gyromun-blog

[gyromun-blog]

All of the lanterns had either gone out, or else their flames were worryingly low, as if struggling to find enough oxygen to burn in damp and heavy air. Their cavern was cold and full of shadows. Dust had begun to settle on the floor.

The witch lay in her bed as she had for what felt like an eternity, huddled beneath the covers and exhausted from other endeavors. There were no sounds coming from outside the cave anymore. No light. In the course of fighting her battles, the cave had been disconnected from its world and sent floating through a void.

It should have been terrifying, but she’d been here before. It was a quiet place where she could rest and recharge, and soon, she would come back stronger than ever.

Yes... soon... whenever that was. That’s what she had been saying for ages: soon. And when was “soon” going to come at last? She could not say. Her eyes grew heavy and she did not resist. It wasn’t long before she had fallen into deep sleep again.

Her feathers glowed faintly as her dreams carried her back to better times. Times when the lanterns always shone brightly, and not just when she mentioned certain names in passing. Times when her attention wasn’t drawn in a thousand different directions, when things were simpler, when she was freer with her time and less worn down by the world she had first come from. These dreams brought her comfort, and in her heart, she knew such times would come again.

The lanterns kept watch as she slept her unnatural, arcane sleep, and as she dreamed they began to flicker a code in passionate unison:

.-- .. - -.-. .... --..-- / .... . .- .-.. / - .... -.-- ... . .-.. ..-.

[gyromun-blog]

Maniacal laughter echoed through the cave as lanterns flared and danced, accompanied by the sounds of spells being slung and papers fluttering madly through the air. 

“I’m free! Freeeeeeeeee-ee-hee-hee-hee-heeeeeee!” the owl shrieked and cackled as textbooks and essays flew across the caverns to tuck themselves neatly in a corner where they could be promptly forgotten; never mind the fact that it was only a two week break.

“I’m gonna do ALL the things! I’m going to continue your stories, and get the newbie situated, and-”

She continued to list a frankly preposterous number of activities, pacing in a circle and waving her arms. The lanterns flickered with laughter.

[gyromun-blog]

She was an outright mess, eyes bloodshot and blue tresses uncombed. The pile of books had diminished, but the pile of papers had only grown, and alongside it grew the number of mugs with forgotten tea bags slowly drying and sticking to the sides. She took a sip from the latest mug, strawberry tea already lukewarm and only half gone, staring at her papers and resisting the urge to pull her feathers out in frustration.

Instead, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, listening to the patter of rain outside her cave. When she opened them again, her gaze drifted to the lanterns on her wall.

Every lantern that had been active in the last six months was glowing fiercely. The burnished copper with its orange flame, the brass hurricane with its grassy tongue, the main head of the three-pronged affair and its curious olive flickering- even the yellow flare of the old mining lantern and the brilliant blue of the old village lamp filled the room with their scents of cooking meat and baked goods. Brightest of all shone the blocky lantern with the honey-colored glow. 

She looked up at them all and sighed. “I know, lovelies, I know. Soon, I promise. Just a few days more.”

Some of the other flames that had been asleep in their beds rose and danced in inquiry. Red-orange, gray, pale violet, royal purple, violent red.

“...Perhaps,” she replied, though her voice was subdued and melancholy. “I fear I have not been kind to you, my friends, but nor have some of you been kind to me.”

The gray and red dimmed in shame. The other three danced another question.

“As you are needed. Your roles may be few, but they are vital.”

The three wavered in acknowledgement and returned to their rest. As they did so, the witch was reminded that she had her own business to return to. She looked from the lanterns to her papers and back again, and with a heavy sigh, returned to her studies.

[gyromun-blog]

It was well past midnight and well before dawn, and the witch sat among scattered tomes and papers, stubbornly trying to ignore the smell of baking pies that wafted from the fourteenth and latest lantern in her cave, which she was also stubbornly trying to ignore.

Nope. Nuh-uh. Nothing doing. She did not have time for the first thirteen, let alone a newcomer. So what if it had been glowing with a friendly warmth for the last few days? 

Oh, but that particular glow! It was like lazy afternoon sun through a window, or candlelight filtered through a bottle of mead. It filled her with a warmth she hadn’t realized she’d been missing.

“I see what you’re trying to do, and it won’t work, mister! I don’t care how cute and friendly you are! Look around you! Three of the others aren’t even burning! Eight are on standby! Two are flickering at me because I’ve been neglecting them! What makes you so special that I should try and work you around all of this,” she complained, gesturing at the academic mess that surrounded her. 

