I'm feeling kinda alone. So would u like to talk? I like music as the Beatles, rolling stones, Lana del rey etc. Love watching football and old movies. Dm open for all :)

I'm feeling kinda alone. So would u like to talk? I like music as the Beatles, rolling stones, Lana del rey etc. Love watching football and old movies. Dm open for all :)

Please tell me which songs by The Rolling Stones have vocals by someone other than Mick Jagger, and which albums they are included in.

I have nobody to tell these things since my family are all members but it happened several years ago. When I lost my faith and realized I was attracted to other men, it was too much and I couldn’t handle it. I was 16 and tried to end my life one Sunday afternoon after visiting teaching. Long story short I was back home a few weeks later just wanting to be left alone when the bishop knocked at the door.
I answered and he asked if we could talk. I didn’t want to but didn’t want to be rude either. He asked about my loss of faith but I was in no position to debate anyone. I still was just mustering up some ounce of joy to live by. He rambled on about how he’d read Rough Stone Rolling and still believed. I just wanted him out so I said I had no ill will towards the church but was done with it. I walked him to the door and he assured me that the things I’d previously confessed would be kept confidential (something I thought went without saying but okay) then he left. I never saw him again.
Thinking about it gets me so annoyed. Why did he feel the need to come by? Why didn’t he ask me if it would be okay? What did he even expect to happen?

Figured a single post would be better than annoying everyone with a series of 'em, so here you go. List is newest to oldest.
Fair warning: Absurdist Humor & Satire are my bread and butter, but I make "real" stuff on rare occasions too. It's all just a creative outlet for the vitriol that builds up in my system over the work week. Let me have my fun.
Still Just A Frog

• Prompt: adult alternative pop/rock, college rock, melodic (Manual Mode)
• Song Type: Social/Political Commentary
• Notes: A ditty for folks still living in their fantasy land in 2024

I Don't Love You That Much (Based On A True Story)

• Prompt: male vocalist, chicago blues, electric blues
• Udio Used: Blues, Electric blues, Chicago blues, Instrumental
• Song Type: HumoSatire
• Notes: "Every relationship's got boundaries, but this is too far over the line."

Take 3.8 (Shrinkflation)

• Prompt: bebop, hard bop, cool jazz, drums (drum set), alto saxophone, double bass, piano, 5/4 time, instrumental jazz, cool jazz
• Udio Used: Piano, Cool jazz, Bebop, Double bass, Hard bop, Big band, Jazz, Swing, Uncommon time signatures, Improvisation, Rhythmic, Instrumental
• Song Type: Instrumental/Bebop Jazz Quartet
• Notes: An experiment with command tags to see if I could get something similar to Paul Desmond's "Take Five" (the title's a send-up to that song.) The commands were mostly ignored by the AI, but I still really liked the results.

Shake Your Cans, I Dare Ya!

• Prompt: 1960s, early rock and roll, rhythm & blues, soul, male vocal trio with baritone and bass and tenor voices, bouncy, fun, happy, moderate tempo, piano, drums, trumpet, saxophone, trombone, upright bass, harmonica, guitar
• Udio Used: Jazz, Rhythm & blues, Soul, Happy, Playful, Vocal jazz, Energetic, Guitar, Trombone, Bass, Fun, Piano, Trumpet, Drums, Saxophone, Bebop
• Song Type: HumoSatire
• Notes: This one's still a WIP, providing I get the nerve up to continue struggling with it. It's missing the 2nd pre-chorus, which contains the core "snark" of the song ("Quit your whimpering and dance, dammit!"). Beware Udio's use of Jazz prompts! It adds syncopation to the music which can be a pain to work with in a song with pop-style lyrics.

Your Anime Waifu Isn't Real, G*d Dammit!

• Prompt: 1960s, early rock and roll, rhythm & blues, soul
• Udio Used: R&b, Doo-wop, Rhythm & blues, Soul, Doo wop, Early rock and roll
• Song Type: HumoSatire
• Notes: Just what it says on the tin.

Blasphemy in what was supposed to be Barbershop...

• Prompt: barbershop, a capella, barbershop quartet, male vocal quartet, barbershop
• Udio Used: Male vocalist, Pop, Melodic, Love, Vocal group, Uplifting
• Song Type: HumoAbsurdist
• Notes: Udio seems unable to produce a Barbershop Quartet song, even though there's a Barbershop prompt. Should have Bass, Baritone, Low-Tenor and Tenor vocalists, but it kept dropping the Bass and Baritone for Countertenor and Soprano/Falsetto, like you hear in Doo-wop. Took too long futzing with this for a joke song, so I went with what ending up sounding best.

The Bingo Hall Gooners - Yo-Da-Lay-Dee! (Pinch A Booty!)

• Prompt: classic bluegrass, 1930's bluegrass, traditional bluegrass, male vocal trio, mandolin, fiddle, banjo, in the style of the "man of constant sorrow"
• Udio Used: Northern american music, Regional music, Country, Progressive bluegrass, Bluegrass
• Song Type: HumoAbsurdist
• Notes: A Bluegrass tune about a pervert getting pepper-sprayed. Because why the hell not?

Timestamp (click on knife names for videos of each)
PPFF
yolo>chat
USPS shipping
Trade offers welcome, but mostly into selling right now.
Pending in chat 1. SV $140 Asher Spiro Silver Spacer. S90V BNIP (pouch, not box). First owner. Purchased straight from Asher and received a couple of days ago. No cut or carry. Did fidget a bit to see what the fuss is about. perfectly centered, amazing detent, etc. I get it. Just not my current style so passing along.
2. SV $47 SOLD Kizer Mini Sheepdog Sheepdog. Richlite Red and 4V. LNIB no cut or carry, originial owner. Right now these are in stock on BHQ and KnifeCenter for $94, so to price this I just cut that price in half so hopefully its a sweet deal for a sheepdog in 4V that you can reverse-flick.
3. SV $110 SOLD WTG Famine. Second owner. This could be your SHTF zombie knife. I've cut a water bottle in half with it (since that's cool) and made some kindling with it on one camping trip. There's a chance I hit a stone table in the follow-through while cutting aforementioned water bottle and gave it a little roll in the edge that I highlight in the video. Don't be like me when you cut your water bottles. I think this is bro priced since its going to cost me a fortune to ship it, I can't find in stock anywhere online, and even when it was in stock it went for $220-$250. The sheath it comes in fits it super well. No box or anything, just what you see pictured in the timestamp.

MEGAN: There is no hope when Billie Elish is the voice of gen Z.
CHRIS: I like her songs. She is gifted.
MEGAN: Just Name three song that she has sung.
CHRIS: Bad guys, no times to die from James bond soundtrack, and there is this song that I watched on MTV her dancing with her girlfriends… it’s on the tip of my tongue I think it’s titled Happier than ever.
MEGAN: That’s a totally different song. The song that you are talking about is lost cause… from the album Happier than ever.
CHRIS: At least, I got the album right.
MEGAN: Okay. Give me the first two line of the lyrics from Bad guys or no times to die.
CHRIS: I am not good at lyrics. But she is talented. She has a soulful voice.
MEGAN: Her songs are depressing. I can’t listen to it while I am cooking or driving to work. I will shoot myself in the head. She is the most overrated singer in the history of music. You know, I want to play songs that make me want to sing along, dance and fall in love… not throw up. She is the voice of our generation. It tells you a lot about the direction we are going. Generation Z in America don’t know what the fuck is going on in this world. They complain too much. They are faking it like Billie Eilish.
CHRIS: I think they are lost. They just want a voice to express their pain, confusion, frustration, and sadness. That’s all.
MEGAN: I know that. But when you listen to music, you want to hear something that resonates with your soul and brings joy to your heart. For example, if you listen to Diana Rose and the Supremes’ Baby love, or come see about me and Where did our love go, you will realize that music is dead with Billie Elish whispering that she’s not happy and talking about how her boyfriend is a loser. You know, you wonder what’s happening to music nowadays. Why is so bad? Billie Eilish and Labrinth singing Never Felt So Alone. It’s a setback for Labrinth from Jealous to Never so Alone. He was our hope. We all counted on him to save music. But he has begun to whisper like Billie Eilish. Everybody is following her footstep. Music Critics are falsely saying that Billie Elish is a trailblazer. She is changing music single handedly. So far, she has received 7 Grammy awards. She is only 21. Diana Rose has never won a grammy in her life. There seems to be something fishy going on. You are not supposed to sing in your head. It’s not real music. It’s MTV. You know, they said that video killed a radio star. But video killed music all together. Thanks to MTV. We get asses, boobs, and whispers instead of real music.
CHRIS: I like MTV. I grew up watching it. It changed how we see music forever. You know, music is not music without a music video. Nobody is going to listen to it if you didn’t put out an amazing music video like Thriller by Michael Jackson. I can’t even imagine what Thriller would have sounded like on a radio. It’s the greatest music video ever made. Every time I watch it, it’s new to me.
MEGAN: I will give you the benefit of the doubt. Thriller deserve special praise. It’s one of its kind. However, music died after the introduction of MTV. At least, they don’t make it like how they used to make it in 60s’.
CHRIS: That’s the golden age of music. It can never be replicated again. But who knows? Billie Eilish might change it if she gets her act together.
MEGAN: I can listen to Vision of love, honey, and fantasy by Mariah Carey or I will always love you and I have nothing by Whitney Houston or Rolling in the deep by Adele a million times over and over. But I can’t listen to Happier than ever more than 1 time. Maybe Ocean eyes and When the party is over. They are okay. But the rest is garbage. She is nowhere near to legendry female singers like Aretha Franklin, Celine Dion, and Sinead O'Connor. You know, when you listen to Natural woman by Aretha Franklin or Celine Dion’s It's All Coming Back to Me Now or Because you loved me or nothing Compared to you by Sinead O'Connor, you get goosebumps. You are witnessing a soul exiting the human anatomy disguised in soundwave. It breezes through your skin, kiss your soul, and intertwine with your DNA before it rewrites the rhythm of your heart with a beautiful melody. You couldn’t help but cry, smile, sing, and fall in love with life whether it is wonderful or a bitch.
CHRIS: You have to give her credit the benefit of the doubt. At least, she writes her own lyrics. I mean, No disrespect to Diana Rose and Supremes, Whitney Houston, Mariah Carey, Adele, Aretha Franklin, Celine Dion, and Sinead O'Connor. God bless her soul - Sinead O'Connor. She was an Angel disguised in fire. Her voice is from another world. When I listen to nothing compare to you, I get goosebumps, too. I have always been blown away by her voice. Don’t even get me started with Whitney Houston. She is an angel. When you listen to “I will always love you,” you know that God loves music more than he loves us. She was flawless. It should be illegal to sing like that. And Maria Carey will shatter the glass in your soul, cut your heart to millions of pieces, kiss it, and heals it without a scar. Your heart can’t help but grow wings, burst out of your chest and fly away. She is phenomenal. Celine Dian is in a different league, so was Aretha Franklin. Nobody can question their gifts. But Billie Eilish has brought hope to a lot of people
MEGAN: I feel like that you are playing the devil advocate for the sake of argument. What hope are you talking about? You haven’t even listened to a song that she sang. You watched her playing with her girlfriend in underwear. All of a sudden, you want to defend her. If you are going to defend her. Defend her from your heart. I know you can’t do it because you hate her songs, too.
CHRIS: That’s not it. Just give her a break. She has a beautiful voice. She just doesn’t want to disappoint her fans. Imagine if she sings I will always love you or vision of love. Her fans will accuse her of selling out.
MEGAN: Fuck her fans. They are fake anyway. They don’t know anything about music. She should not let them hold her back. They just want to see her wearing oversize baggies like a boy, who drops out of high school and who breaks his skating boards, and whisper like a wounded cat that got a fight with a Rottweiler and talk about fake pain, bad relationship, and girls standing up to abusive boyfriends. Even country music has more sense of humor than her.
CHRIS: I like country music.
MEGAN: Don’t get me started with country music. I don’t even know why it’s still alive. It should have died with Western movies long time ago. You know, I would rather listen to Disco and 90s’ electronic dance music than country music.
CHRIS: What’s wrong with 90s’ electronic dance music? DJs still play them at club.
MEGAN: That’s true. But you don’t want to get caught playing that shit in your car. People will look at you weird.
CHRIS: I still listen to What’s love by Hardaway and couldn’t help dancing.
MEGAN: I hear you. Life is not fair. You have songs that makes you want to dance. Before you know it, it goes out of fashion. You have country music talking about how hard they work and their wife living them for their brothers and how they just want to drink whiskey and forget about them.
CHRIS: Country music is not bad. They know how to tell stories. It’s definitely better than electronic dance music when it comes to lyrics.
MEGAN: Okay. name three countries songs and artists.
CHRIS: Dolly Parton.
MEGAN: Dolly Parton doesn’t count. She wrote I will always love you. You would not have known her if she had it written that.
CHRIS: Fair enough. I get the point. What about Garth Brooks?
MEGAN: Okay 1.
CHRIS: Carrie Underwood and Morgan Wallen.
MEGAN: Okay, name three songs.
CHRIS: Friends in low places, by Garth Brook. Before He Cheats by Carrie Underwood. And Island in Stream by Dolly Parton and Kenny Rogers.
MEGAN: That’s not bad. I didn’t know that you were a country music fan.
CHRIS: To be honest, I am not a fan of country music. I don’t listen to country. I only know very few songs here and there and Shania Twain. But it doesn’t mean that it’s not good just because it’s not your cup of tea. In fact, country music is becoming popular. They are bringing original materials.
MEGAN: How do you know that they are bringing original materials if you have never listened to country music.
CHRIS: I just assumed that they must have brought original materials. It’s because they are dominating the chart… like Morgan Wallen. His songs are no 1.
MEGAN: What song is that?
CHRIS: I don’t know. But most of his songs are in Billboard top 10. He is bigger than Justin Bieber.
MEGAN: I used to have crush on Justin Bieber. I still listen to his song… except Peaches. I don’t know what was he thinking when sings I get my weed from California. Who care if he got it from Jamaica? The lyrics is terrible. That’s why sometimes, I hate pop songs. They talk nonsense and get away with it.
CHRIS: What kind of music do you like?
MEGAN: I like all kinds of music… except country. Pop is on the top.
CHRIS: What about Billie Eilish? You don’t like her.
MEGAN: Sometimes, I like her. She does have a unique voice. Other times, I can’t stand her when she whispers and talk nonsense. She would have been an amazing jazz singer if she just opens her mouth and sings like a regular person.
CHRIS: You don’t want Billie Eilish to limit herself with only Jazz. Let her try everything: Pop, R&B, rock, blues, jazz, indie what have you. She has a hypnotic, alluring, and haunting voice and she knows how to control the tone of her voice. But if she must limit herself, she should choose classic rock. It soothes her like ice cream melting in her mouth.
MEGAN: What kind of music do you listen to?
CHRIS: I listen all kinds of music. You know, Sexual healing by Marvin Gaye, let’s get together by Al Green, against all the odds by Phil Collins, In your eyes by Peter Gabriel, Kiss from a rose by Seal, and Earn it by Weeknd to name a few.
MEGAN: You have a beautiful taste. Sensual, seductive and erotic and romantic. But what’s your favorite lines in music.
CHRIS: It’s either the way you look tonight by Frank Sinatra. Yes, you're lovely, with your smile so warm
And your cheeks so soft
There is nothing for me but to love you
And the way you look tonight.
Or My girl by Temptations.
I've got so much honey
The bees envy me
I've got a sweeter song
Than the birds in the trees
Well, I guess you'd say
What can make me feel this way
My girl, my girl, my girl
Talkin' 'bout my girl.

MEGAN: You are romantic.
CHRIS: What about you? What’s your favorite lines in music?
MEGAN: Halo by Beyonce.
Hit me like a ray of sun
Burning through my darkest night.
You’re the only one that I want.
Think I’m addicted to your light.

