#TRULY peak podcasting

[captainjonnitkessler]

It's weird that people even bothered to keep podcasting after the form reached its peak in the form of Campaign Star War's Phindar arc

[beanyowl]

I love how kayne is a deranged tumblr girlie (gernder neutral)

he has his favorite blorbo (arthur) and just wants to put him in a jar and shake him around! we all talk about traumatizing our favorite pathetic wet cat of a man and kayne is out there, putting in the work and doing just that!!

[whereforarthur]

Love at First Podcast

Request: oh one where your a recent new youtuber who’s grown really fast and you get on bach’s and arthur podcast and arthur thinks you’re pretty and is instally his types when he finds out your interests are like his, like his cute like intrested in shark facts and playing chess <33

Pairing: ArthurTv x Youtuber!Reader

Category: Fluff

Word Count: 1.9k

*****

“Falling in love is very real, but I used to shake my head when people talked about soul mates, poor deluded individuals grasping at some supernatural ideal not intended for mortals but sounded pretty in a poetry book. Then, we met, and everything changed, the cynic has become the converted, the sceptic, an ardent zealot.” ― E.A. Bucchianeri

"Alright, love, you're on in three, two, one..."

The countdown echoed in my ear, and my heart skipped a beat as the podcast host's voice grew distant. I, Y/n, a London-based YouTuber with a burgeoning audience, had scored a guest spot on "The Bach and Arthur Podcast," a podcast hosted by none other than ItalianBach and ArthurTv. Known for their charismatic banter and intellectual discussions, the duo had stumbled upon my channel during a late-night scroll and had been asked by their viewers to have me on as a guest, thinking that me and Arthur would get along.

Arthur's husky voice resonated through the airwaves, "Welcome to the podcast, Y/n. We're thrilled to have you with us today."

My voice quivered slightly as I replied, "Thanks for having me, guys. I'm a bit nervous, to be honest."

"Don't worry," Isaac assured me with a chuckle, "We're just here to have a good chat."

The conversation flowed easily as we discussed various topics, from the latest YouTube drama to our favorite hobbies. It was when we touched on shark facts that Arthur's interest seemed to peak. His eyes lit up, and his enthusiasm was palpable even through the microphone.

"Oh, you're into sharks, are you?" Arthur's voice was a warm cup of tea on a rainy afternoon, comforting and inviting. "I've always been fascinated by those majestic creatures. Did you know that the average human is more likely to be killed by a falling coconut than a shark?"

My mind raced as I tried to keep up with Arthur's sudden barrage of facts. It was clear he had a deep love for these predators of the deep, and I couldn't help but be charmed by his passion. As we delved further into the topic, I found myself smiling more and more at his excitement. The way he spoke about sharks with such affection and admiration was like nothing I had ever heard before.

Arthur leaned back in his chair, a knowing smile playing on his lips as he listened to me share my favorite shark trivia. Inwardly, I was kicking myself for not preparing more. I hadn't expected to find someone as enamored with these creatures as I was, especially not a well-known YouTuber like him. It was like he had peeked into the secret corners of my soul and found the one thing that truly made me tick.

"So, Y/n," Arthur began, his tone smooth and curious, "What sparked your interest in sharks?"

I took a deep breath, ready to dive into my lifelong obsession. "Well, it all started when I was a kid. My granddad used to take me to the aquarium every summer. There was this massive shark tank, and I was just captivated by them. They're so misunderstood, you know? They're not mindless killers, they're just doing their thing in the ocean, keeping the ecosystem in check."

Arthur nodded eagerly, his eyes never leaving mine. "Absolutely. And what's your favorite species?"

The question caught me off guard, but I replied without hesitation, "The thresher shark. They're so elegant with their long tails. It's like watching a ballet dancer underwater."

Arthur's eyes widened in surprise, and a grin spread across his face. "Thresher sharks? That's a unique choice. They're quite fascinating indeed."

*****

In the midst of our shared enthusiasm, Arthur's thoughts veered inward. He couldn't believe the person he was talking to was not only beautiful but also shared his obscure interest in sharks. It was like finding a unicorn in a bustling London street. He had always appreciated a good-looking person, but to find someone as pretty as Y/n who also loved the same quirky things he did? It was almost too good to be true.

Isaac, ever the observant one, couldn't help but tease his friend. "Arthur, it seems like you've found your soulmate here," he said with a smirk, interrupting our shark-filled discussion. "The only thing that would make this better is if she was into chess too."

The room grew quiet for a moment as Arthur's cheeks flushed a faint shade of pink. "Well, as it happens," I began, a playful smile forming on my lips, "I've been playing chess since I was eight. My dad taught me, and it's been a bit of a family tradition."

Arthur's jaw practically dropped. "No way," he exclaimed, his voice filled with disbelief and excitement. "That's incredible. I've been playing since I was about the same age."

The energy in the room shifted as the three of us swapped stories about our chess triumphs and defeats. Arthur's passion was contagious, and before I knew it, I was sharing tales of late-night tournaments and the thrill of capturing a king with an unexpected move. His eyes lit up with every detail, and I felt a flutter in my stomach as his gaze held mine, as if we were the only two people in the room.

Isaac couldn't resist the urge to stir the pot further. "So, Arthur," he said with a mischievous glint in his eye, "are you going to challenge our shark-loving, chess prodigy to a match?"

The tension in the room thickened as Arthur's cheeks grew a deeper shade of pink. He cleared his throat, trying to play it cool. "Well, I wouldn't want to impose, but if Y/n is up for it, I'd be more than happy to have a friendly game."

Isaac couldn't contain his laughter. "Oh, come on, Arthur. You're practically drooling over the board at the thought of it."

I blushed, a little overwhelmed by Arthur's intense stare but also thrilled by the challenge. "I'd love to," I said, trying to sound casual despite the racing of my heart.

Isaac leaned back in his chair, grinning like a Cheshire cat. "Well, it looks like we've got ourselves a date, folks. Arthur, you're on."

*****

The podcast went on, but the underlying tension between Arthur and I was unmistakable. Our shared passions had created a connection that neither of us had anticipated. The conversation shifted to other topics, but my mind kept wandering back to the thought of our upcoming chess match. Would it be a friendly game, or would the competition heat up?

Arthur's eyes met mine, and I felt a jolt of excitement. He was more than just a handsome face; he had a sharp intellect and a quirky charm that was hard to resist. As the podcast wound down, the nervousness I felt earlier had transformed into a thrilling anticipation of what lay ahead. His smile was disarming, and the way his hair fell over his forehead made my pulse quicken. I found myself trying to imagine what it would be like to sit across from him, each of us plotting our next move on the chessboard.

The podcast concluded with a flurry of thank yous and promises to keep in touch. After we signed off, Arthur turned to me, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "So, when do you think we should have this chess showdown?"

