So this was in November 2023 and due to my wack ass immune system, I (15M) had gotten myself extremely sick to the point where I was vomiting almost every time I'd eat. And my body has a way of cascading things like this, so I it was no surprise when I started sickling.
I'm laying in bed, nauseous and in pain, just praying for the oxy to kick in so I can fall asleep and not deal with this hell anymore when this sharp pain starts stabbing me in my chest and I feel like I'm literally DYING. This pain I was feeling in that moment was worse than any sickle cell crisis I've ever had and I just assumed the jig was up and organ failure was imminent.
I couldn't get up from where I was laying (my mom's bed) because of the severe pain so I'm just crying so loudly and my mom wakes up annoyed and tells me to lay on my back and go back to bed but as i shift over a wave of nausea crashes over me and i begin vomiting all over my mom and her bed (woops).
Fully awake and freaking out by this point my mom picks up her phone and dials 911 for an ambulance to get me and I'm just crying like a little baby now in a pile of my own bile (too scared to eat anything because I didn't wanna barf) praying for the ambulance to get here. And after what only felt like 5 minutes, my mom runs to the front door to open it for the paramedics who lay me onto the stretcher and give me this drug I'm in too much pain to notice.
And then it calms me down. A lot. So much so that it feels like whenever I breathe, I'm breathing out all the air in my lungs and taking my first breath again like I've just been born. I vaguely feel the pain in my chest but my mind is so empty I cant even bother to think about it. I take a few deep blinks and then wake up in the ER with my mom sleeping in the chair beside my bed.
After this, it becomes a cycle of them giving me medicine, the pain subsides somewhat, and then the medicine wears off and my chest feels like it's getting knifed by a million UK roadmen. They start me off with morphine, and that doesn't do the job like it usually does, so then they give me Dilaudid AND morphine, and still yet I feel like the end is near. So they decide to pull out the big guns that worked on me when I was in the ambulance. Fentanyl.
Initially I was very skeptic and lowkey refusing treatment because of the stigma around it and the doctors reassured me over and over that it was safe and I had been given it before and blah blah blah even though these were the same doctors that would ask me how long I've had sickle cell for. But I was in so much pain that I just gave up and gave in and gave them the a-ok because their nagging was just too much.
They set me up with this little green button thing attached to my IV, that would allow me to press it whenever I felt severe and constant pain but would not allow me to exceed the "maximum dosage" they had put in place for my body. And to be completely honest this little button scared me at first. The entirety of my night nurses shift I didn't press the button once and just writhed there in the cold hospital bed because I'd rather die than willingly administer my own fentanyl.
But I wouldn't even be typing this story if I simply just hadn't pressed the button for the entire duration of my stay. It was now day 3 in the hospital and I hadn't got a single wink of sleep in the past 32 hours so I decided to press the button. It didn't hit me like it had in the ambulance, but when i tell you i relaxed, i RELAXED. I was finally able to shut my eyes and go to bed and stop myself from shaking my leg (self soothing thing I do when in pain). I woke back up to my nurse doing my 8 hour check up and for some reason, she was still bringing me morphine and Dilaudid despite me having the fentanyl push button thingy, but I was so out of it I just took the medicine so I could go back to sleep. It became I cycle of me pushing the button, falling asleep, being woken up to take additional opiates i did NOT need, then going back to bed, until early on day 5 in the hospital, my friends from school came to visit me. So obviously I try to be a good host and not to fall asleep despite me having pushed my button already for more fent (clearly addicted but oblivious because of this phantom pain my body is forcing me to experience) and coincidentally as my friends are still here, my nurse comes in for the 8 hour check up and gives me the Dilaudid and morphine again. I take the medicine and I look down at my green button because I'm not sure i've been awake this long in days and I see its glowing again so I press it.
bad idea.
I'm talking to my friends but something seems off, their voices seem so far away and there is black dots clouding my vision, I of course am so out of it that I somehow don't see any issue with these two things until I realized I hadn't said a word in like 2 minutes. Matter of fact, I hadn't even spoken for 2 minutes. My eyes go wide because I can feel my vision fading, but for some odd reason it was all black except a tiny pinhole in the center of my vision. I hear this faraway annoying beeping that I realize is the pulse-ox thing going kookoo bananas because I haven't breathed in so long and I see shapes moving around and my friends running to the hallway to get me help and all I can focus on is "If I'm not breathing, why doesn't it hurt?"
The nurses rush in and can clearly tell I'm overdosing so they put an oxygen mask over my head and say "Can somebody give him some Narcan?" and I'm laying here spectating what's going on to my own body from inside of my head wondering "I wonder what narcan is"
WELL I SURE KNOW NOW
The nurses push the Narcan in through my oxygen mask and I can suddenly hear everything perfectly. I say "woah" and then my entire body gets a flash of heat all over so I jolt up and say "WOAH" again and I look to the left to see like 6 nurses with 3 of them doing something with my arm that I obviously just messed up. But then the heat is gone, replaced by this freezing cold feeling all over and INSIDE my body. I can feel every one of my organs touching each other and they all feel cold and I just feel nauseous. By this point i was just in agony. It wasn't like any pain I've ever felt before I felt like not only was I gonna die, but it was gonna be painful and I'd feel each individual organ dying from inside my body because of how hypersensitive I was to everything around me. I could feel the scratchy hospital blanket and the way the grip of the hospital sock felt against the bed and it was all just too much for me and my head cocked straight up and i began vomiting so much liquid it was scary to watch. Feeling each chunk of food run down my throat was a sensory nightmare and it caused me to KEEP VOMITING and every time I'd move one of my limbs, it would completely jerk itself all the way to a full extended position which would shake my body and all my senses would be on fire and I'd cock my head back and continue vomiting. This was a pediatric hospital so the nurses had never dealt with anything this severe before so they were all just freaking out because I was actually tweaking so hard and I had knocked over everything they had put on my bed to help me. In addition to all this mess, I'd torn out my IV and started bleeding all over the sheets and the smell of barf mixed with blood was just such a strong smell I had continued barfing onto myself. My entire being felt cold inside and out so I was trying profusely to wrap myself in a cocoon but the nurses were so fixated on my blanket being covered in vomit and me like "contaminating myself" but I did not give a single fuck bro I was in so much pain and was so cold the only thought on my mind was the fetal position, and a cocoon. two nurses jammed those tubes that they have at the dentists office to suck your saliva down my throat so I didn't continue choking on my vomit, while the other 4 removed the fitted sheet from the bed trying their best not to interfere with my tweakage.
After they removed the sheet I had laid down and then I felt my organs shift in my body so I began vomiting again because anytime I sensed a new sensation, the big kahuna of nausea would hit me. I threw up onto the plasticky cover that goes over the mattress of the hospital bed but at this point there was only like so much left to throw up so a nurse wiped it away with an alcohol wipe. And the SMELL of that wipe gave me such sensory overload that I began crying to the point of basically screaming. As I shut my eyes really hard praying I'd fall asleep and escape the pain and coldness of my insides.
And the weird thing about all this is, I was there the whole time, y'know? Like I felt perfectly conscious throughout the entire process of being Narc'ed. I had no control over my body and anything I did, it just felt instinctual and had no thought behind it, but I was still actively thinking throughout all of it. I felt shame, embarresement, surprise, all like I was watching a movie. Except it was one of those 4D movie theaters where you can feel whatever is happening on screen, but not control it.
Eventually sleep overcame me and I woke up in the ICU with like 40 million wires attached to me a heating pack over my belly, and these bags around my legs that would inflate and deflate over and over. And all I could think in my head, was thank GOD it was over.
I had ended up getting myself a bone eating staph infection because some of my vomit got into the IV hole I'd torn out (I see why there were trying to take the blanket off) and ended up having to stay in the hospital for 10 more days so they could give me heavy antibiotics,, and had to do an additional 5 days at home self administering the medicine through a PIC line that went all the way from my wrist into my heart (it was so gross because they kept me awake while they removed it and it felt so weird).
A few weeks later the hospital called us back and apologized but they were using so much avoidant language and deflecting blame off of themselves so hard that it was pathetic to watch. Like you gave a 15 year old kid fentanyl through a SELF REGULATED SYSTEM and didn't expect the worst? Especially since I was being given Dilaudid and morphine on top of the fent? Get out my face with that smh.

Want to get into printing stickers. I have matte sticker sheets and transparent sheets for overtop, but using the printer I have they look like crap!   What type of printer is best for quality color prints? Maybe a supertank printer? Inkjet?   Recommended brands and models anyone?

Hi everyone! What are your favorite apps for keeping track of your collection? I’ve been using Lacquergram and it’s fine but seems kinda limited. I haven’t been able to edit certain fields, including color tags, which is frustrating. I’m sure that using excel or google sheets would be good but I’m hoping to do everything from my phone rather than involving my computer. Any input? Thank you!