“The room feels cold as ice creeps into my veins. Nothing seems to make sense as my vision blurs and swirls into a cacophony of blues and golds. ‘Oli? Oli are you alright?!’ I think I hear someone call out to me as my body goes limp and plops onto the scratchy carpet flooring. I can’t seem to recognize who it is that’s speaking though. I go to a world that’s devoid of darkness and lacks nothing but fear. It’s a strange sense of belonging I really strive for after feeling left alone for so long.”
“What is this feeling of loneliness?” Dr. Andrews asks after sitting through my two pages of drivel. “Well when you asked me to put myself into a story I figured it wouldn’t do me any good to leave things out.” “I appreciate that, it helps me understand what’s on your mind more clearly. I think it’s important to dissect this as we go and possibly focus on individual concerns as we progress.” He was looking over his large clear framed glasses as he picked my brain. It feels like that too. “I think the break up still has a lot to do with it. I haven’t felt quite like me since. I sometimes go through half the day when I finally realize I haven’t spoken a single word. When I do go to say something the voice I hear isn’t mine. I mean, it’s me but it doesn’t sound right to my ears. Like repeating the word porridge or square over and over. Eventually they don’t even feel like real words. That’s how my whole world has felt lately.”
“The end of a relationship can be a very draining experience. It’s perfectly okay to allow yourself to feel through it as you need to.” I let out a slight scoff. “It ‘feels’ like I need to let myself stop feeling for a while.” Doc looks down at his notes and scribbles something else down in there, I’d love to see all of those, find out how twisted and fucked he really thinks I am. “How about the notion of a world full of everything but fear?” “Well I used to think there’s only two real emotions. Love and fear. They both push people to the farthest of ledges and sometimes even can make them jump off. I say used to because I get now that those are just the extremes. There’s a spectrum in between those two things still. That terrifies me. I think a world where we get rid of one would be a lot simpler.”
That damn pencil scribbles something on the page again. I’m not sure if I should hate that or the man holding it. He looks up and calmly begins the conversation again, “I think it’d be much more meaningless as well. With nothing to fear maybe there’d be nothing to love? With no sadness nothing to be joyful towards.” “Yeah, and maybe I’d finally be able to just exist.” “I don’t think you’re giving yourself enough credit. You exist here, proof of that being the fear you feel. If you have that then that means the other side of the scale is waiting for you too.” It makes me angry that what he’s saying makes so much damn sense. Even angrier that he’s using my logic against me to solidify that.
“So what do I do?” I really do want to know the answer to this, but don’t really expect a clear one. “Give yourself up.” He states clearly and smoothly. “I wasn’t expecting a guide book but what is that supposed to mean?” “If you don’t feel like you, maybe you should give that up and find who you are. Are you chasing something that isn’t yours to chase? There are other options.” This feels like a solid departure from the usual, he’s never been so concise with his advice. It had always felt open ended before. “Did you have something in mind? It kinda seems like you do.” He pushes his glasses up on his face as he lets out a hefty chuckle, “Who’s supposed to be reading people here? Me or you?” I’m not feeling right here, this is nothing like the manner he’d carried for our 3 months of sessions before. “I do actually have a slight suggestion. It’s not what I recommend often but I think you’d be a perfect candidate for it.”
He stands up and moves over to the cabinet that sits below the painting of a ship on a rolling ocean and the monstrous creature trying to swallow it into the depths. He pulls some keys out of his pocket and jiggles them into place. Once inside he muddles through some prescription bottles and tonics. Reaching into the far back to grab a single vial colored pale blue. He brings it with him back to his seat and crosses his legs, “This may help.” He twists open the vial and removes a single tablet. Reaching over he drops it into my hand. It’s slightly warm to the touch, it doesn’t really look like a tablet holding it up close. Almost like a small stone or scale. It’s jagged and more of a misshapen oval. Shimmering gold with the sunlight streaming in from the window behind me.
“Yeah, okay. What is this?” I ask with obvious amounts of skepticism. “It’s an experimental treatment I’ve been shown recently. I actually took it myself. One time and you’ll see the world you want to see.” “Right.. So what is this like a fancy new mushroom?” “Something like that.” He says with no clear expression on. “I mean, alright, can’t make things any worse right?” I pop the pearl-like piece into my mouth and swallow it dry. Almost immediately it makes me feel warm from the inside out. Swarmed with a sense of euphoria and bliss I haven’t felt for a long time. The colors in the room seem to shift. Everything gets brighter and starts swimming in front of my eyes. The portrait of the sea began to actually tread along and the tentacled beast succeeds in pulling in its prey. The walls smile at me like old friends and greet me in tongues I shouldn’t be able to understand. Sunlight warms me from behind while love warms me from inside. It’s here I finally ask myself, love for what? “What did you just give me?” I sort of slur out, I don’t sound right to myself. “Something to open your mind and your heart to the world beyond and a glimpse of what it offers. Only the glimpse is all you’ll be able to see.”
When he says this the sun behind me goes cold, sending a shiver through my body. I hear the window shatter and what seems to be the writhing of something coming inside. My muscles won’t respond as I’m trying to scream at them to turn around. All I can see is Doc standing before falling to his knees and bowing his head. The room feels cold as ice creeps into my veins. Nothing seems to make sense as my vision blurs and swirls into a cacophony of blues and golds. ‘Oli? Oli are you alright?!’ I think I hear someone call out to me as my body goes limp and plops onto the scratchy carpet flooring. Why can’t I remember that voice?

Ha! Of course! Jackpot!

Luck shines upon me, indeed! Oh yes!

For nothing beats Spring!!

UMA Spring is fourth, of the seasons Union beat. The strongest of all, he made Kyoto his playground; he loves games dearly. He only speaks in haiku, hence I shall follow.

Perusing Legend

Others Interacted With

• Andy the Undead
• Fuuko Izumo, Unluck
• God, one above all
• Rip Tristan, one Unrepair
• Shen Xian, once Untruth
• Top Bull Sparx, Unstoppable

Regarding Format

• Most feats are ordered...with chronological tact. Only artefacts...find themselves in games' pattern.
• Mouse above a link...to find the chapter number.
• Scans draw from past Loop; Spring has yet to reappear.
• Character page.
• If poetry really isn't your thing, here's a version of this thread that doesn't have any of that.

Spring's Core (No Phase 1)

• Passive tree germination, within nearby range
  • The trees affected by this? Could have changed species--it better suits the season
• Tugs a treasure chest, many times larger than him, filled with game trinkets

Second Phase of Spring

Physical Actions Performed

• Billy's Unbalance, a spring of a different sort, bends Tokyo Tower. Spring, at the top, never fell...his grip has true strength
• (Controlled by evil forces) Fell in battle against Spring, Isshin Tesshu did
• Marked Isshin's grave with carved stone, hefted overhead

Springtime Essence Controlling

• Upon first contact, petals will transform people...all are dendrified
  • The change is almost instant
• With but half an hour, Spring's presence will dendrify; no one can defend
  • Even if Spring wants this not, the process goes on
• When a challenger shows, Spring collects the trees, coalescing energy
  • Satellites are barred, to the Union's great dismay
• Upon Spring's felling, all that transformed into trees, returns to its state

Phase 2's Kabuki

Physical Actions Performed

• Punches a crater, which dwarfs the nearby Fuuko, to play Negate Tops
  • With a champion declared, the punched ground resets
• Fuuko and Isshin fly up--caused from Spring's great stomp
• An Unbreakable pauldron, shields Fuuko from death...it takes but a single punch!
• Lightning struck him thrice
• Victim to felled tree and rock...and his box of games
• His chest torn open can't hide...his core's emotions

Springtime Essence Controlling

• Brings forth spring rainstorms, lightning kills the trees gathered
  • Other targets are: Unbreakable and Undead
• Directed gales launch Fuuko

Miscellaneous

• You'll regret interference, until dendrified...punishment for saboteurs; no damage allowed
• Blasphemes against divine ideas, placed within his mind

Phase 3

(Phase 3 drops the haiku talking scheme due to God's forced brainwashing)

Physicals

• Jumps from the top of Tokyo Tower to Tokyo below, crushing the buildings he lands on with a new immense size
• Phase 3 is impervious to all attacks, though if you aren't explicitly trying to attack then it is possible for the attacks to land
• Rip's Blade Runner blade does no damage despite bypassing his imperviousness
• Shen's Nyoi-Kinko staff also fails to do anything
• Unbreakable Tachyoshot drives Rip's blade into Spring's chestplate, which was unable to pierce it by itself
• Cut down the middle when Andy's sword is made unchanging by Billy

Elemental Control

• Where he stomps, nature blooms, replacing what was there before
• Sends a wave of cherry petals to dendrify a borough of Tokyo untouched so far
• Entering Phase 3 greatly expanded his area of influence
• Controls cherry tree limbs
• Tags Andy with cherry petal projectiles
• Snatches the Nyoi-Kinko and Nico's Psycho Pods with cherry limbs
• Shields himself with castle-sized cherry trees

Artefacts

General

• Has a list of everyone who he's destroyed in artefact games
  • A toll of 100,000 lives are summoned from around the globe to serve as Fuuko's ante
• Possesses a huge box filled with artefacts he's found in Japan
  • These possess enough memories within to cause great pain to Fuuko as she touches them
  • Here are a few of them

Enoh Jusshu #5

• Negate Tops uses Negators as tops to clash in a battle arena, though if they lose the game then they die
  • A top that traps Negators' souls in them with the option to force how they move or let the trapped Negator choose
  • Spring is able to suck Andy from inside an Unchange sphere when he chooses him as his top

The Second Game (No Artefact Name)

• Calls up 13 Negators' souls to act as cards in a game of karuta

Kofusai

• Owns a pair of dice that allows the user to steal away what the target cherishes the most, so long as the user correctly guesses if it rolls odd or even
  • Intercepts a nuke and renders it a dud
  • Artefact details
  • Kills Spring

Warmth and kindness have…
Helped to usher in a change…
In this set of rules…
That I shall cherish with pride.
For I am the spring itself.

