purchased a pack of bratwurst from the supermarket on a whim. i grabbed some coors banquet to beer braise them, as well as yellow onion. maybe not the best beer choice but i was trying not to overthink it. i’ve never cooked brats before! any recommendations for cooking, sides/vegs to serve with them? im considering pickled carrots/peppers tomatoes, horseradish, and mustard. serving with steamed broccoli to keep it simple. was also considering scalloped potatoes.
i looked through some threads and couldnt find a consensus on to poke or not to poke, if marinating them actually does anything, etc. would love to get some input on this!

I accidentally posted this to my username instead of my subreddit so here is is:
The Mortgage, Part 3
“Fuck,” I said as I drove to work in the old beater that only started on the fourth try because it could tell that I was pissed off. Ray’s case started at two o’clock, and I was heading to the office to get ready. “Fuck fuck fuckity fucking fuck. Fuck.” I’d wanted to tell Angela about Ray’s case, and how I was sorry that I hadn’t wanted to help him, but now I would, I would help him, and I would win, but then I’d gotten her all riled up on something else, something totally different, something way more serious.
My wife had given me a triple ultimatum: fix things up with her father, save idiot Ray from Sy-Co Corp., and somehow find a downpayment for the place she wanted to buy, in the little townhouse infill project in Bixity. It was like demanding I do a double bank shot, and then run over to the baseball diamond and hit a home run after first pointing to where it would land, Babe Ruth style.
Angela was mad at me, seriously mad. She’d slipped out that morning before I was even awake, sliding quietly past me on the couch. I didn’t realize she was gone until I heard the faint click of the front door closing. I jumped up, tripped over a blanket, and by the time I got up and my robe on, the elevator down the hall dinged, and Angela was gone before I opened the apartment door.
I swore at myself some more and pounded the steering wheel, “I fucked up,” I said, several times as I hit the wheel over and over again, until I accidentally honked it, and then looked all sheepish when the guy in front of me gave me the finger. I reached my office without further incident, but instead of walking in the front door, I went further down the hall, and into the office of Mark Cecil-Rowe, Barrister, LL.D, the man with the finest speaking voice I ever heard. When I entered his office I forgot for a minute about Angela and her father and sleeping on the couch the night before. I forget about everything, except the reason that I had come to Cecil-Rowe’s office: to stump him with a legal problem that I had solved, but which I was pretty sure he could not. In other words, I had come to preen and to brag and to boast. No one likes a showoff, and I had come to show off. I put my hand on the door and turned the knob. After a brief pause, I flung open the door.
“I’m a goddamn genius,” I said as I strolled into the older man’s office.
I noticed the echo of a hastily closed desk drawer hanging in the air. In Aaron’s office, where I rented space, a sudden act of concealment implied cocaine, but with Cecil-Rowe, the item in question was probably a mickey of vodka. I had the sense that he’d been drinking a bit before I arrived, but his powers of observation were unimpaired, and when he looked into my face, his expression showed sympathy, and actual pain.
“What have you done now?” he said, as set the papers before him to one side, and readied himself to hear my latest tale of legal brilliance.
“I’m a genius,” I said.
“Oh dear. Have a seat.”
“No really, I am. I’m a genius. I got this case that everyone says you can’t win, but I’m gonna win it, and when I do, I’m gonna look like a genius.” Cecil-Rowe gave me a sad indulgent smile.
“Whenever you tell me you’re a genius, I am always concerned about what is to follow. When you get wrapped up in what you call your genius, you tend to ignore the more mundane things we lawyers have to do to win a case. You think you’re going to win by genius alone.”
“Let me tell you why I’m a goddamn genius.” With effort I wiped the smug, self-satisfied expression that was on my face.
“Tell me why you’re a genius,” Cecil-Rowe said, “while I pour us a coffee.” He heaved his bulky body up from his chair and shuffled over to a counter. He picked up a carafe of hot coffee sitting on a hot plate, and poured two cups. “Speak,” he said, handing me one. I took a sip of the coffee, and told Cecil-Rowe the tale of Cousin Ray: his purchase of a franchise from Sy-Co Corp, its swift demise, the crash and burn in Commercial Court, the Minutes of Settlement, the seventy-one kilometer limit, and lastly, Sy-Co’s motion scheduled for two p.m. that very day, seeking an interim injunction shutting down Ray’s place.
Cecil-Rowe absorbed all this without the need to take notes. Instead, he sat back while he eyed me, taking the occasional sip of coffee, and smiling at the extravagant flourishes and details that brought out Ray’s story to full effect.
“Obviously Ray is dead on arrival,” he said, “but I guess this is the part where you tell me how you’re going to win.”
So I told him how I was going to win, but it didn’t have the desired effect. “I told ya I’m a genius, Mr. C,” cueing him to applaud, to admit what a brilliant lawyer I was. But there was no applause from Mark Cecil-Rowe. He looked at me without so much as a smile.
“You can cling to that genius notion as a consolation prize, after you get whipped this afternoon in court.”
“No way,” I said, “not a chance. I got this thing won hands down. I’m gonna kick ass in court today and--”
“And how exactly do you plan to do that, if you don’t have evidence?”
“What?”
“Evidence, Calledinthe9os. It’s what lawyers like me use to beat geniuses like you.”
“But I’m gonna win without proof. I don’t need proof. The argument I’m gonna make, relies on simple facts that are totally obvious, so the judge is gonna--” Cecil-Rowe stuck up his hand.
“Stop right there. I know what’s coming. You’re going to ask the judge to take *judicial notice.”
And he was right. That was exactly what I was going to do.
There are some things so obvious that you didn’t have to prove them, things that everyone knew. You didn’t have to prove that water froze at zero degrees and boiled at a hundred, or that Bixity was between West Bay and East Bay.
“You got it,” I said, “judicial notice all the way.”
“You’re going to tell the judge that the centerpiece of your argument, the lynchpin of your case is a fact known to pretty well everyone, and so you don’t need proof.”
“Exactly,” I said. Cecil-Rowe took another sip of his coffee, and left me hanging in the silence for a while before he spoke.
“If that’s true, then why does coming up with that argument make you a genius?”
“Oh, I said,”I didn’t think of that.”
“It is acceptable to rely on judicial notice for minor, ancillary points. But you never should walk into court thinking that the court will take judicial notice of your entire defence. It’s just too risky.”
“But how am I going to rustle up a witness in time for this afternoon?”
“Worry about that after you leave my office. I can’t help you with that. What I want to know, is why you’re doing this at the last minute.”
“What makes you think I’m doing this at the last minute?”
“Because you never would have resorted to judicial notice if you were properly prepared. If you’d opened this case a bit earlier, you’ve have everything lined up. But you got to work on it late, and so you want to rely on judicial notice. You’ve messed up, Calledinthe90s, and you know what my rule is when you mess up.” Cecil-Rowe didn’t extend aid to me, until I admitted the error of my ways. It was infuriating, but he was inflexible. So I fessed up.
“My idiot cousin Ray’s been trying to retain me for almost two weeks, but I was putting him off because I was mad at him. So now my wife’s mad at me, and if I don’t win this case, I’m dead. Plus her dad’s mad at me too and --” My brain roared into overdrive, a mess of family and law and fear, and at the centre of it, thoughts of Angela’s anger and her father. My mind took off, and then came to an instant halt at a helpful destination.
“Yes?” Cecil-Rowe said.
“Sorry. I just realized how to solve the evidence problem. Look, can I ask you about the thing I actually came here to ask you about?”
“You have a problem that’s worse than having no evidence? What could be worse than -- oh. You don’t have a retainer. Your client doesn't have any money.”
“Exactly. How do I get paid? That’s the problem.” I explained that Ray had no money, as in none, and that if he did have money, he wouldn’t spend it on me. Instead, he’d go back downtown and throw his cash at some big firm, who would take on his case, and proceed to lose it in a calm, careful, sober manner, ending in a reporting letter to Ray telling him that he’d lost.
“Now that’s a problem I can solve,” Cecil-Rowe said.
“Really? ‘Cause I can’t see a way around it. I think I’m gonna have to do this for free, and that really pisses me off.” Cecil-Rowe shook his head.
“You may or may not get paid, but you can set things up so that if you win, you’ll win pretty good.”
“How? Ray’s a deadbeat. Tapped out.”
“But is he desperate?”
“Totally. The first time he failed, he lost his own money, but if he goes under this time, he’s taking family money with him, and he’ll be the black sheep forever.”
“And he’s using family to emotionally blackmail you into helping him?’
“Like no shit. That’s the part that pisses me off the most. I’m like a goddamn slave, being forced to work for free.”
“Never fear, young apprentice. I have just the thing in mind.” He reached into a drawer, and pulled out a form. “Fill in the blanks, and have him sign.”
I looked it over, and saw that the document was a retainer agreement. I whistled. “Holy shit. If he signs this, he’s almost my slave.”
“Close, but not quite” Cecil-Rowe said, “the Latin term for this is "contractus pro venditione animae"”. It’s the ultimate retainer agreement. Once Ray signs that, you own any cause of action he has against the person suing him. You can settle the case on any terms you like, and you get to keep whatever proceeds there are.” Cecil-Rowe placed the folder back in a drawer, and from his manner you could tell that the interview was over.
“Awesome, Mr. C. I’ll call you from Commercial Court when we’re done.”
“Commercial Court?” he said.
“Yeah, Commercial Court.”
“This just keeps getting worse. Take notes, Calledinthe90s, while I school you on Commercial Court. Commercial Court is a jungle, and without preparation, you’ll get savaged.”
“That’s what happened to Ray when--”
“Take notes, young apprentice,” he said, tossing me a pad and a pen. He started to lecture, and I took notes that I have with me to this day, in a safe deposit box downstairs in the vault at Mega Bank Main Branch.
* * *
By the time Cecil-Rowe finished schooling me, it was close to ten, and the case started at two. I didn’t have much time. I ran down the hall to my office, and called Ray’s restaurant. No answer. Then I called Ray’s house. I expected to get Ray’s wife, but the man himself answered.
“You’re not at work. Why aren’t you at work?”
“Sy-Co Corp served all my employees with a cease and desist letter. They all got scared and took off. The place is shut down.”
“You gotta fax machine at home?” He did, and asked why.
“I’m taking your case, but only if you sign the paper I’m about to send and fax it back.” I sent the fax, and five minutes later it came back signed, and it was official: Ray had sold me his legal soul.
I went out to the parking lot, got into my beater and drove fast. In less than thirty minutes I reached my destination. I knocked on the door, and when it opened, my diminutive mother-in-law poked out her head. “What a pleasant surprise,” she said.
“Sorry, Mrs. M, but I’m in a super hurry. I gotta rush to get to court to help Ray. But first, I gotta speak to Dr. M.”
“He’s not here,” she said.
“Not here?”
“He’s on his way to his bridge game. He left just a few minutes ago.”
“Where’s the club?”
“He’s walking there,” she said, and pointed down the street.
“Thanks.” I got into my car and headed where Mrs. M had pointed, passing big houses and new project with an “Opening Soon” sign. And walking past it was the figure of Dr. M.
“Hey, Dr. M,” I called out the window. He stopped and looked around, startled. But he didn’t see me, not at first.
“It’s me, Dr. M. Me, Calledin90s.” He leaned forward as if to see me better. I got out of the car.
“Is something wrong with Angela? Or the baby?”
“No, no not at all, sorry to scare you, it’s nothing like that. I need your help.”
“Oh.” He started walking again, and now it was my turn to be a bit stunned, watching my father-in-law walk away from me. I caught up with him in a few quick strides.
“Listen, I really need your help.”
“And I really need to get to a bridge game.”
“This isn’t about me. It’s about Ray.” That brought him to a halt. He turned to me, angrier even than he’d been the night before.
“Did you drive all the way out here just to make fun of me? To remind me of how you won, distracting me with nonsense about Ray’s case?”
“I mean it,” I said, “I can win Ray’s case. I can prove it in a few words.”
“Prove it, then.” So I did. I spoke words, only a few words, but they were the right words to speak to Dr. M, for the words I spoke were in his language, words that he understood perfectly.
“I understand,” he said, “you’ve come to boast some more, to prove that you were right after all.”
“I want to win Ray’s case, but I don’t have any proof of what I’m saying.”
“You don’t need to prove that two plus two is four.”
“This, I gotta prove, and I need you to help me prove it. I need you to come to court with me, as my witness.”
“I can’t do that. I didn’t witness anything.”
“As my witness. My expert witness.” Unlike a normal witness, an expert witness can give an opinion. An expert is there not to advocate, I explained to Dr. M but to instruct, to teach.
“My bridge partner won’t be very happy,” he said.
“But Ray will, and so will Mrs. M and Angela and--”
“Very well. Do you have a cell phone? We can call the bridge club from my car.”
* * *
We were on the highway getting close to the downtown exit, when my wife called my cell phone. Back then cell phone service was super expensive and my wife only used it for emergencies. Or when she was really angry. I picked up the phone, wondering which it would be.
“I’m so happy that you made things up with my father,” she said.
“How did you know?”
“My mother called. She says you took him with you, that you went out together.”
“He’s with me right now,” I said.
“Where are you going?”
“To court. Going to court to win Ray’s case for him.”
“And you brought my father with you to watch?” She was so happy, I could hear in her voice that she was smiling. “That’s a great way to bond with him, Calledinthe90s. Look, I’m sorry I got so mad at you earlier, I really am. My dad’s a bit too sensitive and--”
“Sorry, Angela, your dad’s not coming to watch me.”
“Why is he with you, then?”
“He’s my witness,” I said.
“What?”
“His expert witness,” Dr. M said, loudly enough for Angela to hear.
My wife’s anger exploded into the phone. She wanted to know how I could expose her elderly, vulnerable father to the stress of a court case. I tried to tell her how I needed him, how there was literally no one else I could turn to, that her father was an expert, a true expert, and the judge was legally bound to believe him, but Angela heard none of this.
“Look,’ I said, “I promise you that--” And then I lowered the phone and pushed the red button, terminating the call. I’d learned that the best way to hang up on someone, was to do it when I was doing the talking. That way it looked like the call had dropped.
“I’m going to steal that move,” Dr. M said.
We rolled into the parking lot. I grabbed the cloth bag out of the back of my car, the bag that held my law robes and shirt and tabs, plus the other stuff I needed for court. It was one-thirty, still thirty minutes to go, not a lot of time to get robed and ready for court. It was just past one-forty five when I, with Dr. M in tow, opened the door to a courtroom on the eighth floor of an old insurance building that had been converted into a courthouse, the home of Commercial Court.
“Commercial Court is an exclusive club,” Cecil-Rowe had explained to me earlier that day, “the legal playground of the rich and powerful. They’ll know instantly that you’re not one of them.” And he was right. It was clear from the moment I walked in that I did not belong, for I was the only lawyer in robes. Everyone else was wearing a suit, and not some cheap thing off the rack like I wore.
There were a half-dozen lawyers present, and after they saw me, they exchanged knowing looks about the stranger amongst them. I ignored them, and walked up to the Registrar. I told him the case I was on, and he signed me in.
“First time in Commercial Court?” he said, eyeing my robes. “You know you don’t have to be robed in Commercial Court.” In other Superior Courts, you always had to bring your robes and get all dressed up. But Commercial Court had its own set of rules, and in the court for rich people, their lawyers did not have to wear robes.
“You’re here on the Sy-Co case?” a young woman asked. She was a junior like me, give a year or two either way. She was dressed in the finest downtown counsel fashion, some designer thing that Angela would know if she saw it.
“Just got retained,” I said.
“You know there’s no adjournments, right? We don’t do adjournments in Commercial Court. I’m just trying to be helpful, because I don’t think you've been here before. You know you don’t have to be robed, right?
“So I heard.”
“So where’s your material? You haven’t served anything, so how do you plan to argue your case?”
“I gotta witness,” I said.
She smiled. “There’s no viva voce evidence, either. Affidavit only.”
“We’ll see what the judge says.” There was a knock from the other side of the door to the judge’s chambers, and then the man himself entered.
I was amazed to see that even the judge wasn’t wearing a robe; instead, he was wearing a light coloured suit and a bright blue bow tie. He was dressed as good as the lawyers, all part of the downtown Commercial Court club, the playground of the richest and most powerful corporations in the City.
“Commercial Court’s not like other courts,” Cecil-Rowe told me earlier that day, explaining that most cases were over in fifteen minutes or less. A plaintiff showed up with some papers, and had a short consultation with the judge. The judge signed an order granting an injunction, or taking away a man’s business, or freezing his money. Commercial Court is where you went to get quick and simple court orders that eviscerated your opponent before the case even got going.
Defendants would appear sometimes in Commercial Court, Cecil-Rowe explained, but it was usually their last time up. Defendants always died a quick death in Commercial Court.
The judge took his seat, and then looked over the lawyers before him. His eyes moved along, and then stopped when they reached me, the one lawyer who was not like the others.
“You don’t need robes in Commercial Court,” the judge said to me.
“I’ll remember that for next time,” I said.
“What case are you on?”
I told him.
“He’s filed no responding materials,” my opponent said, “nothing at all.”
“I’m just vetting the list,” the judge said, “I’ll circle back to you two in a few minutes.” I listend while the judge vetted the rest of the afternoon list: a Mareva, plus a Norwich order, with counsel on those cases sent away in a matter of minutes.
Now the courtroom was almost empty, just the judge, two lawyers, the registrar and my star witness and father-in-law, Dr. M, who sat in the back of the courtroom dressed in an old business suit, put on hastily at his place two hours earlier, when I urged him to hurry it up, to not waste so much time on picking a suit.
“Back to you,” the judge said, addressing my opponent, “I thought this was an uncontested matter. That’s what your confirmation sheet said.”
“I’m sorry, Your Honour, but I didn’t know until I got here that the case was defended.”
“I got retained at the last minute,” I said, “barely three hours ago, the day after I read the papers. But I’m ready to go, ready to argue the case on the merits, so long as you grant me an indulgence, and let me call my witness, to let him testify in person instead of by affidavit, there being no time for me to draft anything.”
Opposing counsel was on her feet. “That’s not how things are done in Commercial Court,” she said, “or any court that I know of, for that matter. My friend (that’s what they make lawyers call each other in court, ‘my friend,’ even though you might hate the other guy’s guts),” the lawyer said, “my friend should have served his responding materials and filed them with the court. Instead, he’s taken us totally by surprise.”
“I’m sorry my friend is surprised by opposition,” I said, “but then consider, it’s my client’s livelihood that’s at stake. If my friend gets her injunction, Ray Telewu’s business is dead, and he loses everything. So yes, my client opposes the injunction, and yes, I’d like to call evidence.”
The judge didn’t consult the papers before him nor the books, but instead, he looked up at the big white clock on the courtroom wall. Its hands said two-fifteen.
“How long will your witness take, counsel?”
“In chief, ten minutes.” I’d practiced with Dr. M on the way in, and I was pretty sure he could do it in five, but I gave him a bit of extra time, just in case.
“We’ve got about two hours,” the judge said, “but I want to be fair to you and your client. Let’s take a fifteen minute recess so you can get instructions. Either we go ahead today with viva voce evidence, or we adjourn, and that will give Calledinthe90s time to file responding materials.”
When everyone came back, the junior’s boss was there, Senior Counsel, a heavy weight, one of those big guys downtown. Plus they brought this guy from Sy-Co Corp, the head of some bullshit division, with some bullshit title, Head of whatever, so that’s the title I’ll give him here. He was The Head. He was the man, the big cheese, the signer of the affidavit on which Sy-Co relied that day.
“What’s he doing here?” I asked Senior Counsel.
He stared at me, all lean and steel grey, looking every inch the hard hitting lawyer that commanded the biggest fees. “If you’re calling a live witness, then so can we. The Head will give evidence today, in advance of your client, so that the judge hears it from him first.” His junior smirked at me, and the two of them sat down, delighted that they’d thought of a way to one up me.
Except that they’d done it by exposing their client to cross-examination. The judge came in, allowed the Head to testify, and when he was done, I stood up.
“Just a few questions,” I said. Senior Counsel was stunned for an instant, and then he stood.
“This serves no purpose, Your Honour. The witness has confirmed the simple facts of his affidavit, and there’s no disputing it. Ray Telewu opened a restaurant less than seventy-one kilometres from Bixity City Hall, and that’s in breach of the Minutes of Settlement he signed.”
I did not bother to respond. Instead, I just stood, and I started to ask questions.
“Have a look at that map in your affidavit,” I said, and he did. I picked up my copy, and tore the map out of it. I passed it up to him.
“What do you notice about this map?”
“That it’s accurate,” the Head said, repeating his evidence in chief, amplifying it, talking about how the map contained perfect measurement.
“You will notice that the map is flat,” I said, laying it on the witness box before him.
“Of course it’s flat. That’s what maps are. Maps are flat.”
“But the earth is round,” I said, “or more properly, a sphere.” Senior Counsel was on his feet in an instant.
“What difference does that make?” he said.
“What you’ll hear from my expert witness, is that a flat map cannot accurately show Earth’s curves. A flat map distorts distances, and in this case, reduces them.”
“But that can’t be by very much.”
“In this case, by just over twenty meters,” Dr. M said from the back of the court.
“That’s my expert witness, the esteemed Dr. M.” I didn’t actually say Dr. M. Instead, I said his real name. But I’m not going to use the real names of my family here, so I’ll just keep calling him Dr. M. “Dr. M was a professor of Physics at the University of Bixity for almost thirty years. He has published numerous papers on particle physics, and is the first Canadian winner of the Wolf Prize for physics.”

