mechanical hearing, it began to hum.
“Keep going, Perdida,” she whispered. Perdida closed her eyes, feeling herself attune to the place where she lay dormant for thousands of years. The Cleria stone grew brighter and brighter, the hum getting louder and louder.
Suddenly, the room shook. Electra leaped back, expecting another trap. Instead, she watched as the north wall slid open like the doors of an elevator, revealing two hallways; one leading up, the other leading down, both with Cleria stone markings along the walls that pulsed with a gentle light.
“Thank goodness,” Dédalo sighed. “I was worried the real treasure was going to be the friends we made along the way.”
Dédalo and Perdida continued to trek up the hallway, climbing what was likely the control tower of the outpost. Ninian dutifully followed behind them, ready to draw her blade at whatever might strike from the newly unknown section of the outpost. The sound of exhaled breath made her jump...but it was only a sigh from Dédalo. “A shame you came aboard so late, Ninian; our journey’s almost up.”
Ninian’s confusion spiked to alarm as the explorer motioned to lean against the wall. “Watch out-”
Dédalo made contact and nothing happened. He tilted his head to the end of the corridor, a doorway just a few meters away. “We’re far enough in that we’ve most likely avoided the worst of the traps. Besides, I don’t think the Piedurons would have placed many traps so close to a place of importance.” He wistfully rubbed his arm, massaging the strain of adventures and injuries in equal measure. “Feels almost bittersweet. So many months of travel and turmoil, and the end of our journey is in sight.”
“Hey, don’t say that yet. We still need to find a way to get my human body back.” Pedida gently punched him in his shoulder. Still, her pout eventually softened as she looked back towards the final chamber. “I guess you are correct, though. The answer to the Pieduron collapse lies beyond those doors. What comes after…nobody knows”
“Quite right,” Dédalo nodded, and the group moved onwards. “I hope that Electra and 2095 are doing okay down there, in any case.”
“I hope that the rest of the outpost is okay,” Perdida frowned. “They didn’t seem to appreciate how precious this place is—I don’t want to lose another one.”
“I don’t think we have to worry too much about losing them,” A grin of cat-like mischief unfurled on Ninian’s face as hoarse laughter echoed on a draft. There were adventures to come and to be seen, but one to reach its conclusion here and now, and the anticipation made Ninian’s hair stand on end.
The group carefully entered the room, and Perdida flickered out of existence. Before any of them could respond, the control room flickered to life. The stone walls that extended higher and higher suddenly turned “on” as if they were screens, but these were more akin to slabs whose light-emitting runes and rocks flickered and changed in the appearance of Perdida—Perdidas, in fact. All of them, on the many screens, acted in unison as Dédalo rushed forward. “Dédalo, what’s going on?”
“We’re figuring it out,” he shouted as he and Ninian raced to the panels below, trying to decipher the text streaming by. Soon, however, one message displayed on a readout screen:

MYSTICALLY AUTOMATED KNOWLEDGE SYSTEM 0 DETECTED
RESUMING RING FUNCTIONALITY

Meanwhile, having taken the outpost’s lower path, 2095 and Electra entered into a large atrium. Like the rest of the outpost, the walls and floor were composed of the usual, teal stone that seemed impossibly durable. The fact that they could use it to form buildings, carve intricate murals, and keep it all hidden was impressive, but they craned their heads upwards towards the skylight that would let rain and sun in. Through the overgrown foliage, they could see a massive flat ring of Cleria floating above the ground in stubborn defiance of the laws of physics. Gravity-defying gyroscopes of stone spun and swirled in the air above, rotating with the same slow grace as the ancient gears that whirred to life around them. The glow of the Cleria blended together with the light of the noonday sun; the hum of power permeated the entire chamber.
“...shit,” Electra murmured, not sure what else to say.
2095 scanned the rest of the atrium, but ultimately found nothing beyond a discolored, glowing pad on the floor by the opposite wall, outcroppings on the walls that resembled benches, and the remnants of what appeared to be ancient drinking fountains. Rest now before it’s too late, the room seemed to scream.
“I believe we should wait for the others before we go deeper,” 2095 announced. “We could retrace our steps and explore the previous areas, in case we missed another hidden passageway or an undiscovered treasure. It would be a shame to proceed not knowing whether we’ve left every stone unturned-”
“Not a chance,” Electra huffed. “I’m not letting us get killed because of your FOMO. Come on.”
She grabbed 2095 by the wrist and began to drag her over to the pads. 2095 let her—partly because she weighed significantly more than Electra did and she didn’t want her to hurt herself trying to pull her by force, but partly because she was right. She could feel the air buzzing with energy, intensifying by the second. Something big was about to happen.
The two stepped onto the floor pad and immediately felt themselves being shunted into a different space as the teleporter activated. When their vision cleared, they found themselves standing on top of the Cleria ring itself. Electra could smell the ozone in the air and taste the prickling on her tongue. This ring was the key to the whole mechanism—either it was powering the outpost…or the outpost was powering it.
2095 gazed in awe at the machinery surrounding them. It reminded her of the technology from her time; except instead of steel and chrome, it was made of rock and crystal. What secrets died with the Piedurons when they disappeared?
She turned to Electra to express her wonder and nearly screamed when she saw the vantablack vines burst out of her shadowed face, ready to smash the ring to pieces.
“What are you doing?!” 2095 yelled, ｢Yours Truly｣ appearing at her side, tentacles raised.
“I’m destroying this thing, duh,” spat Electra. “I know a superweapon when I see one, and I’m not about to let some dipshit corporation get their hands on it after we leave.”
The chamber shook, bits of rocks and dust falling from the ceiling. “B-but we don’t even know whether this is a superweapon! Aren’t you acting a bit rash?”
“Rash? Seriously? You have no idea what some people in Dead Drop Bay would do for an artifact like this.” Electra remembered what she saw in San Battista—the monster that she had to put down, fuelled by a desire to abuse the remnants of the past for her own gain. “Farewell to Kings, Dead Man’s Hand; hell, even my own company. They’d sink this island to the bottom of the ocean for the chance to have this thing for themselves. This way, I’m solving the problem before it has a chance to start.”
“And risk destroying the legacy of an entire civilization?!” 2095 felt anger boiling in her metallic chest. A part of her resonated with the Piedurons in this moment—she knew what it was like to be a relic of an era far from the present, the last remaining piece of a time nobody would ever know. “What gives you the right to decide what to do with an artifact of this magnitude? To bury what could be the last hope of Pieduro to be remembered as anything but a footnote in history?”
The chamber shook again—this time, both 2095 and Electra felt the ground shift under their feet. Without warning, walls of stone burst out of the ground around them, tearing through centuries-old roots and vines to surround the ring on all sides. Slabs of Cleria stone with deep divots carved into the top of them emerged from the ring itself and floated just above its surface like a magnet levitating atop another.
In the control tower below them, Dédalo and Ninian scrambled from panel to panel, desperately trying to decipher what was going on. Dédalo could see the two other members of the party facing off inside the ring—but before he could call out to them, he heard Perdida’s voice resonate from every screen.
“The Temples…I can see them.”
Ninian watched the panel in front of her light up, displaying a holographic map of the Mediterranean, hundreds of glowing blue dots scattered across the projection.
Dédalo rushed to the nearest screen and grabbed it. “Perdida! Are you alright?!”
“Y-yes, I’m fine.” Perdida blinked hard, putting a hand to the side of her head. “I can feel every Temple in the Mediterranean. I…I think I can gain access to them from here.”
“Access? Like…you can turn them on?” Ninian asked.
“Yes. All of them.” Before Perdida could say any more, the chamber shook once more. In the room below, the ring glowed even more brightly, the two would-be explorers now utterly trapped within it by the sloped walls surrounding it.
“See what I mean?!” Electra clenched her fists, snapping flytrap jaws emerging from the shadow underneath her. “We need to put this entire place in the ground. For good. And like hell am I going to let you stop me!”
Suddenly, all across the surface of the ring, crackling orbs of energy sparked to life, both 2095 and Electra just managing to avoid them. The orbs spun in a circle around the ring, accelerating rapidly until they were nothing but a blur. 2095 recognized the movements of the orbs immediately; it looked like a particle accelerator.
“I hoped we could resolve this peacefully, Electra.” 2095 flicked the silver locks out of her face. “But now I have to convince you in the only language you seem to understand—the language of violence. Don’t hold back.”
The age-old machinery around them hummed to a crescendo. If either of the two combatants wanted to see their convictions through, they would need to survive the full power of Pieduro first.
OPEN THE GAME!
Location: On Isla de Piedra, (Shoutouts to u/TheSlyKoopa for the match art) inside the Floating Ring. The arena shown here has Electra on the north side and 2095 on the south side represented by their character tokens. The players are in the area inside the ring and have no way to exit with sloping walls on all sides.
The ring has a diameter of 60 meters and the internal width is 15 meters; the entire structure is A Durability.
The brown rectangles inside the ring are Pieduron Temples that resemble short, knee-tall minecarts made out of stone slabs.
Goal: RETIRE your opponent!
Additional Information: Over the course of 10 minutes, the ring will spawn 6-inch diameter orbs of light that will accelerate and move in an orbit around the ring at A Speed. Each orb takes 4 seconds to spawn-in, glowing in place and translucent, before it becomes a solid orb.
Trajectory of the orbs move completely along the curvature of the ring, counterclockwise (denoted by the arrows on the map) and can be spawned anywhere inside the ring. When they hit something solid, they will detonate at C Power—powerful enough to destroy ink left by ｢Venus Fly Trap｣ and tentacles from ｢Yours Truly｣—and cause another orb to spawn where the original one started. The orbs have a blast radius of half a meter and other orbs exploding around them will not trigger them to detonate.
Orbs will complete one revolution around the ring anywhere from 3 seconds (inside track) to 6 seconds (along the rim).
Assuming you are standing still, the rough number of orbs that pass by will be 5 orbs per second at the first minute mark, 10 orbs per second at the second minute mark, and so on until the maximum of 50 orbs per second at the ten minute mark.
Starting near each player and around the map are Pieduron temples that resemble minecarts. Each kart can comfortably fit one person, have a handle on either side, and a single rudder-like steering peripheral. The wheels of the kart will always stick to the ring, but they can drive just fine along the walls or even the ceiling of the ring. Karts move at up to B Speed and players intuitively have a 4 in driving them. At max speed, karts can complete one revolution in 4 to 8 seconds (4 seconds on the inside track and 8 seconds on the rim).
All karts have three other special features that can be activated when a driver is steering it, the Turtle, the Spider, and the Crab:

• The Turtle is a forcefield-like shield that can cover the kart and anybody riding inside it. This forcefield only protects against the fast moving orbs and their explosions and is intangible to everything else. It lasts up to 2 seconds and has a 6 second cooldown before it can be activated again. It can also be set to automatically activate if the minecart is about to hit or be affected by an orb, otherwise it can be manually activated by the driver.
  
• The Spider is a net-like shield that functions somewhat similarly to the forcefield the Turtle. The main difference is that instead of blocking orbs, it catches them and converts them into an inert palm-sized orb that is stowed inside the minecart. This shield does also block explosions produced by orbs, but will not produce an inert orb in those cases. The Spider lasts up to 1 second and shares a cooldown with the Turtle. Inert orbs are orbs that can be converted back into fast moving orbs by being thrown with force and intent. They can be made to move exactly in a straight line or along the curvature of the ring when thrown. Inert orbs have no other special properties, other than being A Durability.
  
• The Crab is a fast sideways dash up to 8 meters, with a minimum distance of 1 meter. Once the dash is finished, the kart will resume moving in the direction and speed it had before initiating the dash, making it useful for dodging without turning or changing the direction the kart is going in. This feature has a stamina bar where the longer your dash distance is, the more stamina will be used up. It takes 4 seconds for the stamina bar to fill up from empty.
  

The cooldowns and stamina bars are tied to the person, not the karts themselves.

Team	Combatant	JoJolity
Anvil Procession	Electra Heart	"I need to master this Spin..." Have a good plan for how to avoid and deal with the orbs spinning around you!
Bastards of Barcas	10538-2095	"The secret to the Steel Ball is the search for infinity..." Have a good plan for how to avoid and deal with the orbs spinning around you!

Link to Official Player Spreadsheet
Link to Match Schedule
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