In hindsight, I should have known something was wrong with The Caeles Academy of Acting.
Maybe the fact that it doesn't exist to the outside world.
This place prided itself on famous alumni it didn't actually name, and a once in a lifetime opportunity to work with the best in the business.
It's what I wanted.
More than anything.
After enduring four years of high school with barely a semblance of a drama club (we met every month, and our teacher was an alcoholic), and countless failed auditions, I was ready to take my acting career seriously. I had one year.
According to my parents, I had one year to make a living from my passion.
If it didn't work out, I would be on the first plane back to Connecticut.
It's not like they didn't trust me. I think they were just scared I wouldn't be able to financially support myself. So, I got a job right out of high school and slipped a year. Drama schools are expensive, and college’s are cut-throat on who they take on. I found Caeles Academy by accident–or, I guess it found me?
After researching cheap drama classes, auditions, academy’s, literally anything to progress my career, an ad popped up.
Not exactly flashy.
Just a date, a time, and a promise that they only take the best. I ignored it, but throughout the week, I started getting more ads. Just the words, “IMPRESS US - - JOIN CAELES ACADEMY NOW.”
Followed by, “BE WITH THE BEST, AND BE THE BEST. JOIN THE S CLASS NOW.”
When I googled the academy, nothing came up.
It didn't exist, at least on Google.
So, I gave up, clicking on the ad, which sent me straight to an application form.
I filled in my details as more of a joke. But I wasn't expecting to get an email back. Again, it was a time, a date, and that exact same tagline: “Impress us.”
However, Caeles Academy was different from what I imagined.
I was expecting a university building, or at least some modern structure.
Judging from their marketing and ads, I figured they could at least afford decent premises. Though I was mistaken. When I stepped out of the Uber, I found myself staring at what looked like an abandoned office tower, a red-brick monolith in the middle of nowhere.
Which was crazy, because I swore a girl wearing a bikini had strode through the doors, with nothing but her phone, and a coffee tucked under her elbow.
According to the text sent from the academy, the auditioning rooms were on the third floor.
Tipping my head back, the checkerboard of broken windows didn't exactly instil confidence.
Neither did the clunky set of automatic doors that took a while to open.
It was a summer's day, and the heat was already baking through my dress, sweat sticky on the back of my neck.
I wanted to make a good impression, but the heels were a little over the top.
Though I had also seen a girl casually walk in wearing a two piece bikini.
“Well?”
Freddie’s voice made me jump. I forgot I was on the phone to him.
After being excited the whole car-ride, already high on five coffees, I was silent.
If I perceived the ‘academy’ from an objective standpoint, it definitely looked like the perfect place to be brutally murdered. But my own personal opinion was it was.. okay.
“What's it like?”
I pretended not to see a rat scuttling under an old candy wrapper.
“It's… fine.”
“Just fine?”
I could hear the smirk in my friend’s tone. He couldn't wait to tell me it was a scam, and had been reminding me all week I was essentially willingly selling myself to the black market. I was stubborn, so, fine sounded better than my initial first impression.
Which was to turn around, walk away, and completely block the place from my memory.
Unfortunately, at that moment, I valued my pride over my awareness.
“It's… okay.” I said, trying to find positives. I was staring at a looming grey building with shattered windows and a resident rat living near the door.
I had a hard time figuring out how the girl from earlier had just casually strode inside, barefoot too. I glanced down at the ground, immediately regretting it.
Like there weren't bits of chewing gum and grime stuck to the concrete.
“Huh.” Freddie said, his tone creeping into teasing territory. “You're really selling it.”
“It just looks like a building,” I muttered, my gaze glued to the rat, who looked a little too comfortable.
Maybe it was a pet.
I was getting progressively more infuriated the more I stared down this place. Judging from the decades old writing ingrained into the door, it used to be a dentist surgery. “What do you want me to say?” I wasn't even trying to hide the scorn from my voice. “It's a building that looks like an academy.”
“Can you send a picture?” Freddie asked, “Ooh, wait, I'll face-time you.”
“That's, uh, that’s not really necessary–”
I was cut off, suddenly, when a guy threw himself through the automatic doors, palms first. He took two stumbled steps forwards, one back.
Lifting his head, half lidded eyes found the sky, before he dropped to his knees, heaving pinkish liquid.
I could see him trying to hold it in, slamming his hands over his mouth, only for it to splurge through his fingers, showering the ground in greyish pink froth.
Like he'd downed a bottle of Pepto Bismol.
Inching towards him, I realized it was Pepto Bismol.
The stink made my own stomach churn.
“Missy?”
I found my voice. “Uh, can I call you back later?”
Before my friend could answer, I ended the call, slipping my phone in my pocket.
The guy was still heaving, coughing up globules of pink.
“Are you okay?”
The sound of my heels click-clacking on concrete made me cringe. The guy noticed, flinching away. Closer, and I could see his scraggly blonde hair.
He was handsome.
Without the bile spewing down his chin.
Early twenties, wearing a fitted white shirt now covered in streaks of bright pink. Part of me wanted to make a half-hearted joke, but getting even closer, so close I could smell his pepto-breath, I noticed he was trembling, his hands clenched into fists.
When I attempted to awkwardly pat him on the shoulder, he twisted around, so fast my morning coffee slithered its way back up my throat.
His eyes were wide, almost feral, studying me like a wild animal.
I noticed the whites of his pupils were red, like he'd burst a blood vessel.
Theatre kids were intense, though I had never met THIS kind of intense.
“Are you… going in there?” The guy’s voice was a child-like whimper I wasn't expecting.
It looked like he was slowly regaining clarity, staring down at his filthy shirt, his hands stained bright pink.
I nodded, uncertainly, offering him my water. “Yeah. Did you audition?”
He shoved it away, slapping himself in the face. “I… I don't know.”
“You… don’t know?”
Suddenly, it was like something had contorted in his expression, a switch being pulled. I wasn't expecting him to twist around so fast. The guy slowly cocked his head, his lips breaking into a grin. His eyes, however, stayed the same.
“Of course I've auditioned.” He said, with a laugh.
“It was the best experience of my life!" His mouth formed an almost mocking frown.
“Unfortunately, I didn't make the cut. Which is a real shame. I'm sure Caeles would have benefited from my talents.”
What was weird, is that his mouth was moving, but he wasn't even looking at me, frenzied eyes caught in an oblivion I couldn't see.
When he did look at me, his expression crumpled all over again.
Pepto jumped to his feet, brushing himself down.
I couldn't take his over the top smile seriously, when his eyes were screaming, hollowed out caverns silently begging me to listen.
This guy was fucking crazy.
“Wait.” Pepto whispered, when I turned to walk away.
He pulled out his phone, tapping the screen before shoving it in my face.
I HAD SO MUCH FUN AT THE CAELES ACADEMY AUDITIONS :)
When I could only stare at him in confusion, Pepto’s gaze flicked to his phone, swiping bile from his lips.
His eyes went cartoon wide, like he couldn't believe what he himself was typing.
“That… that's not what I was trying to say!” He tried retyping it, but the guy was just writing strings of emoji hearts.
I didn't know what to say. I had dealt with rejection before, but I had never gone this far. Pepto was having a full on mental breakdown, his body shuddering, teeth chattering, blinking eyes and lips parting as if to speak, but choking on his words. When he started clawing out his hair, I took the opportunity to make a quick getaway.
Before I could make it to the doors, though, Pepto jumped in front of me, waving his phone directly in my face.
“Just…” he pointed at the screen. “It won't let me…” Growing frustrated with himself, he let out a wet sounding sob, clawing his fingers through his hair.
“Fuck, it won't let me…it won't let me type! It's not letting me type!”
By now, he had tufts of hair stuck between his fingernails. I don't know why his first reaction was to immediately try ripping his hair out.
A quick glance at my own phone reminded me of my audition that was in five minutes.
Meanwhile, I was dealing with what I was pretty sure was delusion, denial, or a mixture of both.
I was considering pushing past him, when Pepto’s phone screen hit me in the face. Again.
This time, though, there was coherent writing.
“FIND LUKE.”
“Luke?” I said. “Who's that?”
“Luke!” The guy was bouncing on the heels of his feet. “He's my…” Pepto drifted off, his eyes going vacant, as if I could physically see his brain being plucked from his skull. Pepto dropped his phone, and I grabbed it before it could hit the ground. His hands went to his curls, clawing, scratching, until he was drawing blood across his forehead.
“I… I don't know! I can't… I can't remember. Luke. He was my… he was my… I don't know, I can't… I can't–”
I stumbled back when he let out a shriek, scratching at his face.
“Fuck!” He whimpered. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!”
Pepto grabbed my shoulders, shaking me, his fingers digging into my skin.
“I don't know who he is.” He gritted out, pink froth pooling from his lips.
Pepto broke out into a sob. “I don't… I don't know who he is, but you can find him, right? You can… you can find…”
Again, he trailed off mid sentence, his hands going limp around my shoulders.
I managed to side step him, swallowing a cry.
“Yeah, I'll, um, I'll find him for you.”
Pepto backed away, suddenly, stumbling over himself.
His gaze found mine, vacant, like a baby deer.
“Find who?”
I didn't wait around to answer him, pushing through the doors and stepping inside.
The interior was unsurprisingly even worse than the exterior.
The elevator was broken, so I had to run up three flights of stairs.
I expected at least an attempt at an academy, even in the dregs of an old dentist surgery.
What I got, though, was a never ending staircase, obnoxious photos of teeth greeting me on every level.
The third floor was… less clinical.
I strode directly into a waiting room filled with college aged students, either sitting on plastic chairs, or standing around, rehearsing.
The room itself was cosy enough, a navy carpet and a TV playing a random Twitch stream.
Situated in the middle was a desk with a bored looking woman behind it.
Her smile was fake. I could understand her pain. She was stuck in a room with theatre kids all day.
“Sign here.” She prodded a sheet of paper.
I was convinced her voice was AI.
While I was scribbling my details, I took a moment to notice the stark difference from the kids entering the room, to the ones leaving. The kids entering wore wide, confident smiles and were social butterflies, chatting amongst themselves.
The kids leaving reminded me of pod people.
They left the room silent, in an orderly line with dazed smiles on their faces, like they weren't sure where they were.
I watched one guy walk directly into the wall instead of taking a left toward the exit, and a girl straight up just toppled down the stairs.
The kids waiting with me named them rejects.
I wasn't convinced until I glimpsed an empty bottle of Pepto Bismol sitting on the floor by the window.
Thinking back to Pepto, that made a lot of sense.
I was still dazedly staring at the bottle, when my name was called.
Jumping to my feet, I did my best to calm myself down, straightening my ponytail. Pepto had really screwed with my head. I could barely even remember the lines I had been rehearsing for a week straight.
I was muttering my lines to myself, when I stepped through the door.
The door that apparently turned you into a pod-person on the way out.
For a moment, I thought I was blinded by stage lights.
It was so bright.
The glow bathing me was clinical, stabbing into my eyes.
When I blinked, I found myself standing in front of three shadows sitting in front of me.
Their chairs were made of leather, far different from the plastic ones in the waiting room.
So, they did have filthy cash.
I was looking at one man, and two women.
They were… average?
I expected them to be more glitzier, but they were just regular people.
The man was in his late twenties, maybe early thirties, a stiff looking brunette wearing a suit and tie, one leg crossed over the other. His eyes were narrowed slightly, lips curved into the start of a smile. Like I amused him.
The women were polar opposites.
One of them was my Mom’s age, grey hair and floral clothing. She took a sip of water, her gaze burning into me.
Google told me not to be intimidated by their stares, but it was impossible.
These people were carving holes into my skull.
Sitting next to her, a younger girl who seemed to own the color red.
Her hair simmered, blood red, while she herself was sculpted in a dress, perfect cherry lips spread in a wide smile.
With a little too many teeth.
They studied my face like I was already theirs, drinking in every inch of me.
Freddie said I had to find a weakness in their expression and use it to my advantage.
If I could find the prick of a genuine smile, I could become their favorite.
“Hi!” I said. My caffeine intake was starting to take effect.
I didn't realize I was bouncing up and down until I caught myself.
Red’s smile stretched wider.
Maybe they liked my eagerness.
“My name is Misa.” I introduced myself, staying casual, keeping my arms by my sides. “I'm twenty one years old–”
I choked on my next words when Red spoke up. “Impress us, Misa,” Her voice was a smooth, almost seductive rasp, and I felt myself fall into it, enveloped in sugar that was too sweet, and yet I couldn't stop myself. She folded her arms across her chest, her gaze challenging me to do something different. To make her want me.
“Show us something we have never seen before.” She stood up, cat-like eyes narrowing, “Show us how desperate you are to join this prestigious class.”
I nodded, and began.
I had planned a whole monologue, practised it over and over again, forcing Freddie to judge me with a none biassed opinion.
I was three lines in, when Red started laughing.
“Stop.”
I did, my cheeks heating up.
She clapped loudly. Obnoxiously.
“Sweetie, oh, stop, you're adorable!”
She leaned forward, like I was something that entertained her, jostling her heeled foot. “We don't take amateurs. I think you need to go back to school.”
This woman was definitely a psychopath.
Empty eyes sparkling with a gleam that definitely enjoyed humiliating candidates, and a twisted smile that was a little too wide. Red made me want to crawl into the ground.
She made me want to turn around, leave the room, and quit my dream. I was aware of my own fury, my embarrassment turning my cheeks crimson. I matched her.
Maybe that's what she wanted all along. To wear the color of her victims.
Taking a shaky step back, I started to nod, started to agree, my mouth choking with the words, “You're right. I'm sorry for wasting your time."
I had never received proper constructive criticism from a professional standpoint.
Which meant I really did suck.
But I didn't move. I didn't want to move, and Red continued laughing, her companions sitting in silence.
The man rolled his eyes with a loud, exaggerated sigh.
Like I was boring.
The older woman pulled out her phone.
“Misa, you are…cute.” Red said. “But you're not quite what we are looking for.”
I wasn't sure I could admit it right there, but she made me feel things.
Like I was ignited.
Like I was going to prove this crazy bitch wrong.
I found my voice, strong and confident, despite my hammering heart.
“Give me another chance.”
Red’s lips curled. “So cute, Misa. Oh, sugar bear, It would be better if you left the room. Unless you want to embarrass yourself further! In that case, be my guest!”
She turned her attention to her nails, nudging the guy.
“Dinner?” She hummed. “I'm thinking of Italian. You are quite the wine connoisseur, Nicholas. Why don't you introduce me to your favorite?”
“Hey.” I blurted.
They ignored me, getting a little too close.
I don't know why I continued, reading my lines, screaming them, so I would be heard. I read them perfectly, and tweaked the genre from drama to romance, and then to horror. I became three different characters, a high school girl struggling with cancer, a final girl, and a woman going through a divorce.
I was fucking perfect.
But they weren't listening to me, caught up in their own conversation.
I tried again.
And again.
And again.
By now, I was on my knees, my fingers ripping into my hair. I was seeing red.
“We want originality, Misa,” Red said, sucking her teeth.
Her voice crawling into my skull was enough.
She still wanted me.
The thought polluted the back of my mind, taking a strangling hold. She still wanted me. When I lifted my head, Red wasn't looking at me, her gaze on the table grains. “Show us something new.”
I got to my feet, panting, my breath in my throat.
I became a screaming, strangled mess, a woman who lost her baby.
Red’s interest was piqued. Only slightly. Through my fraying vision, she slowly turned in her chair. “Again.” She clapped her hands, “Come on, Misa! We want new! We want never been fucking done before! Are you deaf?”
I couldn't stop the sobs escaping my mouth.
They lost interest again, right in the middle of my reading.
“Why can't you look at me?” I found myself spluttering.
When the man pulled out a bottle of water, I yanked off my heel and lobbed it at his face.
“Look at me!”
He did. Slowly. His gaze found me, for perhaps the first time.
Not as an amateur, but as a potential candidate.
Around the twentieth attempt, I started to laugh. Never been done before? I could feel my fingernails already in my scalp, clawing chunks of my hair out.
Reality contorted, and I felt myself drop to my knees. I was still laughing, spluttering, sobbing. I could still hear her in my head. Never Been Done Before. I started slowly, dragging my fingernails down my face until I felt the harsh sting.
“Again.” Red said, and her voice led me to stare down at my hands, at pinkish flesh glued to my bones, fleshy mounds that I had never realized was so thin.
So easy to tear. I didn't even feel it.
Only the sudden, unbridled euphoria of biting into my own skin, locking in my jaw, and ripping into myself.
When I tore it from the bone, warmth filled my mouth, and I was choking, guzzling down my own flesh, mulling it in my mouth and swallowing.
I can't remember how I got so deep, and why I didn't stop.
Why I didn't fucking scream.
But it didn't matter.
Red was standing up. She was clapping, her lips spread into a grin.
Her applause filled me with stars.
So, I ripped my hair from my scalp, a hysterical giggle escaping my lips.
She loved me.
I could see her jumping up and down, clapping.
Louder, and louder.
Her applause controlled me, twisting and contorting me into hers.
I didn't even think. I wanted to impress her, and doing this was doing just that.
My fingers were delving into my right eye socket, clawing my eye out. It didn't even hurt. Not with her thundering applause that was deafening, beautiful, an orchestra in my ears.
When I was semi conscious, my eye was crushed in my hand, but my vision was still mine, almost too clear. I could see streaks of red blurred between my lashes. My hair was caught between my fingers. But I wanted to do more.
When I stumbled to my feet, Red’s smile was so beautiful.
The man, however, looked horrified.
“Someone grab one of the successes,” Red’s voice was a shrill giggle, “Bring him in!” she clapped her hands together, and I spat out a fleshy thing. “I want to see them together! I want to see the future in front of us!”
Footsteps coming towards me in slow, shuddery thumps. I looked up, and a shadow was dancing around me.
When I slowly rose to my feet, I half realized I’d bitten my toe off. The shadow had a face, a boy who was younger than me. I think he used to have hair, but half of it was gone, half of it was still stuck between his fists. When I found his eyes, I found twin caverns instead.
Eyes that were still physically there, and yet there was no life.
No spark.
I was staring at a dead body, a flesh puppet who had lost his strings.
When he grabbed my hands, pulling me into a waltz, I caught a smear of scarlet trickling down the back of his neck. When I followed it upwards, his head was covered, slick, dripping with red.
Like me, he matched her too.
And he was beautiful, she told me, her push, her thunderous applause, guiding me into a waltz.
His feet moved, perfecting every step, and my foggy mind couldn't understand why. He matched my every move, the two of us floating across the floor.
My feet knew the steps before my mind.
How could he dance? I thought, dizzily.
How could he dance, when smeared scarlet followed his twisting, and turning and pirouetting feet?
Because underneath that swimming clinical light, the back of the boy’s head had been carved away, a perfectly sculpted cavern where his brain should have been. I could see the severed stem, where it had cleanly plucked out.
His fingers cradled in mine were wet. Swimming in blood.
His own blood.
Spinning round and around, I imagined myself as a princess.
I saw an 18th century ballroom lit up around us. Glittering smiles and glasses of champagne, long, flowing ball gowns.
I blinked, and my head was tipped back, gliding in blood once again.
When he pulled me to his chest, I stumbled, and a name came to light.
Luke.
I had found him.
Our finishing spin left me hard to breathe.
My body was broken, ripped into, and yet somehow not.
By the time we were finished, the two of us bowing, my mind was full of fog.
Cotton candy.
“Congratulations!” Red’s smile was inhuman, stretching right off of her face.
“You're in the S class!”
I was led through a door that wasn't the one I entered from. Inside the room were a dozen or so students, kneeling on the floor. They were missing parts of themselves, like unfinished puzzle pieces.
I dropped onto my knees next to a girl without a head. I could only see her torso, but I knew she was smiling.
Looming over us, was the goddess Athena drenched in blood that was still wet.
Dripping, pooling from every crevice of her dress.
Looking closer, this statue was moving.
Something sickly crept into my mouth.
Her right eye was human, a twitching eyeball sandwiched inside the stone.
It didn't match her. It was wrong, horrifying, like a painting, a real human eye struggling to focus on us.
And then, my own gaze found the statues head, where a real human brain had been forced inside perfect white, pink, greyish mush dripping down the sculpted, slender neck.
I could see where it had been pushed, pulverised through the stone.
The statue’s singular eye found me.
Its dancing pupil jumped up and down.
Before it blinked.
Next to me, Luke was on his knees, as if in prayer.
I can't remember leaving the room.
I just remember running.
Back down the stairs, stumbling, staggering over myself.
I was screaming by the time I reached the doors.
They opened, as usual.
But I couldn't get through. I tried, but I was slamming into something I couldn't see.
Pepto was still waiting outside. The sky was dark.
When he saw me, he stumbled over, slamming his hands into the glass.
I couldn't even understand myself. I was just fucking screaming.
Pepto held up his phone.
“DID YOU FIND HIM?”
I shook my head.
“No.” I lied.
I can't tell him the truth. I don't even know what it is.
“I can't get out!”
Pepto nodded slowly, typing something and showing me his phone.
I'm getting you both out of there. I think I know how I can get inside.
It's been 3 days, and Pepto is yet to return.
I’ve tried multiple times to cry out for the H word. But it won't let me type it.
Please H me. I need to get out of this place.
Fuck. Get me OUT OF HERE.
Classes start tomorrow.

Everything in my inventory is up for trade. The most valuable items are listed here, the rest you can find in My Inventory

Feel free to Add Me or even better send a Trade Offer. Open for any suggestions: upgrades, downgrades / knives, gloves, skins / stickers, patterns, floats.

All Buyouts are listed in cash value.

KNIVES

★ Butterfly Knife Lore (Factory New), B/O: $7194.77

★ Butterfly Knife Autotronic (Minimal Wear), B/O: $2025.74

⎯

★ M9 Bayonet Ultraviolet (Field-Tested), B/O: $557.87

★ M9 Bayonet Stained (Well-Worn), B/O: $529.41

★ M9 Bayonet Boreal Forest (Field-Tested), B/O: $465.39

⎯

★ Talon Knife Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $1295.27

★ Bayonet Tiger Tooth (Minimal Wear), B/O: $746.28

★ Karambit Bright Water (Field-Tested), B/O: $688.15

⎯

★ Flip Knife Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $547.93

★ Flip Knife Autotronic (Minimal Wear), B/O: $476.69

★ Flip Knife Case Hardened (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $278.18

★ Flip Knife Black Laminate (Well-Worn), B/O: $258.83

★ Flip Knife Urban Masked (Field-Tested), B/O: $181.64

⎯

★ Stiletto Knife Marble Fade (Factory New), B/O: $686.04

★ Stiletto Knife Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $665.41

★ Stiletto Knife, B/O: $601.39

★ Stiletto Knife Crimson Web (Field-Tested), B/O: $418.25

★ Stiletto Knife Night Stripe (Field-Tested), B/O: $227.80

★ Stiletto Knife Boreal Forest (Field-Tested), B/O: $194.96

★ Stiletto Knife Safari Mesh (Field-Tested), B/O: $192.79

⎯

★ Nomad Knife Crimson Web (Field-Tested), B/O: $518.11

★ Nomad Knife Scorched (Field-Tested), B/O: $169.78

★ Nomad Knife Forest DDPAT (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $166.88

★ StatTrak™ Nomad Knife Blue Steel (Field-Tested), B/O: $335.79

⎯

★ Skeleton Knife Stained (Well-Worn), B/O: $442.05

★ Skeleton Knife Urban Masked (Minimal Wear), B/O: $426.24

★ Skeleton Knife Boreal Forest (Field-Tested), B/O: $314.03

★ StatTrak™ Skeleton Knife Fade (Minimal Wear), B/O: $2361.28

★ StatTrak™ Skeleton Knife Urban Masked (Field-Tested), B/O: $376.53

⎯

★ Ursus Knife Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $557.12

★ Ursus Knife, B/O: $471.42

★ Ursus Knife Blue Steel (Minimal Wear), B/O: $212.37

★ Ursus Knife Case Hardened (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $187.66

★ Ursus Knife Damascus Steel (Field-Tested), B/O: $178.18

★ Ursus Knife Ultraviolet (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $155.13

★ Ursus Knife Boreal Forest (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $124.26

⎯

★ Huntsman Knife Black Laminate (Minimal Wear), B/O: $204.83

★ Huntsman Knife Black Laminate (Field-Tested), B/O: $184.50

★ StatTrak™ Huntsman Knife Lore (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $224.11

⎯

★ Bowie Knife Gamma Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $2142.02

★ Bowie Knife, B/O: $230.44

★ Bowie Knife Damascus Steel (Factory New), B/O: $209.20

★ Bowie Knife Ultraviolet (Minimal Wear), B/O: $180.51

★ Bowie Knife Ultraviolet (Field-Tested), B/O: $131.03

⎯

★ Falchion Knife Night (Field-Tested), B/O: $132.54

★ Falchion Knife Urban Masked (Well-Worn), B/O: $112.81

★ Falchion Knife Scorched (Field-Tested), B/O: $108.81

★ Falchion Knife Forest DDPAT (Field-Tested), B/O: $107.82

★ Falchion Knife Safari Mesh (Field-Tested), B/O: $107.46

★ StatTrak™ Falchion Knife Ultraviolet (Field-Tested), B/O: $143.08

⎯

★ Paracord Knife Crimson Web (Minimal Wear), B/O: $486.48

★ Paracord Knife Blue Steel (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $163.12

⎯

★ Survival Knife Blue Steel (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $138.26

★ Survival Knife Night Stripe (Field-Tested), B/O: $131.03

⎯

★ Gut Knife Sapphire (Minimal Wear), B/O: $1127.79

★ Gut Knife Gamma Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $286.17

★ Gut Knife Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $246.55

★ Gut Knife Marble Fade (Factory New), B/O: $240.77

★ Gut Knife, B/O: $210.49

★ Gut Knife Lore (Field-Tested), B/O: $194.22

★ Gut Knife Case Hardened (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $151.51

★ Gut Knife Blue Steel (Minimal Wear), B/O: $124.94

★ Gut Knife Rust Coat (Well-Worn), B/O: $118.99

★ Gut Knife Boreal Forest (Minimal Wear), B/O: $109.80

★ StatTrak™ Gut Knife Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $237.96

⎯

★ Shadow Daggers Gamma Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $264.92

