there are horrors worse than this. 1937, april 15th.

it does. usually. a bit of clay and blood do wonders.

promptly with it's plush paws grinding it into mush, only to latch open his neck, a varied, visceral amount of fangs probe themselves. throwing it into his mouth before closing shut. .. he nods, though, it looks more like he's wiggling. but hey, smooshie approves !!

it stares into the void. upon that day, he burned particular bridges. metaphorically and literally.

a sound of a piano being slammed down as he flipped back up. he looked bent. but good as new !! got tired of the screams. It Did Not Like Their Volume.

yummy.

don't worry about it. only few kingdoms rose and fell. and most who survived did not live long enough to tell the tale.

out of spite, smooshie doesn't want to elaborate anymore.

// smooshie with big knife ( ⊹ ⭑ 𝐒𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐅𝐅𝐈𝐄 . )