Conner sat listening to music while the history class droned on endlessly. What is the point of learning history? War never changes, right? It seemed tedious. What does history have to do with how powerful and cool a mech is, or how sweet it is to be a mech knight?
"When the darkness came from outside, only the humans knew what was happening. It was war, war from outside the peaceful galaxy. War that had started when the Milky Way first showed the twinkling signs of life. One insane intelligence, old as time, would not tolerate another living galaxy. Each must be consumed by its own weight, and only death may prevail.
Humans instinctively knew this, as the chosen ones, the T-Cells of the galaxy. When their alien friends started getting ravaged and marauded by the scouts of the Dark Beings, humans responded, retaliating with unbridled ferocity and driving the otherwise unstoppable enemies back into the darkness.
It was a frightening time, and it only got worse when the massive cloud of shade was identified as the locust fleet that had sailed for billions of years, the Silent Empty Eternal Darkness Sailors, as they called themselves. They were nothing but dormant hives, sleeping forever, ready to wake and kill and self-destruct, make the galaxy dead. They could have done so, but humans stood in their way, an unpredictable enemy, capable of war.
That is why human worlds were directly targeted by their commandos. Massive singular monsters of ungodly visage were deployed to human worlds, spawning armies of miniature satraps of the horrors, to pillage and assault human worlds, turning them into hellscapes of death and destruction. The alien friends of the humans did not sit entirely idle, they helped by selling powerful new weapons and armor to the humans who kept retaliating against the Dark Beings with ever more powerful and vengeful mech."
Conner perked up at the part about the mech. Various famous chassis flashed across the screen in cool paint and poses with alien worlds in their backdrop and accounting for their neatly colored camouflage plates. He paid attention to the famous battles, where humans had defeated the Dark Beings in honorable combat.
"Conner, do you know what made your clan's father and mother such great mech knights?" his teacher asked.
"They learned from their mistakes." Conner sighed.
"They learned from other people's mistakes. They studied all of our defeats, all the times the Dark Beings annihilated entire battalions or overwhelmed our defenses. It is a much heavier volume. We learn little from victory except that now the enemy will try to better themselves again. When they win, they use the same tactics again - that's when we win. We don't use the same tactics again, for they will be ready when we try. We conceptualize and learn their thoughts, through their actions. They do not understand us. It is our only advantage, for each progression of our tech is met by another evolution of their monsters. Someday we will not be able to make a stronger bullet to match their stronger armor. We must anticipate a limit to this war, and fight accordingly."
"I can only anticipate getting into a mech and fighting bugs!" Conner had said. His teacher had given him that look. Nobody else got that look. Conner got it everywhere. He thought back to those days, he'd really thought he'd see action, in a mech, fighting bugs.
The rest of his class went on to become mech knights. All of them had seen action. Of course, none of them were left alive, and few of their mech were salvaged. Except, Pharlie.
Her mech was the third in a row of ones hit by a single plasma beam of the enemy. While the first two were instantly blown to atomic dust, her mech was only knocked over and set on fire. The ejection seat in the cockpit had the one and a half seconds needed to egress the mech knight safely.
She'd spent some time in relieved-of-duty status on Maranda Beach before she insisted they give her something to do. They quickly evaluated her and decided she wasn't fit for duty in a mech. Something about 'shutting down the Berserker Program' and 'protocols preventing reinstating anyone who qualifies to pilot a Berserker Mech'. Not happening under Admiral Khaspa.
"How's getting into a mech and fighting bugs, Conner? Still anticipating it?" Pharlie asked her old classmate.
"You are under my command. Watch your tone, I run a cruel shift." Conner grumbled.
"Aye, Skipper." Pharlie cringed, realizing the bureaucrat Conner had no sense of humor anymore. She decided to make it her personal mission to work on that. Conner with no humor didn't sound fun.
That scene in the classroom was a long time ago, but it was with Conner like it just happened. He hated Pharlie, because she stood for his humiliation, and wanted to humiliate her, but then he hated himself for feeling that way. He resolved to leave her be because he didn't want to feed his own calloused resentments.
"We've got work to do. We are reassigned to military surplus salvage. This job just keeps getting better. I used to think I would somehow be tested on a battlefield to save the galaxy, but out here I just get tested by boredom. I don't even feel the shame of these janitorial jobs anymore, I'm numb to it." Conner said to Pharlie, the next time they spoke. Pharlie realized he was trying to be nice to her and asked him:
"You'd rather be dead, or be me?" She wondered.
"Yeah. You don't know what it is like flying around delivering stuff and counting crap. I hate it. I could've made an actual difference." Conner complained personally.
Pharlie smiled and said: "You'd have made no more difference than the rest of us did. You don't know what a victory against the bugs costs, do you? You think you just have to stand there bravely shooting back and if you die, oh well, otherwise it's all glory. It's never like that. It hurts, it hurts a lot, because you don't die. Everyone else does. And for what? We just play the same game again next weekend, and it never changes."
"That's war." Conner nodded. "What am I doing? I bring supplies to remote outposts. It's pointless."
"Not anymore, they reassigned us to go pick up supplies, remember?" Pharlie pointed out.
"Oh yeah - don't remind me, just when I though my life couldn't be more tedious or pointless." Conner fell silent, realizing he sounded weak and small, complaining so much. He wished he was stoic, but he had a chance to confide in Pharlie, and he had taken it. Pharlie said:
"You're right. But let's make the most of it." And she smiled, so Conner decided that letting someone know just how miserable he was wasn't entirely a bad thing. He just wished he could somehow just be good with it, without having to use drugs or somesuch. He really felt like his combat skills were going to waste, sitting on a ship for long years, asleep and going around picking up supplies. As Pharlie had pointed out, they weren't even delivering them anymore, new mission, go get all that stuff the aliens made over the centuries for the war effort.
Rhema loomed in the distance. "We are picking up artwork on this world. Are you kidding me? The manifest shows it is categorized as artwork. So this community of variety-hour aliens have compiled some kind of treasure trove of fine art. This is asinine." Pharlie offered.
"That's enough of that." Conner chastised her formally on the deck, but he was smiling as he said it. He loved having her there stating his real feelings. "The mission is to acquire this propaganda, it is deemed useful to the war effort."
The world was like melted orange-cream covered in brown fog, a desolate radiated landscape below testified to the destructive power of the Unknown. The same Dark Beings had taken shots from the darkness with precise aim and killed some of the older aliens, such as the Frendsikeel. Long ago the peaceful otter people had lived happily on Rhema, inviting trade via broadcast.
After meeting an assortment of artist-aliens wearing shimmering dark-colored robes and cowls, the human delegate collecting military surplus accepted the crates of fine art, packed for their shipping across the stars, trusted to nobody except the human military to safely transport it.
"Conner." A call came in from Supply Command Unk Gheldin, Conner's commander. "You just earned me a promotion. The patrons of Rhema have instituted a check as a downpayment on our services. It's enough to build an entire warship. These aliens are loaded and just became our daddy. You're doing good work out there, the war effort thanks you!"
"I'll be sure and handle with care." Conner saluted diligently.
The next world was Arienta, populated by what was left of aliens who looked like huge anthropomorphic tarantulas.
"We've perfected a drug that can induce Star Sleep in humans. They said it was not possible for such belligerent minds to Star Sleep, but our colony of volunteers have allowed us to test every kind of euphoria and pleasure-inducing drug we could on them. Most species wouldn't have such a supply of volunteers, but humans come from far and wide to live as our guests, accepting our hospitality for their entire lives, saying they don't ever want to leave." The high priestess of the Blue Light Watchers, Rhoxa Billi, explained the doped humans lounging around everywhere.
"They look like slackers, sir." Pharlie said loudly.
"That's enough of that." Conner admonished her, but was smiling, glad she said what he was thinking. He faced the high priestess formally and said:
"We'll take this drug, and thank you for your hard work." Conner waved his fingers in the spiritual way to show he knew the sacred gratitude of the Blue Light Watchers. He'd studied how to do it on the way over, practicing it for days until he was confident he could do it right.
The next stop was Basilik, an industrialized wasteland where the Sunder had hundreds of thousands of giant humanoid machines, in loincloths, working tirelessly to drag massive monolithic super metal beams across rollers, up ramps to assemble indestructible mech chassis to sell to the humans.
"Sir, we take shipments from here all the time. What are we here for?" Pharlie asked.
"Not a what, a whom." Conner said.
The casket of the revered Exalted Inquisitor Eshka Layenna was loaded on board, but it was not made by Sunder. No, it was tech from some other society, preserving her eternally in a state of dormancy, a kind of molecular stasis.
"We're taking her back to the ones who put her in there. They have a gift for us. She is our gift for them. The Sunder have agreed to this, in the name of the war effort."
The Desperado star sailed to the nearby Kriesene system where an old gravity cloud that looked like a planet had hundreds of planet-sized moons dancing around it like an insane ballroom.
"The shoals around their world will make this somewhat dangerous to traverse. We have a map, given to us by the Sunder, so we should be fine." Conner told Pharlie.
"Danger, eh? Kinda like it, don't you?" Pharlie teased.
"That's enough of that." Conner said without any real command in it, smiling.
The Skiesene had a moon-sized space station named Thoughtfulness where they conducted much of their trade with each other. They looked like dark-shelled nightmare creatures, some kind of H.R. Giger prophecy had remembered these creatures long before humans had met them.
Conner witnessed their massed warriors, in stasis, embroidered stole draped over them, crouched motionless atop pedestals with twenty-yard tall tapestries depicting their many victories in bloody combat. They sat there in a great hall in their various forms and armors, but always hideous monsters, reminding him of the Dark Beings vaguely, except devoid of insectoid features.
The Skiesene were delighted by the delivery of their goddess, Eshka Layenna. A time without bloodshed was declared, and the Skiesene offered a shipment of their finest warriors, in egg form.
The Skiesene Khan grinned with uncannily human-looking teeth, but in its grin was a sharpened beak that could pierce the solid dome that was their head, with no eyes or ears, at least not in one place, for they had sensory all over their bodies.
"Uh, thanks. We could always use some special, uh, special forces." Conner accepted the eggs, as he was under orders to do. They were preserved until called, using a key to deactivate the stasis they were in. Then they would serve the orders in their minds, to obey their human commanders.
"I hope they don't have to facehug us and chest burst us." Pharlie chuckled.
"That's enough of that." Conner told her, smiling.
The last stop was the world of the Beebee, aliens who looked like cats wearing incredibly fancy clothing.
"We've tailored new uniforms for the human armies. You'll like them." The Master of Design, top official of the Beebee, told Conner, purring as he went.
Conner put one hand on his elbow and one holding his chin, trying to keep a straight face, when he saw the uniforms.
"They are a little small, don't you think?" Conner looked at the feline models in the uniforms meant for human soldiers.
"And kinda derpy with all those frills and colors?" Pharlie offered further criticism.
The Master of Design seemed to think the uniforms were being complimented, anticipating no other response. It took a moment to sink in that the humans were mocking all their hard work.
"All of the specifications for armored clothing were met. These uniforms will preserve your body temperature in very extreme conditions and will slow ballistic projectiles so that they cannot penetrate the cloth, but instead have their kinetics splattered outward and also the colors shift to the mood of the wearer. You can make it camouflage if you like. We worried that human sizes made dispensing millions of these uniforms impractical compared to making an adjustable size. Try one on." The Master of Design was not offended, but stood his ground, his hair puffing up making him look sophisticated and official. His whiskers twitched handsomely at the end and he gave a prolonged blink.
"They still look silly, why so many frills?" Pharlie chuckled.
"That's enough of that." Conner sighed.
The humans were about to leave and board their ship when Conner spotted an ancient mech standing next to the star port.
"What's that?" he asked.
"The tomb of Drastic Conner Mcfarley, the mech knight who defended our world, surprising a lone scout of the Dark Beings and engaging it in single one-on-one combat, saving our world. Drastic Conner Mcfarley died in his mech during the battle. The scout retreated and left us unharmed." The Master of Design said.
"Why'd it leave?" Conner asked, but recalled what his clan father had done. He awaited the answer he knew:
"Drastic Conner Mcfarley disarmed it, but left its capacity to retreat intact. It is believed he deliberately used this measure of engagement, in order to ensure the enemy would not retaliate by bombarding our world. When one of them dies, the world they die on gets destroyed. He might have survived the battle if he'd just killed it when he had the chance. We know this. He sacrificed himself to save us."
"That's right." Conner nodded. He and Pharlie felt solemn, realizing how far their journey had taken them, all the way to where it had began for them. "We're him, and we won't let you down."

Just finished some full scores, and they blew me away as I was creating them. Better than the ones I found on the staff playlist.
So, how did I do this? First I found out that the structure plays a key roll. The structure I found that worked best is Genre, Sub-genre, Theme, and Mood. For a full genre list, I went to https://www.chosic.com/list-of-music-genres/ Find your main genre, then your sub-genre. Not sure what the sub-genre sounds like? Thats cool, they have a preview. Then I copied an entire genre into a document.
For theme, I did a search for the type of song I wanted. You want about 4 of these. Once found I went to https://sonoteller.ai/ and put in the title and artist. I got a bunch of info that I copied over to my document. Including the lyric breakdown. Revise the breakdown for what you want to do.
Then I went to Claud.ai (or ChatGPT.ai). Put in your revised lyric breakdowns and ask for lyrics. Then ask for a breakdown of each verse with a genre and sub-genre that would match the verse. Then as it to do the same for theme and mood. I found some one posted this Google Sheet with a bunch of moods. It's not all of them but it's pretty good.
Now, once you have all of that, copy it to your document by verse. It should look something like this:
[Chorus - Julie, female vocalist] Genre: indie, folk Sub-genre: chamber folk, indie folk Theme: Redemption, Healing, Unconditional Love Mood: uplifting, spiritual, ethereal Instruments: harmonies, guitar family, strings
[Verse - Paul, male vocalist] Genre: pop rock, indie rock Sub-genre: Anthem rock, indie Anthem-Folk Theme: Triumph, Overcoming Adversity, Inner Strength Mood: Heroic, inspirational, Determined Instruments: electric guitar, percussion drums, bass
You may have noticed some of the stuff is caps and some is not. The non-capped words are what is in Udio and recognized. The capped are not recognized. For some reason I got better results when I did it this way.
Enter your prompt like this for the chorus example above: indie, folk, chamber folk, indie folk, Redemption, Healing, Unconditional Love, uplifting, spiritual, ethereal, harmonies, guitar family, strings
Then when you extend, put in the verse.
Once you have all your parts, you can ask your A.I. for what genre, sub-genre, theme, and mood would make sense for your intro and outro. Then plug that in and do your intro and outro.
Hope that helps in creating some great sounding music.
Here is one of the songs I did. https://www.udio.com/songs/sJq3aBPuLUUyUgRFZ719JQ Highly suggest you listen on decent speakers to hear the nuances in the song.

I'm wanting just a random pose (any, idrc) if anyone's drawing fursona art. It doesn't have to be the best art in the world, as i'm not expecting anyone to see this. [post] Doesn't have to be colored or anything, I want less work for you guys.
Thanks and appreciation, foodman
I do not have a good reference sheet, so here's one of the best AI images I created (sorry) https://ibb.co/dk1dbc5