• * * *

It went downhill after that for Sy-Co Corp. My father-in-law testified, explaining in simple language, language that even a child could understand, that the Earth was a sphere, that the shortest distance between two points on Earth was a curve, not a straight line. He summarized his calculations in plain English, dumbing down the math, so that everyone present imagined, if only for the moment, that they shared his understanding of a difficult mathematical equation.
Senior Counsel tried to cross-examine Dr. M, but it did not go well, my father-in-law indulging him, gently chiding him, continuing his explanations until the lawyer sat down, defeated by Dr. M’s mastery of the subject,his own lack of preparation and his inability to improvise. When counsel said that he had no further questions, the judge addressed us all.
“I’m not going to reserve, and I don’t think I need to tell everyone why. I think it will take about a minute for me to write a decision saying that the Earth is not flat. I’ll give you some more time after that, but after fifteen minutes, I”ll be back to render my decision.” He rose, everyone bowed, and he disappeared behind the door to judge’s chambers.
I pulled a piece of paper out of my file, and slammed it on the desk before Senior Counsel and his junior. “Fill in the blanks, and sign,” I said.
Dr. M’s head shot up at the commotion, and he shuffled over to see what was going on.
“What’s this?” Senior Counsel said, picking up the paper I gave him..
“Minutes of Settlement. You fill in a number, a big number, for the costs you gotta pay me. Your client signs, and then we’re done.” Senior Counsel opened his mouth to bargain, but I overrode him.
“You know your client’s going to lose; the judge made that obvious. Hurry up if you want to settle; we don’t have much time.”
At the end of most Canadian court cases, the loser has to pay at least part of the winner’s legal fees. That’s the way it’s been since forever, and I think it’s a good rule. Sy-Co Corp had lost, so it had to pay a good chunk of Ray’s costs, and Ray’s costs were somewhere between whatever bullshit figure I claimed they were, and where they actually ought to be. Senior Counsel took the paper over to his client. There was a brief discussion, and then they came back, with the form signed, and a number written in the blank space.
I’ll give it to Sy-Co Corp and their lawyer. It wasn’t a bullshit number, a low ball number. They gave me a real number, a number more like something I’d actually accept, a number that made sense to pay me in costs, in light of the success I’d had, and how I got it. It was a respectful number, a common sense number, and I appreciated it an awful lot.
I tossed the paper back at them.
“Add a zero,” I said, continuing on when Senior Counsel blanched, and his junior retreated a step. “I know what’s going on here. Your client sold mine a bullshit franchise, one with a history of failing.” The franchise had opened up again under a new owner not long after Ray had lost it and then it promptly failed again. Like I said at the start of this story, it’s an old story. It’s how some franchise companies make money. “Your client makes more money selling bullshit franchises doomed to fail, then it does from the honest ones that make money. So add a zero to that number, or Ray’s gonna sue you, class action and all that, for all the people you’ve fucked.”
The Head stepped forward from the benches and spoke to me.
“We get threats like that all the time, but no one follows through. They don’t have the money to fight us, and neither does your client. So go ahead and sue.”
“It’s true that Ray doesn’t have jack shit,” I said, “not a pot to piss in, but he’s my cousin, Ray is, and even if he doesn’t have money, he’s got me. Ray’s family, and for Ray, I’ll sue you guys for free. Hell, I’ll even pay the expenses. Plus I’m gonna put a jury notice in, too, come to think of it, ‘cause juries--”
Senior Counsel cut me off, and moved his client to the back of the courtroom. There was a brief discussion, and then they came back. I watched as Senior Counsel wrote a single digit on the Minutes, a zero, written right where I wanted it.
“You’ll have to initial the change,” I said to the Head of Sy-C0, and it gave me great satisfaction to watch him sign.
“Don’t forget,” I said the moment his pen stopped moving, “for the settlement to be valid, I need to get the money today. Right now.”
“Can’t it wait until tomorrow?” the Head said.
“Not if you want the settlement to stay in place. I’ll follow you back to your office, and you can put a cheque in my hands.”

• * * *

“What’s this?” my wife said when I entered the apartment later that day, after I’d driven Dr. M home, stopping first at a local pub for beers.
“It’s an absurdly expensive bunch of flowers,” I said, “although no flowers, however beautiful, however expensive, could expiate my--”
She took the flowers, and gave a kiss.
“My mom called. She told me what happened. You fixed things with my dad.”
“Yup,” I said. I had certainly done that. I’d made Dr. M a professor again, if only for a few minutes. Not only a professor, but an expert witness. The judge had declared him an expert in plain terms and Dr.M had beamed when he’d heard those words.
“And you won Ray’s case, too. But my mom didn’t know how, and I don’t know how you did it either.”
“I’ll tell you over dinner tonight,” I said.
“But we agreed no more dinners out; we have to save money, now that a baby’s coming.”
I passed her the envelope that I’d received a few hours before. She opened it, and took out a cheque, a cheque drawn up for an amount I specified, made payable to Mr. and Mrs. Calledinthe90s.
The moment I got that cheque, all I could think about was how my wife would react when I put it into her hands. I could not wait to see her eyes bulge, to hear her voice say “oh my god,” to hear her laugh.
She did none of these things. Instead, she cried.
“Does this mean we can buy a house?” The money wouldn’t be enough to buy a house, not nowadays, with prices being so crazy. But things were different back then in the 90s. Sure, the internet was barely a thing and cell phones were super expensive and a lot of things sucked, but I’ll give the nineties one thing: houses were cheap.
“I think so,” I said.

Just some situations that have made me facepalm, lol, and/or shake my head- from my last few days of playtime. Feel free to share your own favorite moments in the comments.

• Two colonists are married, the husband is a vampire (Sanguophage) . The husband finally turns his wife into a vampire also (with assistance from me, who had just learned this was a thing I could do) and then promptly decides he wants a divorce. No good reason- he just randomly wants a divorce. The now ex-wife waits for her former husband to start his deathrest cycle, then immediately throws a party- where she seduces the former husband's 17-year-old biological nephew (fun fact, she breastfed this kid after he was born along with her own). The new couple is getting married at some point in the near future unless they break up. The ex-husband is now in a crowded barracks room (because I now have way too many colonists) probably regretting his life choices. His sister currently has a low opinion of both him and his former wife. I'm starting a new game.
• A colonist bonded with an arctic wolf. He named her "Boober."
• Used the Character Editor mod to change a colonist's appearance. She didn't like it and asked for a styling station to change it again. It looks *exactly the same* after she changed it to what she wanted, but she's happy now.
• A colonist added fertilized wild geese eggs to the vending machine (one of the hospitality mods) before I could adjust the storage settings. Since I have no other storage that allowed fertilized eggs they stayed there. Until the vending machine started spewing out baby wild geese and they flooded the guest quarters. The guests gave me a perfect rating, '10/10 will be back to see more vending machine tricks, best vacation ever.'
• A colonist is stressed because she had two babies back to back and they're both crying. Added a surgery bill for tubal ligation and saw an instant mood improvement.
• Sent a herd of baby Tasmanian devils and pangolins (VE endangered animals mod) to my animal launching area to release them back into the wild in hopes of raising my rep with surrounding factions. I released them. They attacked and ate each other before making it to the edges of the map. One survived. Opted to re-tame the leftover Tasmanian devil and named him Duncan.
• A four-year-old colony child just had a beer party, with her mom. I'm expecting a visit from the Imperial social services any minute now.
• A trading caravan just got annihilated when a feral Tasmanian devil decided to try to eat a boomrat right in the middle of their party. Apparently their faction leader thinks this is my fault. Edit: I realized about 15 minutes later that the explosion was so massive and the deaths were instantaneous because the *327 units of chem fuel I had just purchased from said trader were involved in the explosion.* RIP.

All I got for now, although I'm sure there will be more eventually. \o/

Cannabis has now been – at least partially – legal in Germany for a good five weeks. Will there soon be THC drinks in this country? Will Germans then drink less alcohol? And where can the substances actually be consumed? While the answers to this will probably take a while to come, many, including those in the beverage industry, are looking with excitement to Canada, where marijuana has been legal since 2018.
The approval there quickly led to the introduction of a wealth of new mixed drinks. The beverage manufacturer Truss Beverages from the province of Ontario brought non-alcoholic drinks enriched with THC and CBD in a wide variety of, mostly fruity, flavors and different, precisely defined potencies onto the market under the brand names XMG, Little Victory, Mollo and Bedfellows. Truss is a joint venture between brewing company Molson Coors and cannabis company Hexo.
THC drinks soon in Germany too? It's no wonder that, given the opportunities offered by a completely new category, companies in this country are already positioning themselves to be among the pioneers if cannabis extracts are also approved as beverage additives here. For example, the Hamburg company “Good Drinks” is currently discussing whether THC in its drinks could be a useful brand addition, as co-owner Frank Maßen reports.
Good Drinks is currently on the market with vodka and energy drinks, for example. Well-known Hamburg restaurateurs such as Axel Strehlitz and John Schierhorn, both of whom have deep roots in the local club scene, are involved in the start-up. Maßen sees THC as a logical progression for a brand that has partying in its DNA, but “the idea of ​​introducing a THC variant raises a lot of questions, especially in terms of brand image and acceptance,” said Maßen.
Discussions are currently underway internally about how to handle this potential expansion without damaging the essence of the brand, which is strongly linked to the club culture. There are intensive discussions with the licensors of the Hamburg Club Combine, which launched the brand together with Good Drinks to support the local club scene as a social business ( we reported ).
Some THC drinks already on the market in Canada Some THC drinks already on the market in Canada (Product photos: Truss Beverages) Breweries would certainly also be potential manufacturers. But the German Brewers Association considers it unlikely that many breweries could jump on the cannabis bandwagon. “Germany is and remains the country of beer drinkers. With 1,500 breweries and almost 8,000 brands, we have a beer variety that is unique in the world,” says Managing Director Holger Eichele. Beer is still the national drink, although consumption has been declining for years, as in many other European countries.
“Edibles” are still banned under EU law Apart from that, an introduction would not yet be legally possible, because drinks with THC or CBD fall under “edibles” in the EU; This refers to foods and drinks that contain cannabis. They are therefore affected by the Novel Food Regulation, explains the managing director of the Bavarian Cannabis Association, Wenzel Cerveny. This means that they can only be placed on the market once they have been tested as safe by the EU.
“This is something that a small manufacturer cannot do - this test would have to be initiated by a large company,” says Cerveny. He himself is currently working with the small brewery “Unertl” from Haag in Upper Bavaria on an alcohol-free beer with hemp extract. However, without THC or CBD, but with hemp as a special taste.
To provide a more detailed explanation, the EU states that there has been no evidence of any significant consumption of the individual substance CBD (cannabidiol) before May 15, 1997. It is therefore assessed as novel in the European Commission's Novel Food Catalog under the entry “Cannabinoids” and therefore requires its own approval. As long as this does not exist, such products are not marketable. The same applies to products containing THC.
Alcohol consumption in Canada fell after legalization It's not just new products that could affect the German beverage industry if they are allowed in the future. Using Canada as an example, it is clear to see that cannabis consumption has a direct influence on consumers' drinking behavior. A joint study by the University of Manitoba, Memorial University and the University of Toronto has shown that Canadians are drinking significantly less alcohol since they were legally allowed to consume cannabis.
For example, the study published in the journal Drug and Alcohol Dependence observed an average monthly decline in beer consumption of 136 hectoliters per 100,000 people after legalization. In this context, the authors speak of a “substitution effect”, in which consumers choose cannabis instead of beer as their intoxicant of choice.
Mixing with alcohol is not advisable Both together are considered by “connoisseurs” to be not very digestible. Even Truss Beverages advises against consuming its THC drinks mixed with alcohol on its website, citing recommendations from the Canadian Health Authority. Again and again, the product description in connection with the dosage is about ensuring a “controlled and predictable consumption experience”.
Clear warnings label drinks containing THC in Canada. Clear warnings label drinks containing THC in Canada. (Photo: Truss Beverages) A look at the 2022/23 financial year shows how strong cannabis legalization can have on the alcohol industry. Accordingly, Canada received more excise tax revenue from cannabis ($660 million) than from wine ($205 million) and beer ($450 million) combined.
It is still completely unclear whether the industry will have to adapt to similar shifts in this country. The German Brewers Association is rather relaxed: It is still far too early to speculate about possible effects, emphasizes DBB boss Eichele. “There are studies from abroad where markets have been examined in more detail. However, these studies cannot be transferred one-to-one to Germany; the starting points are far too different. We don’t expect any visible effects in this country.”
Where smoking is allowed, you can also smoke weed The question of how to deal with marijuana users in the catering industry is already very current; It is being hotly debated all over the country. While the use of the drug indoors is usually prohibited, there is scope for freedom in outdoor areas and, for example, beer gardens.
The German Hotel and Restaurant Association (Dehoga) says that initial feedback from the industry shows a tendency not to allow the consumption of marijuana. The legal situation varies from federal state to federal state, as Dehoga managing director and legal expert Jürgen Benad knows: “Where smoking is still permitted according to the legal regulations of the federal states, cannabis consumption is also generally permitted.”
But it is also clear: “Every restaurateur is allowed to prohibit guests from consuming cannabis – even in smoking bars – based on their house rules,” says Benad. This also applies to outdoor catering. Cannabis may not be consumed “in the immediate presence” of minors. What this specifically means in the catering industry will not be easy to define in individual cases.
Zero tolerance or laissez-faire? While the beer gardens in Munich, for example, will remain consumption-free until further notice due to Bavaria's zero-tolerance policy, people in Berlin are more open-minded. “Since the cannabis law was approved, the consumption of cannabis in the catering industry has been considered synonymous with the consumption of cigarettes and other tobacco products,” says Tony Ettelt-Brundiers, managing director of “Zenner”, a cultural and gastronomic ensemble consisting of a vineyard, beer garden and organic ice cream parlor , concert hall, club space and event location in the capital.
“We are not questioning this law,” said Ettelt-Brundiers. “Regardless of what our guests smoke in the Zenner’s outdoor areas, we ask everyone to be considerate, especially if other guests could feel disturbed by someone else’s smoke, regardless of its origin.” This principle of mutuality Consideration has worked surprisingly well in Zenner for more than 200 years, which the aforementioned amendment to the law should not change, according to the managing director.
How much cannabis will ultimately change the beverage industry and social life surrounding beverages is still entirely unknown.
https://getraenke-news.de/cannabis-legalisierung-bald-gras-statt-hopfen/
NOTE: Some of the getraenke-news research goes back a few years and ownership of TRUSS is now 100% owned and operated by Tilray Brands that is also a multi year, In Country producer of German Medical Cannabis.