I laughed, feeling the same thrill he did. "How about this weekend? We could meet up at a café in the city, somewhere with a decent table and a relaxed atmosphere."

He nodded eagerly. "Perfect. I know just the place. It's a little hidden gem, great for a quiet game and a cup of tea."

The days leading up to the weekend felt like an eternity. I found myself replaying our conversation in my head, analyzing every word, every smile, every gesture. It was more than just a chess game; it was a chance to get to know Arthur better, to explore the depths of his personality as we navigated the strategic dance of pawns and rooks.

When the day finally arrived, I walked into the café with a mix of excitement and nerves. The smell of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, and the soft murmur of chatter created a cozy backdrop for our battle of wits. Arthur was already there, setting up the board with meticulous care. He looked up as I approached, his smile warm and welcoming.

"You found it," he said, standing to greet me. He pulled out a chair, and as I sat down, I noticed the way his hand lingered on the back of mine for a brief moment. It sent a shiver down my spine, and I couldn't help but wonder if he felt the same connection I did.

We began our game, the pieces moving with a rhythm that felt almost like a dance. Arthur's eyes never left the board, his focus unwavering as he considered each move. I watched his expressions shift, the intensity in his gaze as he tried to outthink me. His hands, strong and sure, caressed the pieces with a gentle touch that was surprisingly tender.

As the game progressed, the tension grew. We both knew we were evenly matched, and every move was a delicate balance of aggression and defense. The café around us faded away, and it was just us and the chessboard. Our conversation grew more personal as we shared stories from our childhoods, our families, and the moments that had shaped us into the people we were today.

When Arthur finally claimed victory, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of disappointment. But as he leaned back in his chair and offered his hand for a congratulatory shake, the look in his eyes told me that the real prize was the connection we had formed over the last few hours.

"Rematch?" he asked, his voice hopeful.

I smiled, placing my hand in his. "Always."

*****

The crowd in the café applauded our game, and as we packed up the chessboard, I felt a new chapter in my life unfolding. Arthur and I had found common ground in the most unexpected of places, and I knew that this was just the beginning of a beautiful friendship—or perhaps something more.

The next few weeks were a whirlwind of chess games and shared moments. We discovered more about each other with every pawn that was sacrificed and every king that was checkmated. Our friendship grew stronger, and our bond deepened as we learned to read each other's moves both on and off the board.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the London skyline, casting a warm glow through the café windows, Arthur reached across the table and took my hand. His eyes searched mine, and I knew what was coming.

"Y/n," he said, his voice thick with emotion, "I can't believe I've found someone who understands me like you do."

My heart raced as I looked into his eyes, feeling the same vulnerability he did. "I know," I whispered. "It's like we're two lost souls who found each other in the most unlikely of places."

He leaned in, and our lips met in a soft, lingering kiss that seemed to hold all the promise of the future. The chessboard was forgotten as we realized that sometimes, the most beautiful connections are found in the most unexpected places. Our love for sharks and chess had brought us together, but it was our shared passion for life and the quiet moments between the moves that would keep us together.

As we pulled apart, Arthur took a deep breath and smiled. "Ready for the next game?"

I grinned back at him, feeling more alive than I had in years. "Always."

*****

@gvf23

@xxkatxgracexx

[slutforpringles]

whoever staged this seating arrangement for the podcast/photo truly knew what they were doing 😂😂😂 absolute peak shit-stirring

[youronlybean]

Just ZRC things <3

“FLASH!” “THUNDER!”

Jokes from a decade ago that only make sense to them

Reading the other like a book

Like Chilled going “oh, Ze [did the most normal thing ever that literally no one else would bat an eye at], that means he’s bad :/“ and he’s RIGHT

Plus Ze going out of his way to be as unpredictable as possible and breaking Chilled’s mind

Cursed duo evil games where either they get steamrolled or they are driving the steamroller

^^^ think the casual one-round imposter games vs. the imposter games where Murphy’s Law is at its peak from like 2021 among us days

In lethal company (and actually a lot of games really) Chilled always wants Ze to make the decisions or be on his team because he’s smart

“What’s Ze saying? Should we buy [thing] or not?”

That one older mongus clip I can’t find the vid for where it’s like someone (I think NerdOut) addressing Chilled: “who do you love most in this lobby?” Chilled: “Oh, no. They’re gonna kill Ze!” Ze: “Noo! I appreciate it, but nooo!”

The inherent homoeroticism of the word “Buddy”

“Mr. Chaos” “Mr. Viking”

That one PW game when Ze referred to Chilled exclusively as “Chilled Anthony Chaos”

“It’s ZeRoyalChaos, get it right!!!”

If Ze feels bad, so does Chilled vs. if Chilled feels bad he has to suck it up. They are truly the best married-for-40-years-in-spirit couple ever

“Yeah, that’s a great ide- WAIT NO WHAT ARE YOU DOING?????”

When they enter podcast-mode and just start reminiscing or chatting like they aren’t streaming

Chilled and Ze die first in TOS2: “They have great chemistry, they can talk to each other in death.”

The Lover-Shifter incident of 2021

“YOU SEXTED ME ON THE PUBLIC CHANNEL, DIDN’T YOU!”

Team Sicko my beloved (bonus: “There’s no risk, Ze.”)

[ponett]

Do you think the Sonic franchise should memory hole certain characters? Like, Chaos Gamma, Elise, Mephiles for example (I would’ve put Black Doom here but uh, he’s a bit more around now huh)

I mean, lots of one-off Sonic characters like these already ARE memory holed. They only really exist in the games they originate from. (Ian Flynn bringing up the thought of using them in a podcast does not count as them being relevant again)

I get the desire to play with all the toys in the toy box and give old ideas a second chance that fans (and Ian) have, and there are definitely a handful of currently unused or underused characters I'd like to see come back. (We REALLY need Sticks back, and the Classic comics desperately need more Honey.) And I'm glad we're in this era where the Sonic series is less ashamed of its weird history. But also, like. Some of those were genuine missteps, and we've moved on for a reason

It feels like every month I see more and more Gen Z Sonic fans who weren't even old enough to have played the games when they were new reminisce about how "cool" it was to give Shadow a gun, or how "awesome" 06's story was, and how we should go back to that "peak" era for Sonic, and I just cannot get on board with that. It was called the Dark Age of Sonic at the time for a reason. I had to actually play those games when they came out. I was hyped for them and really, REALLY wanted to love them. But they were janky, ugly, unfun games with terrible stories that abandoned so much of Sonic's identity in favor of chasing contemporary trends. They were Sonic games that wanted to be anything BUT a Sonic game. There may have been some stuff I liked in that era (the Rush games, and honestly I always liked Black Knight), but it was miserable not knowing if we'd ever get another truly good 3D Sonic platformer again

Maybe it's easier to look back on certain elements of those games fondly now that time has passed and we know we did, in fact, get more Sonic games after them that were actually good. But Sonic is in a WAAAAAYYYYY better place now than it was when I was in middle school. I do not yearn for Mephiles and Elise to come back. It would be funny if they did, but I don't think we need them

[ernmark]

For the writing prompt, maybe Rilla is great at baking (exact measurements and technical skills) but Arum is great at cooking (does it all by instinct, taught himself) and Damien (bad at cooking, overthinks too much and can burn water) gets to reap the rewards

Thank you for the prompt.

