poptivist ⊬
@poptivist.bsky.social
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lua james. twenty one pilots fan, maker of lore content & spn expat, lover of fandom culture. youtube.com/poptivist
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thank you for all these gifts friend 😍
back in the hospital now for (hopefully) a med change requiring a (hopefully) short inpatient stay.
😊😊😊✨️💖✨️
Reposted by poptivist ⊬
This might be one of my favourite things on the internet. It cracks me up every time. 😁
by request from @subtlefire.bsky.social: Clancy's Big Day Out.

ahem:
"For the love of fuck," he says to no one. No one hears him.

He walks back to the camp, whapping bushes with his smothered torch along the way.
Gerald stands there. He stands there some more. He allows himself a moment to imagine he himself being trampled by woodland animals, but no such mercy arrives. There is only a hare nearby, who looks at him dispassionately.
-- yes, those are animal crackers. Clancy makes a delighted gesture. Without a word, the Bishop turns toward the direction of the gates of Dema, heading right back in his unsettling gait, Clancy tromping dutifully behind him.
Forgetting his own visibility, Gerald stands rooted to the spot in disbelief. Clancy reaches the bottom of the hill and greets the Bishop, which Gerald can't hear but he can tell he says nothing in response. Instead, he produces from his voluminous sleeves --
"Clancy," Gerald begins to warn, but it's too late.

"Be right back!" Clancy says brightly, "I think I know that guy." And clambers slowly down the steep slope of the hill.
Gerald takes a steadying breath, and begins to hiss instructions to Clancy to stay still, but Clancy has other ideas. He steps out from behind Gerald's arm and blatantly points at the starkly dressed figure. The figure waves a little.
Just another few minutes pass by before Gerald feels it. Not a Presence, but ruthless, vigilant Absence, gliding rapidly toward their position.

Sure enough just as Gerald stiff-arms Clancy, pinning them both flush against a boulder, red robes flutter across the plain below.
They are about an hour into their trek on steep scrubby hillside when Clancy asks "are we almost to the fortress?"

"Encampment," Gerald corrects.

"Fortress-camp," Clancy allows.

Gerald says nothing.
Clancy nods knowingly and thumbs his nose.

Gerald allows himself a moment to imagine walking back to the camp himself and telling the others that Clancy got trampled by wild woodland creatures and nothing could be done for him.
Gerald blinks, gestures around at the vast encompassing wilderness as if to say, 'what, as opposed to a free-range fucking unicyclist?' but Clancy only looks at him with eager anticipation.

"I mean, yeah," Gerald sighs. "But you should know, we usually don't, uh, shout that."
Sort of. Clancy does begin to pick his way down the path in Gerald's general direction and it's going well until he stops several meters short of him and says, far too loudly for the distance, "ARE YOU A BANDITO, THEN?"

A crow is startled from a nearby tree.
Soon enough, a pair of hands shove a gangly blond man out of the tunnel mouth, pulling it shut from the inside. The man stares around in wonder. He stares some more.

Gerald, in a spirit of helpfulness, waggles his very large, very lit torch to attract his attention.

It works.
keons arrives on the last day, sipping his thermos of coffee with resignation. "clancy," he says fondly, "you dumb fuck."