i emailed this to agencies that deal with hunting and wildlife problems
pasts@varam.gov.lv
info@wildlifesos.org
reportmisconduct@undp.org
there is no obvious place to report this and expect a serious hearing from someone fluent in English and scientifically minded
the following is what I wrote a month ago after the event
i can't judge after hand how much danger i was in but i would treat it seriously
luckily has not happened again in this country for a month. hopefully never happens again. although the next time i will have the benefit of having experienced it already
when police arrived i demanded prison for the dog owner in clearest possible way i could. after my speach was done they did not ask me a single word. they could tell i was furious of fear. and better to talk another time. i am so drained from global security work that i can't follow up on this but this should be available for anyone to read that might experience it themselves or take upon their self to wander around this globe as i do
i will probably feel guilty if the owner lose his dogs or hunting permit or reputation in his community. i am not going to judge anyone extremely harshly
if they ask me to fill out a criminal report according to some kind of format standards i am not going to do it myself an experienced prosecutor that has done it before is free to report this or pass it along. just not going to fill in report fields in some kind of form. you do it for me if you want to. i am not doing it. should be enough information to find
http://geohash.org/u6p4gj36
is the exact location and anyone can guess where the dogs came from probably the nearest mansion two thousand metres away to the east across p111 near upsede. upsede mansion. good luck asking them about it they don't speak a word of English here development is seventy years behind the west

preface

this is so incredulous that it could be picked up by news
still in shock six hours later at dawn
just the title should give you the general idea
i have never heard of such outrageous neglect in dog keeping in my life
the dogs escape unnoticed at night and hunt without human supervision and presumably return in the morning without anyone doing anything about it
this dog owner would make the top ten list anywhere in history
the dogs occasional howl brought up pictures of wolf movies the grey with that guy from Schindler's list the guy that played Oscar Schindler fighting with wolves with broken glass and a big knife to his death but i can safely discard all theories besides a runaway hunting dog militia on four legs in a large pack sounded like at least ten animals
in that immense fear of a completely unfamiliar situation in a life of hiking around the globe thoughts whirled around all possible night mares before i realised it is obviously hunting dogs all else is pure fantasy wolves are absolutely ruled out
they did not retreat when they sensed my presence but stayed in full alarm perhaps as when they encounter prey on a supervised hunt to alert the humans. even though they knew they were alone and no one to alert, they knew i was probably not prey, did not know enough to EVER be alone unsupervised anywhere but home preferably inside, but did NOT know or predict the length of the prison sentence they just brought on their owner by this nightly escapade. whoops
the locals will predictably put the lid on but the power of the internet is a wonderful thing
i can not imagine any circumstance that would make this less than prison anywhere in the union or West europe. now this is the old east. no one understands English etc. one escaped dog barking in the forest. fine. slap on the wrist. possibly losing care of the animal...ten rabid hunting dogs in full alarm scaring the life out of a hiker resting at night. shake those bars for three months. watch that prison television. and there won't be any Marlborough or beers in prison

the entire report

the exact location is near the highest hunting tower on the old railway trail passing by upsede north east of liepaja that is used for hunting commonly judging by all the towers lining the road there
This began around Four hours after dark on the early night of Sunday 28 April 2024 or exactly 1:00 o'clock
I will first describe exactly what happened and after that separately my interpretation in hindsight when recalling these events three hours later when I can calm down
This is a rather long story so I will get to my point right here before the story
What can I do if I encounter a dog pack like this again except tell at them and calmly leave. What if they hunt me or behave like they are guarding a territory. However remotely that might seems. There is a reason this is a serious crime. Too much uncertainty
Can you confirm that this kind of incessant barking is absolutely impossible in any other animal
In no circumstance whatsoever would any wolf pack or any deer flock behave like this even if I stood right on their den with ten kids inside
The occasional howling is something that dogs still retain from their wolf origin not long ago
It is not unlikely that a pack of hunting dogs alone would howl occasionally
Despite yelling at them several times there was no yell back from a human. Very likely the dogs escape at night without anyone caring about it extremely dangerous and frightening to a hiker that need. Rest at night not the fright of a life time
I could not imagine that in a relatively rich country anyone ever would drive their dogs for a night hunt. Would be absolute insanity. Neglect and alcoholism depression (försupen dumhet Swedish) I can easily imagine. Not outright insanity. Even if night hunting permits are sometimes issued in Germany for "animal control" "population control" of wild pigs. This is a completely separate topic that I will not say more about than that I am working on these issues on and off. My view as a progressive world ambassador could not be further from the idea of shooting at anything anywhere for any reason. Except tranquilizer darts for humane population control of CAPTURED animals not hunted. Captured. It is clear in Sweden that shooting anything anywhere with fire arms does not belong in the future society. Now this is all I will say about this. We are working on this as fast as is possible. The education effort still left on this planet is still enormous and daunting
Regarding dog behaviour in detail I know very little despite inspecting a manuscript by the foremost scientist on the subject that work in Budapest that is most famous for working on the Philippine paradise fish ten years ago before they changed to dogs and removed their aquarium
Dogs in particular have very little room in the professional literature since most pros are not anthropo centric. All mammals share common traits like an early recognition of friend and foe. Dogs in particular has almost never been studied at least not dogs for guarding or hunting. There might be one single work perhaps by one single biologist or behaviour ist ethology biology for shepherds dogs that life with grazing livestock
All books cover territory selection and protection and pack hunting or other flock behaviour. But almost nothing has apparently been possible or interesting to anyone to publish as a professional seeking a career in science in ethology animal behaviour or population biology. so i am not the only one drawing a blank when trying to explain the behaviour with any satisfaction more than anecdotal that is hard to call science

what I experienced

A sudden bark that I expect to be a roe deer that bark and run away. happens all the time
Although the bark was not quite right. more like a dog which I have never encountered at night
Suddenly a roaring festival of barking and occasional howling
The distance is extremely uncertain but perhaps five hundred meters
The direction was towards road p111 to the east toeards Upsede. i am by the big tower. There is one house near the road that the dogs could belong to if they crossed p111
Now my primal instinct set in and I envision a pack, a large pack, of wolves near their den the core of their territory. Frothing over my intrusion and ready to approach in full alarm
In hindsight this is just the occasional howling that caused this and everything about this speaks against wolves
IF wolves can behave like this or has been observed or heard doing this in ANY circumstance whatsoever I absolutely need to hear about it because it would bear on my future expeditions
If there is this single wolf dog hybrid pack maybe only one in Europe that I happened to encounter I absolutely need more information. feral dogs that would possibly go unnoticed in Belarus has crossed over to Latvia?
I have never heard of anything like that
All wolf incidents as rare as they are in Poland or anywhere have been with lone wolves that are sick or hungry and have lost their feir of humans
I have never heard of an aggressive wolf pack in Europe or anywhere on the planet
I have seen wolf droppings so many times and spent so much time day and night in wolf territory that I would never expect them to be so aggressive about human scent or sound like that
I have certainly had wolves near me many times but never heard a peep. In Sweden and Norway on long expeditions all summer and even winter and on and off for years from Spain to France Belgium Germany Poland and now here in the Baltics for one month so far direction Finland
The pack was in full alarm with barking and an occasional howl that dogs will still use. But much less than wolves. Wolves never bark together like this in any circumstance I have ever heard it seen if
It is with near certainty the pack of dogs that have hunted there before that happens to live on the farm on the opposite side of the road and escaped west around thousand metres into the forest.
Perhaps they do this regularly but no one cares
And now I happened to be there
Hiking and trekking and wild camping is MUCH more common in Sweden and Norway than anywhere in the world even Finland that is a close second. It is the Scandinavian spirit. As has recently been proven paleo lithic pre farming humans breed into the farming population only in Scandinavian nowhere else in Europe. I am personally absolutely at peace in nature and hate combustion engines that bother few others
Without getting off track completely I am continuing my expedition around Europe and almost all ground breaking record breaking endeavour of exploration has come from Scandinavia specifically. First settlement of the new world five hundred years before another European country etc etc etc first man on the south pole endless list of did what no one else could ot would. I am not placing my breed on a pedestal just explaining that if anyone would encounter something like this most likely it would be a Swede and the locals are most likely entirely puzzled why I am not living my life in doors at home or in a comfortable guest house
But this is beside the point just a side track to explain my presence in this rare encounter

in hindsight what happened

It is clear to me now that a pack of large hunting dogs. Not the small loud ones. Tax in Swedish. I have never owned a dog or hunted. I am a scientist. So I don't know much of anything about dog breeds. But presumably Large dogs that can hunt and kill on their own that have been trained to not kill the prey but only stalk it or drive it and make a loud alarm to draw the apes (not condescending just scientific classification of my species)
This is all speculation I just can't imagine what I heard to be a pack of tax (Swedish) small rabbit hunting dogs. These were large animals certainly with courage to act alone without humans
But I don't know anything about common hunting dogs in this region or anywhere so I can't suggest what breed it could have been that could behave this way
When I yelled at them they silenced for a moment then the roar continued
They had no intention to move back. I called for a police to meet me on road p111 and moved. I could hear the dogs for one thousand metres which gave me the impression that they moved after me at a safe distance perhaps curious about what I was
Again. If wolves can ever in any circumstance behave with this curiosity or aggressive confidence on human scent AND loud roaring. I yelled at them as a three hundred kilos silver back gorilla would try to show how big and powerful he was. No wolves ever no matter how big their biggest packs are in Europe would do anything but withdraw. These animals stayed at a distance and gave me the impression that they followed me on the road even. But not close
Distance is extremely uncertain but my best guess would be five hundred meters
This location has been used before for hunting and these dogs have been released during supervised legal (presumably) hunting in this exact location
They have smelled or sensed a wild animal and followed it into the forest where they have hunted before

will anyone stop this. how common is this

The police said they would call the nearest farms and ask about their dogs and the hunters that set up the hunting towers there in that old railway road where the dogs live that they bring to hunt there
But unfortunately I don't expect them to do anything when the response is "I know nothing". This is obviously a massive incident since I told them I am a scientist that will likely enquire with other scientist and if they cover this up it will explode big time. this is not s minor incident
Jägarna is a popular Swedish movie about the sad reality of this kind of stuff. anything related to mis management with hunting or dogs is so deeply rooted in human behaviour since the stone age that the local police do anything they can to forget about it. "Probably just a barking deer" or "wolves are common in the forest" and might bark despite my sincere explanation that this is hunting dogs not wolves and carries a prison sentence if heard in front of a magistrate
if you imagine "i like logic circuit design" the absolute opposite is "i like dogs and hunting". it's as different as a von Neumann machine is from sticks and stones in technological achievement. and a massive education effort is still needed for that population should they not cause a complete collapse of civilization like 1930s Germany. you might like NATURE you certainly don't like fire arms or dogs. has nothing to do with investigating nature. it is not conscious behaviour. but only photographers and hunters visit nature? you are obviously not a scientist ("what is this?" looking at bowling ball in small Lebowskis bath room. "you are obviously not a golfer")
I don't expect them to even ask anyone and just hope I forgot about it or they never have any other hikers near that spot at night
The "police report" that I received when they returned from the spot I told them to investigate was exactly that "it was probably just a deer and now I will go home and sleep". that only told ne that the pack had moved or did not respond to a car or they went to the wrong place or most likely could not be less motivated to find them
I gave the female officer that spoke English a stern explanation what would happen in Sweden. Prison. Absolutely nothing else than prison. Grave negligence in dog oversight. No hunting license and no dogs for the rest of his life
This is extremely serious that this is seen as a minor mistake that hunting dogs are stalking wild animals alone at night. Only in Sweden do we understand clearly that HUMANS are in the forest at night sometimes. We have palaeolithic blood lines and the world's foremost paleo biologist among other things. I am a renowned explorer. My father and uncle is one of the world's foremost wildlife photographer for WWF NG etc. Wild life is strictly monitored and controlled and this kind of neglect is absolutely treated with utmost sincerity
Our society is not in a state of civil war. Escaped hunting dogs hunting alone at night. Prison. Period. And the local police that tries to suppress it or treat it with a yawn will be investigated by internal affairs and released from service and prohibited from similar work with a responsibility to investigate seriously
We in sweden have the most aggressive policy in the world to combat this suppression of neglect related to hunting from the local community or any kind of coverup attempt or failure to investigate serious neglect, crime or not, we are not "paragraph riders" (paragraf ryttare) we investigate serious problems. anyone can understand how serious this is before digging after paragraphs

more about dog behaviour in general that might be relevant

Regarding dogs that hunt alone. I will not name any names but I have met a couple that lived in a remote valley in Portugal where their two large extremely aggressive dogs (even after ten minutes they were extremely uncomfortable with my presence and would not listen to their owner's calm regarding my encounter near their caravan on Canary islands) hunt together and bring home food. Literally drag it home to the family. Needless to say they have no kids and I will not say more about it more than the point that large dogs can easily on their own learn to hunt wild game. Possibly several breeds. They are still all close relatives of animals that do exactly that to survive. Guard territory identify intruder stalk and hunt prey is their basic behaviour anything else would result from actively counter acting instinctive behaviour that has become common to convert security staff patrol units and killers to social support animals because morons absolutely need to own a dog
Recall that in less developed countries like Chile dogs bark all night EVERYWHERE and run free in the day
I was in Chile for six months and never encountered dogs at night but had to suffer through the incessant noise if "guarding" at night. EVERYONE has night guard dogs. it is completely incomprehensible if you ever passed first grade with honours that they blindly follow a relict tradition for no other reason. Those dogs are GUARD dogs that have no experience of hunting ever. And when they encounter a human in the forest during their daily adventure they are never aggressive that far away from home
In western Europe outside Spain almost never dogs that bark all night. Same in Latvia. Two weeks in Lithuania don't think I ever heard a dog at night. A welcome serenity from Chile that I just arrived from after completing my record breaking expedition there

2296, The scene is set in a post apocalyptic Mojave desert, 15 years after a joint effort of the New California Republic, the Rangers, and the mysterious benefactor of the New Vegas Strip, Mr. House pushed back an attempted invasion of the Mojave and a final battle was waved for control of the hydroelectric powerhouse, Hoover Damm.
In the aftermath, Mr. House was removed from power discreetly, due to the actions of a wasteland wanderer on a mission for revenge, known only as the Courier. Mr. House's iconic Lucky 38 casino opened its doors, for the first time, offering a single floor casino and bar, it's upstairs remained an exclusive and mysterious meeting place for the New Vegas Strip's elite. The Lucky 38 represented one of the cleanest, most secure facilities, protected, like the rest of the strip, by the Securitron Mk 2, predominantly. Their presence ensured visitors on the Strip behaved themselves, though the other casinos maintained their own security and 'house rules' internally.
The Strip defined and maintained its status as an independent entity, determining through the Courier's observations that the NCR was stretching it's military might too thin, and couldn't realistically manage over the Strip and Mojave, so a new deal was struck, similar to the prior, but with The Strip extending it's Securitron security to enforce the immediately surrounding communities and a few outlying satelites. Trade to the surrounding areas increased, the Mojave benefitting from the prewar tech, pre-programmed security forces. The drug addicted fiends and other Raider groups would never be any match for their advanced weaponry, and ultimately were cleared out of existence.
The King's continued to watch over Freeside, making alliances with the Follower's of the Apocalypse... their desire to service the needs of the belittled, disadvantaged and destitute lined up, and this is where Mr. Wolf found his place in the story... the Courier and a Follower's doctor found love in the wasteland.... and raised a child together under a Ranger's flag... 23 years later? This is New Vegas...
A handsome man in a leather jacket sat in a dusty leather booth watching one of the girls dance on a pole, shaking her ass as bottle caps clinked on the stage in front of her. It was a swanky post apocalyptic casino strip club. A man in a leather jacket stood nearby, his hands crossed in front of his chest, "Kings" embroidered across the back in silver letters. A waitress approached him carrying a glass of some amber colored liquor, and sat it down at the half moon table. She lingered a moment in her lacey body suit, following his gaze up to the girl rubbing her tits in some older cowboys face.
"You don't get jealous seeing her like that, Mr. Wolf." The girl bit her lip and met his eyes as he picked up his glass and swirled it before giving it a smell and taking a slow swig. He tilted his head looking her over. She couldn't possibly be older then 19. Tight, perky little thing.
Mr. Wolf smirked and shook his head. "I like her... nice and wet when she comes to my bed."
The girl blushed and bit her lip. "So you like to watch?" She surmised.
"I don't mind, but why do you ask?" Wolf had these intense eyes that shot arrows into your very soul. It made her incredibly nervous... but she found it deeply exciting at the same time.
"Well... I'm living in 206 now... maybe... you might stop by sometime and I could dance for you? I know I don't have her body but... if you wanted something that was a little fresher... something... just yours?" She figeted her fingers against the table.
Jason looked her over once more and smirked.
"Two-Oh-six, huh?" He tilted his head, considering.
She nodded.
"Leave your cum soaked panties on my doorknob one of these nights if you really need it and maybe I'll come see if you got the moves." His Texan accent was subdued, but enthrallingly charming with his confident, somewhat bored with reality overtones.
"M-my panties?" She stammered turning bright red. "On your doorknob?" Alexa couldn't believe what she was hearing.
"If you're gunna shoot your shot with a dom... with an alpha... you need to be willing to submit. If you can't do that... I'm not interested." Wolf shrugged, completely unphased.
"But what about... what if..." Alexa glanced at Laura, the clubs most iconic stripper in the club, perhaps even the whole Strip.
She was taking some NCR soldier to the VIP lounge for a private dance.
Alexa had been bold enough to offer herself but now she was feeling nervous. If Laura wanted her out, she could lose her job... her home.
"Oh she won't mind... if anything she'll want to watch." Wolf shook his head, sensing her anxiety.
"Assuming of course... she likes the way you smell... she's funny like that." Wolf let the conversation end and Alexa nervously retreated.
Wolf sat drinking by himself, but got bored.
"Jakey, go get yourself a drink and sit down, I'm bored." Wolf called to his body guard.
Jacob looked over and nodded, giving the lounge one last look around before approaching the bar and getting himself a mug of beer, from the tuxedo shirt and boytie bartender Gerald, and returning to the table.
"What's on your mind boss?" Jacob had his hair slicked back in the usual King's gang hairstyle.
"Heard any rumors lately?" Wold looked at him, taking a drag from his cigarette and flicking the pack over to him.
"Honestly, boss, aside from the occasional drunkard or fiend rolling through freeside, nothing out of the ordinary... well, except... a way's out.. the crazy lady... Gloria was swearing up and down she found a headless metal suit of armor.. said the Enclave would burn down New Vegas. God's wraith and all that, you know how she gets."
"Enclave?" Jason's attention was piqued.
"Yeah, I don't know, she was probably just in withdrawal from the Jet... said she found it in the hollowed out shell of the Super Duper, out by the old highway." Jacob shrugged and drank from his beer and pulled a cigarette from the pack.
Wolf finished the last drag of his own cigarette. "Has anyone validated her claims?"
"Well... no... but... I mean... you've met her, she sees things that aren't there, all the time." Jacob shrugged and lit a cigarette.
Jason squinted, considering the resident crazy ladies most recent half coherent ramblings.
"That's an oddly specific hallucination though....take a group of guys out there tonight... humor me, and make sure she's not right." Wolf lifted his glass.
"Sir?" Jacob raised an eyebrow, thinking surely this could wait until tomorrow.
"Hypothetically" Wolf pondered aloud, "If there was... for some reason, there in-fact was... a pre-war, piece of military tech out there....a T-45, let's say, or T-60, best case scenario? We want it. Even if it's not at 100% capacity? It's fusion core alone... could change up the game for Freeside, something like that could make our tiny little city independent. We wouldn't have to be reliant on the scraps of New Vegas, and forget about the Hoover Dam completely."
Jacob caught Mr. Wolf's drift.. a fusion core could mean producing its own, radiation-free water, it's own electricity.. not just a little, a lot. Powering long dead machines, not to mention the agricultural benefits... producing healthier, higher yield tobacco... expanding their income ten fold.
Jacob suddenly felt like he understood Mr. Wolf's vision for the future.
"I should... go and deploy the King's to investigate." Jacob concluded.
"I think that would be for the best, I can take care of myself here." Wolf waved Jacob off.
Jacob downed his beer and excused himself.
Wolf drank the rest of his whiskey, extinguishing his cigarette.
Laura, the dancer came up to the table, and Wolf motioned to the blushing new waitress for a round, who felt a twinge of jealousy seeing her crush with the most popular stage act in town. She bit her tongue though, bringing over two more heavy pours of whiskey.
Laura eyed the girl as she came and went.
"She likes you." Laura concluded as the waitress walked away.
"Yeah.. I think she does." Mr. Wolf shrugged, flicking her a cigarette.
"The NCR boy liked me." She giggled wiping a little bit of cum from her lips and used half her shot like mouthwash.
"Get anything out of him.. other then.. his seed?" Wolf sighed.
"Of course," She grinned mischievously, "Apparently there's been trouble out West with the Brotherhood. They had some type of skirmish? Apparently NCR lost? NCR was apparently holding some old world tech, I don't know, but apparently it lit up the west coast power grid, like... in it's entirely?" Laura tilted her head to look at him.
"The entire western power grid was lit up by a single piece of tech??" Wolf shook his head at the topless girl beside him.
"Yeah, I had to make him cum twice for more details, but apparently it's the size of a grain of rice, with quote, unlimited energy potential." Laura relayed the information. It seemed more important then a suit of power armor or its fusion core.
"Who else knows about this?" Wolf demanded with his eyebrows squinted against his eyes.
"Anyone with a functional light bulb for... like... three hundred miles?" Laura guessed with a shrug.
"You said... it was the Brotherhood that took the win on the skirmish?" Wolf clarified some details.
"Yeah... rumor has it they have a new up and coming knight that's making waves." Laura shrugged.
"Stay on the rumors... I need details." Mr. Wolf nodded at her, drank his whiskey and stood up, downing his drink.
An energy source that powerful would have a big effect on the balance of power in the Mojave. It could mean a resurrection of the New California Republic to it's former glory and then some, and potentially... might mean a renewed effort to reclaim the western part of the former United States, in time.