I didn't realize how long it's been since I wrote my favorite bouquet, but damn I love them.

As before, if anyone else wants a ficlet, you're welcome to send me a writing prompt.

Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast (Second Citadel)

Characters: Rilla, Damien, Arum

Rating: G

"Well?" Arum's tail lashes the floor irritably-- which is to say, anxiously-- as he waits for Damien's judgement. Which-- really, he should know better than to ask Damien of all people to judge this contest. He should know better than to make it a contest at all, but if he had to pick a judge, it really should have been Marc and Tal (biased, he'd said) or that friend of  Angelo's (unavailable). Even Caroline would have been efficient, if brutal.

So they're going with Damien.

"The texture is truly fascinating," Damien says."It's challenging-- it brings to mind a trek up a formidable slope to witness a sunrise at the mountain's peak--"

By which he means that it's somehow both crumbly and tough in a way that cakes really aren't supposed to be.

"-- and the flavor is utterly nectarous, with that subtle undertone of bitterness to offer surprising depth."

Which means that maybe Arum shouldn't have used honey and sugar and agave if he'd wanted Damien to taste anything but sweetness and the spots that had gotten burnt in the process of getting it cooked all the way through. Monsters in general might have been making the world's finest cakes for centuries, but Arum specifically wasn't made with that skill in mind.

The thing is, Damien isn't just being tactful. He means what he says, flowery prose and all, and he's downing his slice of cake with the same enthusiasm that he brings to pretty much everything. His beloved lizard lord made that cake, which makes it one of Damien's new favorite desserts-- just like the jambalaya Rilla made for their earlier contest utterly delighted him, even when tears were streaming down his face from the admittedly overzealous application of peppers, and even though it was charred enough to potentially serve as a treatment for ingested poisons. He'd even asked for seconds!

But that had been nothing compared to the look of rapture on his face when he'd tasted Arum's stir-fry, like it had been handed down by his saintly namesake himself. 

It's the same expression he wore when Rilla served him her entry in the desert contest,  like her papaya macarons were a religious experience.

Which, knowing Damien, maybe they were.

While he keeps working on the world's chewiest cake, Arum and Rilla exchange looks over his head. A lash of his tail, a tilt of his head, a little twirl of his lower wrist: I concede the victory to you.

A flash of a grin, a hand flat against her chest in imitation of modesty: thank you,  you're far too kind.

She'll maybe gloat a little later, even when the three of them are nestled together for the night. Arum did his share of preening after last night's cooking competition, after all. And Damien just seems happy to cheer them both on. He is, after all, an avid fan of friendly competition.

[fairuzfan]

Tbh this may just be me but my patience for certain people getting mad at being accused of being zionists, and specifically pointing at how they have said that they want Peace and Freedom and it's important to focus on the Humanity of People has become fucking negative (which is all different from when Bibi says he's securing Peace and Freedom as he focuses on the Humanity of Israelis, I guess. Or any time the US has tried it in Pick Your War).

Either explain your material goals or accept that people will get mad at you when you refuse to elaborate on your puddle-deep statements. Politics is material conditions all the way down and the current material conditions are that Palestinians are being massacred by a genocidal state whose heads have repeatedly affirmed that intent!

Badly paraphrasing Kwame Ture here, but any analysis that excludes the oppressor will blame the oppression. The presumption of a need to make Both Sides Understand And Communicate assumes that Palestinians hold significant structural power here and have the ability to come to some theoretical political table—that they are thus doing this, effectively, to themselves, because they don't prioritize Humanity and Peace and Freedom enough. That's what good vibes politics gets you.

(I am so sorry for this being long, I am just, so furious with it, especially after I learned today that an old classmate was hurt by former IOF soldiers w/skunk spray during the Columbia University SJP protest. Just. Goddamn.)

I think you put it into words really well in that there are no material analysis of actual concrete steps theyre providing or stating that Palestinians haven't already said better and more often and they tend to pass it off as their own ideologies rather than... you know... recognizing Palestinians have been fighting this fight for 3-4 generations. Like a guarantee you any discussion you've had we've already had amongst ourselves. So like actively excluding us from those discussions — which is nothing new btw we've always been excluded from them but this time it's easier to push back — is in fact doing harm and refusing us a way to advocate for ourselves.

Truly I've seen it all — there is no way to "peacefully" live under occupation and subjugation for Palestinians. Like no, man that doesn't exist. Even within Israel, Palestinians aren't referred to as "Palestinians" they are referred to as "Arab Israelis" like we cannot even claim ourselves as Palestinians.

You have to acknowledge that at a certain point you yourself are contributing to the dangerous atmosphere by making everything "too complex" to get anything done. I remember there was a talk with Amjad Iraqi (a contributor to al-shabaka who grew up in israel but is palestinian) and another podcaster who is... peak liberal zionist lol but i listened to it cuz amjad was there — that the Podcaster was saying (paraphrasing) "there's an equilibrium of 'freedom' for Palestinians and 'security' for Israelis, and one side pushes the other side further and further away from the center where they could meet so how to you think we reconcile differences" and amjad responds in a way that I admire (paraphrasing) in that he mentions that from the beginning of this equation, zionism has always had the upper hand in that all their demands have been met and self determination for Palestinians have never been recognized (end paraphrase) so it's not equal to say "well we want peace for both Palestinians and israelis so let's block off Palestinians from discussing definitions for these terms" that fundamentally impact them in ways they will never impact nonpalestinians who would BENEFIT from maintaining the status quo.

Within the article from Alma they say "do something vulnerable and ask the other person what their definition of zionism/antizionism is" as if there aren't very transparent people in this world that want "peace" and don't want a ceasefire. Like that's actually the predominant opinion in the world. They straight up say "the only peace in the middle east is if we get rid of hamas so we can't allow a ceasefire" and people run by that definition and say "sorry Palestinians :( we gotta get rid of hamas :( there's nothing we can do about this.... its for peace :("

So I think you're doing far more harm by pretending there's a cognitive difference between zionist and antizionists that theyre just not communicating, which, zionists are very obvious about communicating (which also, it's necessary to boost Palestinians when defining antizionism in this case because when we point out the very real harm of things affecting us we would like a say in how people define the movement meant for our liberation). But the article never said that throughout the entire thing. It just said "maybe you guys have a cognitive dissonance of words" but like.... at this point, if you still ally yourself under the term "zionist" with literally all we have been screaming these past few months then no, I don't think you're necessarily operating in good faith.