[JB CM SEPT ß-1/10] Septenary REDDIT
[JB CM SEPT ß-2/10] Septenary 'Fundamentals’ REDDIT
[JB CM SEPT ß-3/10] Septenary 'Fundamentals Extended 1.1’ REDDIT
CM Septenary DRIVE
Hello and good day to all the fine people of worldbuilding. This is day 4 post 4 of my 10 part series of the release of ‘Septenary’, a creative tool from the project ‘Canon Mode.’ I’m not in a great mood right now because I’m begrudgingly writing this again after a couple days ago when after spending an hour writing this post it got lost in the ether when I tried posting it. F!@# my life. Well whatever doesn’t kill you makes you brighter no one says. So if this post is a little lackluster that’s the excuse I’m using.
And actually on that note, how is everyone actually doing, actually? I’m asking because I haven’t had any feedback on any of these posts yet. I’ve been getting upvotes, which means that at least some of you are liking the posts but that’s all I got. So if anyone’s got the time I’d be really interested in hearing what you guys have to say. I’m not just talking positive feedback or constructive criticism I literally want to know anything you think about it. Basically everything I work on has a reason it was chosen to be made that way, so even something as simple as “the term you used in that one your groups sounds weird” might have a bigger impact than you think because those are the types of things I ultimately take account of.
CM SEPT 2 Fundamentals Extended 1.2 SHEET COLOR
CM SEPT 2 Fundamentals Extended 1.2 SHEET GRAYSCALE
Today we’ll be looking at the ‘Attributes’ group of the ‘Fundamentals’ septenary. This group was originally created with the intent of aiding with character design. The issue when trying to create such a group was that it’s impossible to create a list of all the different types of species and beings that exist. So instead of trying to make a giant list it was instead easier to create a more basic list of things that can then go on to further define the features of something else.
(ATTRIBUTES)
The term ‘Attributes’ was chosen specifically when making this group because the advantage of focusing on just the attributes of certain things means that this entire group is not just applicable to character creation but as well anything else that might have defining features of some sort. To start customizing and giving attributes to things it’s first needed to have something one is wanting to customize. A character, a house, a car, an outfit, a smartphone, or anything else really that’s either tangible or physical can be given any of these attributes.
{MYSTICAL}
The mystical subgroup describes things related to God, spirituality, or the supernatural. Things like halos and wings, horns and pointed tails, clouds and heavenliness, fire and brimstone, religious figures and symbols are all things that might be considered mystical in nature. If one were to take into account ‘Biblically accurate angels’ then we might see giant floating dismembered body parts as mystical attributes as well. Generally speaking though anything that could be considered magical might be something that could be described as having mystical attributes.
{EXTRATERRESTRIAL}
The word ‘extraterrestrial’ was chosen over the word ‘alien’ specifically because of the implication of each word. Extraterrestrial describes things whose origin exists outside of Earth or whatever planet is being discussed. Alien on the other hand only implies that something is foreign to whatever is being described. The difference being is that something that’s extraterrestrial has a completely different origin than something that’s from Earth or a particular planet. The term alien on the other hand doesn’t necessarily describe this, as something that is alien could be foreign but still be of the same origin. That is to say something alien can still be related to the thing being described while something extraterrestrial has no relation to what’s being described.
{MYTHICAL}
The word ‘Mechanical’ was also chosen over the words ‘cyborg’ or ‘robot’ because they were too limiting otherwise. Cyborg and robot are terms which only describe mechanical beings, not necessarily anything else that might be mechanical. You could have a mechanical bird, or maybe mechanical food, or even a mechanical tree. Anything could be mechanical really if one has enough motivation, inspiration and determination.
{MYTHICAL}
When first creating the ‘Mythical’ subgroup it was in an attempt to create a complete list of every mythical being. The problem? That’s impossible, because there are an infinite amount of beings that are already either well established or could be created otherwise. Some of the common ones might be elves, fairies, werewolves, undead, giants, warlocks/wizards/witches, ghosts/spirits, orcs/trolls, dwarves/gnomes, and many many more.
{NATURALISTIC}
The word ‘naturalistic’ was chosen for this subgroup specifically so it could include both forest people and furry people. Walking, talking plants, trees, and animals were the inspiration for this subgroup, basically anything that’s found in a forest could apply. There are a lot of other things that could also be considered naturalistic too though. Rocks, water features, dirt/sand, or anything else really that relates to nature.
{OBJECTIFIED}
Unlike most of the subgroups in the Attributes group, ‘Objectified’ is not a well established idea such as the others. The idea with the objectified subgroup was for it to describe in particular living inanimate beings. Features of objectified things might include blank or missing features, ultra rounded or sharply edged parts, ridged or impossible statures, or exaggerated and unreal characteristics. Really anything that looks like an object could be considered as part of the ‘Objectified’ subgroup.
{SPECTRAL}
This last group is a bit more tricky because the typical defining feature of spectres is that they’re transparent or invisible. That doesn’t leave much room to work with. Other ideas for spectral attributes might include auras, glowingness, dull flat colors and shading, soft edges, broken or damaged parts, wisps, and in general anything ethereal or spirit-like in nature. While not always possible, another feature of spectral things is that they float. They are also typically intangible, meaning they can pass through physical things. The unfortunate difficulty when describing something spectral is that many of the things that could be described this way depend on context and might be situational.
Generally speaking though it could be said that things that are spectral exist on a spectrum. This is because the definition of spectral is ‘of a spectrum.’ It’s not exactly clear what that actually means, but it could be seen as a starting point or inspiration
{Conclusion}
Usually I try to end with something insightful or profound but for this post I just don’t have it. I’m not necessarily upset over the time I spent and lost over the prior version of this post that I was working on as much as it is very upsetting that I lost the specific work I wrote. While I’m pretty sure I still covered the important ideas for this installment there still were a few very specific things that I wrote that I’ll never remember. I think the worst part about rewriting this post wasn’t that I necessarily couldn’t remember everything I wanted to say, it’s just that the inspiration to write it was gone. The quality of this post as a result really plummeted because of the fact that I was already aware of everything I wrote and no longer had that initial inspiration.
I think if I were to end on any note this time I’d say I think it’s interesting the progression from when I first came up with this idea to how it turned out. It started with me trying to list literally every type of entity or being someone might want to make into a character. Then it turned into trying to make a group of base characteristics which could then go on to define an already existent being. And it was only later that I came to the conclusion that it was possible to make the group more general by calling it attributes which opens it up to it being able to describe pretty much anything that has defining features of some sort. I think being aware of that progression has been a very valuable learning experience for me because it explores further these sort of all-encompassing ideas.
That’s all for this post. Thank you for reading and I hope you all have a wonderful day!

You were right to trust a trustless system. The incentive structure works. It attracts everyone.
The US senate overruled the SEC's decision to deny banks from holding BTC.
931 US companies officially hold BTC ETFs in their balance sheets.
The state of Wisconsin purchased $163 million in bitcoin ETFs in the first quarter.
El Salvador, Lugano have made it legal tender. Suriname is considering it as well.
India is coming around. SEBI is willing to regulate it based on international standards.
Hong Kong ETFs are being presented to mainland China.
None of what is happening now could have been imagined just 5 years ago.
The OGs were right all along.

This sounded like the most interesting work I've seen coming from S. Connolly in a while, and it's based on a premise with a lot of potential: examining goetic sigils to identify elements associated with alchemical symbolism. I am not really a fan of Connolly's better-known works but I thought it would be worth checking this one out.
The basic structure of the book is to go through the Ars Goetia sigil by sigil, breaking each one down into a set of alchemical symbols, conjecturing on what kind of recipe or process it represents, and interpreting it metaphorically in spiritual/psychological terms.
The first thing I found a little frustrating is that there aren't any diagrams for the symbols contained within the sigils. She just lists them off, and you have to look them up in the symbol key, which is a set of scanned pages from a 18th-century manuscript. The pages are in Latin and Connolly mostly uses English terms to refer to the things the symbols represent, and there are multiple symbolic possibilities for most entries, so it's quite a bit of work to match up the symbols according to her descriptions. Given the immense diversity of alchemical symbols and their similarity (or direct equivalency) to magical alphabet letters, astrological symbols, and other polysemous characters, it's hard to say with any certainty how accurate any of this might be. Connolly does acknowledge the subjective nature of this process and her difficulty in finding interpretations for some of the sigils.
The recipes she matches up to the symbols are for alchemical and metallurgical processes as well as mundane stuff like making soap. There are some interesting ideas here, like connecting symbols for arsenic and its potential to create poisonous gas with warnings about "stinking breath" and other dangers to the practitioner, but where we mostly end up going with these interpretations is to metaphors for shadow work and mental health concepts that are consistent with ideas in modern demonolatry but would have been entirely anachronistic for the people who wrote the Lemegeton and its antecedent texts.
I appreciate that the book attempts to move the discussion forward in terms of analyzing the semiotics of goetic sigils in their historical context instead of falling back on "the spirits channeled them" or Rorschach-test interpretations like the ones in King's Faculty of Abrac, but Connolly doesn't make any attempt to reconcile her interpretations to the astrological symbolic keys provided by the Fourth Book of Occult Philosophy or the known connections between earlier sigils and magic squares. It's hard to buy into a purely alchemical interpretation of the sigils without factoring those into the analysis, and the book really would have benefitted from a more usable symbol key and diagrams of the breakdowns.
I don't think this book is a necessary read for beginning practitioners, and it's not the book we've all been waiting for in terms of decoding the goetic sigils, but you might find some value in it if you have a specific interest in sigil construction and/or the possible connections between alchemy and spirit work.

Excel macro, replace ("specific workbook") with general open active workbook, help with syntax?
I'm new with vba, trying to record a macro. Copying info from worksheet b into worksheet a. Then close workbook b, open workbook c, copy exact same cells from workbook c into a new inserted line in workbook a. Workbook a stays open but every workbook I copy from is a newly opened workbook.
Could someone help me with the syntax?
Here's the code...
Sub Macro1()
'
' Macro1 Macro
'
' Keyboard Shortcut: Ctrl+g
'

Range("C5").Select Windows("LinimarCavity7VarianceReport.xlsx").Activate Rows("10:10").Select Selection.Insert Shift:=xlDown, CopyOrigin:=xlFormatFromLeftOrAbove Windows("24042513_PPAP-RDS_CAA-R03_0983.xlsx").Activate Selection.Copy Windows("LinimarCavity7VarianceReport.xlsx").Activate Range("A10").Select ActiveSheet.Paste ... And so on... 

I need to know what words to replace "Windows("24042513_PPAP-RDS_CAA-R03_0983.xlsx").Activate" with so that when I run the script, it will start with/copy from the active workbook I'm clicked in instead of the specific named workbook. It's a recorded macro so there are no Dim objects and no Set variables.
I just need to know what to put in place of ("24042513_PPAP-RDS_CAA-R03_0983.xlsx") this so that it points to the active workbook I'm clicked on (workbook b, then workbook c, then workbook d, then workbook e and so on, the macro is saved in my personal folder, not in any of the named active workbooks)

Hi, I'm working on a spreadsheet where I have to sort the rows into various other sheets based on one cell value. The script I have is working perfectly, but when I copy the rows over and the table needs to add further rows, the formatting changes - basically despite the formatting of the master sheet and the sorted sheets, the new rows come in with no borders separating the cells. Does anyone know how to fix this? I can add a sample code if you need it, though there isn't any formatting in the code so I'm not sure? I'm pretty new to this so sorry if this seems dumb!