★ Shadow Daggers Marble Fade (Factory New), B/O: $253.03

★ Shadow Daggers Tiger Tooth (Factory New), B/O: $237.22

★ Shadow Daggers Crimson Web (Field-Tested), B/O: $153.40

★ Shadow Daggers Autotronic (Minimal Wear), B/O: $144.42

★ Shadow Daggers Blue Steel (Field-Tested), B/O: $105.20

★ StatTrak™ Shadow Daggers Damascus Steel (Minimal Wear), B/O: $150.46

⎯

★ Navaja Knife Fade (Factory New), B/O: $365.99

★ Navaja Knife Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $228.93

★ Navaja Knife Marble Fade (Factory New), B/O: $227.43

★ Navaja Knife Slaughter (Factory New), B/O: $209.06

★ Navaja Knife, B/O: $203.16

★ Navaja Knife Case Hardened (Well-Worn), B/O: $132.57

★ Navaja Knife Damascus Steel (Factory New), B/O: $121.69

★ Navaja Knife Damascus Steel (Minimal Wear), B/O: $109.95

★ Navaja Knife Damascus Steel (Field-Tested), B/O: $100.41

★ StatTrak™ Navaja Knife Fade (Factory New), B/O: $369.01

★ StatTrak™ Navaja Knife Damascus Steel (Field-Tested), B/O: $109.95

GLOVES

★ Sport Gloves Amphibious (Minimal Wear), B/O: $2394.67

★ Sport Gloves Omega (Well-Worn), B/O: $572.33

★ Sport Gloves Bronze Morph (Minimal Wear), B/O: $338.88

★ Sport Gloves Big Game (Field-Tested), B/O: $323.66

⎯

★ Specialist Gloves Marble Fade (Minimal Wear), B/O: $1652.07

★ Specialist Gloves Tiger Strike (Field-Tested), B/O: $599.14

★ Specialist Gloves Crimson Web (Well-Worn), B/O: $231.57

★ Specialist Gloves Buckshot (Minimal Wear), B/O: $126.21

⎯

★ Moto Gloves POW! (Minimal Wear), B/O: $996.99

★ Moto Gloves POW! (Field-Tested), B/O: $383.31

★ Moto Gloves POW! (Well-Worn), B/O: $276.00

★ Moto Gloves Turtle (Field-Tested), B/O: $180.28

⎯

★ Hand Wraps CAUTION! (Minimal Wear), B/O: $502.29

★ Hand Wraps Giraffe (Minimal Wear), B/O: $180.73

★ Hand Wraps CAUTION! (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $178.32

⎯

★ Driver Gloves Queen Jaguar (Minimal Wear), B/O: $181.01

★ Driver Gloves Rezan the Red (Field-Tested), B/O: $101.66

⎯

★ Broken Fang Gloves Jade (Field-Tested), B/O: $127.88

★ Broken Fang Gloves Needle Point (Minimal Wear), B/O: $124.55

⎯

★ Bloodhound Gloves Guerrilla (Minimal Wear), B/O: $127.94

★ Hydra Gloves Case Hardened (Field-Tested), B/O: $102.55

WEAPONS

AK-47 X-Ray (Well-Worn), B/O: $478.95

AUG Hot Rod (Factory New), B/O: $425.83

StatTrak™ M4A1-S Hyper Beast (Factory New), B/O: $413.95

M4A4 Daybreak (Factory New), B/O: $309.51

StatTrak™ AK-47 Aquamarine Revenge (Factory New), B/O: $305.43

AK-47 Case Hardened (Well-Worn), B/O: $196.38

StatTrak™ M4A4 Temukau (Minimal Wear), B/O: $174.64

P90 Run and Hide (Field-Tested), B/O: $167.03

AWP Asiimov (Field-Tested), B/O: $153.33

Souvenir SSG 08 Death Strike (Minimal Wear), B/O: $140.00

M4A1-S Printstream (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $124.70

StatTrak™ M4A1-S Golden Coil (Field-Tested), B/O: $117.48

AWP Asiimov (Well-Worn), B/O: $115.97

StatTrak™ Desert Eagle Printstream (Minimal Wear), B/O: $112.96

StatTrak™ AK-47 Asiimov (Minimal Wear), B/O: $110.85

Souvenir M4A1-S Master Piece (Well-Worn), B/O: $102.42

AK-47 Bloodsport (Minimal Wear), B/O: $100.53

Trade Offer Link - Steam Profile Link - My Inventory

Knives - Bowie Knife, Butterfly Knife, Falchion Knife, Flip Knife, Gut Knife, Huntsman Knife, M9 Bayonet, Bayonet, Karambit, Shadow Daggers, Stiletto Knife, Ursus Knife, Navaja Knife, Talon Knife, Classic Knife, Paracord Knife, Survival Knife, Nomad Knife, Skeleton Knife, Patterns - Gamma Doppler, Doppler (Phase 1, Phase 2, Phase 3, Phase 4, Black Pearl, Sapphire, Ruby, Emerald), Crimson Web, Lore, Fade, Ultraviolet, Night, Marble Fade (Fire & Ice, Fake FI), Case Hardened (Blue Gem), Autotronic, Slaughter, Black Laminate, Tiger Tooth, Boreal Forest, Scorched, Blue Steel, Vanilla, Damascus Steel, Forest DDPAT, Urban Masked, Freehand, Stained, Bright Water, Safari Mesh, Rust Coat, Gloves - Bloodhound Gloves (Charred, Snakebite, Guerrilla, Bronzed), Driver Gloves (Snow Leopard, King Snake, Crimson Weave, Imperial Plaid, Black Tie, Lunar Weave, Diamondback, Rezan the Red, Overtake, Queen Jaguar, Convoy, Racing Green), Hand Wraps (Cobalt Skulls, CAUTION!, Overprint, Slaughter, Leather, Giraffe, Badlands, Spruce DDPAT, Arboreal, Constrictor, Desert Shamagh, Duct Tape), Moto Gloves (Spearmint, POW!, Cool Mint, Smoke Out, Finish Line, Polygon, Blood Pressure, Turtle, Boom!, Eclipse, 3rd Commando Company, Transport), Specialist Gloves (Crimson Kimono, Tiger Strike, Emerald Web, Field Agent, Marble Fade, Fade, Foundation, Lt. Commander, Crimson Web, Mogul, Forest DDPAT, Buckshot), Sport Gloves (Pandora's Box, Superconductor, Hedge Maze, Vice, Amphibious, Slingshot, Omega, Arid, Big Game, Nocts, Scarlet Shamagh, Bronze Morph), Hydra Gloves (Case Hardened, Emerald, Rattler, Mangrove), Broken Fang Gloves (Jade, Yellow-banded, Unhinged, Needle Point), Pistols - P2000 (Wicked Sick, Ocean Foam, Fire Element, Amber Fade, Corticera, Chainmail, Imperial Dragon, Obsidian, Scorpion, Handgun, Acid Etched), USP-S (Printstream, Kill Confirmed, Whiteout, Road Rash, Owergrowth, The Traitor, Neo-Noir, Dark Water, Orion, Blueprint, Stainless, Caiman, Serum, Monster Mashup, Royal Blue, Ancient Visions, Cortex, Orange Anolis, Ticket To Hell, Black Lotus, Cyrex, Check Engine, Guardian, Purple DDPAT, Torque, Blood Tiger, Flashback, Business Class, Pathfinder, Para Green), Lead Conduit, Glock-18 (Ramese's Reach, Umbral Rabbit, Fade, Candy Apple, Bullet Queen, Synth Leaf, Neo-Noir, Nuclear Garden, Dragon Tatto, Reactor, Pink DDPAT, Twilight Galaxy, Sand Dune, Groundwater, Blue Fissure, Snack Attack, Water Elemental, Brass, Wasteland Rebel, Vogue, Franklin, Royal Legion, Gamma Doppler, Weasel, Steel Disruption, Ironwork, Grinder, High Beam, Moonrise, Oxide Blaze, Bunsen Burner, Clear Polymer, Bunsen Burner, Night), P250 (Apep's Curse, Re.built, Nuclear Threat, Modern Hunter, Splash, Whiteout, Vino Primo, Mehndi, Asiimov, Visions, Undertow, Cartel, See Ya Later, Gunsmoke, Splash, Digital Architect, Muertos, Red Rock, Bengal Tiger, Crimson Kimono, Wingshot, Metallic DDPAT, Hive, Dark Filigree, Mint Kimono), Five-Seven (Neon Kimono, Berries And Cherries, Fall Hazard, Crimson Blossom, Hyper Beast, Nitro, Fairy Tale, Case Hardened, Copper Galaxy, Angry Mob, Monkey Business, Fowl Play, Anodized Gunmetal, Hot Shot, Retrobution, Boost Protocol), CZ75-Auto (Chalice, Crimson Web, Emerald Quartz, The Fuschia is Now, Nitro, Xiangliu, Yellow Jacket, Victoria, Poison Dart, Syndicate, Eco, Hexane, Pole, Tigris), Tec-9 (Mummy's Rot, Rebel, Terrace, Nuclear Threat, Hades, Rust Leaf, Decimator, Blast From, Orange Murano, Toxic, Fuel Injector, Remote Control, Bamboo Forest, Isaac, Avalanche, Brother, Re-Entry, Blue Titanium, Bamboozle), R8 Revolver (Banana Cannon, Fade, Blaze, Crimson Web, Liama Cannon, Crazy 8, Reboot, Canal Spray, Night, Amber Fade), Desert Eagle (Blaze, Hand Cannon, Fennec Fox, Sunset Storm, Emerald Jörmungandr, Pilot, Hypnotic, Golden Koi, Printstream, Cobalt Disruption, Code Red, Ocean Drive, Midnight Storm, Kumicho Dragon, Crimson Web, Heirloom, Night Heist, Mecha Industries, Night, Conspiracy, Trigger Discipline, Naga, Directive, Light Rail), Dual Berettas (Flora Carnivora, Duelist, Cobra Strike, Black Limba, Emerald, Hemoglobin, Twin Turbo, Marina, Melondrama, Pyre, Retribution, Briar, Dezastre, Royal Consorts, Urban Shock, Dualing Dragons, Panther, Balance), Rifles - Galil (Aqua Terrace, Winter Forest, Chatterbox, Sugar Rush, Pheonix Blacklight, CAUTION!, Orange DDPAT, Cerberus, Dusk Ruins, Eco, Chromatic Aberration, Stone Cold, Tuxedo, Sandstorm, Shattered, Urban Rubble, Rocket Pop, Kami, Crimson Tsunami, Connexion), SCAR-20 (Fragments, Brass, Cyrex, Palm, Splash Jam, Cardiac, Emerald, Crimson Web, Magna Carta, Stone Mosaico, Bloodsport, Enforcer), AWP (Black Nile, Duality, Gungnir, Dragon Lore, Prince, Medusa, Desert Hydra, Fade, Lightning Strike, Oni Taiji, Silk Tiger, Graphite, Chromatic Aberration, Asiimov, Snake Camo, Boom, Containment Breach, Wildfire, Redline, Electric Hive, Hyper Beast, Neo-Noir, Man-o'-war, Pink DDPAT, Corticera, Sun in Leo, Elite Build, Fever Dream, Atheris, Mortis, PAW, Exoskeleton, Worm God, POP AWP, Phobos, Acheron, Pit Viper, Capillary, Safari Mesh), AK-47 (Steel Delta, Head Shot, Wild Lotus, Gold Arabesque, X-Ray, Fire Serpent, Hydroponic, Panthera Onca, Case Hardened, Vulcan, Jet Set, Fuel Injector, Bloodsport, Nightwish, First Class, Neon Rider, Asiimov, Red Laminate, Aquamarine Revenge, The Empress, Wasteland Rebel, Jaguar, Black Laminate, Leet Museo, Neon Revolution, Redline, Frontside Misty, Predator, Legion of Anubis, Point Disarray, Orbit Mk01, Blue Laminate, Green Laminate, Emerald Pinstripe, Cartel, Phantom Disruptor, Jungle Spray, Safety Net, Rat Rod, Baroque Purple, Slate, Elite Build, Uncharted, Safari Mesh), FAMAS (Waters of Nephthys, Sundown, Prime Conspiracy, Afterimage, Commemoration, Dark Water, Spitfire, Pulse, Eye of Athena, Meltdown, Rapid Eye Move, Roll Cage, Styx, Mecha Industrie, Djinn, ZX Spectron, Valence, Neural Net, Night Borre, Hexne), M4A4 (Eye of Horus, Temukau, Howl, Poseidon, Asiimov, Daybreak, Hellfire, Zirka, Red DDPAT, Radiation Hazard, Modern Hunter, The Emperor, The Coalition, Bullet Rain, Cyber Security, X-Ray, Dark Blossom, Buzz Kill, In Living Color, Neo-Noir, Desolate Space, 龍王 (Dragon King), Royal Paladin, The Battlestar, Global Offensive, Tooth Fairy, Desert-Strike, Griffin, Evil Daimyo, Spider Lily, Converter), M4A1-S (Emphorosaur-S, Welcome to the Jungle, Imminent Danger, Knight, Hot Rod, Icarus Fell, Blue Phosphor, Printstream, Master Piece, Dark Water, Golden Coil, Bright Water, Player Two, Atomic Alloy, Guardian, Chantico's Fire, Hyper Beast, Mecha Industries, Cyrex, Control Panel, Moss Quartz, Nightmare, Decimator, Leaded Glass, Basilisk, Blood Tiger, Briefing, Night Terror, Nitro, VariCamo, Flashback), SG 553 (Cyberforce, Hazard Pay, Bulldozer, Integrale, Dragon Tech, Ultraviolet, Colony IV, Hypnotic, Cyrex, Candy Apple, Barricade, Pulse), SSG 08 (Death Strike, Sea Calico, Blood in the Water, Orange Filigree, Dragonfire, Big Iron, Bloodshot, Detour, Turbo Peek, Red Stone), AUG (Akihabara Accept, Flame Jörmungandr, Hot Rod, Midnight Lily, Sand Storm, Carved Jade, Wings, Anodized Navy, Death by Puppy, Torque, Bengal Tiger, Chameleon, Fleet Flock, Random Access, Momentum, Syd Mead, Stymphalian, Arctic Wolf, Aristocrat, Navy Murano), G3SG1 (Chronos, Violet Murano, Flux, Demeter, Orange Kimono, The Executioner, Green Apple, Arctic Polar Camo, Contractor), SMGs - P90 (ScaraB Rush, Neoqueen, Astral Jörmungandr, Run and Hide, Emerald Dragon, Cold Blooded, Death by Kitty, Baroque Red, Vent Rush, Blind Spot, Asiimov, Trigon, Sunset Lily, Death Grip, Leather, Nostalgia, Fallout Warning, Tiger Pit, Schermatic, Virus, Shapewood, Glacier Mesh, Shallow Grave, Chopper, Desert Warfare), MAC-10 (Sakkaku, Hot Snakes, Copper Borre, Red Filigree, Gold Brick, Graven, Case Hardened, Stalker, Amber Fade, Neon Rider, Tatter, Curse, Propaganda, Nuclear Garden, Disco Tech, Toybox, Heat, Indigo), UMP-45 (Wild Child, Fade, Blaze, Day Lily, Minotaur's Labyrinth, Crime Scene, Caramel, Bone Pile, Momentum, Primal Saber), MP7 (Teal Blossom, Fade, Nemesis, Whiteout, Asterion, Bloosport, Abyssal Apparition, Full Stop, Special Delivery, Neon Ply, Asterion, Ocean Foam, Powercore, Scorched, Impire), PP-Bizon (Modern Hunter, Rust Coat, Forest Leaves, Antique, High Roller, Blue Streak, Seabird, Judgement of Anubis, Bamboo Print, Embargo, Chemical Green, Coblat Halftone, Fuel Rod, Photic Zone, Irradiated Alert, Carbon Fiber), MP9 (Featherweight, Wild Lily, Pandora's Box, Stained Glass, Bulldozer, Dark Age, Hot Rod, Hypnotic, Hydra, Rose Iron, Music Box, Setting Sun, Food Chain, Airlock, Mount Fuji, Starlight Protector, Ruby Poison Dart, Deadly Poison), MP5-SD (Liquidation, Oxide Oasis, Phosphor, Nitro, Agent, Autumn Twilly), Shotguns, Machineguns - Sawed-Off (Kiss♥Love, First Class, Orange DDPAT, Rust Coat, The Kraken, Devourer, Mosaico, Wasteland Princess, Bamboo Shadow, Copper, Serenity, Limelight, Apocalypto), XM1014 (Frost Borre, Ancient Lore, Red Leather, Elegant Vines, Banana Leaf, Jungle, Urban Perforated, Grassland, Blaze Orange, Heaven Guard, VariCamo Blue, Entombed, XOXO, Seasons, Tranquility, Bone Machine, Incinegator, Teclu Burner, Black Tie, Zombie Offensive, Watchdog), Nova (Sobek's Bite, Baroque Orange, Hyper Beast, Green Apple, Antique, Modern Hunter, Walnut, Forest Leaves, Graphite, Blaze Orange, Rising Skull, Tempest, Bloomstick, Interlock, Quick Sand, Moon in Libra, Clean Polymer, Red Quartz, Toy Soldier), MAG-7 (Copper Coated, Insomnia, Cinqueda, Counter Terrace, Prism Terrace, Memento, Chainmail, Hazard, Justice, Bulldozer, Silver, Core Breach, Firestarter, Praetorian, Heat, Hard Water, Monster Call, BI83 Spectrum, SWAG-7), M249 (Humidor, Shipping Forecast, Blizzard Marbleized, Downtown, Jungle DDPAT, Nebula Crusader, Impact Drill, Emerald Poison Dart), Negev (Mjölnir, Anodized Navy, Palm, Power Loader, Bratatat, CaliCamo, Phoenix Stencil, Infrastructure, Boroque Sand), Wear - Factory New (FN), Minimal Wear (MW), Field-Tested (FT), Well-Worn (WW), Battle-Scarred (BS), Stickers Holo/Foil/Gold - Katowice 2014, Krakow 2017, Howling Dawn, Katowice 2015, Crown, London 2018, Cologne 2014, Boston 2018, Atlanta 2017, Cluj-Napoca 2015, DreamHack 2014, King on the Field, Harp of War, Winged Difuser, Cologne 2016, Cologne 2015, MLG Columbus 2016, Katowice 2019, Berlin 2019, RMR 2020, Stockholm 2021, Antwerp 2022, Paris 2023, Swag Foil, Flammable foil, Others - Souvenirs, Agents, Pins, Passes, Gifts, Music Kits, Cases, Keys, Capsules, Packages, Patches

Some items on the list may no longer be available or are still locked, visit My Inventory for more details.

