seen from Brazil
seen from China
seen from Brazil
seen from Argentina
seen from Russia
seen from Spain
seen from France
seen from United States
seen from Spain
seen from Iraq
seen from South Africa
seen from Ecuador
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Nigeria
seen from China
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Kazakhstan
seen from China
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This unit bought some patches for its M65... it adores military surplus as it finds it deeply comforting... so getting to personalise it and making it pretty... it is very very happy...
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It's standard battlefield prep for most pilots to have a fentanyl lozenge for moments of extreme mental or physical pain, such as ejection from the cockpit or structural damage to the pilot inside.
It's also a score for the ground teams that swoop in to salvage any useable ammunition, plating, living enemy assets... that little candy can take even the most unstable enraged pilots and turn them into a cute drooling little cock sleeve for the entire clean-up team...
“Reyes is a pretty damn good pilot” and “he took down kett ships while looking for a place to land” are thoughts that are keeping me up guys. I have a thing for skilled and fine pilots.
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This one is totally fucked out of its mind on research chemicals right now... sitting in the bath this one's sister drew for it... this unit wishes it could hump the boot of a pretty woman who knows better than a stupid little prince like it...
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Hounds who are afraid to die.
Hounds dragged out of their cockpit kicking and screaming, teeth gnashing and blood dripping from their beaten and broken bodies as they beg for their Handler.
Hounds who lay still, who whimper and cry as the light fades from their eyes, their strangled cries and screams overshadowed by the machinery of friendly salvage teams.
Hounds who die alone in service to their Handler who feigns a thin veneer of care.
Hounds who aren't mourned, simply stricken from their Handler's records and their remains scrubbed from the wreckage.
Hounds who are replaced, bodies and souls claimed by the battlefield, their replacement already in tow.
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This one is sharing older check-in photos of itself that its old Handler had requested of it... This unit hopes these photos of its naked vessel give a plus to overall morale among those following this account...
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There is no difference in meaning between the terms Superior Officer, Father figure, and God.
They all mean the same thing in my mind.
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This unit's daily life has been getting significantly less stressful... unlearning a lot of behaviours that old enemy Handlers have beaten into it...
But a chip buried deep in its head tried to self-detonate today... it felt this unit's happiness and joy rise beyond acceptable levels, and as a result sent it onto a warpath... barely failing that, it then tried to redirect this unit to self-obliterate... thankfully that failed too.
This unit will persist... no matter how many try to put it in its grave... no matter how many ghosts haunt its circuitry and wiring...
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