Mithras, tauroctonicidal maniac and Persian sensate, was the former metier of birthdays before Jesus Christ up and stole it from him. Whose temples were hollowed out of the living rock like Nyx's yawning womb? Whose arcanum dropped critical on the Anatolian coast? Who rocked out syncretic with all y'all heliodromi?

MithRAS! MithRAS! MithRAS! Indeprehensivilis dei!

I just want to hold your pretty hand; the rest of you can be dissolved in acid

There's an ancient fen somewhere off the map in West Virginia where little children are known to disappear. Every now and then, a faint pulse of termaline emanates from deep within that ancient heath. It draws the eye. It draws the foot. Suddenly, you break free from the daze and find yourself shin deep in muck in the middle of a dense vine thicket. You don't remember walking here. You don't know what time it is. You have no idea where you are. The droning pulse of the swampland engulfs you with its sopping murmur. It whispers secrets eldritch and primeval as the creepers coil lazily around your throat.

You know who else makes creatures? Satan.

hands up, WHO WANTS TO DIE!

In reply to:

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There's an ancient fen somewhere off the map in West Virginia where little children are known to disappear.

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So, what's to_dizzy like in person?

This is what a poor person do for a scholarship
He turned around, got a face full of hollow tips
But don't be mad
He died for the flag