And like I don't think tri*utary is a zionist necessarily but they're certainly a zionist sympathizer and like I don't trust them either.

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

Meghan apparently being "much too intellectual" for the entertainment industry is hilarious. Definitely one who peaked in high school, right? "I'm smart and pretty, my dad and my favorite teacher said so!"

Meanwhile, anyone with a PhD will cheerfully admit to liking monster trucks and Midsomer Murders.

She's so insecure, truly the poster child for insecurity. That's why her merching is ineffective and her clothes end up wearing her. It comes through.

High school might be a bit generous. This is some serious middle school behavior.

I've always said: if Meghan just embraced who/what she really was, bunions and all, people might actually like her better. The things she could've done just speaking openly and honestly about imposter syndrome, insecurity, and anxiety, but she leaned straight into all the superlatives no one nominated her for.

This is the story about Meghan being too intellectual for Hollywood:

[ramblingsofamuskrat]

ok so far the only information i have retained from the book of bill, given that i am a measly mortal and dumb being after all, is that humans are not a serious life-form because we do not have hands on our fingers.

this, however indicates that beings with hands on fingers are better than us measly humans. so we have to ask ourselves then, what is truly above human beings in the life-form hierarchy. the book itself may argue that this is unicorns, BUT, we are forgetting the most important being yet. the aliens from aliens in the attic, and specifically, our boy sparky.

through close examination, sparky has two finger-like entities on the tops of his current fingers. this begs the question as to where the the zirkonians land on the life form rankings. moreover, we shall further examine the extent to which we can utilize the genetic features of the zirkonians to advance human kind. as outlined by a currently unreleased podcast episode that there will be slight spoilers for in this upcoming sentence so like beware, zirkonians have surprisingly similar anatomy to humankind. here are some important pieces of evidence in highlighting this fact:

1.) they have similar-to human reproductive organs (i.e. one of the characters reactions to being kicked in the balls)

2.) they have sweat glands, which is shown by their reaction to heating up due to fire.

3.) they have red blood at some point

4.) snot

5.) maybe one of them blushes at one point or maybe i made that up. who knows.

On top of this sneak peak of evidence, the aliens know what a camera is, know what a grenade is, and are kinda sexist and have an implied patriarchy. moreover. two aliens initially are confused by “lip hugging”, or kissing, but also are really into it by the end of the movie. so not only do we have physical, but cultural similarities as well.

given this valuable information, our research group at its a critique not a criticism (patent pending) labs will be able to properly analyze where zirkonians are placed in the hierarchy. on top of this, we can state, beyond a reasonable doubt (idc if this doesn’t make sense, fuck you) the extent to which we can use zirkonian life-form benefits to further humanity’s goal in obtaining more fingers. in this essay, i will…

if all else fails, if we cut off other peoples fingers and tape them to our bodies, that’s kinda like having more right??

more updates shall be given as the research process commences. thank you and have a great morninooning. ✌️🐤🔪

p.s. the human features of zirkonians does make them still vulnerable to stupid weaknesses liek fire!! but at least more fingers and hands maybe one day who knows. which you know what else really matters. I wANt MOrE fInGEr$€£€&!h?vhsjvsh!!?!?!?

[ridenwithbiden]

Get ready for President Vance.

Remember when some people (yes, one of them was me) used to obsess over President Biden’s age and future because we were worried about a President Kamala Harris? She’s come into her own as the Democratic nominee, especially for non-Californians unfamiliar with her career before the Senate. We are learning much more about her contributions and experience as vice president, and watching her handle the challenge of an abbreviated campaign with skill, humanity and toughness.

Now it’s JD Vance’s turn under scrutiny. Two things are different.

First, Donald Trump, 78, is showing signs of deterioration that are far more expansive and disturbing than those that led Biden to end his campaign. Trump’s speeches are interminable and devolve into gibberish, misplaced syllables, ungoverned hate speech and wildly inappropriate vulgarities — all warning signs of mental decline. On stage at a campaign stop in Pennsylvania last week, he took a surreal and lengthy detour into … something. “Trump sways and bops to music for 39 minutes in bizarre town hall episode,” the Washington Post said in a headline that should win an award. Since then, Trump has said Harris would ban cows, called her a “s---” vice president, and — in a speech billed as his closing argument — veered into extended musings on the “unbelievable” size of Arnold Palmer’s genitalia.

There’s a second key difference between concerns about Trump’s age now and questions about Biden’s age a few months ago: If Trump wins and can’t fulfill his term, he would be replaced by Vance — an ambitious newbie senator who is already very well known and has given Americans plenty of reasons to worry.

Since his rise to national attention with his 2017 memoir “Hillbilly Elegy,” Vance’s TV, radio and podcast interviews have created a voluminous record of ideas and opinions that his Democratic counterpart, Tim Walz, memorably described as weird.

“I certainly would like abortion to be illegal nationally,” Vance has said. He has insulted “childless cat ladies,” claimed people without kids don’t care about America’s future, and floated the idea of parents having more votes than childless adults. Vance has also said his advice to Trump would be, “Fire every single midlevel bureaucrat, every civil servant in the administrative state, replace them with our people.” And five days before Russia invaded Ukraine in 2022, Vance told Steve Bannon that “I don’t really care what happens to Ukraine.”

If he’d been vice president on Jan. 6, 2021, Vance said early this year, he would not have certified the 2020 election because “Congress should have fought over it.” Just this month he refused to acknowledge Trump’s loss to Biden five times in one interview, and insisted at a Pennsylvania rally that there had been a “peaceful transfer of power” in 2021 (ignoring the deadly Jan. 6 attack on the Capitol by Trump loyalists). The ticket may have reached peak denialism on Wednesday, when Trump called Jan. 6 “a day of love” and Vance finally said “no” when asked whether Trump had lost in 2020.

If Trump truly wins the 2024 election, this man about half his age would be next in line for the Oval Office — a prospect that is unavoidably plausible. It is hard to imagine Trump as president at 82, when his term would end, given his apparent condition even now.

Near the end of his first stint in the White House, on Jan. 6, 2021, Trump stood by as his supporters rioted at the Capitol to try to keep him in office. Though he had only two weeks remaining in power, members of his Cabinet discussed invoking the 25th Amendment to remove him and concluded that doing so wasn’t viable — particularly because vice presidents play a key role in the removal process, and Vice President Mike Pence said he was not interested.

In a second Trump administration, those discussions could happen a lot sooner. Would Vance be ambitious enough to lead an effort to remove Trump? He certainly has seemed interested in getting ahead, and quickly.

