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Why one small American town won’t stop stoning its residents to death by Charlotte_Stant for sophiahelix
Fandoms: The Lottery - Shirley Jackson, The New Yorker RPF
24 Dec 2025
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The picturesque village of Buell, Maine is one of the last in the United States to continue the tradition of the “harvest” or “prosperity” lottery. Its residents insist the lottery makes them stronger, even as condemnation from outsiders grows.
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02 Mar 2026
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When Astarion awakens on that bright sunny beach, he meets Tav. Tav is a druid, fiercely devoted to protecting nature. But in Tav's mind, "protecting nature" is a bit more intense than what other druids tend to believe.
It means that if Astarion wishes to stay with the group, his vampiric hunger must be sated on the barest of blood.
But that should be no problem. After all, Astarion is used to the hunger.
***
"And what have you fed on?" Tav demands. His eyes are sharp as flint. It is as if this is the question that matters most to him.
"What have I fed on—well, no one you care about, I assure you," Astarion promises with a giggle just this side of manic. "Merely some woodland creatures, you see. Just enough to keep me standing and able to fight!"
It's the wrong answer.
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17 Jan 2026
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A delicate white hand clasped the edge of the unit, and Megatron went stock still. There was barely a moment to process the pall of silent dread that fell before a second hand came up, and then the presumed-autobot levered himself upright with a small hum of effort.
Megatron slowly pivoted. “Rung,” he said, “what a pleasure it is to see you, after so long.”
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21 Nov 2025
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A tiger cloaked in black with a sundial moving over dark eyes flicks its tail, and a fox with blood-stained teeth lifts their head, and a serpent with poison bleeding through each crack in its iridescent scales melts back into the corpse as it speaks.
"Curious," it says, a man's voice, rasped from age and still solid. Gold filigree, burial shroud. A storm bound to a raven's form spreads its wings. "What is the worth of a single mortal life?"
(Vampires are not alive. Undead is not quite dead. Astarion is normal, until he isn't.)
Or: five conversations Astarion has with Death.
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27 Jul 2025
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caught between the dark and the dreaming by Raayide
Fandoms: Baldur's Gate (Video Games)
26 Jan 2024
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Marcus holds the goblet up, still stinking with klauthgrass, and ponders them, clutched in the wretched claws of his undead monsters. "Well," he says, and smiles. "If you will not willingly drink it, I have a manner of encouragement."
And then he raises his dagger, pricks his own wrist until scarlet pools over his pale skin, and lets blood drip into the goblet.
Before he can help it, Astarion stiffens.
Astarion has spent two hundred years with truth as a bitter enemy. Fitting, then, that his choice to say it is taken from him.
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21 Jul 2025