I have a dream/idea for a bar in KC that I think would be incredibly popular. Before I give the deets, I’ll share that I have talked to quite a few my age range about it and haven’t heard anything negative about the idea.
First off, in KC proper, there are a ton of cool bars but on a Friday/Saturday night, they’re taken over by the college age crowd and slightly older. They’re fine, but not the age group most over the age of 30 want to be around. We don’t want to be shoulder to shoulder in a packed bar getting run into by “Chads and Tylers” and having drinks spilled on us. We don’t want to wait in lines to get a drink behind 2 guys buying the shittiest of shots for a group of girls and tipping 1%. We don’t want to deal with fights and the violence that happens around these places.
Now, we still want a vibrant social single scene in the city, where we can have conversation. Be able to see who we’re talking to, enjoy music we like without having to yell into each others ears. Have someone actually bring us a drink when ours is getting low and be able to get something to eat without wondering about the health violations in the kitchen. We don’t want to worry about fights and then violence spilling out around us.
We don’t want it to be a dive bar where depression walks through the door constantly, and we don’t want it to be super upscale where 4 drinks and a couple apps is gonna run you $200-$300 just because you’re not on a ground floor. We also don’t want another craft beer brewery or sports bar. Those places aren’t where you go to be single and social. Also, we don’t want a club playing loud ass music we don’t know or doesn’t have words.
So here’s my full idea for the bar: 1. Reasonably well lit. Not lights fully turned on, but we aren’t running a club where you just feel around for ass to be able to navigate. 2. We only let in as many people as we have seats for. People don’t have to be seated at tables, we’re not running it like a restaurant, but everyone has a seat if they want it. 3. We play only popular music from the 80s, 90s, and 00s. Any song(and it can be any genre) played in our bar is required to be at least 21 years old. We will not specialize in any genre. It’s not a country bar, hip hop, rock, or pop only. You may get Dre and Snoop followed by Garth Brooks, followed by Backstreet Boys. Music will be loud enough and originate from an area of the bar where you can dance to it, but it won’t be played at a level where you can’t get away from it and have a conversation. 4. We have cheap beer, a few craft beers, and some upscale cocktails along with a full bar. You want an espresso martini and a pitcher of Coors Light? We got you covered. 5. We will have a food menu where you can orders apps or a full meal. Think similar to a Granfalloon. 6. A couple TVs will be up at the bar area for those who might want to watch the game, but we’re not a sports bar who’s gonna have TVs on the game everywhere. Any TVs around the bar will be tuned to ambiance after 8pm. Of course we will have Chiefs games on when they’re playing. 7. We will have a nice deck area. We want the vibe there to be the backyard party with friends after everyone ate and is now a little tipsy. Comfy deck chairs, low tables, set up in a way to facilitate coversation. 8. THIS is the big one. How we will keep the vibes we’re going for and why the bar would be financially a success long term. YOU HAVE TO BE AT LEAST 31 YEARS OLD TO ENTER. No exceptions. It’s your boyfriend’s 31st bday and you’re 30? Sorry, see you next year. He can come in, you can’t. Guess what? You also get one more milestone that you get to look forward to. 31st bdays will be celebrated in our bar! Sticking to the age requirement not only gives us a place that won’t be taken over by the college crowd, it also increases the safety level. Staffing it would be easier as the clientele has a higher income level and tends to tip substantially better. They will also deal with less drunken entitlement throughout the night. 9. Lastly, I have the perfect spot for it. The old Ale House in Westport. It would be our oasis in the sea of stupidity that is Westport at night. For those who grew up going out in Westport, you could come back and be in a safe place with fun vibes again. The city is sorely lacking this option and single population that would prefer not to live/drive to JoCo for a night out would have somewhere to go where we could easily Uber in and Uber out. We will set up valet service in the spots on Broadway in front of the bar after 8pm. Not only will this give people a way to park easily, it will also prevent people from pulling up and hanging out by their cars blasting music and causing problems. We will move that further away making it safer.
I am personally not someone who has ever ran a bar. I’m putting this idea out there to people who have/do or might be able to take the idea and run with it. It would draw a crowd. There is a population of people in their 30s, 40s, 50s, etc that wants to still go out but don’t have that comfortable and vibrant party we crave. Anyway, let me know what you think!

https://youtu.be/5sCC7euj4DM?si=_MxEfEW3UDLZ3Aje
another god damn wasted weekend.
i had planned to clean shit hit the gym and get to reading.
got off work saturday morning at 12:30 started drinking
and didn’t wake up until the evening.
oh well. got a dozen tacos with dorito shells.
something for my mom as well. i need a shower. i smell.
feeling like a wreck. looking like hell.
i’d never record this. and if i did it wouldn’t sell.
rather run of the mill boring life. need a mind that’s fortified.
i may find my way by 45 if im forthright.
always have it all figured out by the fourth coors light.
by the 24th im belting out a war cry.
hate my fucking job. don’t intend to stay long.
my dreams are dead. i grabbed the ouija for a seance.
aim at the straight and narrow and the arrow’s always way off.
blood on the tarot. breathing air full of napalm.
spent a lot of years on outskirts of society.
lack of direction. stutter and ever present anxiety.
didn’t know the isolation was killing something inside of me.
just noticed one day my soul was gritty and grimy.
shouldn’t care what people think. but i notice they don’t think highly.
and why should they when all i inquire is why me?
even the music which is a lifelong hobby
90 percent of it is some woe is me garbage.
but look at me bitching and moaning on and on again.
listen to other rappers and just can’t match their confidence.
this is closer to a journal of a cur
than an inner universe astir and put in words.
it’s the bed of nails i made. sleeping on it’s just mature.
until i make something better i’ll bleed when i toss and turn.
i’m keeping my head down. staying terse and taciturn.
let the cigarettes burn and never pass on my turn.
i never fake shit. never make shit up.
i’m a fucking mangy mutt and my days are fucked.
i spent 150 on some beats. ruined them in a week.
bought some for like 80 bucks.
got black out drunk and fucking lost them.
god fucking damn it. keep this up and retirement’s not an option.
as if i were anyway. don’t got a lot saved.
i just wanna meet the maker in a modern day pompeii.
wanna jump head first into the grinder at work.
maybe then my silent screams will be finally heard.
there’s some place i fit under the sky im sure.
but it’s probably a cave on the other side of the earth.
i’ll never reach it. i don’t really know what i believe in.
i was religious for a while but couldn’t stomach the preaching.
what exactly does this bat shit zealot have to teach me?
no one needs god to feed the needy.
and let’s keep it factual. my sins aren’t supernatural.
truth is some people are just assholes.
but keep your jagged stones cus i’ll shatter your glass home.
i may wear a suicide vest but you’re in the blast zone.
that aroma is weed beer and tobacco.
that sound ominous in the background
and blasting down the backroads is the soundtrack
to a hellion belching around the map bro.
i’m wasting my sunday afternoon.
i’ll be at work looking like im from the black lagoon.
probably in my usual abstract mood.
wrestling with demons being like relax dude.
https://www.reddit.com/OCPoetry/s/4LJbtqCwzs
https://www.reddit.com/OCPoetry/s/iTIB7JcrJw

https://youtu.be/5sCC7euj4DM?si=_MxEfEW3UDLZ3Aje
another god damn wasted weekend.
i had planned to clean shit hit the gym and get to reading.
got off work saturday morning at 12:30 started drinking
and didn’t wake up until the evening.
oh well. got a dozen tacos with dorito shells.
something for my mom as well. i need a shower. i smell.
feeling like a wreck. looking like hell.
i’d never record this. and if i did it wouldn’t sell.
rather run of the mill boring life. need a mind that’s fortified.
i may find my way by 45 if im forthright.
always have it all figured out by the fourth coors light.
by the 24th im belting out a war cry.
hate my fucking job. don’t intend to stay long.
my dreams are dead. i grabbed the ouija for a seance.
aim at the straight and narrow and the arrow’s always way off.
blood on the tarot. breathing air full of napalm.
spent a lot of years on outskirts of society.
lack of direction. stutter and ever present anxiety.
didn’t know the isolation was killing something inside of me.
just noticed one day my soul was gritty and grimy.
shouldn’t care what people think. but i notice they don’t think highly.
and why should they when all i inquire is why me?
even the music which is a lifelong hobby
90 percent of it is some woe is me garbage.
but look at me bitching and moaning on and on again.
listen to other rappers and just can’t match their confidence.
this is closer to a journal of a cur
than an inner universe astir and put in words.
it’s the bed of nails i made. sleeping on it’s just mature.
until i make something better i’ll bleed when i toss and turn.
i’m keeping my head down. staying terse and taciturn.
let the cigarettes burn and never pass on my turn.
i never fake shit. never make shit up.
i’m a fucking mangy mutt and my days are fucked.
i spent 150 on some beats. ruined them in a week.
bought some for like 80 bucks.
got black out drunk and fucking lost them.
god fucking damn it. keep this up and retirement’s not an option.
as if i were anyway. don’t got a lot saved.
i just wanna meet the maker in a modern day pompeii.
wanna jump head first into the grinder at work.
maybe then my silent screams will be finally heard.
there’s some place i fit under the sky im sure.
but it’s probably a cave on the other side of the earth.
i’ll never reach it. i don’t really know what i believe in.
i was religious for a while but couldn’t stomach the preaching.
what exactly does this bat shit zealot have to teach me?
no one needs god to feed the needy.
and let’s keep it factual. my sins aren’t supernatural.
truth is some people are just assholes.
but keep your jagged stones cus i’ll shatter your glass home.
i may wear a suicide vest but you’re in the blast zone.
that aroma is weed beer and tobacco.
that sound ominous in the background
and blasting down the backroads is the soundtrack
to a hellion belching around the map bro.
i’m wasting my sunday afternoon.
i’ll be at work looking like im from the black lagoon.
probably in my usual abstract mood.
wrestling with demons being like relax dude.

As always, if you know of an event that's not listed here, feel free to share it (with a link) in the comments. Feedback on events you've attended or plan to attend is welcome.
*Free (or no admission/cover)
--Recurring Event
Noteworthy: May 13-19 is American Craft Beer Week. May 16 is National Barbecue Day.
Weekend & Multi-Day Events
May 13-19 Dallas is Lit (Literary Festival) at multiple Oak Cliff venues
May 16-19 DSO: Rachmaninoff Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini at the Meyerson
May 17-18 Dallas Black Dance Theatre Spring Celebration at Wyly Theatre
May 17-19 Wildflower! Music and Arts Festival at Galatyn Park Urban Center, Richardson
May 17-19 Main Street Fest - A Craft Brew Experience at Historic Downtown Grapevine
May 17-25 Now THAT’s What I Call TV Improv 90s Sitcom at Stomping Ground Comedy
May 18-19 Black Heritage Celebration at the Dallas Arboretum
Through May 27 Scarborough Renaissance Festival, Waxahachie
Through May 18 Fannie: The Music and Life of Fannie Lou Hamer at Bishop Arts Theater Ctr
Through May 25 Echo Theatre: Beyond the Yellow Wallpaper at the Bath House Cultural Center
Through Jun 9 Hamilton at Winspear Opera House
May 17-June 1 Teatro Dallas: Cloud Tectonics at the Latino Cultural Center
*May 11- May 24 Women in Art – A Joyful Journey Exhibition at Art on Main
*Through May 19 The Art of Embroidery from India to the World at NorthPark Center
*Through June 28 Central Library Staff Art Exhibit at Dallas Public Library Central Branch
Monday, May 13
Dallas Mavericks vs. OKC Thunder: Playoffs Round 2 Game 4 at AAC
Dallas Stars vs. Colorado Avalanche Watch Party at Shark Club Sports Bar and Grill
Texas Rangers vs. vs. Cleveland Guardians at Globe Life Field, Arlington
British Film Institute Book Club Presents: Mean Streets at Texas Theatre
“Spider Mondays” The Amazing Spider-Man 2 on 35MM at Texas Theatre
Augustana: Something Beautiful Tour with Valley Boy at Club Dada
*Ryan Glenn at Truck Yard Dallas
*Music Bingo at Guitars and Growlers, Richardson
*Songwriter's Open Mic Hosted by Justin Collins at Dan's Silverleaf, Denton
*Poor David’s Pub Virtual Open Mic on Facebook Live
Tuesday, May 14
Texas Rangers vs. vs. Cleveland Guardians at Globe Life Field, Arlington
*10-Year Destination Master Plan Community Town Hall - West/South Dallas at West Dallas Multipurpose Center
Dallas Winds Concert: In This Circle at the Meyerson Symphony Center
*--Free Rooftop Movie: Easy A at Sundown at Granada
The Variety Show with The Lost Boy Presents at Arts Mission Oak Cliff
Jimmy Gnecco of Ours at Opening Bell Coffee
Qveen Herby at House of Blues
*Book Presentation: An Evening with Andrés Neuman at The Wild Detectives
*Book Signing and Discussion - Jannese Torres: Financially Lit at Interabang Books
*--W.O.W. (Words Over Wine) Poetry Open Mic at Chocolate Secrets
*Just Dance Series - Salsa Lessons at Harwood Park
*Indian Cultural Heritage Foundation Dance performance at Pleasant Grove Branch Library
Wednesday, May 15
Dallas Stars vs. Colorado Avalanche: Round 2 Game 5 At American Airlines Center
Texas Rangers vs. vs. Cleveland Guardians at Globe Life Field, Arlington
Dallas Wings vs. Chicago Sky at College Park Center, Arlington
10-Year Destination Master Plan Community Town Hall - North Dallas at Prism Center
Dallas Architecture Forum Presents: Brian MacKay-Lyons at Dallas Museum of Art
*--Salsa Night/Beginner’s Lessons at Vidorra Dallas
Transformers: 40th Anniversary Event at Texas Theatre
*Nerd Night: Old School Video Games at Celestial Beerworks
*Pat Peterson at The Kitchen Cafe
Swingin' at the Sons at Sons of Hermann Hall
Piano Men: An Elton John & Billy Joel Tribute at Sky Blu Rooftop
Daniel Sloss: Can't at The Majestic
*--Improv Jam at Dallas Comedy Club
Part One Tribe - A $7.77 Show at Deep Ellum Art Co.
3-course Beer Pairing Dinner at Windmills, The Colony
Thursday, May 16
10-Year Destination Master Plan Community Town Hall - East Dallas at Harry Stone Rec Center
Dallas Zoo After Dark Wild Canvas at the Dallas Zoo
*Bombshell Dance Project Performance at Dallas Museum of Art
*Kaleta Doolin in Conversation on Feminist Art History at Dallas Museum of Art
Maifest at the Brewery at Community Beer Co.
Analog Art Show at Flea the Scene
Sip & Paint at Aloft Dallas Downtown
Murder Mystery 3-Course Dinner at Bourbon and Banter
*PNC Patio Sessions - Pretty Boy Aaron at Sammons Park
*Books Signing and Discussion - Noah Gittel, Baseball: The Movie at Interabang Books
The Rhinestone Teardrops Tour at Three Links
Michelle Wolf: It's Great to Be Here at House of Blues
David Slater and Veronica Williams at Sammons Center for the Arts
*Adult Coloring at Mountain Creek Branch Library
HipHop & Healing at Highland Hills Branch Library
Master Gardeners: Taking the Mystery Out of Plant Propagation at Lakewood Branch Library
59th Academy of Country Music Awards at Ford Center at The Star, Frisco
Friday, May 17
Texas Rangers vs. Los Angeles Angels at Globe Life Field
*‘til Midnight at the Nasher Sculpture Center
*--DJ Binosaur at Vector Brewing
Backyard Concert: Meridian Brothers and Elkin Pautt at The Wild Detectives
*Booker T. Washington HSPVA Singer-Songwriters at Opening Bell Coffee
Cinéwilde Presents: The Matrix at Texas Theatre
Larry g(ee) EP Release with Dezi 5 and Cozy Campos at The Kessler
Girls' Night Out Stand-up Comedy Showcase at Dallas Comedy Club
Nimesh Patel: Fast and Loose Tour at the Majestic Theatre
The Reverent Few / Joe Blow / The Brandon Callies Band at The Double Wide
Chap Stick (Cheap Trick Tribute) at Sundown at Granada
*Trey Gonzalez at The Rustic
Dallas Poetry Slam 30th Anniversary Showcase at Oak Cliff Assembly
Aaron Aryanpur Live at the Oak Cliff Cultural Center
Saturday, May 18
Texas Rangers vs. Los Angeles Angels at Globe Life Field
Dallas Wings vs. Chicago Sky at College Park Center, Arlington
Ultimate Frisbee Dallas Legion vs. Houston HAVOC at Jesuit Dallas
*Cycling: Group Ride at Community Beer Co.
Morning Bird Walk at Trinity River Audubon Center
*AAPI Heritage & Dragon Boat Festival at the Bath House Cultural Center
Art Talk: Laure de Margerie at the Nasher Sculpture Center
Discover Downtown Dallas Movie Series: Sweet Home Alabama at Harwood Park
9th Anniversary Brewery Fest at Texas Ale Project
*Pawty on the Patio with Golden Retriever Rescue at On Rotation
*Asian Am., Native Hawaiian, & Pacific Islander Heritage Celebration at AT&T Discovery District
*AAPI Family Weekend at Sammons Park (Dallas Arts District)
Hope Starts Here 5K at Klyde Warren Park
Deep Ellum Wine Walk: Rosé Olé at Discover Deep Ellum
*Conversation and Party: Colombe Schneck and Merrit Tierce at The Wild Detectives
*Art Exhibitions Opening Event at Ro2 Art
*Analog Art Show at Flea the Scene
6th Annual Adult Science Fair at Celestial Beerworks
Andrea Gonzalez Caballero Spanish Guitar Concert at Kalita Humphreys Theater
Pepe Aguilar at American Airlines Center
Sunday, May 19
Texas Rangers vs. Los Angeles Angels at Globe Life Field
Dallas Jackals vs. Seattle Seawolves at Choctaw Stadium, Arlington
State Fair Records: Songwriters Round on The Green at The Kessler
*En Plein Air Painting Demonstration at the Dallas Museum of Art
Dilbeck Architecture Conservancy Homes Tour at University Park
K Pop Music Bingo Brunch at the Sweet Tooth Hotel
Abducted By The 80's at House of Blues
Paint and Sip at Peticolas Brewing
Turtle Creek Chorale: Pages at Northaven United Methodist Church
*Cars for CASA Car Show at Rockwall Courthouse, Rockwall