A major factor in Vance’s political ascent was his 180-degree turn “from blue-collar bard and self-described ‘Never Trump’ conservative to hard-edged MAGA loyalist and dogged defender” of Trump, as Politico phrased it. In 2016, Vance called Trump “an idiot” and “cultural heroin” and said he couldn’t decide if Trump was “a cynical a—hole” or “America’s Hitler.” But in 2020, Vance voted for him. And when Trump endorsed him in Ohio’s GOP Senate primary, Vance had this to say: “He’s the best president of my lifetime, and he revealed the corruption in this country like nobody else.”

It’s conceivable that if Trump were in dire shape, he might consider stepping aside and handing the reins to Vance — no doubt with an agreement that President Vance would pardon Trump in the federal cases he faces. But the cases moving through state courts in New York and Georgia — not subject to a presidential pardon — would still hang over Trump, so it’s also conceivable he would refuse to abdicate no matter how incapacitated he became.

That’s unthinkable, and so is a truncated Trump presidency that would give us a President Vance. There is only one certain way to prevent both scenarios: Defeat this pair on election day.

Jill Lawrence is a writer and author of “The Art of the Political Deal: How Congress Beat the Odds and Broke Through Gridlock.” @JillDLawrence

[duchessofostergotlands]

Do you think you could be autistic? No hate just wondered as I am too and I relate to a lot of what you say

Oh my anonymous friend, you don't know the can of worms you have opened haha. I am going to ramble here so just be prepared for that.

When I was little my mum did actually think I might be autistic. Predominantly because I played in an unusual way. I would line my toys up on the window sill and my grandmother's display cabinet thing. I would get furious at people if they moved my toys because they all had their own spot. And the only time I touched the toys was to move them from the cabinet (their home) to the window (the school). The rest of the time I would just stand still, stare at the toys, and wiggle my fingers. They called it "zizzing" - now it's called stimming, I guess - and they knew that was a sign of autism so my mum and my grandmother did wonder about it. But I had two things going against me: I was a girl and I was born in the early 90s. This was during the peak of the idea autism was the "extreme male brain." It was seen as being predominantly a male diagnosis. You probably know that. And there wasn't much understanding so our reference point would be people like our family friend who always looked at the ground, was obsessed with trains, had limited speech and would scream if anyone tried to touch him. Whereas while my family were still thinking about the autism thing I started school and I was academically strong, I had a small group of close friends and at the time - because of the gender disparity - girls only really got diagnosed with autism if they had some kind of very obvious speech delay, they weren't doing well at school, they had no social connections with their peers at all etc. So basically everyone just forgot about it. I got called a drama queen a lot, that was it.

Fast forward to my teens and my mental health was really bad. It got worse at university because I didn't have the routine and structure of school, I didn't have my mum cooking and buying food etc. I was diagnosed initially with depression and anxiety. After a while it was clear that wasn't right so after much fighting I got a diagnosis for Borderline Personality Disorder. Now you may know this but there is an overlap in BPD and autism symptoms and women are often misdiagnosed with BPD later in life because as children their autism wasn't picked up (because diagnostic criteria is still geared towards how it presents in boys and psychologists and psychiatrists don't always delve into motivations and thought processes). I found that out in my mid 20s but thought "nah I probably don't have it, I don't have special interests and I don't struggle with x, y and z." However, my mum became really interested in BPD after I was diagnosed and did loads of research, listened to podcasts on it. And she told she was listening to one podcast where someone was diagnosed with BPD but then they discovered it was actually autism. My mum said to me that the way she described herself in childhood was exactly how I behaved, as if I'd been the one speaking. And so that got me thinking and that's where I have been stuck over the last few years. I debate with myself constantly what's going on in my brain and I truly don't know. I regularly have epiphanies where I think "oh that thing I've done all my life is incredibly autistic." But then I think maybe it's actually BPD. And I just go round and round.

I identify as neurodivergent, regardless of what diagnosis I have. Some neurodivergence paradigms do recognise severe mental illnesses like BPD anyway, but I've realised that if you put aside the BPD I still have chronic problems with ordinary tasks and situations. And I used to think it was just because I was young but I'm 31, almost 32, and it isn't normal to take 3 months to make one phone call because you just can't make yourself do it! Most people don't find it this hard to take basic care of themselves.

[jolieblack]

Jolie’s thoughts on

A Case of Identity (Sherlock & Co. podcast)

This was always going to be an online romance scam in any modern version, so lets jump straight to the truly interesting bits of this case!

They are best pals! They are best pals! Time someone said it. The pedantic Spanish woman who loves spreadsheets, the violin-playing detective who doesn’t know who Beyoncé is, and All Hail John. We love all three of you.

Sherlock desperately trying to fit in please John is touching as always. And I’ll never get over how softly John says "We're past that."

The ACD quote - one of his weirder ones, tbh - of Holmes and Watson flying hand in hand over London and peaking into houses and wondering at the queerness of life made me very happy. I just never expected to hear it in this version!

Slayer of the Dead King, Sent from My iPhone. 😂

Firelard John getting totally sucked into the game universe in spite of being such a sceptic at first cracks me up to no end. And of course he’s a wizard. Although I absolutely fail to see how John has to play his way through the game in order to get talking to Miles at all. They could just have talked on the phone? And he is a bit of a dickhead for letting himself get killed in-game while trying to solve the case.

Considering how Joel & Co. don‘t let themselves be bound by the genders of ACD‘s characters, I suspected after Part 1 that Miles‘s mum (probably in league with her new partner) was behind "Angel" so she could get/keep her hands on Miles‘s fortune. Absolutely loved Sherlock for knowing where THEY live right away.

"It‘s nice if she’s calm but it really doesn’t matter." - Oh, Sherlock.

John being a therapist to absolutely everyone is so touching. And then Sherlock tracking down the real Angel. This case ended WAY better than the original. Well done Firelard. Making everyone better with the healing power of your words. I always love it when John gets to shine in these stories and he certainly shone big time, here.

[vomitdodger]

As much as I like him I’ve criticized Bongino for not truly calling it like it is. He finally gets it.

Record setting podcast I believe peaked just shy of 207k.

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

Pinned Fanfiction Post! Updated 9/25/24.

Psst… there's a way to support my writing now (and thank you Kraiva, Som, Charlie, Flamia, Bree, and more who encouraged me to do it).

Fandoms:

The Magnus Archives

Malevolent (Podcast)

Deviser (Podcast)

I'm bad at updating this, my apologies! It's all on AO3, folks.

Latest:

Malevolent

BIG BANG: BUT IT BEATS THE DARKNESS AO3 || Tumblr

The Magnus Archives

"T" IS FOR TOMB - a bittersweet sad post-TMA one-shot AO3 || Tumblr

The Magnus Archives x Malevolent

CORRUPTED, chapter 24: Fogged. A Tim Stoker x The King in Yellow weird romance because I am strange. AO3 || Tumblr

Loads of Surrogate updates, as per usual. :) The last few:

Like Father - Faroe makes a dangerous decision

Message Received - Kayne bitching because we were too busy to write

Strained - the beginning of fallout from Faroe's choices.