An hour after getting back from the Mason apartment, Bruce Kenner had the distinct misfortune of meeting Bertha Henderson.
A plump, gaudy woman with wrinkles and sun beaten skin only an alligator could love, Bertha Henderson wore bright red lipstick, bright red rouge, and way too much mascara. Her tangled hair was a dull red color and her clothes - pink pants and a white floral top - stretched tight across her bulbous frame. She looked like the kind of woman who lived in a trailer with velvet pictures of Elvis on the wall and pink flamingos in the front yard.
She acted like one too.
From the moment she stormed into his office, she hadn’t shut up once. She scolded, chided, accused, and badgered, sometimes even wagging one fat finger in his face like he was a naughty little boy. Ten minutes into the dressing down and Bruce was beginning to fantasize about police brutality.
It took him another ten minutes to find out what the hell she even wanted.
“It’s my granddaughter,” she shot back, “she’s missing in your town.”
My town? Lady, this is barely my office. I share it with three other people.
“Well, if you’ll calm down, maybe I can help.”
Jesus Christ was that the wrong thing to say. She hit the roof and didn’t come down again until Bruce was this close to arresting her for assault on a police officer. “Young man, I do not appreciate the way you’re talking to me. My tax dollars are the only reason you have a job. If it wasn’t for me, you’d be working at a car wash.”
At least I wouldn’t have to deal with you.
Bruce took a deep breath and held his tongue in check. “How can I help you?” he asked.
“I told you, my granddaughter is missing. If you listened to me, you’d know this already.”
Bertha produced a picture and slid it across the desk. Bruce studied it. A girl, roughly sixteen with black hair, blue eyes, and dimples smiled back at him. “She;’s with that Rossi man, I just know it,” she said bitterly.
“Who?” Bruce asked.
Rolling her eyes like he was stupid, the old woman told him the story. Jessie - the dimple faced girl - had the rotten luck of having to live with Grandma Bertha after her parents went to jail on drug charges. They lived in Sand Lake, a little town in the mountains outside Albany, where Bertha was no doubt loved and admired by all. One day, Jessie, who her grandmother lovingly described as “A little troublemaker”, ran off. Bruce didn’t blame her. He’d known Bertha for half an hour and he wanted to run off. Bertha did some snooping on Jessie’s laptop and found that the “little whore” had been chatting with an older man, Joe Rossi. Rossi, or so Facebook said, lived in Albany and worked at Club Vlad.
“I want him arrested for pedophilia,” Bertha said and crossed her arms defiantly over her chest. “He’s a dog just like all men. She’s probably pregnant already. Another mouth I have to feed.”
Behind the old battle ax, Vanessa appeared in the doorway and lifted her brows as if to say What a piece of work. Knowing her, she’d probably been standing just out of sight this whole time with McKenny, the elderly evidence clerk, and snickering into her hand like a little girl. LOL she called him young man.
Bertha noticed him looking over her shoulder and started to turn. Vanessa’s face went white and she ducked out of the way, narrowly avoiding detection. “I’m glad you think this is funny,” Bertha said to Bruce. “Meanwhile, if I don’t get Jessie back, the state’s going to stop sending me my checks. I need that income. I can’t work, you know. I have gout.”
Too bad being an asshole isn’t a job, you’d be world-famous
“I’ll go talk to him,” Bruce said.
“I want more than talk, young man, I want action.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
When Bertha finally decided to waddle off and ruin someone else’s day, Vanessa came in and sat in the chair the old woman had so recently occupied. “Oh, my God,” she said, “that was intense. I was this close to radioing in a 1015.”
1015 was code for officer down.
“Funny,” Bruce said without a trace of humor. He had kids going missing, a dead guy someone moved around like a goddamn Barbie doll, and now this. What next, hemorrhoids?
“What do you think? Code 1 or code 2?”
Code 1 meant top priority. Code 2 meant not a top priority. Bruce thought for a moment. It didn’t sound like Jessie Henderson was in danger. It sounded like she met a guy - granted, one too old for her - and decided to hide out with him from her psycho grandma. Maybe it could be something more, but he had a gut feeling that it wasn’t…and his gut feelings were usually right. “2,” he finally said. “I got shit to do.”
By shit, he meant “Talk to the families of those missing boys again.” He’d been interviewing them for two days looking for clues, but there was nothing. It’s like they just vanished. Bruce didn’t like this. He didn’t like it at all.
“Well, I’ll leave you to it,” Vanessa said and slapped the desk.
When she was gone, Bruce sighed.
Never a dull moment, he thought.
***
Ed Harris - no relation to the Hollywood actor - had been the medical examiner for the City of Albany since 2002, and in all that time, he had never seen anything quite like this.
It was Wednesday evening and Ed was locked away in the cold, sterile space beneath the city offices that comprised his domain. With its puke green tiles, harsh lights, and cloying smells of disinfectant, the .coroner's office creeped most people out, but not Ed. He was at home here, as comfortable surrounded by toe-tagged bodies as a cactus was surrounded by desert. A thin man in his fifties with curly, steel gray hair thinning in the middle, he wore a white smock, blood stained over his clothes that made him look like a butcher instead of a low level government functionary. He had a dark and dry sense of humor, but then again, so do all people who play with dead bodies for fun and profit.
The coroner’s office was a vast, utilitarian vault segmented into multiple different rooms. Here, where the magic happened, three stainless steel tables stood in a row; a bank of refrigerated drawers kept watch, making sure nothing funny happened. One of the cold fluorescent lights overhead flickered with a hum of electricity, and water dripped rhythmically from a faucet. It was a cold, eerie place, but to Ed, it was home.
On most nights, only one of the tables was occupied, but tonight, two were. On one lay an old lady who died of what appeared to be cyanide poisoning. On the other was Dominick Mason.
Naked save for a white cloth draped over his groin to protect his dignity, Dom was the most corpsy corpse you’d ever hope to see. In fact, if you looked up dead guy in the dictionary, you’d see a picture of him. His body was pale and sunken, one side covered in purple splotches where his blood had pooled, and his eyes were closed. His abdomen was slightly distended with the expected build up of gas, and his flesh stuck fast to the bones beneath. In other words, he was text book. A normal corpse.
Mostly normal.
As men of his trade are wont to do when strange bodies mysteriously appear, Ed had opened Dom up, making a Y shaped incision from his neck to his groin. He hummed to himself as he did so, his hands wielding his sharp and shiny tools with the deft assuredness of a seasoned surgeon. Done cutting, he dipped his gloved hands into the cavity and started removing organs. A spleen here, a liver there, nothing Dom would miss. When he got to the heart, however, he stopped.
There was something…off…about it. At first glance, it was black and withered like an oversized raisin. An odd and putrid odor emanated from it and though he was familiar with the various smells and stenches the human body produced after death, this wasn’t one of them. Try as he might, he couldn’t place it, couldn’t even compare it to anything. Plucking a magnifying glass from the metal cart next to the table, he peeled back part of Dom’s chest and examined the heart closer.
That’s when things got really weird.
Dominick Mason’s heart was, indeed, shriveled, but it was not black. Instead, it was almost entirely covered by an interlacing crisscross of what appeared to be black mold. Here and there, Ed could glimpse flashes of the heart beneath: It was wrinkled and a sickly gray color. “What is this?” Ed asked himself at length. He grabbed a pair of tweezers from the tray and carefully, very carefully, attempted to remove a piece of the mold for analysis. The moment the cold metal tips touched the heart, it gave a violent spasm that sent Ed falling back with a shocked gasp, the tweezers falling from his hand and clinking to the tiled floor.
The heart began to pulse like an alien egg sac, slowly at first, then more rapidly. For a moment, Ed was frozen in place, unable to comprehend what he was seeing. Once you die, your heart ceases beating. That’s that. Only living hearts beat, and Dominick Mason was certainly dead. He was dead from the moment Ed first laid eyes on him earlier that day and he was dead now. Yet there was his heart, beating anyway.
It could be a muscle spasm. They usually aren’t that violent and consistent, but dead bodies sometimes do strange things. As he watched the blackened muscle expanding and contracting, however, Ed had the most eerie feeling. He went to rub the back of his neck, realized he was still wearing blood soaked gloves, and stripped them off. He was spooking himself out; he needed a break and a hot cup of coffee. He’d come back fresh and start over again.
With that mold.
Could you really blame him for being creeped out? That stuff wasn’t normal. He’d never seen anything like that before, not even in textbooks. Dom was scrawny and didn’t get enough vitamins in life, but overall, he was healthy; that mold…or whatever it was…had no business being there.
Going over to the coffee pot, which stood in the same room to save travel time, Ed grabbed a styrofoam cup. When he was done here, he planned to go home and -
A terrible, metallic clatter rang out, and Ed jumped. He turned around, and when he saw Dominick Mason standing next to the table, hunched slightly over and staring at him, an electric burst of fright shot up his spine and exploded in his brain, so strong it made the edges turn gray. Pale, hands hooked into talons, and the flaps of his chest hanging open to reveal the cavity beneath, Dominick Mason looked for all the world like a boy who’d been caught sneaking out to meet his girlfriend. A weak, involuntary, “Oh, God,” slipped from Ed’s trembling lips, and the spell was broken. Dom came alive and ran toward the door leading out to the parking lot. He slammed through it, and the sound of it crashing open and then falling closed again echoed through the empty chamber.
Shaking, panting for air, and soaked in piss, Ed sank to the floor in a sitting position, his eyes wide and staring like those of a soldier returning damaged from the front.
It was a long time before he composed himself enough to call the police.
***
Dazed and caught in a nightmarish twilight realm where nothing made sense, Dominick Mason limped painfully down the sidewalk, a stranger lost in a strange land filled with danger and hostile creatures. Barefoot and shrouded in a white sheet, he trembled with cold and struggled to ignore the dark, threatening shapes looming from the fog in his brain, shapes that would turn into unspeakable truths if he let them.
Passersby openly stared at him, their expressions either morbidly curious, disgusted, or alarmed. A man put his arm protectively around his girlfriend; a woman pulled her little boy to her breast, and another man sneered at him, his nose crinkling. Dom, his glazed eyes narrowed against the harsh glare of the many street lamps, headlights, and storefronts, lumbered headlong toward nowhere, his fear growing until he was shambling. He imagined he could hear every cough, every whisper; smell the odor of every unwashed body. Each car horn was deafening, every whiff of ass or armpits sent his stomach churning. The rustle of a passing pedestrian’s jacket jammed into his ears like icepicks, and the approaching globes of LED headlamps burned his eyes. He gritted his teeth and groaned against the pain.
The dense mist wrapping his brain made it hard to think. Like a frightened animal, he made his way on instinct alone. Home. He needed to get home. Out here, on the street, he was exposed. At home, locked away in his small apartment, he would be safe.
A car passed in the street, bass heavy rap music blaring from its open windows, and Dom’s brain exploded with agony. He threw himself against a street sign and held on for dear life, his legs weak. Dizziness overwhelmed him, and he almost went down. He was also cold.
So, so cold.
People around him quickened their step; they never took their eyes off him, as though he were a venomous snake that would strike at any moment. He needed to get away from them. They were going to hurt him; people always hurt him.
Pushing away from the sign, he began to hobble once more toward home, wherever home was. He looked over his shoulder several times as he made his way down Central Avenue, and each time, he saw that no one was following him as he had feared.
No one, that is, except for the man in sunglasses.
Tall and lank with curly hair, he wore dark Aviators and a leather motorcycle jacket over a button up shirt. His hands were thrust deep into his pockets and his face showed no expression. He was always there, always a few steps closer. Outside Capital Fried Chicken, a group of people openly stared at him, He heard their whispers as he passed. What’s wrong with him? Dude’s straight tweakin. And the one that struck him the most. That guy looks dead.
Dom hobbled faster, as if to outrun the realization that he was, in fact, dead. The man in sunglasses was closer now, his footsteps so loud that Dom winced. He turned around, and the man was impossibly in front of him. Dom ran into him and bounced backward, going ass over tea kettle and landing on the former. They were in front of a church on a darkened corner, the lights here either burned out or shot out - you could never tell in Albany. Even though it was dark, Dom could see everything with crystal clarity. Dom tried to scurry away, but he was too weak to escape. Right there and then, he decided to give up. Come what may, he just wanted this nightmare to be over.
The man stared down at him, emotionless, unspeaking.
Dom squirmed.
“You’re real lucky I came along,” the man said. His tone was flat, even.
Dead.
“Get up,” he said, “I’ll take you home.”
Home?
Yes.
Dom wanted to go home.
The man helped him up, and Dom followed him into the night.
***
Bruce Kenner stood in the middle of the medical examiner’s office at half past nine that evening with his hands on his hips and stared doubtfully down at Ed Harris. The lonely cavern was alive with activity as cops went over everything, all of them looking either bemused or a mused. Bruce was neither. He’d been at home, sitting in his chair and having a beer in front of AEW Dynamite when Vanessa called. “You might wanna get down here,” she said, sounding confused, “something really strange is going on.”
Ed Harris - no relation to that one guy - sat in a straight back chair beside his cluttered desk and gripped a styrofoam cup of coffee in both hands, putting Bruce - for some reason - in mind of a monkey. When Bruce came in, the old man was white as a sheet and shook like a leaf. In the last half hour, little had changed.
“Tell me again,” Bruce said.
He and Ed were pretty good friends. He knew that Ed knew standard police procedure. Cops don’t ask you to repeat your story a thousand times over because they’re forgetful fucks, they do it because telling it again and again helps to jog loose details that you might have forgotten. Ed, therefore, did not protest. “I turned my back,” he said and chopped the chair like Jackie Chan, “and I heard the noise.”
His voice was thick, unsteady, and halting. He sounded as squirrely as he looked…and he looked pretty damn squirrelly right now.
“I turned around…and he was looking at me. He was standing there and he was looking at me.”
This was the fourth time he’d had Ed go through the story, and nothing had changed. Bruce felt something stirring deep inside his gut. It was either disquiet…or he had to fart. He opened his mouth to speak, but sighed.
“You don’t believe me,” Ed said.
“I dunno, Ed. Dead bodies don’t just get up and walk away.”
Ed flashed. “I know that, goddamn it, but this one did.”
Bruce glanced at Vanessa. She looked uncomfortable.
“Are you sure he was dead?” Bruce asked.
Ed opened his mouth, closed it again, and said, “I did the autopsy.” His voice broke on the last word, and he sounded almost like he was pleading. “His fucking liver’s on the floor. He stepped on it. The man has nothing in him. I-I’m telling you, there’s no way he’s alive.”
During the autopsy, Ed had sat Dominick Mason’s organs on the little tray table where he kept his pointy things. Mason knocked it over while getting up. Indeed, there were human organs on the floor, and one of them did look kind of squished. Bare, bloody footprints led to the exit door, up a set of concrete steps, and then disappeared in the alley behind the office.
“You said you left his heart,” Bruce said.
“And his brain,” Vanessa helpfully added.
Ed pinched the bridge of his nose like a put upon professor dealing with two particularly stupid students. “Even with his heart and his brain, he’s dead. You saw the livor mortis. He was cold, he was stiff. His heart wasn’t beating, he wasn’t breathing. He was in one of those drawers for nine hours, not breathing, no blood flow - it’s impossible. It’s just…it’s impossible. I don’t care what you think, he was dead. And even if somehow he wasn’t, I cut out almost everything. I opened his stomach, I took his spleen - you don’t just get up from that. You don’t walk away from that, much less run.”
Bruce chewed the inside of his bottom lip because he didn’t have a Twix. He didn’t look like the smartest man in the world…and he wasn’t…but he knew a dead body when he saw one, and the body they took out of Dominick Mason’s apartment was D.E.A.D. And like Ed said, even if by some freak fluke of nature he wasn’t, he couldn’t just get up and go about his day with no liver, spleen, or kidneys. Hell, Bruce had his gallbladder out and he couldn’t even walk away from that.
“You said there was something funny about his heart,” Vanessa said.
Ed finished off his coffee. “Yeah. It was…moldy. I-I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Is it possible that…has something to do with it?”
“Unless the rules of biology have changed overnight, no,” Ed stated.
While Ed poured himself another cup of Joe, spilling some because he was still shaking, Vanessa took Bruce aside. “So what do you think?” she asked. “Is he telling the truth?”
For that, Bruce did not have an immediate answer. All else aside, he was a cop. He followed the evidence - and his gut instinct - wherever it led him. Ed was a sober man - he was not a drunk, insane, or stupid - and no man on earth could fake the look of trauma in his eyes. Bruce’s eyes went to the bloody footprints leading away from the exam table and his stomach roiled. It might be cliched, but there had to be a rational explanation. “Yeah,” he finally said. “The kid got up like he said, but there’s no way he was dead. Maybe…I dunno, he had a surge of adrenaline or something. I’m not a doctor.”
“That’ll only get him so far,” Vanessa said. “We’ll probably find him on the street somewhere.”
He went back to the purple splotches on Dom’s face, to his cold stiffness. There’s no way he was dead?
Bruce was confused, and he hated being confused.
“I dunno,” he said, “maybe.”
But he had the gnawing feeling that they wouldn’t. They would never find him…and Bruce would be confused forever.
Goddamn it, Mason, he thought, where are you?