As always I shall try to keep this list updated at least once every four weeks until the post is again automatically locked after six months, preventing further edits.
In order to request any of these items you must go to the appropriate link for the Xbox Series X/S, Windows, PS5 or Steam. If you are playing on an older system it is simple to reach its page from one of these direct links. I am sure it goes without saying your player account must have sufficient Atoms available to pay for the item/s you choose. As part of the process Bethesda Support will respond to your request by ticket and email with the total cost of whatever you order.
This page from the Wikia entry for Fallout76 may help with working out some of the bundles' contents. I cannot swear for the accuracy of the data however as with all wikis it is community-created support material.
I have had quite a few comments asking how long you can expect to wait. The answer is that it varies. In my own experience I have had items redeemed for my character within two hours. I have also had to wait for more than a month. Much of the process seems to be automated now and I would say the average time these days seems between two to four days.
This list is up-to-date as of 12.05.2024:

1. Ace Full Assault Power Armor Paint
2. Alien Plushie
3. Alien Technology Bundle
4. Aluminum Trees
5. Amateur Inventor's Laser Gun Paint
6. American Flag Set
7. Angry Fist Shake
8. Animatronic Cat
9. Appalachian Thunder Pipe Gatling Gun Paint
10. Armored Raider Skull Gas Mask
11. Armory Weapon Paint Bundle
12. Army Issue Plasma Caster Paint
13. Astroturf
14. Atomic Blast Lamp
15. Barbed Chained Tire Set
16. Beer Barrel Fridge
17. Big Game Hunter
18. Big Red Button Icon
19. Black Bear Mascot
20. Black Cat Bundle
21. Black Knight Paint
22. Black Pip-Boy Paint
23. Black Rider Power Armor
24. Blood Eagle Bow Skin
25. Blood Eagle Bundle
26. Blood Eagle Power Armor Paint
27. Blood Eagle Totem
28. Bloody Arktos Refrigerator
29. Bombs Away Mobile
30. Bone and Felt Antler Headband Set
31. Bone Gas Mask
32. Bonnet
33. BOS Backpack
34. BOS Scouting Tower
35. Bottle Icon
36. Boxing Ring
37. Brambles
38. Brew-haha Bundle
39. Brotherhood Armory
40. Brotherhood Bundle
41. Brotherhood High Tech Stash
42. Brotherhood of Steel Digital Deluxe Bundle
43. Bubble Blower Machine
44. Bucking Brahmin Bundle
45. Bucking Brahmin Mask
46. Bucking Brahmin Ride
47. Bunker Bundle
48. Burgundy Modular Sofa Set
49. C.A.M.P. Structure Starter Bundle
50. Cactus Set
51. Camden Park Mega Bundle
52. Camo Secret Service Armor Paint
53. Camo Secret Service Underarmor
54. Camo Utility Cap
55. Cappy's Nuka-Cola Train Bundle
56. Captain Cosmos Outfit
57. Captain Cosmos Power Armor
58. Captain Cosmos Power Armor Bundle
59. Caravan Trader Outfit
60. Carnivorous Plant
61. Cash Register Vending Machine
62. Castle Bed
63. Cat Topiary
64. Cement Tire Set
65. Chalk Letter Kit
66. Charleston Fire Station
67. Charleston Fire Station Bundle
68. Christmas Sitting Room Bundle
69. Cinder Blocks Wallpaper
70. Clandestine Gauss Weapons Bundle
71. Clandestine Service Gauss Shotgun Paint
72. Clandestine Service Minigun Paint
73. Classic Jukebox
74. Classic Performance Stage
75. Classic Western Bundle
76. Classical Column
77. Classy Girl Player Icon
78. Clean Bathroom Bundle
79. Clean Billboard
80. Clean Boxing Ring
81. Clean Chally Outfit
82. Clean Mannequin Set
83. Clean Shower
84. Clean Sink
85. Clean Small Generator
86. Clean Toilet
87. Clean Water Purifier
88. Clean White Picket Fences
89. Coal Duster Excavator Power Armor Paint
90. Coffin Backpack
91. Coffin Decoration
92. Coffin Stash Box
93. Collectron Bundle
94. Colored Oval Lights
95. Comforts of Home Bundle
96. Comin' to Town Bundle
97. Communal Firepit
98. Communist Bunker
99. Communist Collectron Station
100. Communist Fence
101. Communist Handmade Gun Skin
102. Communist Militant Outfit
103. Communist Military Safe Stash Box
104. Communist Officer's Gas Mask
105. Communist Salute Emote
106. Communist Spy Bundle
107. Communist Spy Outfit
108. Contemporary C.A.M.P. Bundle
109. Cowboy Hat
110. Cowhide Outfit
111. Creepy Mothman Player Icon
112. Crypt Crook Backpack
113. Cuddles Outfit
114. Cultist Dungeon Bundle
115. Dark Harlequin Face Paint
116. Dark Matter Combat Rifle Paint
117. Dark Wood Laminate
118. Dart Board
119. Dead Man's Hand Posters
120. Death Awaits Skull Totem
121. Death Ray Bug Zapper
122. Decorative Room Divider
123. Deep Cave Bundle
124. Deep Cave Hunter Outfit
125. Diamond Eyes Face Paint
126. Down Home Comfort Bundle
127. Down Home Dweller Bundle
128. Down Home Wallpaper Set
129. Duster
130. Easter Bundle
131. Easter Rabbit Plushie
132. Electro 2000 Fireplace
133. Elm Tree Set
134. Encampment Bridge
135. Encampment Fences
136. Encampment Fortress Bundle
137. Enclave Backpack
138. Enclave Bundle
139. Enclave C.A.M.P. Bundle
140. Enclave Power Armor Paint
141. Enclave Turret Set
142. Equalizer Power Armor Paint
143. Eye Patch Bundle
144. F.E.T.C.H. Collectron Station
145. Fancy Thanksgiving Display Case
146. Farm Life C.A.M.P. Bundle
147. Fasnacht Bundle
148. Fasnacht C.A.M.P. Bundle
149. Fasnacht Collectron Station
150. Fasnacht Mask Bundle
151. Fasnacht Mask Display
152. Fasnacht Mystical Mask Bundle
153. Fat Man Aviator Paint
154. Feral Ghoul Bundle
155. Feral Ghoul Costume
156. Fez
157. Fire Chief Bundle
158. Fire Hazard Backpack
159. Firewatch Tower
160. Firing Range Posters
161. Fish Lamp
162. Floor Walker Outfit
163. Flower Cart
164. Fluorescent Light Set
165. Flyboy Bundle
166. Flyboy Icon
167. Flyboy Outfit
168. Four Poster Bed
169. Free States Scout Armor Paint
170. Freedom Stars Neon Sign
171. Freight Wagon
172. Fringed Dress
173. Future-Tec Bundle
174. Gag Glasses Bundle
175. Gala Dress
176. Gala Tuxedo
177. Gatling Plasma Copperhead Paint
178. Ghillie Netting Bundle
179. Ghoul Icon
180. Giant Neon Letters
181. Gladiator Outfit
182. Glow-in-the-Dark Map
183. Gold 50 Cal Machine Gun Paint
184. Gold Mr. Fuzzy Kiddie Ride
185. Gold Mr. Rocket Kiddie Ride
186. Golden Years Set
187. Good Fortunes Bundle
188. Grafton Monster Mascot Outfit
189. Grahm Plushie
190. Grahm's Green Bundle
191. Green Thumb Bundle
192. Greenhouse Kit
193. Greenhouse Kit Bundle
194. Grognak Battlecry
195. Grognak Hero Bundle
196. Grognak Plushie
197. Gurney Bed Set
198. H.A.R.E. Power Armor Skin
199. Halberd
200. Halloween C.A.M.P. Bundle
201. Halo and Horns Set
202. Hammock
203. Hanging Planters
204. Haunted House C.A.M.P. Bundle
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"The nature of the soul is not knowable." ---Souls, Black and White

I initially wrote much of this as a response to a post yesterday by the inimitable, inestimable, incomparable, and approx. 45 degree tilted u/Crooked_Cock, but it became ridiculously long for a mere comment. "Long", as in, covering basically as much ground as the lore permits.
The purpose of this post is to interrogate (NOT answer) the following question: how the fuck do souls and soul gems work? Forgive my vulgarity, but I cannot think of another aspect of the setting's lore that is as muddled and confused as souls (also known as "anima", singular "animus"). For the purposes of this post, I am trying not to rely on unofficial lore when it comes to various anachronisms, though I will reference official material developed as a direct consequence of (and in the context of) pre-existing UOL.
TL;DR of the TL:DR - The lore around souls/soul gems is almost completely incoherent, and is saturated with fundamentally unresolvable contradictions.
TL;DR - There are two main theories the lore community often uses to explain the distinction between white and black souls, and neither really works. This is mostly due to conflicting information from the lore itself rather than a lack of skill on part of the community. While we can try and suspend disbelief for many of the things that are portrayed in-game despite what the lore says (e.g., Whiterun's population of ~70 people), there comes a point where you just have to acknowledge the lore itself inherits and is inherited by the games' contradictions.

What the games show us

As regards the division between white and black souls, we should assemble a glossary of facts that the games present us (some of which you may wish to discard later as poorly conceived or simply errors on part of the devs). Firstly, the soul-trap effect used by certain spells and items.
In Daggerfall, soul-trap is a % success spell that traps the soul of an enemy when they die. There is no distinction (that I can recall) between Petty-Lesser-Common-Greater-Grand white souls, nor Black souls. However, there was the absolutely fucking rad mechanic that I can't believe they abandoned where, depending on the being the soul was harvested from, your weapon/armoitem would gain a creature-specific effect. For example, binding an item with an Earth Atronach's soul gives you extra defense, but makes the item weigh more. Additionally, when the item breaks, the creature is released and then attacks you. (ES fans really sleep on how cool Daggerfall was.)
In Morrowind, things change to resemble what most of us are familiar with: the (white) Soul Gems you get in-game are capable of only capturing the souls of (most) creatures. NPC souls (excluding most NPCs designated by the game as creatures) cannot be captured, with the batshit insane exceptions of Vivec and Almalexia, who can be trapped in Azura's Star. (Keep in mind that the Black Star, the version of Azura's Star that can hold Black Souls, was theorized by Malyn Varen in the 4th era. This implies the False Gods of the Tribunal have white souls, which is... bonkers.)
In Oblivion, we get Black Soul Gems that can trap NPCs, which (unlike Morrowind) includes Dremora for some reason. (Skyrim would not repeat this mistake.) Skyrim's implementation is mostly identical to Oblivion's, and introduces the existence of the Black Star, conclusively proving that Azura's Star is not capable of holding Black Souls (for whatever reason).
ESO has expanded on animancy (soul magic) a bit by giving us more information on Daedric vestiges and anima, but nothing that fundamentally answers this question definitively. Of specific note is the fact that there are not divisions of soul gems in ESO, there is only Soul Gem (and the ever-elusive and never-again-seen Crown Soul Gem, whose alleged existence puzzles Tamrielic historians).
With these basic facts laid out, I now want to point out that there are a bunch of particular theories I've often seen presented in this sub (and in the lore community as a whole) as an answer to this post's central question that is very, VERY commonly asked. The answers I have seen can basically be collapsed into two main central ideas.

Theory #1 - The division between "white" and "black" souls is artificial, almost certainly invented by the Mages Guild.

"Furthermore, I propose that for the purposes of soul-trapping we categorize all souls into two classes: the legal, or 'White' souls, those smaller essences that are captured from beasts and animals, and illegal, or 'Black' souls, which are derived from sentient mortals. And we will teach only those spells that can capture White souls, forbidding our students to use the larger soul gems on sentients." ---Vanus Galerion, Guild Memo on Soul-Trapping

This is the theory that at first seems to make the most sense, but then the breadth of the available lore pretty quickly makes it an overly simplistic (and in my personal opinion, extremely poor) explanation.
There are two big pieces of evidence commonly brought to support this theory: Guildmaster Emeritus Vanus Galerion's Guild Memo on Soul-Trapping (read here) and the indistinct soul gems of ESO.
In ESO (c. 2E 582), there are no gradients of soul gems nor black soul gems; there are only soul gems. This seems to make sense, but we know that soul-trapping spells date far earlier, and the Mages Guild had been using their version of the spell in the early 2nd era at least (shortly after its founding), centuries before ESO's time. Their version(s) evidently refused to allow for sentient souls to be captured, at least according to Vanus Galerion. We also know that black soul gems exist by this time, and that soul gems aren't in fact uniform as they are in the game, but we can suspend our disbelief for this minor sin.
(Edit: u/Misticsan has reminded me of the long-lost lore of the year of our lord 2016 (the One Tamriel update), in which there were different variations of (white?) soul gems corresponding to level ranges within levels 1-50. Mortal souls were trappable in these soul gems as well, as I recall.)

"Centuries of experimentation has demonstrated that there are black souls and white souls. Only the rare black soul gem can hold the soul of a higher creature, such as a man or an elf." ---Souls, Black and White

At issue with this theory fundamentally is that it isn't clear in the lore whether black and white souls are truly qualitatively distinct (meaning the difference isn't actually artificial), if soul gems are qualitatively distinct (meaning it's the soul gem itself that can only capture a white/black soul), if soul-trap spells vary so widely as to trap what other spells cannot, or all three together somehow. Each of these ideas has limited support in the lore, which makes the prognosis for this theory grim, in my opinion.
It's rumored that Sotha Sil was the first to actually create Black Soul Gems through reverse engineering regular soul gems, which would seem to imply the distinction isn't truly artificial since the average anima geode fragment is unable to reliably contain the qualitatively distinct mortal soul. Yet, why does, for example, the Mace of Molag Bal obey the Guild's soul-trapping rules and trap black souls only if you have black soul gems? This would seem to imply that it's the soul gems themselves that are distinct rather than the souls, for I doubt that the Lord of Domination would deliberately enchant his own mace with the Guild's version of soultrap. (Morrowind's version does not cast soultrap on hit, interestingly enough.)
To complicate things further, black soul gems are stated to be the only gems capable of trapping "the most willful souls" thereby bypassing the restrictions of the standard Mages Guild's version(s) of soultrap. This implies both souls and soul gems are not artificially distinct. Add to this Mannimarco's first retrieval and use of this unique kind of soul gem (capable of the then-impossible/difficult task of trapping willful souls) predates Galerion's Guild Memo on Soul Trapping, since the memo mentions Mannimarco and his Worm Cult explicitly. The Memo states this despite black soul gems from Coldharbour being retrieved prior to Mannimarco's expulsion from the Psijics.
In other words, Mannimarco (through his then-ally Vastarie) retrieved Black Soul Gems, which were notable only because they were much betteexclusively capable (it's not really clear) of capturing mortal souls. This happened prior to Galerion's Guild Memo, which proposed the division between White and Black souls in the first place. Viz., mortal souls are more "willful" than white souls, which necessitates a Black Soul Gem in order to capture mortal (black) souls. Yet, the Guild Memo wants to change the soul-trap spell so that one cannot trap a mortal soul, despite the fact that Black Soul Gems bypass the restriction anyway. Why would Galerion propose a division between white and black souls (to design a new soultrap spell) if black soul gems (1) bypass the spell's restrictions anyway and (2) are the only gems capable of holding black souls?
And if black soul gems aren't the only gems that can hold mortal souls, then the existence of black soul gems prior to the Guild Memo implies that there actually is a difference between white and black souls, and the difference isn't artificial at all. Under no possible combination can it be said without serious contradiction that the difference between white and black souls was invented by Vanus Galerion.
Returning to direct game evidence, Soultrap in Morrowind is incapable of capturing mortal souls (in support of the theory) yet the inverse is true in Skyrim, and Oblivion (against the theory). In ESO, you don't even require a black soul gem. For Skyrim, maybe the dissolution of the Guild swiftly brought necromancy-friendly soultrap spells back? But, again, why can they only be trapped in black soul gems? Why does Azura's Star restrict itself to white souls if the difference is completely artificial? Maybe a Daedric Prince genuinely cares strongly about preventing the trapping of mortal play-things' souls, but this still implies a difference in both white/black souls and white/black soul gems.
I am loathe to completely ignore the differences in every games' mechanics to make this theory begin to work, because that requires editing/ignoring an awful lot of content/lore. There are some differences we have to suspend disbelief to make sense of, but we can't very well suspend all of the disbelief possible. Making this theory work also requires flatly ignoring large portions of the available lore-text, or placing them anachronistically after the publication of the Guild Memo.

