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field reports from expedition to cheer up my friend ken (ˊ ˘ ˋʃƪ) :
inside each of these Tangy Biomes is an artificial sea of delicious, delicious habitat. populated with such exotic beasts as “slippy jelly slime” and “ the seeds”
a scintilly fuzzion inspects its pet lobeful incandescaloid for errors. this bright lobeling is in tip-top form!. time to slurp.... and also to hum.
felted pods positively PACKED with camel concentrate. (can tell because of the lumps)
(｀・ω・´)”
(｀・ω・´)”
this one is, according to the spectral analysis , a fucking pancake
a swishy sabre troupe swoops aright for sunset reveille. so dutiful, so lordly in their sags and swivels. all ready for a night of prickly swaying...(￣^￣)ゞ These brave dogs-of-the-prairie are an inspiration to us all..! 
a scintilly fuzzion picks over its crop of spiny sky cucumbers, prodding the luckiest ones to ensure a good yield.. note the pet gentagyre's fleshy stabilizing armature... antique biotech
the slabby, sunken colonnades of Old Birthing Palace, its blown-off roof & entablature as much a memory as birth. erected in the Sardonic period, they emulated the aesthetic mores of a truly primæval time: it is said that we not only used to begin—we also used to end.
behold a holy gargantuon, fitted with bricks of red fableplate. hibernating in the hollow is the raw body of a story, and once the plates have pinked and fallen, our humble autumn teller will disgorge its ready tale.. 
Behold! a nestle of cold pickerchicks craning their necks toward the bare winter sky, all cutely creaking.. eager to have their cages packed with first Nutrients
lifecycle of the Klaxonquartet:
*screams lovingly*
"my horns have wilted..pls, feed me the fruity violet gestation rays...mm grape flavor..."
a sprout rises, yes, to scream again, and all is well ♡
*screams lovingly*
"my horns have wilted..pls, feed me the fruity violet gestation rays...mm grape flavor..."
a sprout rises, yes, to scream again, and all is well ♡
some powderpelt fuzzions do love to fawn upon their spawnaltars. ohh, twelve toes patter! patter! upon the mound where unborn fuzzions slumber. little patter prayer: my gyre, may they grow wise! may they grow yellow, and old, and so good.
Rarely finds a twinseeker a squigular so near its regular match. Twinned atompatterns tend to scatter scared at their own unimage, but these must have lonesomed out over the manifold distance. Sought to peek at each other anew.
I say bless ‘em. Bless a friend in all this.
I say bless ‘em. Bless a friend in all this.
Feral’d sirengyres, poured upon the seas by a grudgly fuzzion ages ago, burn their silky bulbs to befuddle a swirlyback swashbuck,,! but O, a good blind slimeline nevertheless leads a sailor home 