An hour after getting back from the Mason apartment, Bruce Kenner had the distinct misfortune of meeting Bertha Henderson.
A plump, gaudy woman with wrinkles and sun beaten skin only an alligator could love, Bertha Henderson wore bright red lipstick, bright red rouge, and way too much mascara. Her tangled hair was a dull red color and her clothes - pink pants and a white floral top - stretched tight across her bulbous frame. She looked like the kind of woman who lived in a trailer with velvet pictures of Elvis on the wall and pink flamingos in the front yard.
She acted like one too.
From the moment she stormed into his office, she hadn’t shut up once. She scolded, chided, accused, and badgered, sometimes even wagging one fat finger in his face like he was a naughty little boy. Ten minutes into the dressing down and Bruce was beginning to fantasize about police brutality.
It took him another ten minutes to find out what the hell she even wanted.
“It’s my granddaughter,” she shot back, “she’s missing in your town.”
My town? Lady, this is barely my office. I share it with three other people.
“Well, if you’ll calm down, maybe I can help.”
Jesus Christ was that the wrong thing to say. She hit the roof and didn’t come down again until Bruce was this close to arresting her for assault on a police officer. “Young man, I do not appreciate the way you’re talking to me. My tax dollars are the only reason you have a job. If it wasn’t for me, you’d be working at a car wash.”
At least I wouldn’t have to deal with you.
Bruce took a deep breath and held his tongue in check. “How can I help you?” he asked.
“I told you, my granddaughter is missing. If you listened to me, you’d know this already.”
Bertha produced a picture and slid it across the desk. Bruce studied it. A girl, roughly sixteen with black hair, blue eyes, and dimples smiled back at him. “She;’s with that Rossi man, I just know it,” she said bitterly.
“Who?” Bruce asked.
Rolling her eyes like he was stupid, the old woman told him the story. Jessie - the dimple faced girl - had the rotten luck of having to live with Grandma Bertha after her parents went to jail on drug charges. They lived in Sand Lake, a little town in the mountains outside Albany, where Bertha was no doubt loved and admired by all. One day, Jessie, who her grandmother lovingly described as “A little troublemaker”, ran off. Bruce didn’t blame her. He’d known Bertha for half an hour and he wanted to run off. Bertha did some snooping on Jessie’s laptop and found that the “little whore” had been chatting with an older man, Joe Rossi. Rossi, or so Facebook said, lived in Albany and worked at Club Vlad.
“I want him arrested for pedophilia,” Bertha said and crossed her arms defiantly over her chest. “He’s a dog just like all men. She’s probably pregnant already. Another mouth I have to feed.”
Behind the old battle ax, Vanessa appeared in the doorway and lifted her brows as if to say What a piece of work. Knowing her, she’d probably been standing just out of sight this whole time with McKenny, the elderly evidence clerk, and snickering into her hand like a little girl. LOL she called him young man.
Bertha noticed him looking over her shoulder and started to turn. Vanessa’s face went white and she ducked out of the way, narrowly avoiding detection. “I’m glad you think this is funny,” Bertha said to Bruce. “Meanwhile, if I don’t get Jessie back, the state’s going to stop sending me my checks. I need that income. I can’t work, you know. I have gout.”
Too bad being an asshole isn’t a job, you’d be world-famous
“I’ll go talk to him,” Bruce said.
“I want more than talk, young man, I want action.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
When Bertha finally decided to waddle off and ruin someone else’s day, Vanessa came in and sat in the chair the old woman had so recently occupied. “Oh, my God,” she said, “that was intense. I was this close to radioing in a 1015.”
1015 was code for officer down.
“Funny,” Bruce said without a trace of humor. He had kids going missing, a dead guy someone moved around like a goddamn Barbie doll, and now this. What next, hemorrhoids?
“What do you think? Code 1 or code 2?”
Code 1 meant top priority. Code 2 meant not a top priority. Bruce thought for a moment. It didn’t sound like Jessie Henderson was in danger. It sounded like she met a guy - granted, one too old for her - and decided to hide out with him from her psycho grandma. Maybe it could be something more, but he had a gut feeling that it wasn’t…and his gut feelings were usually right. “2,” he finally said. “I got shit to do.”
By shit, he meant “Talk to the families of those missing boys again.” He’d been interviewing them for two days looking for clues, but there was nothing. It’s like they just vanished. Bruce didn’t like this. He didn’t like it at all.
“Well, I’ll leave you to it,” Vanessa said and slapped the desk.
When she was gone, Bruce sighed.
Never a dull moment, he thought.
***
Ed Harris - no relation to the Hollywood actor - had been the medical examiner for the City of Albany since 2002, and in all that time, he had never seen anything quite like this.
It was Wednesday evening and Ed was locked away in the cold, sterile space beneath the city offices that comprised his domain. With its puke green tiles, harsh lights, and cloying smells of disinfectant, the .coroner's office creeped most people out, but not Ed. He was at home here, as comfortable surrounded by toe-tagged bodies as a cactus was surrounded by desert. A thin man in his fifties with curly, steel gray hair thinning in the middle, he wore a white smock, blood stained over his clothes that made him look like a butcher instead of a low level government functionary. He had a dark and dry sense of humor, but then again, so do all people who play with dead bodies for fun and profit.
The coroner’s office was a vast, utilitarian vault segmented into multiple different rooms. Here, where the magic happened, three stainless steel tables stood in a row; a bank of refrigerated drawers kept watch, making sure nothing funny happened. One of the cold fluorescent lights overhead flickered with a hum of electricity, and water dripped rhythmically from a faucet. It was a cold, eerie place, but to Ed, it was home.
On most nights, only one of the tables was occupied, but tonight, two were. On one lay an old lady who died of what appeared to be cyanide poisoning. On the other was Dominick Mason.
Naked save for a white cloth draped over his groin to protect his dignity, Dom was the most corpsy corpse you’d ever hope to see. In fact, if you looked up dead guy in the dictionary, you’d see a picture of him. His body was pale and sunken, one side covered in purple splotches where his blood had pooled, and his eyes were closed. His abdomen was slightly distended with the expected build up of gas, and his flesh stuck fast to the bones beneath. In other words, he was text book. A normal corpse.
Mostly normal.
As men of his trade are wont to do when strange bodies mysteriously appear, Ed had opened Dom up, making a Y shaped incision from his neck to his groin. He hummed to himself as he did so, his hands wielding his sharp and shiny tools with the deft assuredness of a seasoned surgeon. Done cutting, he dipped his gloved hands into the cavity and started removing organs. A spleen here, a liver there, nothing Dom would miss. When he got to the heart, however, he stopped.
There was something…off…about it. At first glance, it was black and withered like an oversized raisin. An odd and putrid odor emanated from it and though he was familiar with the various smells and stenches the human body produced after death, this wasn’t one of them. Try as he might, he couldn’t place it, couldn’t even compare it to anything. Plucking a magnifying glass from the metal cart next to the table, he peeled back part of Dom’s chest and examined the heart closer.
That’s when things got really weird.
Dominick Mason’s heart was, indeed, shriveled, but it was not black. Instead, it was almost entirely covered by an interlacing crisscross of what appeared to be black mold. Here and there, Ed could glimpse flashes of the heart beneath: It was wrinkled and a sickly gray color. “What is this?” Ed asked himself at length. He grabbed a pair of tweezers from the tray and carefully, very carefully, attempted to remove a piece of the mold for analysis. The moment the cold metal tips touched the heart, it gave a violent spasm that sent Ed falling back with a shocked gasp, the tweezers falling from his hand and clinking to the tiled floor.
The heart began to pulse like an alien egg sac, slowly at first, then more rapidly. For a moment, Ed was frozen in place, unable to comprehend what he was seeing. Once you die, your heart ceases beating. That’s that. Only living hearts beat, and Dominick Mason was certainly dead. He was dead from the moment Ed first laid eyes on him earlier that day and he was dead now. Yet there was his heart, beating anyway.
It could be a muscle spasm. They usually aren’t that violent and consistent, but dead bodies sometimes do strange things. As he watched the blackened muscle expanding and contracting, however, Ed had the most eerie feeling. He went to rub the back of his neck, realized he was still wearing blood soaked gloves, and stripped them off. He was spooking himself out; he needed a break and a hot cup of coffee. He’d come back fresh and start over again.
With that mold.
Could you really blame him for being creeped out? That stuff wasn’t normal. He’d never seen anything like that before, not even in textbooks. Dom was scrawny and didn’t get enough vitamins in life, but overall, he was healthy; that mold…or whatever it was…had no business being there.
Going over to the coffee pot, which stood in the same room to save travel time, Ed grabbed a styrofoam cup. When he was done here, he planned to go home and -
A terrible, metallic clatter rang out, and Ed jumped. He turned around, and when he saw Dominick Mason standing next to the table, hunched slightly over and staring at him, an electric burst of fright shot up his spine and exploded in his brain, so strong it made the edges turn gray. Pale, hands hooked into talons, and the flaps of his chest hanging open to reveal the cavity beneath, Dominick Mason looked for all the world like a boy who’d been caught sneaking out to meet his girlfriend. A weak, involuntary, “Oh, God,” slipped from Ed’s trembling lips, and the spell was broken. Dom came alive and ran toward the door leading out to the parking lot. He slammed through it, and the sound of it crashing open and then falling closed again echoed through the empty chamber.
Shaking, panting for air, and soaked in piss, Ed sank to the floor in a sitting position, his eyes wide and staring like those of a soldier returning damaged from the front.
It was a long time before he composed himself enough to call the police.
***
Dazed and caught in a nightmarish twilight realm where nothing made sense, Dominick Mason limped painfully down the sidewalk, a stranger lost in a strange land filled with danger and hostile creatures. Barefoot and shrouded in a white sheet, he trembled with cold and struggled to ignore the dark, threatening shapes looming from the fog in his brain, shapes that would turn into unspeakable truths if he let them.
Passersby openly stared at him, their expressions either morbidly curious, disgusted, or alarmed. A man put his arm protectively around his girlfriend; a woman pulled her little boy to her breast, and another man sneered at him, his nose crinkling. Dom, his glazed eyes narrowed against the harsh glare of the many street lamps, headlights, and storefronts, lumbered headlong toward nowhere, his fear growing until he was shambling. He imagined he could hear every cough, every whisper; smell the odor of every unwashed body. Each car horn was deafening, every whiff of ass or armpits sent his stomach churning. The rustle of a passing pedestrian’s jacket jammed into his ears like icepicks, and the approaching globes of LED headlamps burned his eyes. He gritted his teeth and groaned against the pain.
The dense mist wrapping his brain made it hard to think. Like a frightened animal, he made his way on instinct alone. Home. He needed to get home. Out here, on the street, he was exposed. At home, locked away in his small apartment, he would be safe.
A car passed in the street, bass heavy rap music blaring from its open windows, and Dom’s brain exploded with agony. He threw himself against a street sign and held on for dear life, his legs weak. Dizziness overwhelmed him, and he almost went down. He was also cold.
So, so cold.
People around him quickened their step; they never took their eyes off him, as though he were a venomous snake that would strike at any moment. He needed to get away from them. They were going to hurt him; people always hurt him.
Pushing away from the sign, he began to hobble once more toward home, wherever home was. He looked over his shoulder several times as he made his way down Central Avenue, and each time, he saw that no one was following him as he had feared.
No one, that is, except for the man in sunglasses.
Tall and lank with curly hair, he wore dark Aviators and a leather motorcycle jacket over a button up shirt. His hands were thrust deep into his pockets and his face showed no expression. He was always there, always a few steps closer. Outside Capital Fried Chicken, a group of people openly stared at him, He heard their whispers as he passed. What’s wrong with him? Dude’s straight tweakin. And the one that struck him the most. That guy looks dead.
Dom hobbled faster, as if to outrun the realization that he was, in fact, dead. The man in sunglasses was closer now, his footsteps so loud that Dom winced. He turned around, and the man was impossibly in front of him. Dom ran into him and bounced backward, going ass over tea kettle and landing on the former. They were in front of a church on a darkened corner, the lights here either burned out or shot out - you could never tell in Albany. Even though it was dark, Dom could see everything with crystal clarity. Dom tried to scurry away, but he was too weak to escape. Right there and then, he decided to give up. Come what may, he just wanted this nightmare to be over.
The man stared down at him, emotionless, unspeaking.
Dom squirmed.
“You’re real lucky I came along,” the man said. His tone was flat, even.
Dead.
“Get up,” he said, “I’ll take you home.”
Home?
Yes.
Dom wanted to go home.
The man helped him up, and Dom followed him into the night.
***
Bruce Kenner stood in the middle of the medical examiner’s office at half past nine that evening with his hands on his hips and stared doubtfully down at Ed Harris. The lonely cavern was alive with activity as cops went over everything, all of them looking either bemused or a mused. Bruce was neither. He’d been at home, sitting in his chair and having a beer in front of AEW Dynamite when Vanessa called. “You might wanna get down here,” she said, sounding confused, “something really strange is going on.”
Ed Harris - no relation to that one guy - sat in a straight back chair beside his cluttered desk and gripped a styrofoam cup of coffee in both hands, putting Bruce - for some reason - in mind of a monkey. When Bruce came in, the old man was white as a sheet and shook like a leaf. In the last half hour, little had changed.
“Tell me again,” Bruce said.
He and Ed were pretty good friends. He knew that Ed knew standard police procedure. Cops don’t ask you to repeat your story a thousand times over because they’re forgetful fucks, they do it because telling it again and again helps to jog loose details that you might have forgotten. Ed, therefore, did not protest. “I turned my back,” he said and chopped the chair like Jackie Chan, “and I heard the noise.”
His voice was thick, unsteady, and halting. He sounded as squirrely as he looked…and he looked pretty damn squirrelly right now.
“I turned around…and he was looking at me. He was standing there and he was looking at me.”
This was the fourth time he’d had Ed go through the story, and nothing had changed. Bruce felt something stirring deep inside his gut. It was either disquiet…or he had to fart. He opened his mouth to speak, but sighed.
“You don’t believe me,” Ed said.
“I dunno, Ed. Dead bodies don’t just get up and walk away.”
Ed flashed. “I know that, goddamn it, but this one did.”
Bruce glanced at Vanessa. She looked uncomfortable.
“Are you sure he was dead?” Bruce asked.
Ed opened his mouth, closed it again, and said, “I did the autopsy.” His voice broke on the last word, and he sounded almost like he was pleading. “His fucking liver’s on the floor. He stepped on it. The man has nothing in him. I-I’m telling you, there’s no way he’s alive.”
During the autopsy, Ed had sat Dominick Mason’s organs on the little tray table where he kept his pointy things. Mason knocked it over while getting up. Indeed, there were human organs on the floor, and one of them did look kind of squished. Bare, bloody footprints led to the exit door, up a set of concrete steps, and then disappeared in the alley behind the office.
“You said you left his heart,” Bruce said.
“And his brain,” Vanessa helpfully added.
Ed pinched the bridge of his nose like a put upon professor dealing with two particularly stupid students. “Even with his heart and his brain, he’s dead. You saw the livor mortis. He was cold, he was stiff. His heart wasn’t beating, he wasn’t breathing. He was in one of those drawers for nine hours, not breathing, no blood flow - it’s impossible. It’s just…it’s impossible. I don’t care what you think, he was dead. And even if somehow he wasn’t, I cut out almost everything. I opened his stomach, I took his spleen - you don’t just get up from that. You don’t walk away from that, much less run.”
Bruce chewed the inside of his bottom lip because he didn’t have a Twix. He didn’t look like the smartest man in the world…and he wasn’t…but he knew a dead body when he saw one, and the body they took out of Dominick Mason’s apartment was D.E.A.D. And like Ed said, even if by some freak fluke of nature he wasn’t, he couldn’t just get up and go about his day with no liver, spleen, or kidneys. Hell, Bruce had his gallbladder out and he couldn’t even walk away from that.
“You said there was something funny about his heart,” Vanessa said.
Ed finished off his coffee. “Yeah. It was…moldy. I-I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Is it possible that…has something to do with it?”
“Unless the rules of biology have changed overnight, no,” Ed stated.
While Ed poured himself another cup of Joe, spilling some because he was still shaking, Vanessa took Bruce aside. “So what do you think?” she asked. “Is he telling the truth?”
For that, Bruce did not have an immediate answer. All else aside, he was a cop. He followed the evidence - and his gut instinct - wherever it led him. Ed was a sober man - he was not a drunk, insane, or stupid - and no man on earth could fake the look of trauma in his eyes. Bruce’s eyes went to the bloody footprints leading away from the exam table and his stomach roiled. It might be cliched, but there had to be a rational explanation. “Yeah,” he finally said. “The kid got up like he said, but there’s no way he was dead. Maybe…I dunno, he had a surge of adrenaline or something. I’m not a doctor.”
“That’ll only get him so far,” Vanessa said. “We’ll probably find him on the street somewhere.”
He went back to the purple splotches on Dom’s face, to his cold stiffness. There’s no way he was dead?
Bruce was confused, and he hated being confused.
“I dunno,” he said, “maybe.”
But he had the gnawing feeling that they wouldn’t. They would never find him…and Bruce would be confused forever.
Goddamn it, Mason, he thought, where are you?