Nightingale - Something with Arthur is very, very wrong.

FINISHED FICS:

(This needs some serious revision! For now, be sure to check my AO3 profile until I get this part cleaned up.)

THE MAGNUS ARCHIVES

AND EAT IT, TOO

The voice gets under his skin. Is it pleasing or terrifying? Inside his head or out? Is it even real, or is his still-human brain just cobbling monster-sounds into something he can comprehend? It’s impossible to get out of his head, whether literal or not. Doesn’t matter, though, because the answer Michael gives is a terrible one, and ends the same way: Gertrude could protect herself, Jon can’t, and he’s going to die for her sins.

Playlist available here.

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A THOUSAND WORDS

It’s coming, Jon. You know something is; something that itches, that nags, that hides just out of view. Our glorious future is coming.

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QUIT

It’s a stupid-drafty manor—huge, never properly lit, all its frippery fraying at the edges. It has literal skeletons in the walls. It has a foyer right out of Crimson Peak, an empty cement hole with crumbling cherubs in the back yard that might have once been someone’s idea of a pond, and a library with more cursed books than Gerry could shake a match at. The part of Gerry that once used Sharpies to blacken his eyebrows loves this place with a truly unholy passion. If only it didn’t belong to the reason the world was going to end.

Playlist available here.

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TULIPS IN SPRING

Martin crawled back into bed like he’d crawled through the burned-flesh hole in his heart, and knew he still loved Jon. Martin knew Jon loved him, too. Jon had thrown away godhood for him, like it hadn’t mattered. Maybe it hadn’t.Jon loved him, and that meant they could fix this.All Jon had to do was wake up.

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CRUCIBLE

Martin's been having dreams.He doesn't understand them. Surely, if Jon had ever looked like that, with unreal wings and a crown of spinning eyes, he would have remembered. But his memory isn't working as well as it should right now, and Jon never blinks. Martin is afraid.

Inspired by The Watcher’s Crown by @raynecreates

Note: this is angst. Somewhere Else goes very, very wrong.

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INSTANT NOODLES (crack fic)

At least his new hobby kept him occupied in the evenings, when too much time to think turned to wretchedness. It just so happened that much of his life was public. On the internet. As part of some gods-damned podcast. There were no words for how fascinated he was. This was his story—and yet it wasn’t. It was focused on Jon, for some bloody reason, which made no damn sense, since Jon showed up at the very end. Well. There was no accounting for taste.

Note: This is nonsense. Full apologies to Jonny and Alex, who are 100% the creators of my favorite podcast, The Magnus Archives. This is a work of fiction, etc. and so forth. Take it as the joke it's meant to be. Written because I wanted Jonah to suffer.

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SHORT STORIES FOR TMA APPRECIATION WEEK, 2023

Just what it says on the tin. Silliness, angst, and crossovers incoming.

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THIS DARK THING THAT SLEEPS IN ME - Rusty Quill Big Bang 2023

This is a DARK AU; it is not a kid-fic, though Jon is young. Bittersweet ending ahead. Spoilers for the whole show, though this is very much an alternate universe. In a world where the End won and Jonah Magnus is its Heart, the cycle of death and rebirth is a given: no one lives past thirty, the Other Fears scramble for scraps, and any infant without an Alignment—called Uncertain—has until the age of ten to be claimed, or they are sacrificed. Jon, an Uncertain child, knows things he shouldn’t, has memories he shouldn’t, and also has a purpose: apparently, he’s been called to do what no Aligned person can do and stop Jonah. Sometimes, there is no happy ending, only the right one. Jonah broke the promises he made to take over the world, and Jon is here to make it right. “I am terrified by this dark thing that sleeps in me; all day I feel its soft, feathery turnings, its malignity. Clouds pass and disperse. Are those the faces of love, those pale irretrievables? Is it for such I agitate my heart?” ― Sylvia Plath

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MAGNUS ARCHIVES x MALEVOLENT CROSSOVER

I PREFER MY HEART TO BE BROKEN

Jon feels seen in a way he has not since the Panopticon, examined from cell to soul, from ankles to ego. Does that feel good or horrible? He doesn’t know. He tries to see into this thing, just a little, but just that glimpse is enough. Fear shortens Jon’s breath, shivers up and down his form, because this thing is a god.

Playlist available here

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MALEVOLENT (PODCAST)

BUT IT BEATS THE DARKNESS - Malevolent Big Bang 2024

Serial killer Wallace Larson has been murdering children for his ritual, and the cops won't stop him. Private investigators Parker Yang and Arthur Lester choose to get involved... and everything goes wrong. Interrupting the ritual leaves Parker missing, Arthur in chains, and a piece of the King in Yellow in Arthur's head. But this piece knows who he is, and knows what he wants: to complete his ritual and rule Earth. Unfortunately, Arthur is incredibly stubborn, maudlin over his missing partner (stupid Parker Yang), and John, it turns out, is not the only piece of the King seeking power right now. It's a race against time, and John has a heavy handicap. With Larson in pursuit, a trail of murdered victims in their wake, and a host whose body is failing, John is determined to win at any cost... even if the cost includes Arthur Lester.

"It may not be much light but it beats the darkness" ~ Charles Bukowski, The Laughing Heart NOTE BEFORE READING This is part one of a Darkthur fic. There is violence and bodily harm. This fic was written in tandem with Kraiva's IT MAY NOT BE MUCH LIGHT, and is intended to be read together, though both are standalone. For the fullest experience, read the corresponding chapter from each fic. We'll be linking the connected chapters in the end notes of each. The incredible art in chapters two and eleven are by @wurmeon. The breathtaking 3D models in chapter six are from @iconiccookie.

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WRONG - spoilers for part 43

There is a thread where it all went wrong. Where Arthur, lost, has lost his hope. Where John makes a choice to teach Arthur what it means to be human.

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HERETIC- an Oscar one-shot:

What road remains for a man whose purpose abandoned him?

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Blood and Sand:

When John Luke was nine, Parker stopped writing back. It took a while before John Luke was sure, before he allowed the worry to slither into his bones, and take flavor and color away, and leave only trembling cold behind. Parker had never been quiet this long. Something had happened. John Luke Yang wants his brother back. When he learns about a wish—offered by a god, in exchange for winning some kind of game—he's willing to leave everything behind in pursuit of it. But the Dreamlands are not safe, and the King in Yellow has gone mad. The Games are not designed to be survived. Luke has fallen into deep and dangerous waters. Fortunately, he won't be swimming alone.

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They Both Just Gotta Be Dicks (Intermezzo spoilers):

Not much surprises Kayne anymore. A melting Arthur manages.

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All that Glitters (crack-fic one-shot):

John and Arthur, Lester and Doe, going mano a mano against their greatest foe: 1970s Arkham bureaucracy.

