#oh mr darnielle were really in it now

[spurious]

Since you're not feeling well, a little happy ficlet prompt: Fluff from the fifth song in your Spotify Likes!

is this fluff? i really don't know. i actually have no idea what the hell this even is but i think you can probably take the weirdness up with mr. john darnielle anyway

Rodney knows his team will always come for him, but even with that surety, he's still struggling to stay calm as he's taken prisoner for unspecified claims of "witchcraft."

"It's not witchcraft, it's physics, you absolute morons," he'd shouted, voice going shrill and strident, but the villagers had ignored both his protests and his attempts to explain the experiment he'd been conducting, dragging him away from the outpost while the others were exploring nearby.

The tiny village is, it turns out, a front for a much larger society—and you'd think they would fucking check for that at this stage, but no—and most of the community lives in a system of white-rocked caves. They bring Rodney to a small room, attach him to a chain in the floor and cuff his hands together, then leave.

It's two days before he sees another human face, and when he does it's a woman who seems to be some sort of bureaucrat, flanked by tall, broad-shouldered guards.

"Wizard of Atlantis," she says, and Rodney tries, really he does, not to roll his eyes. He thinks he should probably be commended for this, but no one ever seems to appreciate these efforts from him. "Your warriors have come to plead for your release."

"Oh, finally," Rodney mumbles, sighing heavily and standing up. "Let's get this show on the road, then."

The woman's eyebrows climb, but she directs one of the guards to unlock Rodney from the floor chain, and then he's led into a cavernous room, his team standing in the middle of it, each of them looking perfectly deadly in their own way.

"As you can see, warriors," the woman says, her voice echoing off of the stark-white walls, "your wizard is unharmed. However, we cannot allow him to be released, lest his evil magic bring ruin upon our community."

Rodney opens his mouth, but John gives him a look, so he closes it, decides to let his team do their thing. The room is full of guards, but they haven't confiscated their weapons, so Rodney's well aware of the odds if this goes poorly.

Teyla steps forward. "We understand your people fear Dr. McKay's powers, but I can guarantee that if you release him, your home shall be left standing." She shifts her weight, a subtle change in stance from diplomat to deadly. "If you refuse, I cannot make the same promise."

"You are but three warriors," the woman scoffs, and Rodney watches as Ronon smiles, sharp and gleaming like the blade of a knife.

"We got all the way here, didn't we?" John offers, and Rodney clocks, now, the small signs of a previous struggle on each of them. They fought their way in, he realizes.

"They must be in the wizard's thrall, to be so willing to offer their own lives for his," whispers another bureaucrat. "Truly his powers are fearsome indeed."

"Let him go," Teyla says, her voice taking on a steeled edge, "and we will return beyond the stars, never to trouble your people again."

One of the guards moves closer to Rodney, puts a hand on his shoulder, and Rodney can hear Ronon growl.

"We're not leaving without him," John says, low and dangerous.

Someone leans in, whispers in the lead woman's ear, and she nods, turns to the guards.

"Release him," she says. "We do not wish to draw any more harm to our people."

"Once again," Rodney says, as they release his handcuffs, "not practicing any type of magic, and, if I were in fact capable of magic, wouldn't I have been able to teleport my way out of here in the first place?"

Teyla steps up, her eyes sweeping quickly over Rodney, taking inventory.

"It is good to see you unharmed." She reaches up, putting a hand on the back of Rodney's neck and drawing him in, pressing her forehead to his for the space of a few deep, quiet breaths.

"Why didn't you tell me you could do magic?" Ronon asks, his mouth quirked up at the side, and Rodney breathes out a laugh, rolls his eyes.

"As I said moments ago, if I could—"

"C'mon, McKay," John interrupts, clapping a hand on Rodney's back. To an untrained eye, it's a simple gesture of camaraderie, but Rodney's been on the receiving end of this touch enough times to know that John needs to feel out the solidity Rodney's body for himself, to know he's alright. "Atlantis needs its wizard king back."

#fic #mcshep #if you squint real hard #mostly team feels

[doodlelupin]

sometimes you just have to take a break from working on your resume to have an anxiety attack and yell along to the mountain goats

[Image ID: A simplistic digital drawing of the artist singing No Children in yellow tones. They are slumped in a desk chair with their hands over their eyes, brow furrowed and mouth open in a frown. They are turned away from their desk, on which sits an open laptop with the Spotify logo on the screen. A speech bubble from both the laptop and the artist reads in all caps "I am drowning! There is no sign of land!" End ID.]

#i speak #self portrait #lol #i guess you could call it #vent art #the mountain goats #anyway. going through it rn kdjfghdkljgh #nah im good im good #oh btw i will still be posting tomorrow lol this is a bonus i guess #i just thought it was funny that this was my reaction to reading a page that got too overwhelming #oh mr darnielle were really in it now #also? wheres /my/ hand in unlovable hand???