^{TL;DR - Galerion's Guild Memo implies that the very categorization of souls into white and black originates with the Guild's creation of the soul-trap spell, yet there is very mixed evidence as to whether sentient souls and soul gems are qualitatively distinct from non-sentient souls and black soul gems respectively. Black Soul Gems, uniquely capable of reliably trapping mortal souls, predate the Guild Memo. After all, in Skyrim, the degenerated Falmer give white souls while the surviving Falmer Gelebor and Vyrthur give black souls, and in Morrowind, you can't trap NPCs' souls at all. Did Galerion anticipate surviving Snow Elves that hadn't degenerated into the Betrayed?}

Theory #2 - Arkay, the Lord of the Wheel of Life, makes some mortal souls impossible to soultrap without Black Soul Gems.

"...Arkay has given us his Three Consecrations:
• Arkay's Grace, which we bestow upon birth, to protect the souls of the innocent until they are old enough to exercise their own volition.
• Arkay's Blessing, which we bestow upon the dying, to prevent their souls from being used without consent.
• Arkay's Law, which we bestow upon the deceased, that their corporeal forms may not be raised to unlawful servitude." ---Punctilius Tyrus, The Consecrations of Arkay

This theory is perhaps less convoluted, if for no other reason than because we lack a huge amount of contradicting details. It might also be able to coexist with the idea that both souls and soul gems are qualitatively distinct, though it does make the Guild Memo even more out of place if we assume so. After all, what need would Galerion have to distinguish white from black souls if the only way to bypass Arkay's protection was through Black Soul Gems? And if a big enough normal soul gem can capture a mortal soul with Arkay's protection... of what value is that protection really? But I digress.
Firstly, (and please point out if I am missing exceptions), a living, not-undead mortal will have Arkay's protection, which can only be bypassed by Black Soul Gems. For this purpose, vampires are not real true and honest 100% undead. This has its problems (as we'll see in a moment), but the logic of this theory demands we stick with it for now. (Also, don't forget we can soultrap Vivec and Almalexia. Arkay must be fucking pissed.)
The Corpse Preparation volumes tie widespread worship of Arkay (as is the case in Hammerfell) to the strength of "Arkay's Law"; the sanctification of dead bodies by Priests of Arkay prevents their resurrection as undead. Or, at least, that's what some people believe... despite a dearth of in-game evidence to the contrary.
Maybe the sanctification rites need to be repeated, and the Halls of the Dead we see in Skyrim are just constantly understaffed, and even so are staffed by incompetents who leave their damn amulet behind. Or maybe by quantity of worship, it is meant as the amount of priests (and thereby the sanctification rituals). Or maybe, as concerns Hammerful, it's just because the Ansei are (and this is true) super fucking cool.
Even so, there yet remains a very obnoxious thorn in this theory's side: draugr.
Draugr (maybe?) do not have Arkay's protection, because for most of them their burial was prior to the worship of Arkay and the Eight Divines generally. I say "maybe" because under the Nords' totemic religion, Orkey was a Testing God to guard against, and only seems to have become associated with sanctification against undeath as imperial religion was slowly imported into Skyrim (or perhaps ancient Nords wanted to guard against his protection??). I say "for most of them" because there are draugr in Solitude's Catacombs (who can speak dovahzul, no less) who were possibly buried when Potema was. And, if not, they would have been buried contemporaneous to (allegedly) a pre-Harald Temple of the Divines in Solitude, if you take Ysogar's journal very literally. Though perhaps more likely is that Potema was sealed in the Catacombs which had not been sanctified ever, if it indeed does date back to the early centuries of the First Era. This, in my opinion, makes no goddamn sense. "Hey guys, you know this necromancer Wolf Queen that nearly brought the Septim Empire to its knees in a brutal civil war? Let's throw her in the Catacombs which we specifically don't sanctify with Arkay's Consecrations. That won't come up later, I'm sure."
None of the aforementioned religious distinctions between the totemic religion, the late-1st and early-2nd era Nord-imperial hybrid, and the Imperial Pantheon existed in the official lore at the time of Skyrim's release, but it mostly conforms to what we see in later developments regardless: the draugr evidently did not have Arkay's protection, and decayed into the rotting knock-knee'd dragon-talking ambulators that we see in old Nordic ruins because of that.
The beings which we can safely presume don't have Arkay's protection either didn't worship him and use his sanctification practices (e.g., Nords of the Dragon Cult, Ayleids) or are so degenerated from the average mortal as to be little more than a beast in Arkay's eyes (e.g., giants and Falmer (not Snow Elves)). It's still odd that vampires have his protection (perhaps because it can be cured) but extremely more odd that Vivec and Almalexia can get soul trapped. Ignore that for now hopefully forever.
With even all of that aside, the single biggest issue (aside from all the evidence for the previous theory) in my opinion is that, as one example, Olaf One-Eye is present in Sovngarde, as well as on Mundus. The soul that animates his corpse is a white soul, despite Olaf very clearly being present in Aetherius. With what we've gone over in the previous paragraphs, draugr have white souls likely because they are simply the unsanctified mortal souls of the very bodies we are looking at (that's what this whole Arkay's Law is about, after all). Perhaps, in this one instance, Olaf's unsanctified white soul went to Sovngarde (Orkey plays favorites, I guess) and his body became a receptacle for some other, powerful white soul? After all, we can capture the soul animating his undead body and he's still hanging out in the Hall of Valor. Or maybe, when the remnant of his mortal body is roused from its slumber, his soul temporarily returns to his body? Probably not, since trapping it doesn't stop him from scarfing down endless food and mead in Aetherius' local beer hall.
Or maybe his presence in Sovngarde is completely unrelated to his soul somehow, in contrast to basically everything we know about how Aetherius and the afterlife seem to work? You can trap Ulfric, Galmar, and Rikke's souls and they'll still be in Sovngarde#:~:text=Depends%20on%20how%20far%20you%20have%20advanced%20through%20the%20Skyrim%20civil%20war%2C%20and%20the%20side%20that%20you%20have%20chosen) when you go there during Alduin's Bane. I can't even begin to reconcile that fact with most of what I've put to text already. Perhaps there are specific aspects of the soul (neither white nor black) that go to Aetherius, and some degenerated animus remains behind? How would we square that possibility with the souls in the Soul Cairn? And if what Valerica theorized is true (that trapping black souls in black soul gems sends them to the Soul Cairn), why does trapping Ulfric/GalmaRikke in a Black Soul Gem still allow them to go to Sovngarde? Maybe Shor prevents the Ideal Masters from snatching the soul (even if you used it to power an enchantment)? Or maybe they only go to the Soul Cairn specifically in deals with the Ideal Masters? (If so, poor, poor Jiub.)

^{TL;DR - If it is indeed Arkay's Consecrations which protects only some mortal souls from being trapped, then there is no difference absent those protections that distinguish white from black souls. If it is mortality itself that Arkay protects, then he seemingly arbitrarily and without good reason defines mortality in such a way as to exclude great portions of Tamriel's mortal population, alive, dead, or undead. The Falmer are an even greater mystery: why would Arkay change their souls to that of beasts? And are the draugr animated by the souls of the mortals who once lived within, or have those souls passed to Aetherius? Is some ambient aetherial creatia possessing the draugr?}

Final notes

We could independently conceive of a theoretical framework (with basically no real evidence) capable of distinguishing between certain aspects of a soul, since we know that souls are a little bit more complicated than just a person's spirit. Perhaps the capability of soul-trapping a daedroth (thereby preventing their reformation in Oblivion) indicates that some anuic aspect (which Daedra lack) transcends the capabilities of soul-trapping? This might help explain the Olaf/Ulfric/GalmeRikke issue, but still makes it difficult to explain the souls trapped in the Soul Cairn. Perhaps they are mere vestiges, and their "true" AE is somewhere else? Is it this anuic aspect that transcends even Arkay's Law, perhaps more simply being a function of the setting's underlying metaphysics?
And how would we square this with the Vestige's soul, which is probably (after the events of the MQ) now housed within a Daedric vestige?
Perhaps as a dissertation for a PhD in Tamrielic Studies, I'll reconcile all of this with an unprecedented level of textual and historical analysis. I'd... rather not, though, for reasons that have now hopefully become clear.

(P.S. - The Falmer)

I couldn't fit this organically elsewhere, but I wanted to make note of an idea I see somewhat commonly throughout threads regarding this question.
Supporters of theory #1 often suggest that the Betrayed (degenerated Falmer) have white souls because Galerion's soultrap spell did not consider them sentient (basically like that of animals). Yet, Arch-Curate Vyrthur yields a black soul when you kill him. Did Galerion anticipate potential survivors of the Snow-Elf genocide? Is this an oversight we're intended to just ignore?
Others suggest a theory I am more partial to, if only because it fits the Dwemer's history of manipulating souls, strings tones, and divinity. Perhaps the Falmer (not the Snow Elves) have white souls because the Dwemer degenerated the Falmer metaphysically to better serve as a slave race. I doubt the Glowing Mushrooms were the only thing the Dwemer used to subjugate the Falmer, and I also doubt a fungus's ability to downgrade one's own soul. This theory resolves the aforementioned problems under theory #1, and (if one believes theory #2) shows the Dwemer's capability of defying Arkay. It also serves as the thematic precursor to their (possible) ambitions of achieving a higher gradient of existence (divinity through the Brass God). Not that this resolves any of the problems with theory #2, but I wanted to put it here to mention how much I like the idea.

MINNESOTA NUMEROLOGY DECODE

Today I will be decoding the state of Minnesota. I recently did one for Massachusetts if you would like to check that out. I will begin decoding the letters in the state letter by letter and then point of conclusive insights afterwards.
M - This is the 13th letter of the alphabet which will point to the energies of 4 which represents caution, privacy, withholding, responsibility, order, restriction, and family. A place with this letter as the first letter will likely have things in order or order will be of significance.
I - This is the 9th letter of the alphabet which brings the energy of adventure, learning, wisdom, experience, and expansion.
N - Being the 14th letter, N vibrates at the energy of 5 which is the use of responsibility being used for creative purposes. This can take place in many forms, especially when it comes to a state and not a person.
N - Being the 14th letter, N vibrates at the energy of 5 which is the use of responsibility being used for creative purposes. 5 is the number of war and combat as well.
E - 5th letter of the alphabet which points to love, joy, romance, child-like energy, and creativity. 5 is the number of war and combat as well.
S - 19th letter which vibrates at the energy of 1, but in this case, Minnesota isn't a state looking to be in control or to get too much attention since the 1 energy isn't overbearing. In this case, the 1 represents being self-motivated and capable.
O - 15th letter of the alphabet which vibrates at the energy of 6. 6 is about discipline, hospitality, compassion,etc.
T - 20th letter of the alphabet which vibrates at the energy of 2. 2 is a money number and the number of cooperation, stability, and comfort. 2 is also about compassion as well.
A - 1st letter of the alphabet which is about action, observation, and opportunity.
Based on what we have decoded regarding the letters in Minnesota, we can see that the main repetitive number and energy is 5. 5 shows up 3 times in this state's name which equals 15 and then 6 when added and reduced. This is definitely a state that focuses on discipline, balance, and fairness. Justice or the justice system could be very significant for this state. This is also good for financial purposes because maybe they avoid causing financial problems for their residents. Family and love can also be significant for this state. They may welcome outsiders more easily than Massachusetts(I did a decode for them first). When violence arrises, they most likely take care of it as soon as possible to keep the state at a balanced medium.
We have the energy of 1 only repeating twice which means that this state may be more welcoming and cooperative in general. Could be nice acts of kindness pretty often. They likely create a fair workforce and living arrangements of their residents as much as possible.
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Hey friends, there used to be a beer by Coors called Summer Brew. It’s tough to tell when searching it up if it’s even distributed or made anymore.
I live in the Midwest, and I have fond memories from 10-15 years ago pounding a 12 pack of them with buddies in the summer. The closest thing I’ve found taste-wise is Porch Rocker by Sam Adams.
Anybody know if I can find the Summer Brew anywhere? Would love it for nostalgic purposes.