Send a Trade Offer for fastest response. I consider all offers.

Add me for discuss if there is a serious offer that needs to be discussed.

This is the list of the imported products in Uruguay.
​
HS'27 $2233M Mineral fuels, mineral oils and products of their distillation; bituminous substances; mineral ...
HS'87 $1456M Vehicles other than railway or tramway rolling stock, and parts and accessories thereof
HS'84 $1254M Nuclear reactors, boilers, machinery and mechanical appliances; parts thereof
HS'85 $879M Electrical machinery and equipment and parts thereof; sound recorders and reproducers, television ...
HS'31 $701M Fertilisers
HS'39 $650M Plastics and articles thereof
HS'38 $450M Miscellaneous chemical products
HS'30 $360M Pharmaceutical products
HS'02 $300M Meat and edible meat offal
HS'73 $243M Articles of iron or steel
HS'94 $217M Furniture; bedding, mattresses, mattress supports, cushions and similar stuffed furnishings; ...
HS'29 $213M Organic chemicals
HS'23 $209M Residues and waste from the food industries; prepared animal fodder
HS'90 $205M Optical, photographic, cinematographic, measuring, checking, precision, medical or surgical ...
HS'72 $205M Iron and steel
HS'48 $189M Paper and paperboard; articles of paper pulp, of paper or of paperboard
HS'15 $185M Animal, vegetable or microbial fats and oils and their cleavage products; prepared edible fats; ...
HS'61 $179M Articles of apparel and clothing accessories, knitted or crocheted
HS'40 $161M Rubber and articles thereof
HS'62 $125M Articles of apparel and clothing accessories, not knitted or crocheted
HS'33 $110M Essential oils and resinoids; perfumery, cosmetic or toilet preparations
HS'20 $108M Preparations of vegetables, fruit, nuts or other parts of plants
HS'64 $108M Footwear, gaiters and the like; parts of such articles
HS'11 $107M Products of the milling industry; malt; starches; inulin; wheat gluten
HS'22 $99M Beverages, spirits and vinegar
HS'21 $93M Miscellaneous edible preparations
HS'34 $92M Soap, organic surface-active agents, washing preparations, lubricating preparations, artificial ...
HS'19 $90M Preparations of cereals, flour, starch or milk; pastrycooks' products
HS'09 $87M Coffee, tea, maté and spices
HS'10 $81M Cereals
HS'17 $81M Sugars and sugar confectionery
HS'32 $75M Tanning or dyeing extracts; tannins and their derivatives; dyes, pigments and other colouring ...
HS'76 $74M Aluminium and articles thereof
HS'28 $72M Inorganic chemicals; organic or inorganic compounds of precious metals, of rare-earth metals, ...
HS'95 $71M Toys, games and sports requisites; parts and accessories thereof
HS'44 $66M Wood and articles of wood; wood charcoal
HS'08 $65M Edible fruit and nuts; peel of citrus fruit or melons
HS'25 $64M Salt; sulphur; earths and stone; plastering materials, lime and cement
HS'69 $60M Ceramic products
HS'70 $56M Glass and glassware
HS'96 $53M Miscellaneous manufactured articles
HS'63 $52M Other made-up textile articles; sets; worn clothing and worn textile articles; rags
HS'18 $51M Cocoa and cocoa preparations
HS'68 $50M Articles of stone, plaster, cement, asbestos, mica or similar materials
HS'82 $42M Tools, implements, cutlery, spoons and forks, of base metal; parts thereof of base metal
HS'16 $41M Preparations of meat, of fish, of crustaceans, molluscs or other aquatic invertebrates, or ...
HS'41 $38M Raw hides and skins (other than furskins) and leather
HS'86 $38M Railway or tramway locomotives, rolling stock and parts thereof; railway or tramway track fixtures ...
HS'04 $36M Dairy produce; birds' eggs; natural honey; edible products of animal origin, not elsewhere ...
HS'74 $35M Copper and articles thereof
HS'51 $33M Wool, fine or coarse animal hair; horsehair yarn and woven fabric
HS'12 $33M Oil seeds and oleaginous fruits; miscellaneous grains, seeds and fruit; industrial or medicinal ...
HS'83 $30M Miscellaneous articles of base metal
HS'35 $30M Albuminoidal substances; modified starches; glues; enzymes
HS'03 $29M Fish and crustaceans, molluscs and other aquatic invertebrates
HS'42 $28M Articles of leather; saddlery and harness; travel goods, handbags and similar containers; articles ...
HS'54 $26M Man-made filaments; strip and the like of man-made textile materials
HS'49 $26M Printed books, newspapers, pictures and other products of the printing industry; manuscripts, ...
HS'24 $24M Tobacco and manufactured tobacco substitutes; products, whether or not containing nicotine, ...
HS'56 $23M Wadding, felt and nonwovens; special yarns; twine, cordage, ropes and cables and articles thereof
HS'07 $20M Edible vegetables and certain roots and tubers
HS'60 $17M Knitted or crocheted fabrics
HS'47 $14M Pulp of wood or of other fibrous cellulosic material; recovered (waste and scrap) paper or ...
HS'05 $11M Products of animal origin, not elsewhere specified or included
HS'52 $10M Cotton
HS'55 $10M Man-made staple fibres
HS'71 $10M Natural or cultured pearls, precious or semi-precious stones, precious metals, metals clad ...
HS'65 $9M Headgear and parts thereof
HS'59 $8M Impregnated, coated, covered or laminated textile fabrics; textile articles of a kind suitable ...
HS'57 $7M Carpets and other textile floor coverings
HS'91 $7M Clocks and watches and parts thereof
HS'06 $6M Live trees and other plants; bulbs, roots and the like; cut flowers and ornamental foliage
HS'88 $6M Aircraft, spacecraft, and parts thereof
HS'13 $6M Lac; gums, resins and other vegetable saps and extracts
HS'01 $6M Live animals
HS'58 $4M Special woven fabrics; tufted textile fabrics; lace; tapestries; trimmings; embroidery
HS'93 $4M Arms and ammunition; parts and accessories thereof
HS'37 $3M Photographic or cinematographic goods
HS'92 $3M Musical instruments; parts and accessories of such articles
HS'66 $3M Umbrellas, sun umbrellas, walking sticks, seat-sticks, whips, riding-crops and parts thereof
HS'36 $2M Explosives; pyrotechnic products; matches; pyrophoric alloys; certain combustible preparations
HS'89 $2M Ships, boats and floating structures
HS'53 $2M Other vegetable textile fibres; paper yarn and woven fabrics of paper yarn
HS'79 $2M Zinc and articles thereof
HS'67 $2M Prepared feathers and down and articles made of feathers or of down; artificial flowers; articles ...
HS'46 $2M Manufactures of straw, of esparto or of other plaiting materials; basketware and wickerwork
HS'26 $1M Ores, slag and ash
HS'45 $1M Cork and articles of cork
HS'81 $1M Other base metals; cermets; articles thereof
HS'97 $1M Works of art, collectors' pieces and antiques
HS'75 $0M Nickel and articles thereof
HS'78 $0M Lead and articles thereof
HS'43 $0M Furskins and artificial fur; manufactures thereof
HS'80 $0M Tin and articles thereof
HS'14 $0M Vegetable plaiting materials; vegetable products not elsewhere specified or included
HS'50 $0M Silk
HS'99 $0M Commodities not elsewhere specified

Its like a love song with a sad vibe like a "its going to be okay" thing with the lyrics and at the end theres like a sound that kind of resembles a low pitch coin rolling? Like when you drop a coin and before going flat it rolls on its edges like at an angle. The music video has a white/gray/blueish colour palette and is set in a mental institution i think something of the sorts and it includes scenes like a bunch of people dressed in white sitting in chairs in a circle and also a shot of an empty indoor pool. I think it was released early to mid 2010's, atleast on youtube. And now this is a bit of a far stretch and it might not be accurate but i think it featured 2 bands, and i think one of the bands originated in poland, but it didn't have a specifically polish name or anything. The worst thing is that I currently cant recall any part of the melody in the song so i cant even use shazam or anything. Any help would be greatly appreciated!

Buyer pays shipping (via Pirate Ship), or happy to meet for local sales.
Most titles have been very lightly used (<2 game plays).
For totals over $50, I’ll split the shipping with you.
For sale:

• Skyrise CE w/wooden tokens, key, stretch goals (5 - NIS, minis not washed) - $140
• Skyrise SE w/wooden tokens, key (5 - NIS) - $70
• Outlive CE (4) - $80
• Honey Buzz Deluxe w/wooden tokens (4) - $50
• Aquatica (4) - $25
• Glass Road (4) - $25
• Septima Deluxe w/coins (4) - $70
• Caylus 1303 (4) - $25
• Rolling Realms (4) - $10
• Under Falling Skies (3) - $10
• Lizard Wizard (4) - $10
• Overlords of Infamy (4) - $15
• Hollywood 1947 (4) - $10
• Hunt a Killer Mystery (5 - NIS) - $5
• Disney Villainous (4) - $10
• Disney Sorcerer’s Arena (4) - $10
• Stone Age (4) - $10