The flame shrunk back like a kicked puppy, and she immediately felt bad.

“No, wait! Please, I didn’t mean- it’s just that this is not a good time. Surely you can understand that?”

The flame flickered in acknowledgement, but it was still nowhere near its previous glow. The witch chewed at the ring in her beak for a solid minute. Then, with a heavy sigh and a wave of her hand, all of the various books snapped themselves shut and the papers fluttered and filed themselves into a neat stack beside her.

“I’ll see what I can do, alright? It might be a bit, but I’ll try. Just don’t you blame me if the others get jealous!”

The flame flared bright in its blocky housing before settling back down again, as warm and cheery as ever. The witch just smiled and rolled her eyes.

Fourteen lanterns. She couldn’t help but remember the words of Gandalf. 

“You asked me to find a fourteenth man for your expedition, and I chose Mr Baggins. Just let any one say I chose the wrong  man or the wrong house, and you can stop at thirteen and have all the bad luck you like, or go back to digging coal!”

Of course, the soul this lantern represented was no Bilbo, but maybe it would still bring her luck...

[gyromun-blog]

“Alright. Okay. Here.”

“I got my new laptop for Christmas 2016 and transferred all my files. Even if you don’t believe that the list is even older than that, it is a minimum of 82 days old. So if you still truly believe that the egg thing was a dig at you personally, then clearly there is somewhere in your subconscious where you believe that you look like an egg with a really big nose.”

@ask-his-puffiness-king-candy

“Is this big enough, or do you nee me to zoom in more?”

[gyromun-blog]

@ask-his-puffiness-king-candy

“Is this big enough, or do you nee me to zoom in more?”

[gyromun-blog]

“Want proof? Here’s proof. This list is old. Old as dirt. and that is pretty early on the list.”

gyromun replied to your post: Imagine an egg with a really big nose. Imagine.

   “It legitimately was not intended as one, but now that you mention it…”    

[gyromun-blog]

“You’re the one who made the comparison! That’s been on the list for ages! Besides, I was thinking of a literal egg with a literal nose. Like this, see?”

gyromun replied to your post: Imagine an egg with a really big nose. Imagine.

   “It legitimately was not intended as one, but now that you mention it…”    

[gyromun-blog]

“I CANNOT BE TAMED!!!1!!!!11!!ONE!!!”

*fart rockets into the sky*

“HAPPY Saint PATRICK’STH Day!!! Ahoo! N-now let’sth have a look at the inbox, and…”

“…Gyro, my boy… Pleaseth put a LEASH on your Mun!”

[gyromun-blog]

The witch glowered at her wall of lanterns. There was another new addition- a large, three pronged affair with one main flame and two smaller ones to either side- decorated with such a hodgepodge of foliage, cogs, and postage stamps that she wanted to simply give up. The lanterns, now totaling thirteen in number, flickered on and off wildly as if some poltergeist found joy in messing with the flames.

“Am I simply fated to have a collection, then? Countless lanterns, some lit and others not, on and on until my death? Should I just dedicate an entire chamber of my cave to you lot and your foolishness?”

The lanterns continued to flicker.

[gyromun-blog]

ey yo tony where'd ya get that nice pepperoni

“I rescued it from your mom’s dildo drawer.”

[gyromun-blog]

*fills your sock drawers with sensual lasagna*

“Oh, good. I can pass this along to other people.”

* Inventory updated!

* Acquired +16 Sensual Lasagnas!

[gyromun-blog]

YOU LIVED YOUR LIFE LIKE A CANDLE IN THE WIND. WONDERING WHY THE FUCK YOU WERE OUT THERE WHEN CANDLES OUTSIDE ARE A FIRE HAZARD

“Because. I am the danger.”

[gyromun-blog]

Let me sing to you the song of my people. *ahem* AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

She fetched her didgeridoo and added a nice, droning rumble the the screaming, pausing only to say,

“Play that funky music, white boy.”

[gyromun-blog]

When my pappy wanted to get revenge on someone he'd shove a potato up the tailpipe of their car. Stalled the engine. Beautiful.

“I read as far as ‘shove a potato up’ and drew my own conclusions.”

[gyromun-blog]

She takes a broom and casually pushes them out of her cave, complying with the suburban anon mother’s request.

do not talk to me or my son ever again

[gyromun-blog]

do not talk to me or my son ever again