For anyone who missed how this started
https://www.reddit.com/HFY/s/PxAkXKR0aH
I didn’t expect so many people out there would care about what’s happening to me. I’d say it’s humbling, but, well, my situation has been humbling me since I left the states. You guys cheering me on, and trying to help, it’s kept me going though.
So, I figure the least I can do is keep you all updated until something prevents me from doing so. Likely in a permanent fashion.
I'll say, the ride home was awkward, to say the least. For all of the grim predictions running through my head going to the spectacle , on the way back they were ten times worse.
I wasn’t caged, shackled and tortured when I returned. If I said I was greeted with concern by the handful of distant relatives and lost souls I’d be over exaggerating. But there was a bit of respect and kindness .
I was patched up, as far as being stabbed goes, apparently I got lucky.
There was food, question free beer, and a healthy number of people asking how things went.
All I wanted to do was sleep, but something kept me going. Kept me answering questions I’d rather not have, kept my fear fried brain making conversation and trading verbal jabs.
A tap on my shoulder startles me, the sun is rising and if I don’t get to sleep soon, I’m going to fall over.
“Your half. “ Sylvia says, it’s just shy of a thousand pounds.
“All this was for, what is this? $600 American? “ I say.
“ Walk with me. “ Sylvia begins, I follow.
“Money isn’t much good if I’m dead. “ I say, my tone sullen and exasperated.
“Then don’t die. “ She replies, walking across the debris strewn scrub grass toward the farm house.
“Do you have any shame? You kidnapped me in the middle of the night to feed me to a couple of demons. I’m your nephew for Christ’s sake! “ I’m not yelling, I don’t think my body is capable of that much exertion at this point, but my words are clear.
“I’m not your aunt, Nikolas.
Great-Great-Great grandmother, give or take a generation. It’s been a long time.
And if I was doing, as you suggest, yes, I would feel a deep shame.” Sylvia lets the answers and questions ferment in my mind as we walk.
“So why not tell me what’s going on? Maybe teach me some of that magic you were tossing around at the airport. “ we stop outside a sliding door. Sylvia has a genuine look of amusement on her face.
“Magic? Nikolas, magic is what stupid people call being fooled.
Magic is the Priest’s sermon, the fortune teller’s reading, the huckster’s pitch.
It’s a way to create vast amounts of power from nothing.
The world is full of things that defy the laws of nature. What I do, what those of the family with me do, is understand them. We learn, we improvise, and we adapt.
We do not make power from nothing, we find it, and use it. “ Sylvia watches me, judging my response to her statement.
“So that’s what you meant before. About the trappings of the gypsy. This whole vibe, it’s a smokescreen.
Assholes expect the Gritts to be some Romani stereotype, and give you a wide berth. When strange shit happens, they chalk it up to some kind of con, or something they’ve seen in a movie. Either way, they aren’t looking for monster fights, and supernatural research. “ I know I’m in the ballpark when she pats me on the shoulder hard enough to hurt.
“And the value of your half, is somewhere around 30 thousand. We wager in esoteric items, favors, and creatures. When you leave, I’ll make you a fair offer for what is yours.
You’ll understand more in the morning after you have a chance to look around. “ Sylvia says before showing me a sparse, but clean, and comfortable room.
I wake up in the early afternoon, something, beyond the obvious nagging at me.
After a cup of nearly caustic tea, I finally realized what it was.
Sylvia, she told me a lot last night. But many of my questions were avoided. I know about her, and this place, but my fate, beyond another round of tug of war between two nightmares, is unknown.
That being said, my second conclusion, is that I need to start rolling with the punches. I’ve tried calling the police (they asked how Sylvia was doing before I said my name.), my parents, anyone, and like it or not, for one unsaid reason or another, I’m stuck here.
I’m going to skip a lot of introductions. Reading me introducing myself, 50 times and trying not to be awkward around folks that seem way too okay with me dying, probably wouldn’t be the best use of your time.
As I explore the grounds, I enter one of a handful of old barns. The inside has peg board walls hung with tools spanning the spectrum from mundane to esoteric enough I have no idea what they are.
Inside, among benches strewn with a random assortment of objects, and equipment, stand two men.
The first is Colin, he’s pale as a ghost, eyes bloodshot and sleep deprived, he wears an Aerosmith shirt, and toolbelt that is making his pants lose a battle with gravity. The 40 something is holding an electrode connected to a thick, black wire directly patched into the main breaker.
The second, Dafyd is a short, olive skinned man in his mid fifties. His outfit consists of a tweed jacket, blue jeans and plain white shirt.
Between them on a grounded workbench sits a small snow globe, within stands a faded ballerina, one arm lost, floating randomly through the liquid.
My teeth ache as the breaker begins to make a dangerous humming noise. For a couple of seconds, a short blue spark arcs from the electrode to the snow globe.
The air smells of ozone to the point where I’m convinced I’ve burned out my nose hairs. The two men argue a bit between themselves in a language I’ve heard but never learned to speak. Then turn as they notice me.
“Nik, come settle an argument between your uncle and I. “ Dafyd says.
“Don’t know how much help I’m going to be, but I’ll do my best. “ I say, walking up.
“The kid has no idea what’s going on Dafyd. “ Colin says.
“I know, but we’re not looking for an expert opinion.
Nik, what year is it? “ Dafyd asks.
“1993.” I say without hesitation, “ What the hell? “ I add. My brain is a bit fried, but not enough to screw up the date by 30 something years.
“God damn it. “ Colin says.
“I knew it! “ exclaims Dafyd.
“This piece of shit is getting binned.
You look confused kid.
It’s called a gimmick. It’s the stuff side of what we deal in. Some of it, it’s two steps off of a horror novel. Most of it though, it’s just strange.
Figuring them out is 95% engineering and 5% esoterica.
They teaching you anything across the pond? “ Colin asks.
The question leads to a conversation, the conversation leads to a week of me shadowing the two finicky, strange guys.
I’d go into more detail, but as the days go by, things seem more and more like spending time with some out there branches in the family tree. As terrifying as everything has been, as terrifying as it is, it’s, interesting.
But I wouldn’t be writing if things were sunshine and roses though, would I?
One day, after working with objects that scared, confused and frustrated me in equal measure, I realized there was something I was avoiding.
So I found myself standing in front of Augustus, the creature held upright and immobile in it’s coffin-like cage. The Plexiglas window is cracked.
It's worse than I thought it would be. Every time I look at the thing’s face I see the blood it made me spill. I see the power it wields, and the murderous intent in it’s twisted pit of a mind.
But sometime soon, I’m going to be next to it again. I have to be able to keep myself together. I have to understand this thing as much as I can.
“Hey killer, how the fuck ya Doin? “ Augustus taunts. Shame reddens my fear paled face.
“Can we talk? “ I say, I want it to be a demand, it comes out as a whimper.
“What do we have to talk about, bud? What about this are you not picking up on yet? “ Augustus is smug, confident even while confined.
“How you seem to have this limitless ego, when you're being held by literally the oldest woman possible. “ I’m too scared to say this above a whisper.
“That dusty old wizard’s sleeve out there? She’ll fucking get hers.
Lucky bitch on a lucky day is all that was.
But luck runs out, and when it does, I’m gonna uproot your entire sad little family tree. “ Augustus threatens.
I actually take a step backward, and almost turn. The fear this thing causes, it’s more than the knowledge of what it can do, it’s a force in and of itself.
“Augustus, why not hear me out? “ I plead.
“Because kid, that’s not how this story goes.
I’ve got nothing but time, I’ll be around till the heat death of the fucking universe.
I don’t need to hear things like you out, I don’t need to bargain. No matter how airtight your inbred little clan thinks these bonds are, eventually, someone always makes a mistake. Something small, like a wrong angle on a rune.
Or…, “ as the thing talks, the door to the coffin like cage holding it starts to slowly swing outward, “ Something big, like forgetting to set the fucking padlock. “
I’m already running as he talks, but he’s standing in front of the exit before I can take a step.
He looms in front of the door, coat spreading, seemingly of it’s own accord, making the patchwork killer seem like some kind of twisted manta ray.
He locks eyes with me, I’m frozen, gripped in terror so intense I have no idea if it’s mundane or the aura of fear Augustus projects.
Those mismatched orbs burrow into me, I feel like this thing can see into my soul.
He inhales for an impossibly long time, a slick, menacing grin spreading across his leathery face.
“Yeah, today’s the day kid.” He says, a kick sending me across the floor like a smooth rock across the surface of a pond.
I’ve never felt pain like this, I try to stand, but my knee refuses to bend. I hit the ground and my ribs scream, I’m sure at least one was broken in the tumble.
I hear Augustus’ footsteps, my struggles to get to my feet are useless. Seconds in, i’m in literal crippling pain.
He grabs me by the throat, taking his time as he raises me above his head.
The look of joy on his face as I choke and struggle to breathe twists his features, for a moment he appears nearly snakelike.
He holds the tips of his claw-like nails against my stomach. Then draws his arm back.
“Don’t worry bud, I’m not just going to tear out your heart, everyone does that shit.
This isn’t going to be a sprint, it’s a fucking marathon. I just want to aerate the track a little bit before we start. “ His hand blurs and I close my eyes hoping I don’t last very long.
“Stop” I hear a deep, smooth, male voice say.
I hit the ground, and try to see who just stopped the beginning of my execution, but the pain, the cracked ribs, pulled muscles and long ragged scrapes have me seeing spots.
When my vision clears, I see a tall, blond man with impossibly angular features, dressed in an immaculate black and mauve suit.
His eyes try to look kind, but there is something wrong behind them. Something waiting to be let out.
“Who are you? “ I say, one lip, split and torn.
“You can call me Art. Arthur Deus if you feel like being formal.
But what you want to know, is why I’m here.
Well Nikolas, to simplify things, think of me as the older brother of the leering terror your ‘aunt’ has trapped here. “ As Arthur talks, I notice something, the motes of dust in the air are hanging still.
“I have no problems with you taking him. I haven’t seen you, I don’t know your name. Couldn’t stop you if I wanted to. “ I ramble.
Arthur holds up a finger, I go silent.
“If only it were that easy.
See Nikolas, your aunt and I, have quite the history. And as much as it pains me to admit it, she’s a crafty one, and has the means to make things very difficult for me.
Sylvia cannot know I’m involved, this is why I have an offer for you. “ As art says this, he waves a hand, almost dismissively.
Like a switch being flipped my pain stops, I watch as my wounds begin to seal and fade, amazed.
“What is it? “ I say. The words feel like they have weight.
“Sylvia is looking for someone to take over for her. As old as she is, she’s not immortal.
You’re her third attempt.
I’m not going to lie to you and say I care about what’s happening to the humans involved in this grim little spectacle. But I care about my family, and to a lesser extent, those like myself.
This bloodsport that your aunt is a part of, it’s vile. It’s world spanning, and it’s for nothing more than greed and bragging rights.
I want to change this. And I would like you to help me. “ Art’s tone is slick and confident.
“If I do, then you get him to back off? “ I say, pointing to Augustus.
Art looks dismayed for a moment.
“That’s not something I can really promise Nikolas. If anything could force him to listen to reason, he wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place. “ My heart sinks as Art says this.
“Fuck off Art. “ Augustus says.
Arthur rolls his eyes. They seem to go just a little too far back.
“But what I can do, is have a conversation with him, impress upon him how important it is he works with you. “ Art pats me on the shoulder before turning toward his sibling. His hand is impossibly hot.
“This kid dies, that is not my fault. You’ve seen this shit, he’s not built for it, just bust me out of here. “ Augustus isn’t far off of pleading in his tone.
“You know that’s not possible. I cannot let Sylvia know I’m here. But given time, I will have you out. “ Art assures.
“Fact remains, this kid gets on the wrong side of a blade or a fuckin, werewolf or something, that’s not on me.
Even if he manages to keep his lungs in his chest, look at him. His mind is cracking, he’s either insane or God-damned, catatonic in two months. “ Now Augustus sounds like a cocky piece of shit again.
“Of course, if he dies, or succumbs mentally, that’s not on you.
But I want you, to make a promise to me. I want you to understand that this child cannot be harmed by your hand. “ It sounds like Art is talking to a five year old.
Augustus shrugs before replying.
“The fuck you want me to say? You know me, you know I can’t say I’m not hurting this kid. And I sure as hell am not making a promise about it so you can get you-know-who involved when nature takes it’s course.
Fuck this kid, get me out of here.”
Arthur sighs and turns from Augustus , walking to me.
“Nikolas, I have something to tell you. “ He says, there’s a gravity to his tone that clearly makes Augustus uncomfortable.
“Art, what are you doing? “ The Trenchcoat wearing creature asks.
Art kneels bringing himself eye to eye with me.
“Don’t do this. “ Augustus says.
“Then promise. “ Art replies, a few seconds of silence go by, “ As you can see, I cannot guarantee your safety Nikolas.
But, for his own good, I want to tell you a word, one that will make my myopic brother look at things a little differently, if the need arises.
I’d use it sparingly, it’s not meant for those like yourself. It will have a physical, mental and spiritual toll. But it might spare you the worst of his excesses. “
That word was the last thing Arthur said to me. With a staggering, disorienting lurch, time began to move forward.
It kept moving forward for the next month.
I learned a lot over that time, but, not what you might expect.
As it turns out, there is a hell of a lot more engineering, physics, and chemistry involved in working with the supernatural than, summoning circles and newt eyes.
But eventually, the day I was dreading came.
The venue was a strip club of all places, a massive building, on the outskirts of Norwich, gaudy neon lights illuminate a place that, unlike the theme restaurant, seems to be in active use.
There was a different ambiance this time. The folks milling around the rune etched Lucite box seemed more sedate, and a hell of a lot richer.
The lighting was professional, driving music sets a professional sports tone.
This time I walk in the cage of my own accord. It’s not pride, or bravery, but simply knowing, I have no choice.
The roar of the crowd stokes my fear as Augustus slowly opens the door of his coffin-like vessel.
He loves the attention, his grin both horrifying and genuine.
“Guess we’re in the big leagues now, eh, killer? “ Augustus prods.
I’m sweating. I’ve cut a little weight over the past month, unintentionally, but as I wonder what horror is going to come walking in the other side of this cage. I don’t think being in marginally better shape and having a working knowledge of basic engineering is going to do me a lot of good.
Suddenly the crowd is silent, lights illuminate a spot at the far end of the massive Lucite box.
She’s small, slight, and has grey, lifeless skin. Her eyes are massive, her body beautiful, but exaggerated to the point of looking cartoonish. She’s not wearing much, a small t-shirt and what I’ll generously call a bikini bottom.
Beside her is a massive, brick slab of a man, late twenties or early thirties. His eyes are wild, he’s covered in layers of scars, and burns. He wears an old, worn prison uniform that’s never seen a washing machine.
He matches her strange, boneless stride, with a loping wolf-like gait.
“Entering the ring, you know her, you love her. She’s the Vixen of the void, The Nymph of nothing, Norwich’s own, ‘Sweet’ Francis Anne!
And at her side, brought in at great expense from the land of Twinkies, cheeseburgers and weak beer, The Corps Killer, the Military Mangler, with 24 out of ring kills and 36 in, ‘Big’ Billy Speck! “ an announcer screams.
The crowd bursts into life, noise shakes the walls of the cage.
“And, on the other side, I don’t know, some wanker in a Trenchcoat, and a kid that isn’t even old enough to be here. Let’s watch them die. “ He finishes.
Augustus looks enraged, his teeth chatter, he flexes his clawed hands. I walk in his shadow as he advances to face the creature and her second.
“I know you! “ The grey skinned thing says, her voice high pitched. As she speaks I notice what appears to be a thick scar bisecting her from forehead to stomach.
“Never heard of you. Neither will anyone else after this. “ Augustus says with a grin.
“You’re the runt of the litter right? Royal blood but peasant flesh, that’s what they say, no? “ Francis says, she grins a toothless smile. The inside of her mouth, a black void.
“Fuck my family. What I am is as good as meat gets. I give myself power, all you have is a cosmic std. “ Augustus stares Francis down as he talks.
Francis reacts with nothing more than a coy look. Bill stares down at me, the handle of some large blade sticking out of his right pocket, and a short length of chain wrapped around his left forearm.
A buzzer cuts through the roar of the crowd, the world seems to consist of nothing more than myself and the horrors around me as the timer begins to count down.
Like a flash Augustus leaps at Francis, but her body stretches and contorts as she moves, he never gets close.
I tear myself away from the clash of unnatural creatures as I look to the mutilated killer in front of me.
I didn’t come in unarmed, but I also was expecting another kid. And wanted to avoid what happened last time if at all possible. My heart races as I pull the small black can from the pocket of my worn, grey hoodie.
For a second I feel like a badass. I’ve got the can of mace aimed and spraying before Bill can react.
Four seconds tick by before the can is empty, Bill is soaked in thick yellow liquid, it runs down his face like tears.
The psycho doesn’t even blink.
“You good? “ he asks before slapping my outstretched arm aside and shattering my nose with a backhanded blow that seemed almost an afterthought.
Augustus screams in frustration, moving faster than I can track, but not able to put a scratch on the amorphous, rubbery woman.
Bill uncoils the chain, and I feel a sudden deep, crushing pain in my chest. I stumble backward, coughing. He laughs and whips the chain out again, I manage to see the next blow, but have no way of stopping it.
He manages to hit the same spot, the pain is overwhelming, my lungs feel bruised, I can’t breathe.
Francis seems to have grown bored avoiding Augustus, he pants, sucking wind as she stands in front of him.
That scar splits, not fully, but from forehead to the bridge of her nose. What’s behind it, is nothing.
I mean that in terms so literal, I can’t describe how it looked. It was more of a feeling that a sight. Looking into it, made me understand just how empty something can actually be.
Pieces of Augustus’ skin and flesh begin to, simply not exist. His look of confusion lasts for about a second before he’s sent sailing through the air by a long, whip-like arm.
The trenchcoat clad creature extracts himself from a tangled mess of tables, chairs and debris. Francis and Bill laugh, mocking us.
“Let’s trade dance partners” Augustus says, his two handed shove launching my broken body into Francis.
She catches me, her body absorbing the impact.
Fear is making me hyperventilate, physical trauma is turning that into a wheezing pant that feels like being waterboarded.
Francis looks down at me, violence and seduction in her eyes.
“Make things easy for me and I’ll let you go out with a bang. “ She says, the look of carnal violence on her face makes me gag.
Augustus struggles with Bill, the creatures wounds many and severe.
A minute remains, but I don’t know if I can last another ten seconds.
Francis stretches one arm into a thin tendril, it begins to circle me, caging me into a progressively smaller area.
“I’m sixteen, you paranormal nonce. “ I blurt out, the pain from my broken nose almost making me pass out, “ That’s the word they use around here, right? For the kind of creep that gets supernatural powers to hit on a kid? “
I can’t run, I can’t fight, all I can do is try to distract this thing for another 42 seconds.
Her face begins to turn, shifting and warping into something resembling a cattle skull more than a person.
The wet snapping noise distracts both Francis and myself.
Augustus has his hand buried in the chest of the convict, he holds the man aloft for a moment.
Augustus says something in a language I can’t even guess at, and with one fluid motion tears the black, decayed heart from his own chest and replaces it with that of the killer.
He begins to scream, then laugh, wounds spraying ichor, he seems to swell, his face a mask of pleasure and Ill intent.
“Death machine just needed a new engine. “ Augustus says with a cackle.
Francis forgets about me and lashes out, quite literally, at Augustus. Limbs becoming a frenzied blur of snaking flesh, , destroying anything they so much as graze.
He wades into the storm, flirting around the edges of the cage, making her chase him with the lethal limbs.
The conflict is a blur, but at the 23 second mark I see it. As much as I hate the prick, I’m almost impressed.
She’s tangled, somewhere among the bent stripper poles, and doorways to private booths, She’s caught herself.
Augustus takes his time now, her body is stretched thin, looped around door handles and under stages.
Ten seconds left, Augustus is feet from her writhing, blob-like form. Her features pulled taught enough to be nearly non-existent.
“Takes a lot to open yourself up doesn’t it? “ Augustus says, kneeling, he holds the killer’s knife in one hand, “ Why don’t I do it for you? “
The blade is barely touching her flesh as the timer ends.
“Fuck’s sake! “ Augustus says, standing, and letting the knife fall to the floor.
Something about the way he walks to one end of the Lucite cage worries me.
“Nobody likes a draw, but as far as they go, that was one hell of a kiss to your sister, wasn’t it folks?
No one is defeating our lovely lady of legend, but let’s hear it for the man who tried… Trenchcoat! “ The announcer screams over the loudspeaker.
The crowd is on their feet, bets are being paid out, and two groups of people are trying to open doors conveniently barred by flesh no person is going to get through.
I jog up to him, my body screaming at me every step of the way. He taps along one clear wall.
“Cheap runes. “ Augustus says, before driving his fist like a spear through the Lucite.
The hole he makes is about the size of a watermelon, his hand easily going through all six inches of the wall.
But it’s not big enough to accommodate the body of the poor twenty something he drags through.
In an instant the man is flensed, his small bones broken, eyes, ears and jaw, nothing more than a smear.
But he’s still alive, wailing a haunting death bellow as he struggles to understand what just happened.
“Stop! “ I scream, horrified. Blood sprays from my ruined nose, “You think I won’t say it? “
Augustus slowly cocks his head, punching his fist through the wall again, and tossing another victim beside the first.
“In front of your family, and that aunt of yours? You think this is bad? The shit she’ll do to you if she knows you even looked at my Dangerous Brothers looking prick of a brother will make this look like a massage.” Trenchcoat pauses, letting the reality sink in, letting my absolute lack of power envelop me like a blanket, “ You want me to stop? I’ll give you something no one else has, a choice.
Either finish one of these pieces of meat off, or, have a taste. “
He brings his hand back for another strike, and I make my choice.
No, I’m not telling you which one. I can share a lot of things with you guys. But, I’m sorry, how I picked to save the rest of the people in that place is a shame I’m going to carry on my own.
Don’t know if any of you will want to hear from me again, after knowing what I’ve had to do, who I’ve had to deal with, but I’m going to keep posting. This is getting nothing but worse, and maybe, I can save someone else the same fate.

