albany academy posted:

I enter a seemingly endless plain, flower print encircling the horizon. A Cyclopean ziggurat thrusts upwards to the clouds, atop it a porcelain throne, gleaming in the red sky, the making GBS threads room of old gods best forgotten. The smell of eldritch potpourri wafts into my nostrils, failing to completely cover up the horrible stench of decay and rot emanating from the structure. I think to myself "I should have just gone at home," and trudge onwards.