Dystopians, I know you have been through it. I know you have been through the swamps, the skies, the ocean. You have tamed giant beetles, reveled atop mutant bog beasts, and seduced even the cunning deep sea anglerfish, but my darlings, this is precisely why... you are mine.

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Your Fat Uncle cannot save you, nor do you need to rebel against his tiny rules, his bonny authoritarianism. Are you not proof enough that he is powerless in the face of your alluring debauchery? You are SPARKLE. You are SEX. You are DRUNK. You are MINE.

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You do not need to fight it any longer. I have been waiting for this. I have been waiting, watching as you stumble through the streets in gleeful abandon. It gets hotter every year as my anticipation grows and you dance, dripping sweat and sequins, unaware that it has all been building to this. You have awoken me Dystopians and I am ready to claim you.

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I have burned away the world for you. There is nothing left to do but dance. Oh Fat Uncle? Turns out he likes his ball gag and hishi karada. He was sick of trying to control everything. We all know the real power is in surrender - it just took him a little encouraging to figure that out. Perhaps he'll join us when I send my train to collect you.

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Finally, finally I will taste your celebration. Just as the world has been drinking it up. Come, lose yourselves in my darkness, let go of everything. The heat will soon consume us all, so why not enjoy it?

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Your Lord/Lady of Darkness,

Dante, Lucifer, Satan, Whatever you want to call me