Want:
Venmo

You guys know what an alpine coaster is? They are like a small roller coaster you find in the mountains. They are also called summer toboggans or mountain coasters and I think there’s some long German compound word they are called in parts of Europe. They are like a roller coaster, but with much smaller one or two person sleds you just sit on instead of multi-person cars you ride in, and instead of being built with like a scaffolding or a framework the tracks are just on the ground, using the elevation of the mountain. Basically it’s a coaster track on the side of a mountain where you ride a sled down.
They are pretty fun. Or at least I used to think so. They are more “personal” than roller coasters and although you get nowhere near the speed on them that you do on a good traditional roller coaster and they can’t do corkscrews or loops or anything like that the openness and simplicity of the ride gives an impression of a much greater speed. You’re just sitting there with nothing but a little plastic sled and the track between you and the ground as it goes zooming by. It’s like the difference between how fast a go-cart feels compared to how fast a sports car feels. You know the sports car goes faster but the open, simpleness of a go-cart feels a different kind of fast. There’s plenty of POV Youtube videos if you want to get the basic idea of what they are.
I used to love alpine coasters. Used to.
My family used to go to Gatlinburg and Pigeon Forge and up and down the Smokey Mountains for vacations when I was a kid and they are common in that area and I’d always rode them every chance I got.
But as with so many things after I grew up and went to college they just became part of my childhood that slipped away. They aren’t exactly common once you get away from the mountains.
Until one cool spring afternoon in 2004. I was in my final year at college and I was driving back to campus in Tennessee after a short visit to my folks in North Carolina. It was only like a 4 or 5 hour drive via the most efficient route and I had no need to be back at campus early so instead of taking the freeway all the way I got off and took part of my trip through the mountains. The scenery was nicer and I admit I liked pushing my Camaro just a little faster than I should through the twisty mountain roads.
Just after lunchtime happened upon one of those little by-the-highway tourist towns deep somewhere in the Smoky Mountains near the Carolina/Tennessee border. Nothing fancy, a gas station/truck stop, a diner, a couple of places selling tourist merch nestled deep in the mountains. I pulled into the gas station. My tank was getting low and I needed to stretch my legs, maybe grab something to eat. It was still early and I only had another couple of hours. I could kill an hour or so and still make it back to campus at a decent hour.
I pulled into the gas station and was filling my tank when I happened to glance across the road and… well I’ll be damned. There it was. “The Blue Ridge Alpine Coaster.” Nestled on the side of the mountain was a building, a mockup of a red barn, where a single railed track that led up into the mountains, where it soon got lost in the greenery. Wooden hand painted standees of cartoon character bears dressed in stereotypical “Hillbilly” getup stood around, some of them holding signs showing the ride hours and ticket costs and other info. I had to admit, as silly as it was, it made me smile.I finished pumping my gas and, well, nostalgia is a helluva thing. I decided then and there I could waste a little time riding an Alpine Coaster again after all these years before getting back on the road.
I parked my car in a corner of the truck stop's parking lot, put my phone in the center console, this being the days before smart phones when people didn’t keep their phones with them 24/7 and I didn’t want my old Nokia brick phone to fall out during the ride, locked my car and walked across the mountain highway to the Alpine Coaster building.
Getting closer, the place was less inviting. The half hearted attempt at a whimsical faux-Americana kitsch was far less effective when it brushed up against the actual decaying, run down wooden building. Hell calling it a building was generous. It was a wood frame holding up a long roof that covered the area where you got on the sleds. The wood boards creaked under my footsteps.
The only real enclosed structure was a shack that held, what I assumed, was a ticket booth. A door on the side had both a single occupancy bathroom with an out of order sign on it. An old Pepsi machine buzzed and glowed next to it.
Still the place looked alive. Ahead of me a bored looking attendant was helping a mother and her young son into one of the sleds while in a bored monotone repeating the safety brief. A few people were waiting in line at the ticket booth. Up in the mountains the playful shouts of people on the ride echoed down. Fond memories of my own childhood rides flooded my mind.10 minutes and 15 dollars later I was settling into the hard plastic seat of a bright red sled sat atop a simple aluminum rail.
I couldn’t help but grin as the sled slowly climbed the track up the mountains, making click-clack ratcheting sounds that hit my nostalgia centers hard. I felt good. The air was cool and crisp and smelled of pine.Higher and higher in the mountains we went. I don’t know if this is my mind trying to make sense of it after the fact but when I remember these moments, the last good moments, I sometimes think I remember a very slight, very subtle pit of fear in my stomach. I honestly don’t know if I felt it at the time or not or it’s just how my mind tries to make sense of it looking back at.
But either way mostly I was enjoying myself. I smiled. I was a kid again. I could hear riders in front of me let out that initial yell of terrified glee you get at the first drop of any good ride.
It peaked. I glanced around. I could see for miles, rolling hills and mountains. I the sled tipped over and zoomed down the mountain and I let out the same happy yell I heard from the other passengers.The ride zoomed down the mountain, catching speed. The mountain forest floor zoomed past, only a few feet under me. Trees zoomed past. I gave out a happy whoop as the ride banked hard around a curve and then looped back under itself.Another dip, another curve. I closed my eyes, enjoying the feel of the G-forces pulling me every which way.
There was no one exact single moment where things started to go “wrong.” The ride kept going. And going. At this point the first creeping thought entered my head.
The ride… was still going.
It just started to hit me… this ride was going on for a really long time. I had taken a dozen rides on various coasters of this type before that day and they topped out at about 5 minutes or so, and that was the long ones. Longer than a traditional roller coaster but not that long. This one had been going on for what felt like 10, maybe even 15 minutes.
I looked back over my shoulder and could only see trees, moving too fast to really get a bearing on where I was at in relation to anything.
I wasn't exactly really worried yet. Okay so I had found a particularly long alpine coaster. At the time I wasn’t 100% wasn't sure they didn’t exist or anything like that. I was a little… unnerved but nothing was happening that was impossible. Yet.
I was trying to talk myself back into just enjoying the ride and stop overthinking it, and halfway succeeded, when out of nowhere I suddenly banked hard, the track jutting out almost over a sheer cliffside. I gripped the sled more tightly as I was whipped around. The ride then dipped hard and picked up speed, barreling down the side of the mountain.
I was pushed back against the seat by the force of the drop. Jesus I didn’t remember them being this rough. I was feeling slightly nauseous. And where had this elevation drop come from I wondered? I was still in the foothills and I didn’t remember seeing anything but gentle rolling hills and light drops from looking at the ride’s route earlier. How the ride had managed such a long, steep drop in this area I didn’t know. . For the first time I hoped that the ride would be over soon. I had no idea then how much I would want that same hope to be true so much more as time went on.
With a whiplash motion I was whipped forward and then back as the ride leveled out on flat ground again, but by this point I was going fast, too fast. My neck hurt from the mild whiplash and I felt sour in my throat and for a moment the contents of my stomach threatened to come back up. For the first, but hardly the last time the ride felt unsafe. Alpine Coasters are tame affairs, much slower and gentler than full on roller coasters but this thing was throwing me around like no thrill ride I had ever been on.
I looked around. I mean I wasn’t that deep into the woods. I should have been able to see a glimpse of something; the highway, the gas station, the tourist shops, the Alpine Coaster office, something, anything. But nothing. Just trees.
I forced back some panic for the first time. I closed my eyes and counted to ten. The ride zoomed along. I counted to 60. I counted to 60 again. And again. Okay this was getting uncomfortably harder and harder to explain.
Suddenly I noticed that up ahead the track seemed to just end, for one brief, terrible moment I thought the track just ended but I was wrong. Almost without warning the track dipped in an almost vertical drop. I almost screamed as I plummeted for 20, maybe 30 seconds before flattening out again.
By this point the voice in my head that was telling me something was wrong was louder and I could no longer tell myself it was wrong. This ride could not have been this long. I tried to make sense of it, wondering if somehow I had gotten diverted onto some kind of maintenance track or, hell for one brief irrational moment even entertaining the idea that I had wound up on an actual train track somehow. But that was absurd. The rail below me was not a train track, it was still just the simple, aluminum rail of an alpine coaster and there had been no diversions or junctions in the track. I was still on the ride, as insane as that was starting to feel. Had the ride somehow looped? Again after having the thought I immediately dismissed it as crazy. There’s no way I could have missed the ride building where I got on. And what kind of ride loops over and over?
The sled zoomed through the forest, oddly never seeming to lose speed despite the relatively flat grade of the track. I cursed myself for leaving my phone in the car and not wearing a watch. I don’t know exactly how long I had been on the ride at that point but it felt like I had been on the ride for a half hour, maybe more. But time is a funny thing when you’re in a situation you’ve never been in. Could have been more, could have been less, at that point.
My pride finally failed me. I started to scream for help. I screamed out that the ride was broken, to stop it, that I needed help. I did that for about ten minutes or so I think. The ride kept going. Mostly flat, level track with occasional mild dips and turns. But the simple length of the ride grew more and more unnerving and unexplainable.
I thought about just bailing out. But the ride, impossibly, was still not slowing down and chunks of mountain rock and thick tree trunks were all around me. Bailing out without risking smashing into a rock or a tree seemed impossible.
The ride kept going.
Up ahead the forest was clearing out some, I could see the forest brightening, more sunlight making it through the canopy.
I wasn’t prepared for what I saw.
The trees stopped and I had just enough time to take in a flat, open area of rock maybe 40, 50 yards at most before another sheer cliff. The tracks twisted and turned and then shot straight down. But that wasn’t the worst of it. For a moment, a very short moment, I had a clear view for miles and the landscape was, to be blunt, totally impossible. Any possibility that I had just stumbled on some incredibly long ride was blasted out of my head. Barren, volcanic looking rock stretched for miles. Jagged, black rocky outcroppings as far as the eye could see. I was in the goddamn Smoky Mountains. They don’t look like that.
I had a few moments for the terror of that view to settle in before the cart plunged into another horrifying drop. I gripped the handles of the cheap plastic sled until my knuckles turned white. The drop felt completely vertical, like I was falling at terminal velocity. I screamed. My stomach dropped and turned. I imagined the sled coming away from the track and me just plummeting screaming to my death on the rocks below. But somehow the ride still functioned. I closed my eyes tightly and just waited for whatever was going to happen. Eventually after several what felt like a full minute of steep plunging the track again leveled out, and I opened my eyes to see myself moving at breakneck speed over that black, rocky landscape.
Now that I was moving on a more or less flat horizontal track again I took a few deep breaths. I looked over the edge of the track. Nothing but that black, jagged rock, almost looking like obsidian, zooming past. I had no idea how fast the sled was moving now. Fast. Faster than a gravity powered sled should be moving. And the track was higher off the ground now. Alpine slides usually stick pretty close to the ground, but I was 20 feet or so in the air, the track suspended in the air, a simple metal tube tower like a power pylon every few yards.
Without any immediate threat and the sled moving fast but steadily and level I was able to think about my situation again, for all the good that did me. Ahead of me the track just continued to the horizon, nothing but the same rocky landscape as far as I could see. I craned my neck to look back over my shoulder and looked back behind me and it looked the same. Even the mountains were but distant specs on the horizon behind me.
This was insane. There’s not a giant seemingly endless field of black jagged rock in the goddamn Smoky Mountains. There’s no cliff faces tall and steep enough for a multi-minute vertical drop. And alpine coasters were small affairs, not major engineering projects that span miles with pylons and vertical tracks. It made no sense.
Sadly it wasn’t going to start making any more sense anytime soon.
The ride kept going.
I was on this rocky landscape for several hours. I feel comfortable saying this because I could actually notice the sun getting lower in the sky. And the sled wasn’t slowing down despite the grade of the track being flat. I was getting cramped from sitting and stretched my legs and twisted my back as best I could. Didn’t do much help. My eyes were starting to get irritated from the constant wind in them. Worst of all it was starting to get chilly. I only had on a light jacket, a windbreaker, just something to keep the breeze off me, no real insulation. I was cold, my joints were stiff, I was hungry and thirsty. My eyes watered and my throat was so dry it was sore.
But none of that was as bad as just how little sense this all made. There’s nothing like this place anywhere near the Smoky Mountains. This was like some volcanic rock landscape. The more I thought about it the less sense it made.
The ride kept going.
My mind didn’t even try to process this. Whatever I was experiencing simply couldn’t be possible. I was crazy. I was dreaming. The CIA had kidnapped me and dosed me with some new version of LSD and I was in a straightjacket in a padded room at Area 51.
The sled kept zooming along as the sky turned to dusk. Soon the bridge disappeared from my view and I continued on along the endless, rocky, featureless landscape.
I sat back against the sled, mentally and physically numb. I was exhausted. I was thirsty. I was cramping up. I was hungry. I had to pee. I held it for as long as I could, then had no choice but just wet myself. I cried until I had no more tears left. Then I just sat there.
The ride kept going.
By the time the sun dipped below the horizon my throat felt like sandpaper. I dug around in my jacket pockets hoping to find a stick of gum or piece of candy. Nothing. I checked again, having nothing else to do. Under a crumpled store receipt in the inner pocket of my jacket was a single old, forgotten cough drop. I unwrapped it from the paper and popped it in my mouth. Saliva flooded back into my mouth and I was overwhelmed by the methanol and medicine taste. It was something at least, although I knew it would be a brief and temporary fix at best.
I felt my eyes get heavy. It was getting colder. That mountain cold. That deep cold the mountains have even into the early spring when the sun goes down. That kind that just pulls the heat right out of you. I shivered. A terrible, horrible certainty came to me. I would ride until I passed out from exhaustion or the hypothermia set in. My body would tumble off the sled to fall and skip across the rocky ground like a stone skipping across a lake, my bones breaking as I tumbled until my body finally came to a stop. If I was lucky I would be killed and not have to lie for days, broken and bruised, on the ground until death took me.
The ride kept going. The ride kept going. The fucking ride kept going.
“Fuck you” I said to the ride, my voice a horse whisper. I pulled my jacket closer around me, for all the good it did. The cold wind was slowly but surely pulling my body heat away. My shivering got worse, crossing the line from a simple normal shiver into those deep, almost violent full body ones.. I wasn’t anything you could call an experienced outdoorsman, but I knew enough to know that wasn’t a good sign.
It was getting dark. There was a full moon at least so I wasn’t totally in the dark.
About then I noticed something. The landscape, what little I could see in the fading light, was changing. It was smoothing out, becoming less rocky and craggy. Up ahead an odd, shimmering light was starting to appear on the ground.
I was over it before I even realized what it was. The tracks were going over a smooth surface.
Water. It was a lake. The odd lights I had seen were the moon, reflected in ripples on the lake.
Within minutes I was out of the view of the land. After the nearly endless rocky landscape and everything else I had seen, it scared me how little I was shocked. I didn’t like how mentally numb I was getting. I leaned over. There was enough moonlight to see the water, 15 or 20 feet below the track. The pylons holding up the track went into the water, the light wasn’t good enough to even make a guess at how far they went down or how deep the water was.I leaned back in the sled. My eyes were red and bloodshot from the constant wind. I closed them. This was a mistake.I jerked awake. I don’t know if I dozed off for a split second or an hour. My weight had shifted and I caught myself as my center of gravity was in danger of sending me off the sled and into the water.
I screamed in anger. A deep primal scream. I hurt so bad. My joints felt like they were full of glass. My limbs were full of pins and needles. I glanced over at the water. For the first time on the very edges of my brain a tiny voice started to speak up, telling me that I could be all over if I just jumped. I shut the voice up, but it scared me still.
I sat there as the ride went on. It felt like hours. Eventually the lake ended in a rocky shore line. The damned ride. There was no safe place to bail out. If the ride slowed down, it was high in the air, if it moved toward the ground it sped up. Sharp rocks, big trees, nothing you could safely bail out into.
I kept having to force myself awake. I kept dozing off. Once I felt myself falling asleep and drove a vicious uppercut into my own nose to stave it off.
I seriously started to think about how much longer I could hang on. The voice came back again. This time I didn’t shut it up. I wasn’t admitting it to myself yet, but I was starting to think about the best way to land that would end it quickly if I needed to.
Something was ahead. The track seemed to dip into the ground. I was too tired, too beaten to even get scared. I was just resigned to whatever happened at this point.
With little warning the track took my sled into a tunnel in the ground. Everything went completely pitch black. After several moments even the dim moonlight was gone.
This was the worst part. The creepy forest, the immense rocky landscape, the eerie lake… those were bad. But this was just nothing. Nothing to look at, nothing to hear, nothing for reference or sense of where I was going. The walls of the tunnel felt like they were inches from me in every direction. The air felt thick, like there wasn’t enough oxygen.
With every moment I was in that tunnel I lost a little more hope. After a long, long time I made a decision. When I got out of this tunnel, I would jump. I didn’t care anymore. Hopefully there would be a spot where I could be certain the fall would instantly kill me. I was done. The ride had beaten me. I sat there, waiting for a chance to end this on my terms. That was all I had left.
Eventually up ahead, a tiny speck of light appeared. I gathered my strength, ready to end it. I sat up, getting my legs under me so I could jump as soon as we were clear. The sled burst out of the tunnel. The dim light of the full moon was enough to be momentarily blinding after the pitch black of the tunnel.. I gave my eyes a moment to adjust.
I was back in a normal looking Appalachian forest. Rolling hills, green trees. The air smelled of pine again. I heard an owl hoot off somewhere.
Slowly I lowered myself back into a setting position, in shock. At first I refused to believe it but the ride was slowing down. I held still, making sure my mind wasn’t playing tricks on me, but no, the cheap plastic sled that had been my world for what felt like an eternity was slowing down.
Up ahead, a structure was visible, peeking out from among the trees in the dim lighting as the sled moved down the track.
It was the Alpine Slide building. The crappy fake red barn where I had boarded this cursed ride so long ago. I blinked and rubbed my eyes, sure it was either my mind or the cursed ride playing tricks with me. But the building stayed there.
It grew closer and closer. The track leveled completely out. The sled slowed down more. Before I had the time to really come to terms with it I arrived back at the building.
The sled slowed to a stop, gently pumping against another sled parked on the track. I sat there for a few moments, gasping in great big gulping fear breaths, trying to assure myself the ride didn’t have one last trick of its sleeve.
I looked around. The place was empty, deserted. The overhead lights were still on and the old Pepsi machine still glowed and buzzed, but the ticket booth was dark and empty, a metal gate pulled down over the ticket window.
Suddenly it hit me that I was free and I practically leapt out of the sled and onto the platform. I immediately collapsed. My legs were jelly and my head was spinning. I tried to stand up again and doubled over, dry heaving. Have you ever been out on a boat for a day and have that weird reverse motion sickness when you’re back on solid land? It was like that times a hundred. My inner ear was literally pounding, all the motion had really done a number on it.
I laid there for a few moments and eventually forced myself to stand up on my two wobbling legs. I looked around, a horrible certainty creeping into my mind that there would be no exit, no way off the platform but to my relief an exit turnstyle, one of those full height ones, was set into the fence that surrounded the ride property.
I went through it and found myself back on the main road. The truckstop was still there, still open but far less busy. My car sat in the same corner of the parking lot I had left it.
I allowed myself one look back, just one quick one. The metal skeleton of the Alpine Slide track sat there, dark and quiet but otherwise normal.
I stumbled-ran back to my car, dug the keys out of my pocket, and collapsed inside. When the door shut I let out a primal scream, the tons of fear and confusion and anger all fusing into a single, raw emotion. I screamed again and again.
After a few moments I felt like I was emotionally at least back to a place where I could act, although I wasn’t sure yet what to do next. Not really knowing what to do I cranked the car. The A/C had been on low when I shut off the car and it came roaring back to life and cold air blowing on me almost sent me back into a full on panic attack. I fumbled with the climate controls until the air stopped blowing directly on me, then calmed down enough to turn the heat on, helping to get the chill out of my bones. There was a half full bottle of water in the center console cup holder and I grabbed it and chugged it. Nothing ever tasted as good before or sense as that few ounces of water.
That was when I noticed the clock on the radio head unit. It was 4:17 in the morning. It had been about one, one thirty or so in the afternoon when I got on the accursed ride.
Over 15 hours. I had been on the goddamn ride for over 15 hours. Over half a day.
I just sat there. Warming up. Calming down. I was exhausted. I was dehydrated. I can’t even describe how my head felt. I probably had at least a minor case of hypothermia. I thought about going into the gas station and asking for help but what would I even say, and more than anything I just wanted to get away from this place. And I just wanted to get away. I wanted to be nowhere near that damn ride.
I put the Camaro in gear and pulled into the street and in panic I immediately slammed on the brakes. I was lucky there was no traffic on the road at that moment. The feeling of accelerating to just normal surface street speeds made me sick to my stomach. I gathered myself and very slowly accelerated the car I usually treated with a very heavy foot up to 30 miles an hour. Every time I tried to accelerate at a pace faster than “Old Lady Going to Church, Uphill” I would have a panic attack. I was okay once I was up to speed, but accelerating freaked me out after being on that ride.
I drove about 30 minutes, putting some arbitrary amount of distance between myself and the coaster. Eventually I made it back to where the twisty mountain road met back up with a major road that would eventually meet back up with the highway. After a few more minutes of driving I saw the onramp for the highway. There was one of those big truckstop travel plazas and pulled in, parking right up at the door. I smelled like pee and I can only imagine how I looked, but I didn’t care.
I kept a couple of emergency 20s in the back of my wallet and spent it on the biggest bottle of water the store had, an overpriced bottle of eye drops, and a huge travel mug of coffee. The clerk looked at me as if he was expecting me to either drop dead or rob him the entire time.
Back in my car I downed the coffee. I put a few eye drops in each of my eyes and sat there as the caffeine took effect until I felt like I could make it back to my apartment. The sun was just coming up when I finally pulled out of the truck stop and got on the freeway. I slowly, very slowly, accelerated up to highway speed, put the Camaro in cruise control, and let the miles start to drift away. I turned on the radio, I needed to hear human voices. Every time my mind went back to what had just happened I turned the radio up louder, eventually drowning it out with painful levels of rock music. I wasn’t ready to think about it yet. Yes looking back I know I was just in denial. I finally made it back to the crappy little apartment I had off campus, a little two story walk up studio. I let myself in and collapsed on the cheap couch. I was asleep before I even had the time to decide whether or not to do anything else. I woke up later that afternoon. I took a shower and ate a meal and didn’t think about the ride. I washed the pee stained filthy clothes I had been wearing and didn’t think about the ride. I went back to class and didn’t think about the ride. Every time I thought about the ride I forced it out of my head. I’m sure this wasn’t the most mentally healthy thing to do but what can you say?
I didn’t forget about it, don’t be silly. This isn’t the kind of thing you forget. One day while looking up something else in the university’s library my curiosity got the better of me and I looked up the Alpine Slide. No website but a few Google Map and Yelp mentions. None of them mentioned anything weird, certainly nothing even remotely like what I experienced. Near as I can tell it closed sometimes in the winter of 2012.
Life went on. I mean, that’s what it does. The next day was a little better. And the day after that a little better. And the day after that a little better still. I met a nice girl. Graduated. Got married. Got a nice house in the suburbs. Got a dog. Had a daughter. Spent a lot of time happy and not thinking about being trapped on an endless alpine coaster.And that was my life for many, many years after that.
Until a few weeks back when as a very different person I found myself driving a boring and safe mid sized family SUV through those same mountains. My wife Carol, 5 months pregnant, sat in the passenger seat, our 6 year old daughter Emily in a booster seat in the back, and Max our mixed breed mutt next to her. It had been a nice pleasant trip, driving back from visiting her folks.
I hadn’t thought about that fucking ride in so long I barely registered that I was in the same general area until it was too late. Suddenly I realized that little mountain tourist trap town was only a few minutes down the road. I swallowed hard and gripped the steering wheel hard. Carol was looking out the window at the scenery and Emily was deep into some kid’s Youtube video on an iPad. I forced myself to keep my breath steady as we rounded the corner.The town was still there, sorta. Time had not been kind to it. The gas station was still there, at some point it had been bought out by Shell. The tourist trap shops were still there. One of them was now a vape shop. The diner was closed, the building looking like it sat unused for a long time.
But of course that’s not what I cared about. A looked over at the site where the Alpine Coaster once stood. It was gone. The kitschy fake barn was gone. The site was just a bare concrete slab with a chainlink fence around it. Faded “no trespassing” and “for sale” signs hung off the fence. A pile of old, decaying lumber that might have once long ago been part of the structure covered part of the old lot. No sign of the track remained outside of some old concrete support posts dotting the side of the mountain.
I exhaled out a breath I hadn’t even realized I had been holding in. Soon the little town disappeared in my rear view mirror.
About a half hour later we stopped for gas. I pulled up to a gas pump across from a massive motorhome. Max stuck his head out the window and started barking at a little white dog, a toy breed of some kind, in the window of the motorhome. Carol and Emily immediately headed into the store to restock on snacks while I fueled up.
I stood there, a half smile on my lips as Max barked and wagged his tail in an attempt to attract the attention of the other dog while I filled up the tank, said dog doing an admirable job of ignoring him.
Right about the time I finished fueling up and cleaning the bugs off the windshield Carol returned from inside the store, Emily in tow, arms filled with two full sized bags of Salt and Vinegar Potato Chips and what looked to be a half dozen individually wrapped pickles.
I raised an eyebrow at the collection of food but knew better than to question a pregnant woman's snack choices.
“Should we take Max for a quick walk?” Carol asked. The travel plaza had a nice little gated dog walking area off to the side.
“Yeah probably not a bad idea, he’s been cooped up in the car for a few hours.” I said. Max, upon hearing his name and the word “walk” , forgot about the other dog and upgraded from wagging his tail to wagging his entire body while making whining sounds and staring right at me.
About this time I became half aware that the big motor home next to us was pulling away. I didn’t think much of it, outside of doing a quick automatic mental check to make sure Emily was well clear of the moving vehicle, but she was safely between me and our SUV, well out of the way.
But that was when Emily looked behind me and cheerfully yelled “Daddy look a roller coaster! Can I ride the coaster?”
It’s cliche as fuck I know but my blood went cold.
I turned around slowly, certain in my knowledge that terrible old decrepit Alpine Coaster would be there, having just popped into existence to trap me again.
That.. is not what I saw. Sure enough there was a coaster there, one I hadn’t noticed earlier because it had mostly been blocked by the motor home, but there it was. It was even an Alpine Coaster.
But it was not the same coaster I had encountered those years ago. That was immediately obvious. It was a small but modern and newish looking setup with neon lights and a bunch of people. There was an actual building where you bought tickets and a little snack stand.
“Daddy! Can we go on the coaster!” Emily asked again.
My mouth made motions but no words came out. I glanced over at Carol, hoping she’d say we didn’t have time but to my horror she smiled and said “You know what? That does sound like fun. Daddy will take you while I take Max for a walk.”
My mind raced, trying to think of a way to get out of it. But Emily was already dragging me across the parking lot to the entrance.
I patted my pocket, making sure my phone was in it. Every fiber of my being was screaming to run away. I slept walked through the line and the ticket booth while Emily bounced happily.
We got into a two seat plastic sled. This one was actually a lot nicer than the one my mind wouldn’t stop thinking about. It had two nice cushioned seats, big grab handles, even a nice rollbar.
The sled started up the track. I fought back the panic. I swerved my head around, keeping the building in my view. I was terrified of losing sight of it. We made it to the top and Emily did a happy squeal as we started down the side of the mountain.
My heart raced. Any second, any second my mind told me we’d lose sight of the building and then the ride would never end. The ride sped down the mountain. My mind tortured me with thoughts of not only going through it again, but seeing Emily go through it. The ride went around a big, banking turn. Emily kept shouting happily. How long before Carol reported us missing I wondered? Could I keep Emily calm? What if it lasted even longer this time? What if this time it never ended?
And then we were back at the start of the ride. The same attendant who had helped us into the sled was helping Emily out. I stepped out. The attendant gave me a brief look but said nothing. I guess I looked a little wild eyed.
I was fine. Emily was fine. It had been a perfectly normal, fun ride.
“That was fun Daddy! Thank you!” Emily said. I forced a smile back. “It was fun.” I responded, hoping like I sounded like I meant it.
I took Emily’s hand and we walked back to the car. Max saw us coming and barked happily. Carol looked up from the pint of Ben and Jerry’s she had somehow acquired and added to her snack collection while we were gone and smiled at us.
“Did you have fun?” she asked.
“It was so fun Mommy!” Emily said.
Carol smiled down at her, but then looked at me and frowned. “Are you okay?” Carol could read my face a lot better than the attendant could. “You’re pale.”
I smiled and this time the smile felt real. “Ya know what. Yeah, I think I am okay.”
Carol looked a little puzzled, but didn’t press it. We loaded Emily back in her booster seat, stopped Max from trying desperately to eat half a discarded gas station hot dog off the ground and got him back in the car. Carol and her small collection of snack food took her place in the passenger seat and I got in the driver's seat.I smiled. I cranked the car. I put it in gear. I pulled out of the gas station and back on the road, this time accelerating just a little faster than I had in years.

