Glasses shimmered under the oddly angled spotlight as Toxic Pink proudly strode onto the stage. Wearing her traditional outfit of ripped jeans and a see through shirt saved only by black tape Xs across her breasts, the young woman's fiery pink hair was matched only by her attitude as she grabbed...
Bonjour mon frere and welcome to the Napoleon Bonaparte III enthusiast club. Do remember we do not speak of the first Napoleon and his water slide antics, but instead focus on his successor and the finest emperor of France since Charlemagne himself.
Dramatic readings of French poetry are not...
Skirting the line between law and lawless meant skirting the border too and while Toxic Pink was no lady for skirts nor much of a lady at all, she was practical enough to see Derra IV as a good place to stop after some recent hijinx with a Moff. Just a bit of a prank involving laxatives and a...
Toxic pursed her lips as Herrith failed to divulge. Whether it was modesty or something worse it didn't mesh with the idea the punk rocker had about this zeltron. Come to think of it why did she have any conceptions about this pink alien? Pretty as she was all she'd done was reveal herself as a...
Still basking in the afterglow of a good show and a few shots of Wampa Juice, the pink-haired artist looked over at the Zeltron lingering in the doorway. Hearing her observation brought a chortle to her lips which nearly caused her to spill her drink. Catching it fastidiously to avoid the waste...
Stage lighting was shit, sound was garbage, the crowd was half-drunk, half pissed, and all stupid save for the pretty in pink up front. Nodding, Toxic Pink at last felt at home. Adjusting her guitar she looked out and pointed at Herrith,
"This ones for you!"
She then felt her fingers become...