The deranged ace pilot for the Empire stamps her combat boots on either side of the figurine-sized mechs, rattling the terrified Resistance pilots inside. She bites her lip with anticipation for the "new toys" at her disposal.
The deranged ace pilot for the Empire stamps her combat boots on either side of the figurine-sized mechs, rattling the terrified Resistance pilots inside. She bites her lip with anticipation for the "new toys" at her disposal.
🎨 - @silverscarf.bsky.social
🎨 - @silverscarf.bsky.social
Like, sure, at least they didn't KILL you or anything like that, but... I mean, it's still RUDE, y'know?
Like, sure, at least they didn't KILL you or anything like that, but... I mean, it's still RUDE, y'know?
"Mm." The punk flexes his bandaged fingers. "Prick had it comin'. Was talkin' shit about me."
"Did you win?"
"Yeah."
"Good." The borrower plants a kiss on his boyfriend's bruised knuckles.
The punk's usual frown relents. "Thanks, sweetie."
"Mm." The punk flexes his bandaged fingers. "Prick had it comin'. Was talkin' shit about me."
"Did you win?"
"Yeah."
"Good." The borrower plants a kiss on his boyfriend's bruised knuckles.
The punk's usual frown relents. "Thanks, sweetie."
Although this "we HIGHLY recommend that you only do this at max level and that you make a backup save first" bit seems ominous.
Although this "we HIGHLY recommend that you only do this at max level and that you make a backup save first" bit seems ominous.
Now that you and your ship are proudly displayed in a glass bottle on the security officer's desk, you're beginning to suspect you might have been set up.
Now that you and your ship are proudly displayed in a glass bottle on the security officer's desk, you're beginning to suspect you might have been set up.
At ten feet tall, you still feel fine.
At fifty, you feel twitchy and anxious, but you keep it together.
At two hundred, you can barely form words. All you can see and taste and smell is the fragility of everything around you.
At a thousand, you're no longer human.
At ten feet tall, you still feel fine.
At fifty, you feel twitchy and anxious, but you keep it together.
At two hundred, you can barely form words. All you can see and taste and smell is the fragility of everything around you.
At a thousand, you're no longer human.
They'll probably remember you in the morning.
...Probably.
They'll probably remember you in the morning.
...Probably.
"Could you clean the manor roof?"
"Yes, miss."
"And could you carry my sons to the recital this evening?"
"Yes, miss."
"Oh, and that thief we caught-"
"Already taken care of, miss."
"Any evidence?"
"Swallowed alive, miss."
"Ah, excellent. Carry on."
"Could you clean the manor roof?"
"Yes, miss."
"And could you carry my sons to the recital this evening?"
"Yes, miss."
"Oh, and that thief we caught-"
"Already taken care of, miss."
"Any evidence?"
"Swallowed alive, miss."
"Ah, excellent. Carry on."