The website GotQuestions.org includes an attempt to construct a single coherent story about the events that surround the resurrection of Jesus based on the gospels. Let us look at the difficulties that arise.
Can the various resurrection accounts from the four Gospels be harmonized?

In the battle with skeptics regarding Jesus’ resurrection, Christians are in a "no-win" situation. If the resurrection accounts harmonize perfectly, skeptics will claim that the writers of the Gospels conspired together.

How is that not a win? Regardless of how the writers managed it, at least they would have managed to tell a consistent story that has the possibility of being accurate to actual events, as opposed to telling inconsistent stories that cannot all be true. Even if they conspired to make this happen, that does not make their story false, but telling inconsistent stories does absolutely make their stories false.

If the resurrection accounts have some differences, skeptics will claim that the Gospels contradict each other and therefore cannot be trusted.

For good reason. If their stories are different, then they cannot all be true. The real no-win situation for apologists comes from the fact that they are tasked with defending a Bible that contains inconsistent stories, and there is no hope of getting around that inconvenient fact.

However, even if the resurrection accounts cannot be perfectly harmonized, that does not make them untrustworthy.

The important thing is that we are all aware that the gospel stories got some details wrong. How trusting we are going to be after that is a matter for each of us to determine for ourselves. If we want to believe fantastical stories about miracles from unreliable narrators, no one is going to stop us.

The central truths - that Jesus was resurrected from the dead and that the resurrected Jesus appeared to many people - are clearly taught in each of the four Gospels.

No doubt the writers want us to believe in that. That is their religion. In the same way, Scientologists want us to believe in thetans. This does not make Scientologists trustworthy, and it does not make the gospel writers trustworthy.

To how many women did Jesus appear, and to whom did He appear first? (While each Gospel has a slightly different sequence to the appearances, none of them claims to be giving the precise chronological order.)

If any of them tell the events in the wrong order, that would be an error. It is exactly this sort of error that proves they are not infallible.

An angel descends from heaven, rolls the stone away, and sits on it. There is an earthquake, and the guards faint (Matthew 28:2-4). The women arrive at the tomb and find it empty.

In other words, GotQuestions.org has determined that the women were not there to see the stone roll away, despite the way Matthew 28 is written to make it sound like they were there. Matthew 28 says this:

After the Sabbath, at dawn on the first day of the week, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary went to see the tomb. Suddenly there was a great earthquake, for an angel of the Lord descended from heaven, rolled away the stone, and sat on it. His appearance was like lightning, and his clothes were white as snow. The guards trembled in fear of him and became like dead men. But the angel said to the women, “Do not be afraid, for I know that you are looking for Jesus, who was crucified."

If the women were not there, then from where did the writer hear about this event? Did the writer conduct an interview with the guards, or with the angels? If so, it is unfortunate that the writer did not record the words of what the actual witness said, and instead we get this second-hand account. It seems especially doubtful that the guards were in any condition to be reliable witnesses after they had become like dead men. Or are we to suppose that the writer was actually one of the guards, since GotQuestions has decided that they were the only humans to witness this event.

Mary Magdalene leaves the other women there and runs to tell the disciples (John 20:1-2).

This is really butchering the narrative of Matthew. That story mentions only two women, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary, and outright says that the angel speaks to "the women" who surely must be at least the only two women that were mentioned, but GotQuestions has declared that Mary Magdalene stayed just long enough to see the tomb was empty, but not long enough to hear what the angel said. Somehow she managed to get close enough to the tomb to convince herself that the body was nowhere to be found in there, while for some reason the angel waits quietly, and only once Magdalene is gone does the angel tell the remaining women what happened to the body. There is no hint that any of that is a reasonable possibility from reading Matthew 28.

The women leave to bring the news to the disciples (Matthew 28:8).

Not according to Mark 16:8. "And in their fear they did not say a word to anyone."

Peter and John run to the tomb, see that it is empty, and find the grave clothes (Luke 24:12; John 20:2-10).

According to Luke, this is not supposed to happen until after Magdalene has told the apostles about the resurrection. Luke very particularly says that Magdalene was among the women who told the apostles about the resurrection after being told about it by the angels. But according to GotQuestions, Magdalene still does not know about it because GotQuestions needs to keep Magdalene in the dark until Jesus appears to her. It is ironic that Magdalene is mentioned as being present in all four gospels, even thought the gospels feel free to omit mentioning some women who were supposedly there, and yet GotQuestions has to find a way to keep Magdalene from witnessing anything interesting until later.

I am in recovery from my ureteroscopy on a calyceal diverticulum, and while I found some journal articles and a few stray posts on here about them, I want to paint a bigger picture about my actual experience and what I felt.
This is a very long post because I wanted to err on the side of more information so that other may feel much less alone than I have felt. I have included subheadings so you can read only what is useful to you.
To start, I am a 31-year-old female with endometriosis (I explain the implications of that in one of my subsections.). I live in New York City and was operated on by a surgeon at Smith Institute for Urology at Lenox Hill Hospital, which specializes in “complex anatomy” and kidney stones.
TL;DR Calyceal diverticula are pockets on the kidneys affecting 0.5% of the population. Stones can form and get trapped due to their narrow opening (infundibulum). As a result, their pain pattern is different and diagnosis can be delayed. To resolve the problem, you will need a surgeon to remove stones and expand the opening and/or ablate the lining of the diverticulum via ureteroscopy or percutaneous nephrolithotomy.
What is a calyceal diverticulum?
For a good scientific review of what calyceal (kay-luh-SEE-uhl) diverticula are, there is a review study from 2014 with primary author Nikhil Waingankar. In short, these are pockets within the kidneys that have much narrower entry points (“infundibula”) than a normal calyx, and they are theorized to only occur in 0.5% of the human population, with an estimated 96% of those who have them forming stones inside them.
They are often found incidentally on imaging because many people remain asymptomatic. In my case, we saw “a cyst requiring further imaging to rule out neoplasm” (cancer) when I was having my appendectomy in 2022 and had a CT scan in the ER.
They will look like cysts until you either get a radiologist who knows what to look for and sees a stone inside, or until you do a CT urogram, which is a more involved CT scan where you can see if the urinary system communicates with the “cyst.” Simple cysts and neoplasms will not show urine entering the mass; a calyceal diverticulum will, because it has an entrance.
Important stipulation in my experience: endometriosis and its surgeries
My story is complicated by the fact that I have endometriosis, which is a disease wherein cells resembling uterine cells occur outside the uterus. This is an extraordinarily painful condition that causes widespread inflammation due to the uterus-like cells’ having “menstrual periods” outside the uterus. It that can occur anywhere in the body; while most people’s disease presents primarily in the ovaries, uterus, and Fallopian tubes, the disease has been found in every organ in the body. In my case, my disease was confirmed to be extrapelvic as soon as my appendix pathology report revealed that my appendix had endometriosis on it; the cells existed beyond the typical pelvic organs.
I have already had two laparoscopies for endometriosis, and while these were immensely helpful in restoring my quality of life, every abdominal surgery comes with the risk of adhesions. Adhesions are bands of tissue that the body forms when it experiences inflammation or trauma. Endometriosis forms adhesions by itself, and surgery to remove it risks further adhesions. In 2020, when I had my radical excision surgery, my surgeon had to perform ureterolysis to cut my ureters free: whether from previous surgery in 2016 or the disease, my ureters were stuck to my uterus due to adhesions.
I share this because having endometriosis and its surgeries in my history affected my path to diagnosis and probably my pain pattern. (Endometriosis forms its own nerve endings, too!) But for the record, the kidney stones and the kidney surgery in my case were more painful than endometriosis…probably because they freaked out any remaining endometriosis.
(Sorry for no source on this endometriosis information. I am unfortunately very well-read on the disease! If you want to learn more, I recommend The Center for Endometriosis Care website and the book Beating Endo.)
What did the calyceal diverticulum feel like at first?
On a Tuesday in January 2024, I was trialing prazosin, an alpha blocker related to Flomax (tamsulosin) due to PTSD nightmares.
One day after taking this drug, I woke up with 8/10 pain muscle spasms in my “iliac crest,” which is the top edge of my pelvis, on the right side. I thought I had “slept funny” and the pain subsided after about 3 hours. I tried to roll around on a lacrosse ball, thinking it was a muscle spasm.
I took the prazosin for two more days. By that Thursday, the pain lasted more like 6 hours and did not go away; I had the muscle spasms as well as a feeling that there was “trapped gas” right at my waist, right on the side of my body. Because the pain stayed at 8/10, nothing would calm it down, and I couldn’t focus on work, I went to the ER. We did a CT scan and saw nothing different from my last CT for my appendectomy. They decided it was probably a kidney infection with strange presentation due to my endometriosis and sent me home with cefpodoxime, an antibiotic.
I finished the course of the antibiotic over 7 days and felt better.
But then the “trapped gas” feeling returned and lasted 18 hours. I went back to the ER, mostly concerned that I had failed antibiotics and the “infection” was getting worse. I made a urologist appointment while I was waiting in the ER because I suspected this might be beyond their mandate of ruling out anything life-threatening. We did another CT, and this time I really carefully read the results: inside what we had identified as a calyceal diverticulum in 2022 during my appendectomy CT scan were two kidney stones, each about 0.2mm. Because there was not much change from my last ER visit, the doctor at the ER did not think this explained how I was feeling. He did not want to send me home with antibiotics because he thought his colleagues were too cavalier with testing, but he did send for a urine culture and sent me home at least assured there was no emergency.
The culture came back, and I did test positive for E. Faecalis, which is a rarer bacteria to have, so the doctor at the ER urged me to get on Levaquin, an antibiotic, as soon as possible. (My endourologist later theorized this bacterium was an incidental finding; he thinks I just happened to be colonized with it and it was not causing symptoms. Regardless, it was not present in my culture before surgery.)
Again, I took almost the full course of the antibiotic and was feeling better and safer. I also saw a urologist, and she was skeptical it was an infection but told me to continue the course. She was pretty sure it was endometriosis-related but saw that I had seen my gynecologist, who has been treating me for 5 years, days prior who was pretty sure this was NOT consistent with what she had seen when we operated in 2020. The urologist said she felt this might be beyond her skills and referred me to one of her medical school colleagues who is a specialist in “complex anatomy” like calyceal diverticula as an endourologist professor at Lenox Hill in NYC.
But before I could see the endourologist, only one week after my last ER visit, I was in 9/10 pain for 7 hours overnight. I really did not want to go to the ER again, but I was vomiting, sweating, using the bathroom (both ways) constantly. After 7 hours not being able to get it to calm down, I went back to the ER.
The first thing they did was test me for sepsis, because I was being treated for an infection. They also did a CT scan again and then we saw it: one of the kidney stones had left the calyceal diverticulum and was stuck in the ureterovesicular junction (“UVJ”). By the time I was diagnosed, I was in 9/10 pain for 18 hours, so what we now know to be the renal colic phase lasted for 18 hours. They admitted me overnight to the hospital to observe and had me on ketorolac (Toradol) and oxycodone/acetaminophen (Percocet) every 6 hours alternating. The pain subsided the next morning.
Confirmation and surgery
Luckily, I had the endourologist appointment on the books already, and I got all of my images from the ER to bring to this doctor, letting him know I was confirmed to have passed the stone.
What he was able to do for me I will never forget: he showed me exactly why I was in enough pain for the ER each of the three weeks I went. Unlike a normal stone situation, a stone in a calyceal diverticulum has far more opportunities to get stuck. Also unlike a normal stone, you can feel the stone passing before it reaches the ureter because it has to leave via the narrow opening of the diverticulum. This means the pain can feel different and, due to its location within the kidney is more prone to being referred pain (pain you feel in a place other than where it originates). This is why I did not feel the pain in the classic place and why it felt much more like trapped gas. Furthermore, most radiologists do not have the same training as he did to identify where in the opening the stone was, which explained why they believed the stone was in the same place each time.
We wanted to take a “wait and see” approach on the second stone, but my body did not want to wait. As I was falling asleep one night in early March 2024, I felt that familiar “trapped gas” feeling, way too far right to be my intestines. This is 6/10 pain, so I could go to work for an important meeting, but I called to get an ultrasound and appointment right away. (We have since found that for my specific diverticulum, ultrasounds are not useful. I will need a CT urogram any time we want to visualize the kidney post-op.)
My doctor said that he wanted to attempt ureteroscopy before percutaneous nephrolithotomy because it is a less-invasive modality and we were worried about impacting any endometriosis. He had me sign paperwork consenting to either method, and it was a “game time” decision based on what he saw with the camera.
In the two-and-half week wait til surgery, his hypothesis gained traction: I would have days “on” with the pain and “off,” suggesting the stone was able to enter the diverticular opening and then flow back into the diverticulum. When I was in pain this time, I would also feel a lot of fatigue and brain fog that made it hard to work. This could be consistent with a kidney blockage, but it is hard to say for sure with an area so small.
The surgery, the stent, and the pain after the stent
The surgery itself went pretty well and only lasted 1.5 hours. The surgeon let me know that it was not easy to get into the diverticulum because the opening was not straight, as expected. He was, however, able to complete the surgery with only ureteroscopy. He removed a 0.2mm stone and observed that the stone was exactly the width of the opening, meaning it could absolutely flow into and out of it and get stuck for days. He widened the opening with laser to be “wider than a normal calyx” to allow for scarring, and, at my request to avoid further operations, ablated as much of the lining of the diverticulum as he could, encouraging it to close up.
While the surgery was uneventful, I am one of the unlucky ones who cannot tolerate a stent. This is probably due to my endometriosis, which leaves me in a heightened baseline of inflammation and nerve arousal, as well as the fact that, for me, the stent had to go into the diverticulum, which had been lasered and burned, in order for it to heal. I spent four hours in the recovery room while we tried to get my pain down to my goal of 7, which meant we needed to dose me, as we did in the ER, with ketorolac (Toradol) and oxycodone every 6 hours with no gaps in between.
I only had the stent in for 3 full days, and unfortunately, due to my specific circumstances, that was the worst pain I have ever been in. I was agnostic about 10/10 pain until this time, in which I felt like I was passing a stone and experiencing my worst endometriosis cramps at the same time. I was in 8-10/10 pain despite the painkiller regimen, and since we found that dilaudid does not work for me, this was good as they could do for me.
Thankfully, my surgeon listened to my experience and agreed to take the stent out as soon as was responsible: 72 hours later. The actual removal was uncomfortable but not painful beyond a “scrape” sensation in the urethra, and as soon as it was out, my husband noticed I could move as normal and was talking more like myself.
However, 1 out of 4 people will experience pain after the stent is removed, and risk factors include female anatomy, being “younger” (I am 31.) and having a stent in for less than or equal to 7 days.
The day of the removal I had some muscle spasms but was mostly so relieved that I slept all day.
34 hours after the removal, I experienced a feeling like I was passing a kidney stone. I was in 9/10 pain for 6 hours, feeling like I needed to move my bowels (which was not easy after opioids!) and having unrelenting spasms above my right iliac crest (top of pelvis). I was on ketorolac (Toradol) during this and knew what it was, but I otherwise may have gone back to the ER. I refused to take more opioids because my bowel was upset as well.
Today, I have had one episode of the iliac crest muscle spasms lasting an hour. I have found that crouching on the floor, against a wall, and/or going into “reclined butterfly pose” may help. It may just make me feel like I have more control over the situation.
I will update this post if I feel more pain in the coming days.
What’s next?
My endourologist/surgeon thinks it is very unlikely that I am “a stone-former” because the stones were only in the diverticulum and likely formed due to the urine reflux of that structure.
We will follow up in 3 weeks to see if the sensation I felt in March of the “trapped gas” recurs. If it does, only then would we do a CT urogram to see if the diverticular opening closer up to anywhere near its former width of 0.2mm.
This is unlikely because the surgeon lasered the opening very wide, “wider than a normal calyx,” to allow for scarring to take place. The ablation of the lining of the diverticulum should also take care of its tendency to collect urine.
I am not expected to have further stones or need for surgery, but he has seen cases of recurrence, so we need to manage my expectations.
Despite the extreme pain of the stent, I am content with my decision and hope that I do not have to go through this again. The one blessing in my case is, if this surgery succeeds, I should not have any further kidney stones.