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Fragile (Intermezzo spoilers):

Arthur got low in Larson’s house. He hit bedrock; he admitted, brokenly, that they won. John didn’t let him drown. Which is ironic, because John was already drowning.

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Double the Popcorn (Intermezzo spoilers):

You think there’s anyone I haven’t seen? Fucked around with? Followed? You think there isn’t a version of you I haven’t tweaked to be the very d-d-darkest you could be, with flesh in your fingernails and blood in your cheeks like a really fucked-up squirrel? I. Have tried. Them all. And pal… they don’t fucking work.

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God of Cowboys and Fools:

Well. No time like the present. “I am the King in Yellow, and you are now my slave,” I tell him, because that is the truth and we might as well get it done. He is a god, awakened in the crater of his birth. Somewhere out there is the Wizard he needs to ensure his misplaced immortality. Now, if only the Wizard would just do as he was told instead of fighting back, they could get on with the business of living forever.

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SACRAMENT - an Oscar one-shot

Arthur and John are long gone from Oscar's life, and whatever they did has left more than one wound in the world. Oscar's is obvious. Scratch's is not. Oscar certainly hadn't planned on encountering the malevolent spirit ever again, but now that he has, he faces a choice.

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BOYO

Warning: this is a dark fic. I liked me boyo’s anger, and he was just scuttered enough to make this work. To join me hitting the prop, and hitting too much. To not know when it was time to stop, and to follow my lead as we went far beyond. Wasn’t quite perfect. Didn’t have the rhythm yet. But I knew he’d get it; musical lad, or I’m a whaler, and I’d get him singing my tune. The fool died, and my boyo stood there, panting, blood everywhere, and hit the body again just because. Fuckin’ beautiful, that was to see.

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THE INCIDENT - a one-shot for the @malevolent-fanzine

Arthur and John are in Arkham, getting their burgeoning P.I. business off the ground. And then Kayne asks for a favor, and everything goes to hell.

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TRY, TRY AGAIN - a one-shot for the @malevolent-fanzine

The King in Yellow worked for a month to get Arthur to spill the information he wanted. Eventually, he got what he wanted through a made-up Bostonian, Adam Fry. What happened in the month before Arthur woke?

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CONFESSION

There’s a trick to confession, if you want to keep another from hearing what you said. But not hearing it don’t make it not true, don’t make it go away.

I fear Arthur’s truth, so big and bright. I fear ours together may strike like flint and leap into devouring flame.

An Oscar one-shot

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PEDANTIC

Arthur Lester is the best IT architect in the world, and the reason Carcosa, Inc. has its fingers in every pie. Government, medical, everyone in the world uses its systems. Arthur is also going blind, with a rare genetic condition that can’t be fixed. The looming depression is bad. He can’t imagine a life where he can’t create anymore. Arthur nearly gives up… until a deeply annoying cybersecurity programmer prods him into trying something new. Great, right? Now, if only this John Doe weren’t clearly hiding something so wild that not even PI Parker Yang can dig it out….

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PET

Arthur loses John. Hastur loses Arthur. Yellow does not deserve what happens here.

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PUSH

They survived. John got his promised body. They're free. But Arthur is still blind, and now, he no longer has someone in his head, helping him around. He's not all right. It's all coming out of him in anger. Today, John needed a break... and, left alone, Arthur tries a four-legged substitute. It goes about as well as can be expected.

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NOTHING GOLD CAN STAY

Angst warning Things happen when we age. Unavoidable things. Until death do we part.

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CLOUD CITY - MALEVOLENT BIG BANG 2023

The sun never rises in Cloud City. Owned by distant gods, the world creaks along in techno-magical paralysis, making Contracts with spirits, and limping along in isolated enclaves while monsters run wild in the Wastes. Five years ago, Arthur Lester, a private investigator, made a Contract with a Summon called Hastur. The deal? His soul in exchange for the identity of his daughter's murderer. Until the time Arthur's soul is ripe for harvesting, Hastur will give him power, and eventually must find Faroe's killer. If he doesn't, they both die, so failure is not an option. Hastur, however, is not a normal Summon... and it turns out he's come here and chosen Arthur in order to stop a threat that will destroy the entire universe if it succeeds. Unfortunately, humans aren't meant to channel power like Hastur's, and Arthur's body is beginning to break down. It's a race against time to solve Faroe's murder and stop the incoming threat before he simply drops dead.

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YELLOW CITY - A CONTINUATION OF CLOUD CITY

Arthur Lester has been taken by the King into the Dreamlands. Arthur Lester has gone quite mad. As promised, Arthur will suffer… but his presence will have a bigger effect on the future of Earth than anyone planned.

AO3

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PUSH

They survived. John got his promised body. They're free. But Arthur is still blind, and now, he no longer has someone in his head, helping him around. He's not all right. It's all coming out of him in anger. Today, John needed a break... and, left alone, Arthur tries a four-legged substitute. It goes about as well as can be expected.

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THE BIRTHDAY SONG

Very much post-canon. Very much fluff. John has a body. Arthur has his sight. They've figured it out, working in Arkham, making their way through life, and John, at last, has chosen his birthday. It's all fluff from here, folks.

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WORTH THE PRICE OF A BOTTLE OF POP

So, anybody want a crack-fic with Kayne, Arthur, and too much sugar even for an Outer God?

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FIVE TIMES JOHN WANTED TO SEE A MOVIE, AND ONE TIME KAYNE MADE IT SUCK

In which Arthur struggles with right and wrong, bemoans the Hays Code, tries (and fails) to define love, and gets a second chance.

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SURROGATE

The beginning of the series, Surrogate: The Director's cut.

The King in Yellow has a plan. The first part works, and Arthur Lester is broken. The second half blows up in his face. John has gone mad, and Hastur’s adopted daughter is upset, but that’s not all. It turns out a certain Outer God wasn’t done watching that show, and when he arrives with director’s notes, not even the King in Yellow can refuse him.

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DEVISER (PODCAST)

DEVIL

Dad knew he'd failed with humans. Dad did not know he'd succeeded somewhere else.

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RED

Son likes painting. Son likes red.It makes him feel some odd things. Things he doesn’t really have a word for. He really likes the way it looks splattered on his hands.

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[sheepwithspecs]

The Price of Fame

Sean has one chance to make a name for himself in the true crime community, and he's willing to do whatever it takes. But is success truly worth the price? This is my entry for @dotzines "Red Zone- Vol. 3" horror zine! The zine is free and you can find it here!

The email simply said, "go back". No signature, no explanation; the sender's address was an incomprehensible jumble of letters and numbers.

Probably some fan trying to be creepy for clout. Rolling his eyes, Sean tossed his phone onto the passenger seat. It was bound to happen eventually; he was finally starting to make a name for himself, and personal experience had taught him that nothing on the internet was truly private. If parasocial freaks were the price of stardom, well… so be it.