Claude Debussy, a prominent figure in Impressionist music, revolutionized harmony, melody, and cultural perceptions in music through his innovative compositions. Let's break down his impact statistically:

1. Harmony:
   
   • Debussy's harmonic language moved away from traditional functional harmony, embracing modal and pentatonic scales, whole-tone scales, and parallel chords.
   • Statistical analysis could show a decrease in the prevalence of traditional tonic-dominant relationships and an increase in the use of non-functional harmonic progressions.
   • Debussy's harmonic vocabulary expanded the tonal palette available to composers, influencing subsequent generations of musicians.
2. Melodies:
   
   • Debussy's melodies often featured fluid contours, incorporating elements of pentatonic and whole-tone scales.
   • Statistical analysis might reveal a departure from conventional melodic structures, with a focus on atmospheric, evocative lines rather than traditional, singable melodies.
   • His melodies often blurred the lines between melody and accompaniment, contributing to the overall impressionistic aesthetic of his music.
3. Culture:
   
   • Debussy's compositions challenged traditional notions of form, structure, and tonality, reflecting the changing cultural landscape of the late 19th and early 20th centuries.
   • His rejection of German Romanticism and embrace of French musical traditions helped to establish a distinct national identity in French music.
   • Through his use of exoticism and non-Western musical elements, Debussy contributed to the broader cultural fascination with the exotic and the mysterious during the fin de siècle period.

Statistical analysis of Debussy's compositions could provide insights into the frequency of specific harmonic progressions, melodic contours, and stylistic features. By examining patterns and trends within his music, researchers can better understand his unique contributions to the development of music harmony, melody, and cultural expression.

• Prelude to the Afternoon of a Faun (Prélude à l'après-midi d'un faune): This orchestral tone poem, inspired by Stéphane Mallarmé's poem, is a quintessential example of Debussy's impressionistic style. Its dreamy atmosphere, fluid melodies, and innovative harmonic language evoke the sensual world of the faun.
• La Mer: Debussy's symphonic sketches for orchestra, La Mer, depict the ever-changing moods of the sea. Through innovative orchestration and harmonic exploration, Debussy creates a vivid sonic portrait of the sea's power and beauty.
• Clair de Lune: This piano piece, part of the Suite Bergamasque, is one of Debussy's most famous works. Its gentle, shimmering harmonies and delicate melodies evoke the moonlit tranquility of a nighttime landscape.

1. Cultural Examples:
   • French National Identity: Debussy's rejection of German Romanticism and his embrace of French musical traditions helped to establish a distinct national identity in French music. His compositions, with their evocative depictions of French landscapes and folklore, contributed to a sense of cultural pride and nationalism.
   • Impressionist Movement: Debussy's music is often associated with the Impressionist movement in painting, which sought to capture the fleeting impressions of light and color. Like the Impressionist painters, Debussy focused on atmosphere, texture, and suggestion rather than precise detail, creating music that is more about mood and impression than literal representation.
   • Cultural Exchange and Exoticism: Debussy's fascination with non-Western music and exoticism is evident in works like Pagodes from Estampes and La soirée dans Grenade from Iberia. These pieces incorporate elements of Javanese gamelan music and Spanish flamenco, reflecting the broader cultural fascination with the exotic and the mysterious during the fin de siècle period.

Everything has been tested and works properly except where noted! Additional pics/timestamps available on request. Forgive me if I'm slow to respond, I'll do my best to get back to any comments in a timely manner. The person with lower rep sends first. Willing to add/accept PayPal to fill in any gaps in value, especially for my higher priority wants.
​
Switch

• Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom (sealed, SEA variant)
• Monster Hunter Rise Pro Controller (w/ box only)
• VORI Black Foam Carrying Case
  • includes strap, case is better for stationary storage than transportation though

​
Wii

• Black Nintendo Wii Box ONLY
  • Nintendo & American Heart Association Edition (link to page on ConsoleVariations)
  • overall fantastic condition, been in storage since the console was opened
  • comes with inserts and sleeves only, no console/cords/Wiimotes, manuals, or games included
• Star Wars: The Force Unleashed (disc and box)
• Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess (CIB)
• Super Smash Bros. Brawl (no manual)

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Nintendo 3/DS

• Super Mario 3D Land (CIB, Nintendo Selects)
• Super Smash Bros 3DS (loose)
• Pokemon Y (loose)
• Pokemon Pearl (w/ box and manual)
• Pokemon White (CIB)
• Kingdom Hearts 358/2 Days (loose)

​
PS2

• All games include their box unless noted, any that include a manual/inserts are noted. All stickers are on the outside of the box plastic, not on the cover art!
• Driver 3 (w/ manual)
• DT Racer (w/ manual, back of cover art punctured)
• Fight Night 2004 (w/ manual)
• Fight Night Round 2 (w/ manual)
• Fight Night Round 3 (w/ manual)
• God of War 2 (Greatest Hits, w/ manual, no bonus disc)
• Gran Turismo 4 (w/ manual and insert)
• Heroes of the Pacific (w/ manual)
• History Channel Civil War: A Nation Divided (w/ manual)
• Hitman: Blood Money (w/ manual and bonus disc)
• Knockout Kings 2002 (w/ manual)
• Madden 06 (w/ manual)
• MLB 2k5 (loose disc only)
• Mortal Kombat: Deception (loose disc only, many scratches)
• Nascar 06: Total Team Control (w/ manual)
• Nascar 07 (w/ manual)
• Nascar: Dirt to Daytona
• NBA Live 2005 (w/ manual)
• NFL Head Coach (w/ manual and insert)
• Pro Race Driver (w/ manual)
• Red Dead Revolver (Greatest Hits)
• Rock Band (no instruments)
• Scarface: The World is Yours (Collector's Edition, CIB)
• Short Track Racing: Trading Paint (Gamestop case)
• SOCOM US Navy Seals Combined Assault (w/ manual and insert)
• Spartan Total Warrior
• Sprint Cars: Road to Knoxville (w/ manual)
• Sprint Cars 2: Showdown at Eldora (w/ manual)
• Suzuki TT Superbikes (w/ manual)
• Tiger Woods PGA Tour 2003 (w/ manual)
• Tom Clancy's Rainbow Six 3 (Greatest Hits)
• Tom Clancy's Splinter Cell
• Tom Clancy's Splinter Cell: Pandora Tomorrow (w/ manual and insert)
• UFC Sudden Impact (w/ manual)
• UFC Throwdown (w/ manual)
• World Series of Poker: Tournament of Champions (w/ manual)
• World Soccer: Winning Eleven 9 (w/ manual)

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Other

• PC - Dungeon Siege 2: Deluxe Edition (w/ map and game keys)
• PC - Battle Realms (loose)

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Accessories/Merch

• Accessory - NYKO Xbox One Direct Console Charge Base w/ batteries
  • fits flush with Xbox One when plugged in, batteries are well used but still hold a decent charge
• Guide - Prima Games Official Pokemon Diamond & Pearl Scenario Guide (no poster, fair condition)
• Merch - 2007 Diamond & Pearl Box Tin - Holiday Empoleon
• Merch - 2016 Triple Power Tin - Shiny Gyarados
• Battery - 3x OEM GBA SP batteries
  • all tested and working, all have small bloat

​
Free w/ Any Trade

• Wii - The Bigs (loose, heavily scratched)
• PS4 - Fallout 76 (PAL, CIB)
• PSP - Syphon Filter: Logan's Shadow (loose, no casing, untested)
• Headset - OEM PS4 Mono Headset (never used)
• Accessory - 2x Nintendo Switch Lite Tempered Glass Screen Protector
• Accessory - 3x Unbranded GBA Cartridge Holders
• Battery - Non-OEM GBA SP battery (working fine)
• Battery - Dead OEM GBA SP battery (tested & not working)
• Other - Replacement GBA SP buttons & membranes
  • from RetroGameRepairShop, not OEM, buttons are clear black

Wants

Higher Priority	Lower Priority
Pokemon XD: Gale of Darkness (CIB or box w/ all inserts only)	Pokemon Let's Go Eevee (w/ box)
Pokemon SoulSilver CIB or Big Box only (great condition, few signs of damage)	Bayonetta 2 for Switch (sealed)
Pokewalker stuff: two foam slips for Pokewalkers, will consider Pokewalkers in good condition (lower priority than the foam slips)	Pokemon Stadium 2 Box w/ Inserts (any condition, little to no tears preferred)
Pokemon Black or White edition DSi console (loose or CIB)	Cases/boxes/inserts/games to complete my loose items listed
JFC Brand Grip for PS Vita 1000 (new/used)	PS2 game offers (Current specific wants: Bully, Prince of Persia: Sands of Time, Kingdom Hearts, Fullmetal Alchemist: Curse of the Crimson Elixir)
"New" 3DS OEM Faceplates (preference for Pokemon but feel free to offer me any)	BoxyPixel Unhinged Shell (Black or Purple preferred, open to offers on other colors)
GameBoy Micro OEM Faceplates (any except 20th Anniversary)	Xenoblade Chronicles 2 Switch Pro Controller (w/ box)
GameBoy Micro OEM Charger	Special Edition 2DS Consoles (slate model)
OEM PS2 Compatible Component cables (NOT composite cables)	Phat NDS (screens must be in great shape, very few/no scatches, no dead pixels)
LoZ: TotK Pro Controller (w/ box)	Pokemon GB/A with dead batteries
Waterfield City Slicker Case for "New" 3DS	Pokemon Merch (plushies, pins, etc, just show me what you got)
Pokemon Crystal (any condition)	Black Joy Con wrist strap (only need one)
Broken/Non-working handhelds (GB, GBC, GBA, PSP, etc), broken Nintendo consoles (old to new), non-working Pokemon cartridges	Offers/Lists