Link for all the chapters available here: Engines of Arachnea on Royal Road
With the coming of morning Rene found the earth enwreathed in a grey and sinuous fog that was so thick he felt like he was standing on the shores of an ocean of sky. Only the lapping edges of the wide pond he had located was visible beneath rolling tails of mist. He couldn’t even tell where the heavens ended and the water began—they had all joined together at the waist in one vague mass. It all had filthy, sooty smell to it too, like the inside of a baker’s oven. As through a clouded window pane he saw a red and malevolent haze glowing on faraway slopes to the southeast. Zildiz noted his bewilderment and taunted him:
“Don’t you recognized your own handiwork when you see it? An entire biome went up in smoke because of the Engine’s rampage. Not that I mind—all this is Leaper territory after all.”
“Cry me a river,” Rene scowled, dipping his boots into pond and wading into it. It was only knee height at the deepest point. What’s more, he could see the blurred outlines of small darting shapes below the surface that he hoped were fish.
He made Zildiz sit with her back against a sapling and bound her to it with the spool of webbing he’d collected.
“Don’t get any ideas,” he told her. He slipped off his boots and raggedy socks, rolling up the jumpsuit around his calves and getting back into the water.
At first he tried to get at the fishes with his bare hands. It would be just as easy as catching the milky cave species they raise in the aquaculture ponds back in Ulysses, he thought. All one had to do was slip one’s hand in with glacial patience so as not to disturb them, dipping the palm right under their bellies. Rene had gotten so good at it as a boy that he could even tickle them right in the gills and under the chin. But he soon discovered that the fish on the surface world were nothing like their subterranean cousins. For one thing, they weren’t blind, or stupid. The little rascals fled when he floundered after them, feet slipping on the mossy stones that covered the pond bed. Zildiz looked on with interest as the single worst attempt at hunting she had ever had the misfortune to witness began. This Rene-creature was as clumsy as it was slow-witted, splashing around in fruitless pursuit of its feeble prey. How had these animals ever managed to conquer the stars? Zildiz watched as Rene stubbed his toes on a sharp rock and howled, falling arse-backwards and losing his visor in the process. He then painstakingly dredged the pond bottom for it, turning it up some time later all covered in water lilies and mud. Rene angrily slung his backpack back on and cleared the gunk out of his mask before fitting it back on his face, only to begin yelling as a river crab he’d left inside tried to crawl up his nose. He tore the mask off again and doused it in the pond, finally ridding himself of the curious crustacean.
“Phew!” he sighed with relief.
“Toss it in again,” Zildiz suggested gaily, “At least that way you might catch another.”
“Shut up,” Rene glowered, face going purple with rage. He grabbed the biggest stick of driftwood he could find and began beating the surface of the water as if it owed him money.
Zildiz hid a smile at that. She was famished and events had definitely taken a turn for the worse, but at least someone else was suffering more than she was.
And while this halfwit is preoccupied, Zildiz schemed, I’ll go ahead and signal the god for help. She activated the magnetosynaptic organ behind her inner ear and tried all the usual frequencies.
Nothing but static. Either her organ had been knocked out of commission with the loss of her exomorph’s functions, or the heavy smog caused by the wildfire was getting in the way of reception.
But more than this, a greater part of the Vitalus would be preoccupied with containing the damage to its work. As a shared consciousness It had unimaginable processing power, yet It tended to deal with the world in a holistic fashion, neglecting the individual elements. This did not mean that the god could not be effectively omniscient—It merely had a wholly different perspective and hierarchy of priorities than did Its mortal servants.
For problems on the micro scale, it did however deploy Hollowores or other Inkarnids. Zildiz wasn’t vain enough to think it would send such an avatar of creation and destruction just to retrieve one lone Gallivant. No help would be forthcoming for a while. No matter; she was certain that she could outsmart the Fleet-man soon enough.
Then something happened which drastically altered her perception of him and his kind. Rene grabbed another stick and banged the two pieces together, frowning with concentration. Without a word he returned to the survival kit and combined them with the spool of webbing, twisting them together into the silk and rotating them to create something that was greater than the sum of its parts.
Grinning evilly, the Fleet man took the two sticks and the webbing strung between them and gently lowered them into the pond. He then waited, tongue sticking out the corner of his mouth as a fish approached him. When it refused to come any closer, he took one of the white cubes and crumbled it into pieces, which he sprinkled liberally into the water right above his new tool. Eventually the fish took the bait and swam in for a nibble. In a flash Rene pulled up the net and held up a wriggling, pinknosed carp with an ecstatic cry of victory. Chuckling at his own cleverness, Rene hauled his catch to the bank and dashed its brains out on the rocks. He then repeated the process until he caught three more carp with the exact same method. He gutted and descaled the carp with his clasp knife in a trice.
Zildiz was seeing the boundless cunning of these creatures firsthand. It bothered her more than she cared to admit. Granted, if her exomorph was up and running she could’ve killed him in a heartbeat, humming sword or not. But the rate at which he had adapted to his surroundings was concerning.
For comparison, say a Gallivant wished to specialize in the catching of fish. It would have had to ask the Vitalus to edit its gilt helix so that its exomorph could accept the grafting of an appendage designed solely to catch fish. This was assuming the Vitalus had calculated that the addition of this new capability would not lead to the eventual collapse of the riverine ecosystem in the next ten or twenty generations, or that the Gallivant in question could be entrusted with such a responsibility, assuming that its lineage’s previous contributions to the Great Game rendered it worthy of the sudden advantage.
Meanwhile, Rene had developed the net tool in less than the span of an hour, with absolutely zero regard for the consequences of his actions. Zildiz could only imagine what an entire nation of Renes could do if they were given time to multiply beyond Arachnea’s carrying capacity. Clearly this Fleet was a threat not to be taken lightly.
Rene finished cleaning the fish and skewered them on sharp sticks. He then found some pebbles and started banging them together to produce sparks above a pile of bark scrapings and twigs, careful placing one of the brown lumps from the kit inside. It was just as successful as his first attempts at fishing; he smacked the rocks together until he bruised his fingers, then hurled them cursing into the fog.
“Sonofa…” he swore, squatting next to Zildiz and looking at the raw fish dejectedly.
“What, you can manage all that but can’t get a fire going?” she asked, nodding at the blaze in the distance. Rene made no reply, too busy sucking on his thumb. Suddenly he unsheathed the sword and Zildiz nearly panicked, thinking that she had finally annoyed him to the point of violence. Instead, Rene picked up a chunk of quartz crystal off the ground and cut it in half, producing a shower of sparks as the edge met the mineral. Rene piled the fuel again and repeated the trick with the sword and the stone until the tinder caught and tiny streamers of smoke wafted up. Cupping his hands around the precious heart of flame, Rene blew on it lovingly and smiled as it grew into a merry, crackling cookfire.
Making sure to give Zildiz a smug look, Rene sat cross-legged next to it and began to barbeque his meal. Zildiz had built fires herself during the cold monsoon seasons as a special allowance granted by the Vitalus for extreme weather fluctuations, but those had been for warmth, not to burn food with.
The smell of the browning fish skin flooded Rene’s mouth with spit. He saw Zildiz licking her chops unconsciously, said:
“Don’t worry. You’ll get yours.”
Sure enough he held out first batch of carp for her to eat, blowing on it to cool it. Zildiz even forgot her hostility for a moment as she seized the fish with her jaws.
“I can feed myself, you know,” she told him between crunchy mouthfuls of bone and white flesh. It was delicious! An explosion of flavors that was at once both salty and slightly burnt, the meat firm yet succulent. Swallowing greedily, she pulled the fish off its stick and ate it whole, the fish’s head crackling under her molars. Rene watched her choke the thing down with a mix of amazement and alarm, then replied:
“I would consider giving you an arm free to eat with, but you’re a walking arsenal, lady. Is it good, though? My cooking?”
“Passable,” Zildiz lied with a shrug of her shoulders. Her affected disdain did not stop her from giving the rest of the carp a longing look. Rene knew she was hungry and tore the next fish in half, gorging himself and giving Zildiz the rest. Very soon all that was left of their breakfast was a pile of bones and scales that Rene kicked back into the pond. He sat back and propped his bare feet next to the fire to dry his toes.
“Uuurrpp!” Zildiz belched appreciatively.
“Bless you,” Rene commented, and settled down for a nap. He could only rest his eyes for a moment, as the woman would slit his throat as soon as he let his guard down. But the fatigue of the constant marching and fighting amassed on the edges of his consciousness. Slowly but surely, he was pulled down into the untroubled realm of sleep, free from the cares of his existence.
Link for all the chapters available here: Engines of Arachnea on Royal Road

So, I wrote up a little intro to an RP I was taking part in with a friend, and it kinda... Spiralled.
I quite like what I ended up writing, so I'm sharing it here. I think I did a good enough job offering up an interesting angle on Stormcast.
For a bit of context; Améline is a Knight-Questor, and Gorgo is a mortal she's taken on as almost like an apprentice. Gorgo heard about this 'storm-goddess' that was immortal and couldn't be beaten, and glory-hungry tried to first defeat Améline in a fighting competition. Long story short, Gorgo got knocked out so early she didn't even get to fight Améline, but she ended up getting to train under her instead. Gorgo's grown quite a bit over the training, which includes getting traumatised by fighting Chaos alongside Améline.
Gorgo also has six snakes on her head instead of hair.
The reference Améline makes to being worshipped is that, well, she's pretty much a goddamn superhero. She inspires others, and because she's a demigod born from Sigmar some of that becomes outright worship, which she doesn't know how to deal with.

Out in the field, Améline could put on her sigmarite war-plate in just a bare few minutes, a skill refined by repeated necessity. Here, in the safe confines of the fortress, she could afford to take her time, slowly easing on each piece of her gear onto her body and tightening the leather straps until her armour was securely placed. As she did so, Améline quietly whispered prayers of warding to her armour in one of the secret tongues of Azyr, taught to her by her Lord-Relictor, Herakes Who-Carries-The-Firmament-And-Laughs.
Améline smiles to herself as she remembers when Herakes had let her in on a secret; the prayers by themselves, unless charged with arcane or divine power, did nothing for her armour. They were simply tools to focus the mind before battle and calm it with rote.
"And a Retributor-Prime needs all the focus they can get." the venerable Lord-Relictor had laughed. Scant moments later, she would watch him be eviscerated by a Bloodthirster while bellowing oaths of . But Améline liked the memory of that day regardless, and was thankful that it hadn't been one of the ones taken from her by the Anvil of Apotheosis. Try as she might to put the pain of loss from her mind, Améline missed the uncomplicated camaraderie of the Blackhammers.
It had been simpler in the early days of the Realmgate Wars, she muses to herself, not for the first time. Not easier, not by any measure. But Améline's world had been the Stormcast she stood shoulder-to-shoulder with, the enemies at her front, and the survivors she had rescued. Lord-Celestant Phionas gave the Retributor-Prime her orders, and she would enact them as best she could or die trying. She was surrounded by siblings who implicitly understood her in ways others struggled.
She hadn't stood out; she'd just been another warrior in Sigmar's army.
She hadn't been been a hero that people looked up to; just another Stormcast fighting to free the Realms.
Améline hadn't been worshipped back then.
And now...
Améline hears a knock on her door, and releases a quiet breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding.
This was nostalgia talking, she reminds herself. Cherry-picked memories of a hellish period of war, further pared down by numerous Reforgings. It had likely been just as messy back then too; she'd just managed to overcome the problems that had plagued her back then. She would do so again with the present, and whatever might come in the future.
She just wished she had the Blackhammers again, she thought mournfully to herself, before slowly easing herself upright, going over to the door and opening it.
When the door is opened, Améline finds herself looking down at Gorgo. The quiet gloom of the Stormcast's thoughts pervade further; though now she knew Gorgo was on the road to recovery, she couldn't help but see the young woman's trials marked all over her body. Not just in scars, but in the way she carries herself.
When Améline had first met Gorgo, she'd been a strutting peacock of a warrior, staring proudly right into Améline's eyes as if challenging the Stormcast to refuse training her. Améline hadn't begrudged the youth's pride; instead, she took it upon herself to let Gorgo remake it into something more productive, and healthy for the warrior. Améline remembered how her snakes had flared outwards, looking like the crest of a multi-coloured tropical bird.
The product of that training now stands before her; wan, tired, her shoulders slumped by weights that couldn't be seen by eye, but pulled her down terribly nonetheless. Even her snakes lounged down over her scalp and shoulders. Gorgo still looked up at Améline's eyes with a strange kind of confidence, born of experience rather than arrogance. Whatever her agony, Gorgo wasn't broken yet.
It still sent a pang of pain through Améline's soul to see her student seem so diminished. Perhaps the life Gorgo had chosen would have inevitably led to this moment, and thanks to Améline she would survive it; but that didn't stop Améline's mind from furiously rebelling against Gorgo's misery.
Would that the battle against Chaos had ended with the Realmgate Wars.
The words 'I'm sorry' had almost left Améline's lips when Gorgo pushed a spear into Améline's hand. The Stormcast immediately recognised it; it was Gorgo's choice weapon, the one she brought to training pit and battlefield alike. It was sturdy, a product of good craftsmanship and materials, and the tip was meticulously sharpened until it could pierce flesh and armour with but a thrust. Below the tip hung a stone carved with a rune that Améline didn't understand, but had seen Gorgo hold onto tightly when she thought no one was looking.
Améline had never seen Gorgo give that spear to another person.
"To fight the Khornates." Gorgo blurted out, pre-empting Améline's question. "You're going to need every bit of help you can get."
Gorgo shifted her feet, starting to turn as if to beat a hasty retreat, but Améline stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.
There was so much that she wanted to tell Gorgo. The countless words welled up inside the Stormcast; how proud she was of Gorgo, how much she regretted failing the young warrior, how Améline wasn't worthy of training her, and just how dearly the Stormcast wished she could shelter Gorgo.
Instead of all the thoughts that swirled around her said, Améline said, almost surprising herself;
"After the Gorestorm is beaten, we're not going to train."
Gorgo flinched, and looked up at Améline with a hurt, betrayed look. Améline didn't know where her tongue was leading her, but it continued speaking for her;
"For a few weeks. Until then, I want to spend some time with you."
"You already do when we train." Gorgo mumbles, but the hurt in her eyes abates, and she starts looking curiously up at Améline.
"We're going to spend some time together at rest." Améline clarified, her voice becoming firmer as her thoughts slowly coalesced into coherency. "Theatre, dances, taverns. Whatever you want. My treat."
"Is Allassía going to be there?" Gorgo groans, and Améline's heart lightens as the young warrior's mood lifted. She might be grumbling, but by this point Améline knew when to recognise pantomime.
"If she wants to." Améline lightly replied, and was rewarded with Gorgo theatrically rolling her eyes, as if her lips hadn't just ticked upwards in a smile at the thought of spending time with her Hurakan rival.
And then, Gorgo seemed to throw away any last pretence of annoyance as she surged forwards and wrapped her arms around Améline's waist. For a moment the Stormcast wondered if Gorgo was trying to wrestle with her, before the warrior's sudden stillness revealed that she was instead hugging Améline.
"Thank you." Gorgo grunted, with a sincerity that broke Améline's heart a little. "For everything."
The words bubbled up once more from the dark recesses of Améline's mind, but this time she quieted them as she wrapped an arm around Gorgo's shoulders and hugged her back. There would be time for them.
But later.
Gorgo held on to Améline for a while longer, before just as abruply as she initiated the embrace, she broke from it. She took a step back with a laugh, put her hands on her hips, and looked up into Améline's eyes with some of her old, cocksure fire.
"Say hello to the Chained Butcher for me." Gorgo commanded, and Améline couldn't stifle her laughter before it bubbled up from her throat, hale and hearty and utterly taking her by storm. Gorgo joined in with Améline, before turning on her heel and strutting down the corridor, leaving Améline alone with the spear.