He practically flung the rental car onto the neglected county road, spitting gravel onto the dusty highway. He took one deep breath after another, fingers drumming an unsteady tempo against the steering wheel as he fought to settle his nerves. Everything would be fine. It had to be. After today, Sean Masters would be a household name in the true crime community. This was the story that would push him out of obscurity and into the spotlight, his viral Hail Mary: the Stovald House.

He'd been scoping the property for days now, his frustration mounting at the never-ending parade of construction workers and white collar middlemen. Even at night, the humid air stirred not with crickets, but the ceaseless whir of power drills. Tomorrow the property would officially go on the market, ready for a perfect, smiling family to move in and call it their own. Today was his last chance to do what no one had ever done before: a podcast from inside the infamous Stovald House. He’d even splurged on a new camera in the hopes of shooting a vlog or two while inside. Surely his loyal fans would be willing to pay for behind-the-scenes footage?

The peaks of the house appeared on the horizon, its new metal roof gleaming in the sunshine. There were craftsman-style renovations along the wraparound porch, an accent wall of false stone, even a fresh coat of paint on the white picket fence. Hardly anything remained of the old antebellum home, save the large windows in their dark shutters.  

As he rounded the final curve, Sean caught sight of a figure standing by the mailbox. Tires squealing, he slid to a stop in front of the large FOR SALE sign tacked neatly beside the front gate. The woman turned curiously to look at him; her face was a mirrored reflection of the beaming image on the sign itself.

Son of a—! Sean bit down on his tongue, cutting off the curse before it made its way past his lips. He’d planned for cops, construction workers, even potential buyers. How could he have forgotten the real estate agent? Thinking quickly, he unbuckled his seatbelt and forced his expression into a polite smile.

“Mornin’!” He opened the car door but did not get out, trying to sound like a pleasant, ignorant stranger. “This property’s open to view, right?”

The agent walked over, heels crunching on the uneven gravel driveway. She was middle aged, her curls pulled back in a fancy twist and half-moon spectacles hanging low on her nose.

“I’m afraid you’re a day early, sir.” She rested one hand on the door, effectively boxing him in. “I do apologize. You’d best turn back, and try again tomorrow.”

“Oh, that’s a darn shame!” he sighed, slumping back in the seat. “We—my wife and I—were told the house would be open for viewing today. She really has her heart set on this place, you know, and I thought maybe if I drove up early enough….” The agent stared at him for a long moment, pale eyes burning into his.

“Well….” She glanced at the empty house. “I suppose a quick peek wouldn’t hurt. I can’t take any offers, though.”

“Of course! Thank you, ma’am.” Sean reached for the camera, pausing only when he saw the agent’s expression tighten. “Erm… you don’t mind if I take some pictures? For my wife?”

“Wouldn’t you rather call her?”

“I would, but she works long hours. Can’t get away from her desk.” Could she hear the tremble in his voice? Was she second-guessing him? No! No, she was backing away from the car, allowing him to get out! Hook, line, and sinker. 

He paused at the front of the manicured lawn, taking a few peremptory shots of the house. Even if a podcast was out of the question, he could still use the thumbnails for a YouTube recap.

“The house has been fully renovated from the ground up,” the agent explained, waving him through the front door. “The kitchen, I believe, is the standout success. French style, double ovens… does your wife cook?”

“Huh?” Sean peered curiously up the winding staircase. That’s where they found the first body… or body parts, at least. “O-Oh! No, we, uh… we eat a lot of takeout.” He snapped a quick picture of the shadowy landing before following the agent into the belly of the house. “Do you expect to see a lot of locals? I’ve heard stories about this place, and the family that lived here. The Stovalds?” The agent paused, turning on one heel to face him.

“We are only accepting serious buyers at this time.” Was it a trick of the light, or did her eyes flash to the camera in his hands? “Now, the kitchen.”

“Right, right.” He snapped a few obligatory shots of the kitchen, nodding with feigned enthusiasm at her descriptions of the new appliances. She had just finished modeling the walk-in pantry when his patience finally reached the breaking point.

“But you do know about what happened here, don’t you? The Stovald Murders. It was the talk of the papers for weeks… or so my wife says.” Thoroughly irritated, the agent pressed her mouth into a thin line as she studied him over her spectacles.   

“I’m sure your wife would much rather hear about the house she’d like to purchase, Mr. Masters.”

“If you only knew! She’s a real true crime nut, my wife—” Sean paused in the corridor as her words sank in. “How did—? I haven’t told you my name.” The agent let out a low chuckle.

“You really ought to have turned back.” The hair on his neck lifted, heart hammering against his sternum. Sean dropped the camera, bolting for the front door. He was barely three steps from freedom when it seemed that his shoes glued themselves to the floor. With a violent wrench he stopped, crumpling in a heap. The agent passed him calmly, closing the door and locking the deadbolt. She regarded him thoughtfully, her expression caught between amused and annoyed.

“Don’t bother,” she sighed, watching his fingers fumble with his shoelaces. “Even if you manage to free yourself, there’s nowhere to run.”

“Who are you?!” he spat, trying to sound braver than he felt. “Is this some kind of sick prank? What the hell have you done to me?”

“You should be asking what you’ve done to yourself, Mr. Masters.” A wry smile lifted the corner of her painted lips. “At the moment, I’m a real estate agent… but you might say I’m an adjudicator of sorts. My colleagues and I deal mainly in sin, and you have committed several in your short time on this earth. Now, I’m here to collect.”

"What’re you talking about!?" he howled, scanning for something, anything that might be a decent weapon; he lunged as hard as he could for the camera, but it was just beyond reach. "What sins? I haven't killed anyone, or—"

“Let’s see.” The woman squatted next to him; adjusting her glasses, she began to count off on her fingers. “An inflated sense of arrogance, craving what others have, profiting off the misery of victims? Pride, envy, greed… need I go on?”  

“But—But what about others? Why are you doing this to me?!” His gasp ended on a choked sob.  

“Why not you? No sin is greater than another, after all.” She looked him in the eye. “If you must know, a long time ago I took a calculated risk on a fallen angel. You can guess how that ended. But there is something of a loophole… are you familiar with the Christian Bible, by any chance?”

Sean shrank into himself, eyes darting feverishly between her calm smile and the door. Something twisted in his leg as he struggled to free himself: muscle, or tendon? This can’t be happening!

“Yet if thou warn the wicked, and he turn not from his wickedness, nor from his wicked way, he shall die in iniquity,” the agent quoted. “But thou hast delivered thy soul. See? The more unrepentant sinners I claim, the sooner I’ll find myself back in good graces.”

“But you never warned me!” he sobbed, yanking fruitlessly at his leg. “I didn’t know!”

“I told you twice to turn back. It’s not my fault you didn’t listen.” The agent wiped at his tearstained cheeks with a gentle hand. “But don’t worry.”

“You’ll be a household name one day… just like the Stovalds."