For anyone who missed how this started.
https://www.reddit.com/nosleep/s/8Gy9JbmUVC
I didn’t expect so many people out there would care about what’s happening to me. I’d say it’s humbling, but, well, my situation has been humbling me since I left the states. You guys cheering me on, and trying to help, it’s kept me going though.
So, I figure the least I can do is keep you all updated until something prevents me from doing so. Likely in a permanent fashion.
I'll say, the ride home was awkward, to say the least. For all of the grim predictions running through my head going to the spectacle , on the way back they were ten times worse.
I wasn’t caged, shackled and tortured when I returned. If I said I was greeted with concern by the handful of distant relatives and lost souls I’d be over exaggerating. But there was a bit of respect and kindness .
I was patched up, as far as being stabbed goes, apparently I got lucky.
There was food, question free beer, and a healthy number of people asking how things went.
All I wanted to do was sleep, but something kept me going. Kept me answering questions I’d rather not have, kept my fear fried brain making conversation and trading verbal jabs.
A tap on my shoulder startles me, the sun is rising and if I don’t get to sleep soon, I’m going to fall over.
“Your half. “ Sylvia says, it’s just shy of a thousand pounds.
“All this was for, what is this? $600 American? “ I say.
“ Walk with me. “ Sylvia begins, I follow.
“Money isn’t much good if I’m dead. “ I say, my tone sullen and exasperated.
“Then don’t die. “ She replies, walking across the debris strewn scrub grass toward the farm house.
“Do you have any shame? You kidnapped me in the middle of the night to feed me to a couple of demons. I’m your nephew for Christ’s sake! “ I’m not yelling, I don’t think my body is capable of that much exertion at this point, but my words are clear.
“I’m not your aunt, Nikolas.
Great-Great-Great grandmother, give or take a generation. It’s been a long time.
And if I was doing, as you suggest, yes, I would feel a deep shame.” Sylvia lets the answers and questions ferment in my mind as we walk.
“So why not tell me what’s going on? Maybe teach me some of that magic you were tossing around at the airport. “ we stop outside a sliding door. Sylvia has a genuine look of amusement on her face.
“Magic? Nikolas, magic is what stupid people call being fooled.
Magic is the Priest’s sermon, the fortune teller’s reading, the huckster’s pitch.
It’s a way to create vast amounts of power from nothing.
The world is full of things that defy the laws of nature. What I do, what those of the family with me do, is understand them. We learn, we improvise, and we adapt.
We do not make power from nothing, we find it, and use it. “ Sylvia watches me, judging my response to her statement.
“So that’s what you meant before. About the trappings of the gypsy. This whole vibe, it’s a smokescreen.
Assholes expect the Gritts to be some Romani stereotype, and give you a wide berth. When strange shit happens, they chalk it up to some kind of con, or something they’ve seen in a movie. Either way, they aren’t looking for monster fights, and supernatural research. “ I know I’m in the ballpark when she pats me on the shoulder hard enough to hurt.
“And the value of your half, is somewhere around 30 thousand. We wager in esoteric items, favors, and creatures. When you leave, I’ll make you a fair offer for what is yours.
You’ll understand more in the morning after you have a chance to look around. “ Sylvia says before showing me a sparse, but clean, and comfortable room.
I wake up in the early afternoon, something, beyond the obvious nagging at me.
After a cup of nearly caustic tea, I finally realized what it was.
Sylvia, she told me a lot last night. But many of my questions were avoided. I know about her, and this place, but my fate, beyond another round of tug of war between two nightmares, is unknown.
That being said, my second conclusion, is that I need to start rolling with the punches. I’ve tried calling the police (they asked how Sylvia was doing before I said my name.), my parents, anyone, and like it or not, for one unsaid reason or another, I’m stuck here.
I’m going to skip a lot of introductions. Reading me introducing myself, 50 times and trying not to be awkward around folks that seem way too okay with me dying, probably wouldn’t be the best use of your time.
As I explore the grounds, I enter one of a handful of old barns. The inside has peg board walls hung with tools spanning the spectrum from mundane to esoteric enough I have no idea what they are.
Inside, among benches strewn with a random assortment of objects, and equipment, stand two men.
The first is Colin, he’s pale as a ghost, eyes bloodshot and sleep deprived, he wears an Aerosmith shirt, and toolbelt that is making his pants lose a battle with gravity. The 40 something is holding an electrode connected to a thick, black wire directly patched into the main breaker.
The second, Dafyd is a short, olive skinned man in his mid fifties. His outfit consists of a tweed jacket, blue jeans and plain white shirt.
Between them on a grounded workbench sits a small snow globe, within stands a faded ballerina, one arm lost, floating randomly through the liquid.
My teeth ache as the breaker begins to make a dangerous humming noise. For a couple of seconds, a short blue spark arcs from the electrode to the snow globe.
The air smells of ozone to the point where I’m convinced I’ve burned out my nose hairs. The two men argue a bit between themselves in a language I’ve heard but never learned to speak. Then turn as they notice me.
“Nik, come settle an argument between your uncle and I. “ Dafyd says.
“Don’t know how much help I’m going to be, but I’ll do my best. “ I say, walking up.
“The kid has no idea what’s going on Dafyd. “ Colin says.
“I know, but we’re not looking for an expert opinion.
Nik, what year is it? “ Dafyd asks.
“1993.” I say without hesitation, “ What the hell? “ I add. My brain is a bit fried, but not enough to screw up the date by 30 something years.
“God damn it. “ Colin says.
“I knew it! “ exclaims Dafyd.
“This piece of shit is getting binned.
You look confused kid.
It’s called a gimmick. It’s the stuff side of what we deal in. Some of it, it’s two steps off of a horror novel. Most of it though, it’s just strange.
Figuring them out is 95% engineering and 5% esoterica.
They teaching you anything across the pond? “ Colin asks.
The question leads to a conversation, the conversation leads to a week of me shadowing the two finicky, strange guys.
I’d go into more detail, but as the days go by, things seem more and more like spending time with some out there branches in the family tree. As terrifying as everything has been, as terrifying as it is, it’s, interesting.
But I wouldn’t be writing if things were sunshine and roses though, would I?
One day, after working with objects that scared, confused and frustrated me in equal measure, I realized there was something I was avoiding.
So I found myself standing in front of Augustus, the creature held upright and immobile in it’s coffin-like cage. The Plexiglas window is cracked.
It's worse than I thought it would be. Every time I look at the thing’s face I see the blood it made me spill. I see the power it wields, and the murderous intent in it’s twisted pit of a mind.
But sometime soon, I’m going to be next to it again. I have to be able to keep myself together. I have to understand this thing as much as I can.
“Hey killer, how the fuck ya Doin? “ Augustus taunts. Shame reddens my fear paled face.
“Can we talk? “ I say, I want it to be a demand, it comes out as a whimper.
“What do we have to talk about, bud? What about this are you not picking up on yet? “ Augustus is smug, confident even while confined.
“How you seem to have this limitless ego, when you're being held by literally the oldest woman possible. “ I’m too scared to say this above a whisper.
“That dusty old wizard’s sleeve out there? She’ll fucking get hers.
Lucky bitch on a lucky day is all that was.
But luck runs out, and when it does, I’m gonna uproot your entire sad little family tree. “ Augustus threatens.
I actually take a step backward, and almost turn. The fear this thing causes, it’s more than the knowledge of what it can do, it’s a force in and of itself.
“Augustus, why not hear me out? “ I plead.
“Because kid, that’s not how this story goes.
I’ve got nothing but time, I’ll be around till the heat death of the fucking universe.
I don’t need to hear things like you out, I don’t need to bargain. No matter how airtight your inbred little clan thinks these bonds are, eventually, someone always makes a mistake. Something small, like a wrong angle on a rune.
Or…, “ as the thing talks, the door to the coffin like cage holding it starts to slowly swing outward, “ Something big, like forgetting to set the fucking padlock. “
I’m already running as he talks, but he’s standing in front of the exit before I can take a step.
He looms in front of the door, coat spreading, seemingly of it’s own accord, making the patchwork killer seem like some kind of twisted manta ray.
He locks eyes with me, I’m frozen, gripped in terror so intense I have no idea if it’s mundane or the aura of fear Augustus projects.
Those mismatched orbs burrow into me, I feel like this thing can see into my soul.
He inhales for an impossibly long time, a slick, menacing grin spreading across his leathery face.
“Yeah, today’s the day kid.” He says, a kick sending me across the floor like a smooth rock across the surface of a pond.
I’ve never felt pain like this, I try to stand, but my knee refuses to bend. I hit the ground and my ribs scream, I’m sure at least one was broken in the tumble.
I hear Augustus’ footsteps, my struggles to get to my feet are useless. Seconds in, i’m in literal crippling pain.
He grabs me by the throat, taking his time as he raises me above his head.
The look of joy on his face as I choke and struggle to breathe twists his features, for a moment he appears nearly snakelike.
He holds the tips of his claw-like nails against my stomach. Then draws his arm back.
“Don’t worry bud, I’m not just going to tear out your heart, everyone does that shit.
This isn’t going to be a sprint, it’s a fucking marathon. I just want to aerate the track a little bit before we start. “ His hand blurs and I close my eyes hoping I don’t last very long.
“Stop” I hear a deep, smooth, male voice say.
I hit the ground, and try to see who just stopped the beginning of my execution, but the pain, the cracked ribs, pulled muscles and long ragged scrapes have me seeing spots.
When my vision clears, I see a tall, blond man with impossibly angular features, dressed in an immaculate black and mauve suit.
His eyes try to look kind, but there is something wrong behind them. Something waiting to be let out.
“Who are you? “ I say, one lip, split and torn.
“You can call me Art. Arthur Deus if you feel like being formal.
But what you want to know, is why I’m here.
Well Nikolas, to simplify things, think of me as the older brother of the leering terror your ‘aunt’ has trapped here. “ As Arthur talks, I notice something, the motes of dust in the air are hanging still.
“I have no problems with you taking him. I haven’t seen you, I don’t know your name. Couldn’t stop you if I wanted to. “ I ramble.
Arthur holds up a finger, I go silent.
“If only it were that easy.
See Nikolas, your aunt and I, have quite the history. And as much as it pains me to admit it, she’s a crafty one, and has the means to make things very difficult for me.
Sylvia cannot know I’m involved, this is why I have an offer for you. “ As art says this, he waves a hand, almost dismissively.
Like a switch being flipped my pain stops, I watch as my wounds begin to seal and fade, amazed.
“What is it? “ I say. The words feel like they have weight.
“Sylvia is looking for someone to take over for her. As old as she is, she’s not immortal.
You’re her third attempt.
I’m not going to lie to you and say I care about what’s happening to the humans involved in this grim little spectacle. But I care about my family, and to a lesser extent, those like myself.
This bloodsport that your aunt is a part of, it’s vile. It’s world spanning, and it’s for nothing more than greed and bragging rights.
I want to change this. And I would like you to help me. “ Art’s tone is slick and confident.
“If I do, then you get him to back off? “ I say, pointing to Augustus.
Art looks dismayed for a moment.
“That’s not something I can really promise Nikolas. If anything could force him to listen to reason, he wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place. “ My heart sinks as Art says this.
“Fuck off Art. “ Augustus says.
Arthur rolls his eyes. They seem to go just a little too far back.
“But what I can do, is have a conversation with him, impress upon him how important it is he works with you. “ Art pats me on the shoulder before turning toward his sibling. His hand is impossibly hot.
“This kid dies, that is not my fault. You’ve seen this shit, he’s not built for it, just bust me out of here. “ Augustus isn’t far off of pleading in his tone.
“You know that’s not possible. I cannot let Sylvia know I’m here. But given time, I will have you out. “ Art assures.
“Fact remains, this kid gets on the wrong side of a blade or a fuckin, werewolf or something, that’s not on me.
Even if he manages to keep his lungs in his chest, look at him. His mind is cracking, he’s either insane or God-damned, catatonic in two months. “ Now Augustus sounds like a cocky piece of shit again.
“Of course, if he dies, or succumbs mentally, that’s not on you.
But I want you, to make a promise to me. I want you to understand that this child cannot be harmed by your hand. “ It sounds like Art is talking to a five year old.
Augustus shrugs before replying.
“The fuck you want me to say? You know me, you know I can’t say I’m not hurting this kid. And I sure as hell am not making a promise about it so you can get you-know-who involved when nature takes it’s course.
Fuck this kid, get me out of here.”
Arthur sighs and turns from Augustus , walking to me.
“Nikolas, I have something to tell you. “ He says, there’s a gravity to his tone that clearly makes Augustus uncomfortable.
“Art, what are you doing? “ The Trenchcoat wearing creature asks.
Art kneels bringing himself eye to eye with me.
“Don’t do this. “ Augustus says.
“Then promise. “ Art replies, a few seconds of silence go by, “ As you can see, I cannot guarantee your safety Nikolas.
But, for his own good, I want to tell you a word, one that will make my myopic brother look at things a little differently, if the need arises.
I’d use it sparingly, it’s not meant for those like yourself. It will have a physical, mental and spiritual toll. But it might spare you the worst of his excesses. “
That word was the last thing Arthur said to me. With a staggering, disorienting lurch, time began to move forward.
It kept moving forward for the next month.
I learned a lot over that time, but, not what you might expect.
As it turns out, there is a hell of a lot more engineering, physics, and chemistry involved in working with the supernatural than, summoning circles and newt eyes.
But eventually, the day I was dreading came.
The venue was a strip club of all places, a massive building, on the outskirts of Norwich, gaudy neon lights illuminate a place that, unlike the theme restaurant, seems to be in active use.
There was a different ambiance this time. The folks milling around the rune etched Lucite box seemed more sedate, and a hell of a lot richer.
The lighting was professional, driving music sets a professional sports tone.
This time I walk in the cage of my own accord. It’s not pride, or bravery, but simply knowing, I have no choice.
The roar of the crowd stokes my fear as Augustus slowly opens the door of his coffin-like vessel.
He loves the attention, his grin both horrifying and genuine.
“Guess we’re in the big leagues now, eh, killer? “ Augustus prods.
I’m sweating. I’ve cut a little weight over the past month, unintentionally, but as I wonder what horror is going to come walking in the other side of this cage. I don’t think being in marginally better shape and having a working knowledge of basic engineering is going to do me a lot of good.
Suddenly the crowd is silent, lights illuminate a spot at the far end of the massive Lucite box.
She’s small, slight, and has grey, lifeless skin. Her eyes are massive, her body beautiful, but exaggerated to the point of looking cartoonish. She’s not wearing much, a small t-shirt and what I’ll generously call a bikini bottom.
Beside her is a massive, brick slab of a man, late twenties or early thirties. His eyes are wild, he’s covered in layers of scars, and burns. He wears an old, worn prison uniform that’s never seen a washing machine.
He matches her strange, boneless stride, with a loping wolf-like gait.
“Entering the ring, you know her, you love her. She’s the Vixen of the void, The Nymph of nothing, Norwich’s own, ‘Sweet’ Francis Anne!
And at her side, brought in at great expense from the land of Twinkies, cheeseburgers and weak beer, The Corps Killer, the Military Mangler, with 24 out of ring kills and 36 in, ‘Big’ Billy Speck! “ an announcer screams.
The crowd bursts into life, noise shakes the walls of the cage.
“And, on the other side, I don’t know, some wanker in a Trenchcoat, and a kid that isn’t even old enough to be here. Let’s watch them die. “ He finishes.
Augustus looks enraged, his teeth chatter, he flexes his clawed hands. I walk in his shadow as he advances to face the creature and her second.
“I know you! “ The grey skinned thing says, her voice high pitched. As she speaks I notice what appears to be a thick scar bisecting her from forehead to stomach.
“Never heard of you. Neither will anyone else after this. “ Augustus says with a grin.
“You’re the runt of the litter right? Royal blood but peasant flesh, that’s what they say, no? “ Francis says, she grins a toothless smile. The inside of her mouth, a black void.
“Fuck my family. What I am is as good as meat gets. I give myself power, all you have is a cosmic std. “ Augustus stares Francis down as he talks.
Francis reacts with nothing more than a coy look. Bill stares down at me, the handle of some large blade sticking out of his right pocket, and a short length of chain wrapped around his left forearm.
A buzzer cuts through the roar of the crowd, the world seems to consist of nothing more than myself and the horrors around me as the timer begins to count down.
Like a flash Augustus leaps at Francis, but her body stretches and contorts as she moves, he never gets close.
I tear myself away from the clash of unnatural creatures as I look to the mutilated killer in front of me.
I didn’t come in unarmed, but I also was expecting another kid. And wanted to avoid what happened last time if at all possible. My heart races as I pull the small black can from the pocket of my worn, grey hoodie.
For a second I feel like a badass. I’ve got the can of mace aimed and spraying before Bill can react.
Four seconds tick by before the can is empty, Bill is soaked in thick yellow liquid, it runs down his face like tears.
The psycho doesn’t even blink.
“You good? “ he asks before slapping my outstretched arm aside and shattering my nose with a backhanded blow that seemed almost an afterthought.
Augustus screams in frustration, moving faster than I can track, but not able to put a scratch on the amorphous, rubbery woman.
Bill uncoils the chain, and I feel a sudden deep, crushing pain in my chest. I stumble backward, coughing. He laughs and whips the chain out again, I manage to see the next blow, but have no way of stopping it.
He manages to hit the same spot, the pain is overwhelming, my lungs feel bruised, I can’t breathe.
Francis seems to have grown bored avoiding Augustus, he pants, sucking wind as she stands in front of him.
That scar splits, not fully, but from forehead to the bridge of her nose. What’s behind it, is nothing.
I mean that in terms so literal, I can’t describe how it looked. It was more of a feeling that a sight. Looking into it, made me understand just how empty something can actually be.
Pieces of Augustus’ skin and flesh begin to, simply not exist. His look of confusion lasts for about a second before he’s sent sailing through the air by a long, whip-like arm.
The trenchcoat clad creature extracts himself from a tangled mess of tables, chairs and debris. Francis and Bill laugh, mocking us.
“Let’s trade dance partners” Augustus says, his two handed shove launching my broken body into Francis.
She catches me, her body absorbing the impact.
Fear is making me hyperventilate, physical trauma is turning that into a wheezing pant that feels like being waterboarded.
Francis looks down at me, violence and seduction in her eyes.
“Make things easy for me and I’ll let you go out with a bang. “ She says, the look of carnal violence on her face makes me gag.
Augustus struggles with Bill, the creatures wounds many and severe.
A minute remains, but I don’t know if I can last another ten seconds.
Francis stretches one arm into a thin tendril, it begins to circle me, caging me into a progressively smaller area.
“I’m sixteen, you paranormal nonce. “ I blurt out, the pain from my broken nose almost making me pass out, “ That’s the word they use around here, right? For the kind of creep that gets supernatural powers to hit on a kid? “
I can’t run, I can’t fight, all I can do is try to distract this thing for another 42 seconds.
Her face begins to turn, shifting and warping into something resembling a cattle skull more than a person.
The wet snapping noise distracts both Francis and myself.
Augustus has his hand buried in the chest of the convict, he holds the man aloft for a moment.
Augustus says something in a language I can’t even guess at, and with one fluid motion tears the black, decayed heart from his own chest and replaces it with that of the killer.
He begins to scream, then laugh, wounds spraying ichor, he seems to swell, his face a mask of pleasure and Ill intent.
“Death machine just needed a new engine. “ Augustus says with a cackle.
Francis forgets about me and lashes out, quite literally, at Augustus. Limbs becoming a frenzied blur of snaking flesh, , destroying anything they so much as graze.
He wades into the storm, flirting around the edges of the cage, making her chase him with the lethal limbs.
The conflict is a blur, but at the 23 second mark I see it. As much as I hate the prick, I’m almost impressed.
She’s tangled, somewhere among the bent stripper poles, and doorways to private booths, She’s caught herself.
Augustus takes his time now, her body is stretched thin, looped around door handles and under stages.
Ten seconds left, Augustus is feet from her writhing, blob-like form. Her features pulled taught enough to be nearly non-existent.
“Takes a lot to open yourself up doesn’t it? “ Augustus says, kneeling, he holds the killer’s knife in one hand, “ Why don’t I do it for you? “
The blade is barely touching her flesh as the timer ends.
“Fuck’s sake! “ Augustus says, standing, and letting the knife fall to the floor.
Something about the way he walks to one end of the Lucite cage worries me.
“Nobody likes a draw, but as far as they go, that was one hell of a kiss to your sister, wasn’t it folks?
No one is defeating our lovely lady of legend, but let’s hear it for the man who tried… Trenchcoat! “ The announcer screams over the loudspeaker.
The crowd is on their feet, bets are being paid out, and two groups of people are trying to open doors conveniently barred by flesh no person is going to get through.
I jog up to him, my body screaming at me every step of the way. He taps along one clear wall.
“Cheap runes. “ Augustus says, before driving his fist like a spear through the Lucite.
The hole he makes is about the size of a watermelon, his hand easily going through all six inches of the wall.
But it’s not big enough to accommodate the body of the poor twenty something he drags through.
In an instant the man is flensed, his small bones broken, eyes, ears and jaw, nothing more than a smear.
But he’s still alive, wailing a haunting death bellow as he struggles to understand what just happened.
“Stop! “ I scream, horrified. Blood sprays from my ruined nose, “You think I won’t say it? “
Augustus slowly cocks his head, punching his fist through the wall again, and tossing another victim beside the first.
“In front of your family, and that aunt of yours? You think this is bad? The shit she’ll do to you if she knows you even looked at my Dangerous Brothers looking prick of a brother will make this look like a massage.” Trenchcoat pauses, letting the reality sink in, letting my absolute lack of power envelop me like a blanket, “ You want me to stop? I’ll give you something no one else has, a choice.
Either finish one of these pieces of meat off, or, have a taste. “
He brings his hand back for another strike, and I make my choice.
No, I’m not telling you which one. I can share a lot of things with you guys. But, I’m sorry, how I picked to save the rest of the people in that place is a shame I’m going to carry on my own.
Don’t know if any of you will want to hear from me again, after knowing what I’ve had to do, who I’ve had to deal with, but I’m going to keep posting. This is getting nothing but worse, and maybe, I can save someone else the same fate.