​

Post your favorite writing resources here. They can be books, articles, software, YouTube channels, podcasts, blogs and anything else that helps you.
Here's a few I like to start us off:
Books:
On Writing by Stephen King
Save the Cat Writes a Novel by Jessica Brody
Techniques of the Selling Writer by Dwight Swain
Novelist as a Vocation by Haruki Murakami
The Writer's Complete Fantasy Reference by Terry Brooks, David Borcherding, and Sherrilyn Kenyon
Websites:
https://www.writersdigest.com/write-better-fiction - articles on lots of topics related to writing
https://www.advancedfictionwriting.com/ - good discussions of scene structure and techniques for plotting
https://www.fantasynamegenerators.com/ - best name generator out there
https://www.panix.com/~felicia/charactecharacter.php - in depth character creation
https://www.etymonline.com/ - origins and history of words
https://www.writerswrite.com/ - everything from articles on fiction and poetry to industry news to writing contests and jobs for writers
https://novellla.web.app/ - distraction free writing software
https://www.powerthesaurus.org/ and https://onelook.com/thesaurus/ - my two favorite thesauruses
https://writershelpingwriters.net/ - lots of good articles in their blog, and some decent resources although many of them are behind a paywall
https://springhole.net/writing/index.html - tons of articles relating to fiction writing, worldbuilding, and roleplaying
https://writingwithcolor.tumblr.com/post/96830966357/words-for-skin-tone-how-to-describe-skin-color - great resource for tips on describing non-white characters
https://milanote.com/ - good free software for organizing projects
https://www.fightwrite.net/blog/ - information about combat and injuries
https://wavemaker.cards/ - free plotting and writing software with some neat features

I've (M38 / 5'10 / 160 lbs) had (mild) COVID-19 three times so far, and everytime I get an increase in skipped heartbeats (PVC's + PAC's) that lasts for weeks / months after the initial infection. Before COVID I only had a few per month. Everytime I caught the virus, the frequency of the ectopics increased. Last week I had a few days with 100+ per day.
I have been to the cardiologist before, they say the PVC's + PAC's are benign and there is no sign of structural heart disease. I did not go to the docs after my latest infection and increase of ectopics though, but I assume that nothing structurally has changed in 1.5 years.
I read that antihistamines could work for long Covid and so I started taking ceterizine 10mg per day. A few days the palpitations decreased to almost zero. Only a handful here and there. I couldn't believe it. I stopped taking the ceterizine and 3 days later they came back. I started taking it again and 2 days later they decreased again to almost zero.
So it definitely seems as if the ceterizine is working. But my question is: Why?
Why could the ceterizine be helping? And is it just 'covering up' an underlying issue? Should I take the medicine long term, from now on? Or will it help my body with solving the underlying problems?
So in short: What could COVID-19 have caused, that lead to onset of frequent PVC's and PAC's, that the ceterizine is helping with? Histamine-intolerance? Vagus nerve inflammation? Myocarditits? Mast Cell Activation Syndrome?
I am just trying to make sense of it all and would like to know what is the best way forward from here. Thanks so much

I love this sub so much! I've learned of brands I've never heard of and wanted to return the favor. I created a list of brands we love in this sub with hyperlinks! They are in alphabetical order because I couldn't possibly rank these as we have quite the range of loves!
I thought it'd be nice to include well-known brands for anyone just getting their start in their handbag journey.

• Ackermann: Based in Paris, France. Made in Italy. Known for: Luxury leather goods with a focus on craftsmanship and timeless design.
• Acne Studios: Based in Stockholm, Sweden. Made in Italy. Known for: Contemporary and minimalist designs, innovative materials, and effortlessly cool style.
• Adelle Stoll: Based in New York, USA. Made in USA. Known for: Handcrafted leather bags with a modern aesthetic and attention to detail.
• Advene: Based in New York, USA. Made in Italy. Known for: Luxury handbags and accessories crafted from premium materials, featuring sleek designs with a contemporary edge.
• Aesther Ekme: Based in Copenhagen, Denmark. Made in Italy. Known for: Architectural-inspired leather goods with a focus on clean lines and functionality.
• Aimee Kestenberg: Based in New York, USA. Made in China. Known for: Fashion-forward handbags and accessories with a focus on functionality and versatility.
• Alaïa: Based in Paris, France. Made in Italy. Known for: Avant-garde and sculptural designs, impeccable craftsmanship, and body-conscious silhouettes.
• Alexander McQueen: Based in London, UK. Made in Italy. Known for: Avant-garde fashion and innovative design under the creative direction of Sarah Burton.
• Alexander Wang: Based in New York, USA. Made in China and other locations. Known for: Urban-chic designs, edgy aesthetic, and modern luxury handbags, including the "Rocco" and "Attica" bags.
• Animal Handmade: Based in Bali, Indonesia. Made in Bali. Known for: Handcrafted leather bags and accessories with a bohemian aesthetic.
• Anya Hindmarch: Based in London, UK. Made in Italy. Known for: Playful and whimsical designs, including the iconic "I Am Not A Plastic Bag" tote.
• APC: Based in Paris, France. Made in France and Portugal. Known for: Minimalist and understated French fashion with a focus on quality materials and craftsmanship.
• Aranaz: Based in Manila, Philippines. Made in the Philippines. Known for: Handwoven bags and accessories inspired by Filipino craftsmanship and culture.
• Aspinal of London: Based in London, UK. Made in England. Known for: Luxury leather goods including handbags, wallets, and accessories with a timeless British aesthetic.
• Ateliers Auguste: Based in Paris, France. Made in France. Known for: Modern and minimalist designs, functional details, and premium materials, offering urban-inspired leather goods.
• ATP Atelier: Based in Stockholm, Sweden. Made in Italy. Known for: Minimalist and Scandinavian-inspired designs, handcrafted from vegetable-tanned leather for timeless elegance and sustainability.
• Balenciaga: Based in Paris, France. Made in Italy. Known for: Avant-garde designs and innovative silhouettes under the creative direction of Demna Gvasalia.
• Bally: Based in Caslano, Switzerland. Made in Switzerland and Italy. Known for: Classic and elegant leather goods with a focus on craftsmanship and quality.
• Bleu de Chauffe: Based in Ariège, France. Made in France. Known for: Handcrafted leather bags inspired by workwear and vintage styles.
• BOYY: Based in Bangkok, Thailand. Made in Thailand. Known for: Structured handbags and accessories featuring oversized buckles and bold hardware.
• Brandon Blackwood: Based in New York, USA. Made in China. Known for: Contemporary handbags with a focus on inclusivity and social consciousness.
• Bolinder Stockholm: Based in Stockholm, Sweden. Made in Italy. Known for: Timeless leather goods with a Scandinavian design aesthetic.
• Bottega Veneta: Based in Milan, Italy. Made in Italy. Known for: Intrecciato woven leather and understated luxury under the creative direction of Daniel Lee.
• Brunello Cucinelli: Based in Solomeo, Italy. Made in Italy. Known for: Luxurious cashmere clothing and accessories with an emphasis on ethical and sustainable practices.
• Burberry: Based in London, UK. Made in Italy and other locations. Known for: Iconic trench coats, British heritage, and classic plaid patterns.
• By Far: Based in Sofia, Bulgaria. Made in Bulgaria. Known for: Retro-inspired handbags and shoes with a modern twist.
• Campomaggi: Based in Teodorano, Italy. Made in Italy. Known for: Handcrafted leather bags and accessories with a distressed and vintage look.
• Cafune: Based in Hong Kong. Made in China. Known for: Minimalist and functional handbags designed for the modern woman.
• Carolina Herrera: Based in New York, USA. Made in Italy. Known for: Timeless elegance and feminine designs, including the iconic "Good Girl" fragrance.
• Celine: Based in Paris, France. Made in Italy. Known for: Minimalist and modern designs under the creative direction of Hedi Slimane.
• Chanel: Based in Paris, France. Made in France and Italy. Known for: Iconic quilted handbags, timeless elegance, and classic fashion under the creative direction of Virginie Viard.
• Charles & Keith: Based in Singapore. Made in China and other locations. Known for: Trendy and affordable footwear and accessories for the fashion-forward woman.
• Christian Louboutin: Based in Paris, France. Made in Italy and other locations. Known for: Red-soled shoes, bold and theatrical designs, and statement-making luxury handbags.
• Chloe: Based in Paris, France. Made in Italy. Known for: Bohemian-inspired designs, including the iconic "Drew" and "Faye" handbags.
• Chylak: Based in Warsaw, Poland. Made in Poland. Known for: Minimalist and timeless leather bags with a focus on quality and craftsmanship.
• Clare V: Based in Los Angeles, USA. Made in USA. Known for: Chic and playful designs, including the iconic "Le Box" and "Le Big Sac" clutches.
• Claudie Pierlot: Based in Paris, France. Made in Europe. Known for: Feminine and romantic designs, including leather handbags with a touch of Parisian glamour.
• Coach: Based in New York, USA. Made in China and other locations. Known for: American heritage, quality leather goods, and timeless designs, including the iconic "Rogue" and "Tabby" bags.
• Coccinelle: Based in Sala Baganza, Italy. Made in Italy and other locations. Known for: Colorful and contemporary handbags with a youthful aesthetic.
• Coperni: Based in Paris, France. Made in France and Italy. Known for: Innovative and geometric designs inspired by technology and architecture.
• Cult Gaia: Based in Los Angeles, USA. Made in China and other locations. Known for: Unique and sculptural handbags and accessories, including the iconic "Ark" bag.
• Cuyana: Based in San Francisco, USA. Made in Italy, Turkey, and other locations. Known for: Timeless and versatile essentials with a focus on sustainability and craftsmanship.
• Deadly Ponies: Based in Auckland, New Zealand. Made in New Zealand. Known for: Luxury leather goods with a focus on quality and innovation.
• Demellier: Based in London, UK. Made in Spain. Known for: Classic and elegant handbags crafted from sustainable materials.
• Delvaux: Based in Brussels, Belgium. Made in Belgium. Known for: Timeless and luxurious leather goods with a rich heritage dating back to 1829.
• Dior: Based in Paris, France. Made in Italy and France. Known for: Iconic designs, including the "Lady Dior" and "Diorama" handbags, under the creative direction of Maria Grazia Chiuri.
• Dooney & Bourke: Based in Norwalk, USA. Made in USA. Known for: Classic American style, quality craftsmanship, and durable leather handbags and accessories.
• Elleme: Based in Paris, France. Made in Italy and Portugal. Known for: Minimalist and contemporary handbags with clean lines and geometric shapes.
• Faure le Page: Based in Paris, France. Made in France. Known for: Heritage craftsmanship, luxurious materials, and iconic gun-sleeve canvas designs, offering elegant and timeless handbags.
• Fendi: Based in Rome, Italy. Made in Italy. Known for: Luxurious fur and leather goods, including the iconic "Baguette" and "Peekaboo" bags.
• Fleuron: Based in Paris, France. Made in France. Known for: Timeless elegance and craftsmanship, offering luxury leather goods and accessories with a focus on sophisticated designs and high-quality materials.
• Fount: Based in Cleveland, USA. Made in Mexico or the Dominican Republic. Known for: Handcrafted leather bags and accessories with a focus on quality materials and timeless design.
• Fossil: Based in Richardson, USA. Made in China and other locations. Known for: Vintage-inspired designs, quality craftsmanship, and accessible luxury, offering a wide range of leather handbags and accessories.
• Furla: Based in Bologna, Italy. Made in Italy. Known for: Colorful and accessible luxury handbags and accessories with a playful aesthetic.
• GG Maull: Based in New York, USA. Made in Italy. Known for: Artistic and innovative designs with a focus on functionality and craftsmanship.
• Givenchy: Based in Paris, France. Made in Italy. Known for: Avant-garde designs and urban chic style under the creative direction of Matthew M. Williams.
• Gucci: Based in Florence, Italy. Made in Italy. Known for: Iconic GG logo, vibrant prints, and eclectic designs under the creative direction of Alessandro Michele.
• Hammit: Based in Los Angeles, USA. Made in USA. Known for: Edgy and versatile handbags with a focus on functionality and craftsmanship.
• Hemlock and Hyde: Based in Cleveland, USA. Made in USA. Known for: Handcrafted leather bags and accessories inspired by American heritage and vintage styles.
• Hevitz: Based in Seoul, South Korea. Made in South Korea. Known for: Elegant and sophisticated handbags with a modern twist.
• Hereu: Based in Barcelona, Spain. Made in Spain. Known for: Handcrafted leather goods inspired by Mediterranean culture and traditional craftsmanship.
• Hermès: Based in Paris, France. Made in France. Known for: Timeless luxury, exquisite craftsmanship, and iconic designs such as the "Birkin" and "Kelly" bags.
• Hulme: Based in Manchester, UK. Made in UK. Known for: Sustainable and functional bags with a focus on recycled materials and innovative design.
• Irevedi: Based in Seoul, South Korea. Made in South Korea. Known for: Minimalist and understated designs with a focus on quality materials and craftsmanship.
• Isabel Marant: Based in Paris, France. Made in Italy. Known for: Effortlessly chic and bohemian designs, including leather handbags with a Parisian flair.
• Issey Miyake: Based in Tokyo, Japan. Made in Japan. Known for: Innovative and avant-garde designs, including the iconic "Bao Bao" bags featuring geometric shapes and unique textures, reflecting the brand's commitment to creativity and technology.
• Jil Sander: Based in Hamburg, Germany. Made in Italy. Known for: Minimalist and modern designs, impeccable tailoring, and understated luxury.
• Jimmy Choo: Based in London, UK. Made in Italy and other locations. Known for: Glamorous and elegant designs, luxury footwear, and iconic evening bags adorned with crystals and embellishments.
• JW Anderson: Based in London, UK. Made in Spain and Italy. Known for: Avant-garde designs that blend traditional craftsmanship with modern aesthetics.
• Joseph Duclos: Based in Paris, France. Made in France. Known for: Elegant and timeless leather bags with a focus on luxury and craftsmanship.
• Just Campagne: Based in Saint-Junien, France. Made in France. Known for: Traditional French craftsmanship and heritage-inspired designs.
• Kate Spade: Based in New York, USA. Made in China and other locations. Known for: Playful and colorful designs, including the iconic "Kate Spade New York" logo.
• Khaite: Based in New York, USA. Made in Italy and other locations. Known for: Modern luxury and refined craftsmanship, offering timeless handbags with a focus on quality materials and sleek designs, reflecting the brand's commitment to effortless sophistication and elevated essentials.
• Kurt Geiger: Based in London, UK. Made in China and other locations. Known for: British heritage and craftsmanship, offering a wide range of fashion-forward handbags and accessories.
• Lanvin: Based in Paris, France. Made in Italy and France. Known for: Sophisticated and luxurious fashion with a focus on draping and fluidity.
• Lancel: Based in Paris, France. Made in France. Known for: French elegance and craftsmanship, including the iconic "Premier Flirt" and "Charlie" bags.
• Le Tanneur: Based in Romans-sur-Isère, France. Made in France. Known for: Classic and refined leather goods with a focus on quality and functionality.
• Leatherology: Based in Carrollton, USA. Made in USA. Known for: Personalized leather goods and accessories with a modern and minimalist aesthetic.
• Leo et Violette: Based in Paris, France. Made in Europe. Known for: Timeless and elegant leather bags and accessories with a focus on quality materials.
• Lemaire: Based in Paris, France. Made in Europe. Known for: Minimalist and understated designs with a focus on quality and craftsmanship.
• Liberty London: Based in London, UK. Made in Italy and other locations. Known for: Heritage prints and luxury fabrics, offering a curated selection of designer handbags and accessories.
• Liebeskind: Based in Berlin, Germany. Made in India and China. Known for: Contemporary and urban-inspired handbags and accessories.
• Little Liffner: Based in Stockholm, Sweden. Made in Italy. Known for: Scandinavian minimalism and sleek designs with a playful twist.
• Loewe: Based in Madrid, Spain. Made in Spain. Known for: Innovative leather craftsmanship and avant-garde designs under the creative direction of Jonathan Anderson.
• Longchamp: Based in Paris, France. Made in France and other locations. Known for: Iconic "Le Pliage" bags, timeless designs, and French elegance.
• Lotuff: Based in Providence, USA. Made in USA. Known for: Handcrafted leather bags and accessories with a focus on traditional techniques and materials.
• Louis Vuitton: Based in Paris, France. Made in France and other locations. Known for: Iconic monogram canvas, luxury travel goods, and innovative designs.
• Maje: Based in Paris, France. Made in Europe. Known for: Parisian chic and effortless elegance, offering feminine and contemporary handbags with a bohemian touch.
• Mako: Based in Seoul, South Korea. Made in South Korea. Known for: Modern and edgy designs with a focus on functionality and versatility.
• Mandel: Based in Berlin, Germany. Made in Europe. Known for: Sleek and minimalist designs with a focus on quality craftsmanship and materials.
• Mansur Gavriel: Based in New York, USA. Made in Italy. Known for: Clean lines, vibrant colors, and timeless designs, including the iconic "Bucket" bag.
• Manufactum: Based in Waltrop, Germany. Made in Germany and Europe. Known for: High-quality and sustainable products for everyday life.
• Marc Jacobs: Based in New York, USA. Made in Italy and other locations. Known for: Quirky and eclectic designs, including the iconic "Snapshot" and "The Softbox" bags.
• Marni: Based in Milan, Italy. Made in Italy. Known for: Eclectic and avant-garde designs, bold prints, and unexpected silhouettes, offering unique and artistic handbags.
• Max Mara: Based in Reggio Emilia, Italy. Made in Italy. Known for: Timeless sophistication, Italian craftsmanship, and luxurious materials, including the iconic "Whitney" and "Grace" bags.
• MCM: Based in Munich, Germany. Made in Italy and other locations. Known for: Luxury leather goods with the iconic "Cognac Visetos" monogram.
• Metier: Based in London, UK. Made in Spain and Italy. Known for: Timeless and elegant leather goods with a focus on craftsmanship and functionality.
• Mlouye: Based in Istanbul, Turkey. Made in Turkey. Known for: Modern and architectural designs with a focus on versatility and functionality.
• Moreau: Based in Paris, France. Made in France. Known for: Handcrafted leather bags and accessories with a focus on traditional French craftsmanship.
• Motherhouse: Based in Tokyo, Japan. Made in Japan. Known for: Minimalist and functional designs inspired by Japanese craftsmanship and aesthetics.
• Moynat: Based in Paris, France. Made in France. Known for: Heritage craftsmanship, innovative designs, and iconic trunk creations since 1849.
• Mulberry: Based in Somerset, UK. Made in UK and other locations. Known for: Classic British style, including the iconic "Bayswater" and "Alexa" bags.
• Nanushka: Based in Budapest, Hungary. Made in Hungary. Known for: Modern and sustainable fashion with a focus on vegan leather and innovative materials.
• Neil Felipp: Based in Cebu, Philippines. Made in the Philippines. Known for: Handcrafted clutches and minaudières inspired by Philippine culture and craftsmanship.
• Nichole Kwon: Based in Houston, USA. Made in Italy. Known for: Elevated essentials and statement pieces with a focus on quality and craftsmanship.
• Neous: Based in London, UK. Made in Italy. Known for: Contemporary and architectural designs, combining modern aesthetics with traditional Italian craftsmanship.
• O My Bag: Based in Amsterdam, Netherlands. Made in India. Known for: Sustainable and eco-friendly leather bags, ethically made with fair trade practices and timeless designs.
• Orciani: Based in Fano, Italy. Made in Italy. Known for: High-quality leather goods with a focus on innovation and functionality.
• Opelle: Based in Toronto, Canada. Made in Canada. Known for: Handcrafted leather bags and accessories with a focus on minimalist design and quality materials.
• Oroton: Based in Sydney, Australia. Made in China and other locations. Known for: Luxury accessories with a focus on craftsmanship and timeless design.
• Osoi: Based in Seoul, South Korea. Made in South Korea. Known for: Contemporary and minimalist designs with a focus on functionality and versatility.
• Patricia Nash: Based in Knoxville, USA. Made in China and other locations. Known for: Vintage-inspired leather bags and accessories with a bohemian flair.
• Parisa Wang: Based in New York, USA. Made in China. Known for: Contemporary and innovative designs, combining functionality with fashion-forward aesthetics, offering versatile and stylish handbags for the modern woman.
• Parker Clay: Based in Santa Barbara, USA. Made in Ethiopia. Known for: Ethically-made leather goods crafted by artisans in Ethiopia.
• Pinko: Based in Fidenza, Italy. Made in Italy. Known for: Contemporary and feminine designs with a focus on bold prints and innovative fabrics.
• Portland Leather Goods: Based in Portland, USA. Made in USA. Known for: Handcrafted leather bags and accessories with a focus on sustainability and quality.
• Polene: Based in Paris, France. Made in Spain. Known for: Chic and minimalist designs with a focus on craftsmanship and affordability.
• Pourchet: Based in Paris, France. Made in France. Known for: Handcrafted leather bags and accessories with a focus on timeless elegance and French savoir-faire.
• Prada: Based in Milan, Italy. Made in Italy. Known for: Iconic nylon bags, innovative designs, and timeless luxury under the creative direction of Miuccia Prada.
• Proenza Schoeler: Based in New York, USA. Made in Italy and other locations. Known for: Edgy and contemporary designs, including the iconic "PS1" and "Hex" bags.
• Radley: Based in London, UK. Made in China and other locations. Known for: Playful and functional designs with a British heritage aesthetic.
• Repetto: Based in Paris, France. Made in France. Known for: Classic ballet flats and dance-inspired fashion with a focus on craftsmanship and comfort.
• The Row: Based in New York, USA. Made in Italy and USA. Known for: Luxurious fabrics, impeccable tailoring, and understated elegance, offering timeless pieces including handbags known for their simplicity and quality craftsmanship.
• Sacai: Based in Tokyo, Japan. Made in Japan. Known for: Innovative and hybrid designs that blur the lines between fashion and function.
• Saint Laurent (YSL): Based in Paris, France. Made in Italy and France. Known for: Rock 'n' roll aesthetic, iconic tuxedo jackets, and the "Sac de Jour" and "Kate" bags.
• Salvatore Ferragamo: Based in Florence, Italy. Made in Italy. Known for: Italian luxury and craftsmanship, iconic designs, and innovative materials, including the "Gancini" and "Vara" bags.
• Sandro: Based in Paris, France. Made in Europe. Known for: French chic and modern elegance, offering sleek and sophisticated handbags with a Parisian twist.
• Saonara: Based in Milan, Italy. Made in Italy. Known for: Handcrafted leather bags and accessories with a focus on traditional Italian craftsmanship.
• Savette: Based in Paris, France. Made in France. Known for: Timeless and elegant leather goods with a focus on quality and craftsmanship.
• Senreve: Based in San Francisco, USA. Made in Italy. Known for: Versatile and functional luxury handbags crafted from Italian leather, designed for the modern woman.
• Serapian: Based in Milan, Italy. Made in Italy. Known for: Luxury leather goods with a focus on craftsmanship and innovation.
• Sézane: Based in Paris, France. Made in Portugal and Italy. Known for: Parisian chic and romantic designs, offering a curated selection of leather handbags and accessories.
• Smaak Amsterdam: Based in Amsterdam, Netherlands. Made in China. Known for: Contemporary and stylish bags designed for the modern woman.
• Soeur: Based in Paris, France. Made in Europe. Known for: French chic and effortless style, offering a range of timeless and versatile handbags with a focus on quality materials.
• Songmont: Based in Guangzhou, China. Made in China. Known for: Affordable and trendy handbags and accessories with a focus on quality and style.
• State of Escape: Based in Sydney, Australia. Made in Australia. Known for: Neoprene tote bags with a minimalist aesthetic, perfect for beach days and everyday use.
• Staud: Based in Los Angeles, USA. Made in China and other locations. Known for: Playful and modern designs, bold colors, and eclectic silhouettes, offering trendy handbags and accessories with a focus on accessibility and style.
• Stella McCartney: Based in London, UK. Made in Italy and other locations. Known for: Ethical and sustainable luxury, vegan leather alternatives, and modern designs with a focus on sustainability.
• Strathberry: Based in Edinburgh, UK. Made in Spain. Known for: Clean lines and signature bar closure design, including the iconic "Strathberry Midi Tote."
• Tia Woven: Based in Manila, Philippines. Made in the Philippines. Known for: Handwoven bags and accessories that showcase Filipino craftsmanship and heritage.
• Thom Browne: Based in New York, USA. Made in Italy and other locations. Known for: Tailored suits, preppy style, and avant-garde designs.
• Tod’s: Based in Sant'Elpidio a Mare, Italy. Made in Italy. Known for: Classic driving shoes, leather goods, and luxury accessories.
• Tory Burch: Based in New York, USA. Made in China and other locations. Known for: Preppy-chic designs, including the iconic "T" logo and "Robinson" tote.
• Toteme: Based in Stockholm, Sweden. Made in Italy. Known for: Scandinavian minimalism, clean lines, and understated elegance, offering versatile and timeless leather bags.
• Valentino: Based in Rome, Italy. Made in Italy. Known for: Romantic and couture-inspired designs, iconic "Rockstud" detailing, and Italian craftsmanship.
• Valextra: Based in Milan, Italy. Made in Italy. Known for: Sleek and minimalist designs with a focus on fine craftsmanship and premium materials.
• Versace: Based in Milan, Italy. Made in Italy. Known for: Bold and glamorous designs, iconic Medusa logo, and luxury Italian craftsmanship.
• Wandler: Based in Amsterdam, Netherlands. Made in Italy. Known for: Sculptural and modern handbags with clean lines and bold shapes.
• Wicker Darling: Based in Bali, Indonesia. Made in Indonesia. Known for: Handwoven wicker bags and accessories with a bohemian aesthetic.
• Yu Mei: Based in Wellington, New Zealand. Made in New Zealand. Known for: Modern and functional leather bags designed for everyday use.
• Yuzefi: Based in London, UK. Made in Spain. Known for: Bold and sculptural designs with a focus on artisanal craftsmanship and unexpected details.
• Zadig & Voltaire: Based in Paris, France. Made in Europe. Known for: Rock 'n' roll inspired designs, edgy and urban style, and luxurious materials.
• Zarah Juan: Based in Manila, Philippines. Made in the Philippines. Known for: Handwoven bags and accessories that celebrate Filipino culture and tradition.
• 3.1 Phillip Lim: Based in New York, USA. Made in China and other locations. Known for: Modern and sophisticated designs, combining luxury with street-style influences, offering contemporary handbags and accessories.

I hope you found this fun! Happy to edit this list for any ones that I missed!