the black corsair

Kabalite Trueborn with blasters, 2 squads.

Dracons with agonizer/blast pistol.

Kitbashed Kabalites and Black Ark Corsairs to get a suitably unique and impressive look for them.

Still want to sculpt little greenstuff pauldrons for them since they’ve only got the front halves due to how the torsos are joined. And I’m gonna leave them off their bases for ease of painting.

Only the Raider left to build and then I can spray prime everything and get to painting. :D

2

‘Library’ was really far too grand a word for that cramped, cluttered little upstairs room, stacked with precariously balanced books. What had started life as their mother’s study, with space only for mathematics textbooks and the occasional novel, had quickly grown into a way to indulge their brilliant boys’ peculiar interests.

A childhood had passed in that tiny room. It was where Mycroft absorbed foreign languages and memorised the dates of every king, every battle, every case of political scandal. It was where Sherlock learnt the properties of Molybdenum and first read of the case of Jack the Ripper. It was where Sherlock had first found The Black Corsair, buried underneath a stack of sociology journals, and where Mycroft read Machiavelli, Spinoza and Nietzsche and began to form ideas of a career he could pursue. They gathered books on every topic; apiaries and espionage and linguistics and pharmaceutics. The atlases were covered in annotations. Sherlock cast anything that could not hold his interest down on to the floor, kicking the books beneath the shelves. Mycroft would always retrieve them, but anything deemed tiresome by them both would be hurled out of the window, knocking over their mother’s potted plants in the process. The books climbed up towards the ceiling.

There was never enough space in that small room for the two of them, but they made do.

On the rare days when both of them find themselves back at the family home, they gravitate back towards that room and lose hours in the depths of the pages of a book on some obscure topic.

They still argue over who gets the armchair. They still throw books out of the window.

mistystarshine  asked:

It is one thirty A.M.... TIME FOR AU HEADCANONS. Reincarnation AU where Jon and Theon are the first of the Winterfell crew to reunite (excluding the older characters) because they are both swooped up by Dadvos as kids. That joy at seeing a familiar face followed by the unique feeling of, 'really, /you/?'

WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME GDI okay fine fuck it here we go 

1.

Jon knows that there’s an Appointment happening this afternoon, but he doesn’t bother to be on his best behavior for it. He’s been on it for the first few times, except that it didn’t take long to notice that most of the social workers in the place where he’s had to grow up play favorites - years from now he’ll know that most of them weren’t really suited for the job, but at the ripe age of five he really doesn’t have that concept yet.

Keep reading

The end of an era for the group formed by Maj. Boyington.

****
Harry Johnson, the last of the original members of the Black Sheep squadron formed by Greg “Pappy” Boyington, passed away in his home in Destin, Florida on the night of December 3-4. Nicknamed “Skinny,” Harry joined the squadron in November 1943 as a young replacement and participated in their second combat tour, which included the rough missions over Rabaul. He claimed his one and only victory–a Zero–on the last day of the 6-week tour.

Harry was not only the last survivor of the 49 pilots and two ground officers who formed the original Black Sheep, he was the last member of VMF/VMA-214 to shoot down an enemy aircraft in any conflict.

Those days of combat and camaraderie were among the highlights of Harry’s long life, and he was justifiably proud of his membership in one of the world’s most famous fighter squadrons. But there were more important elements to Harry, such as his successful business practices, the decades he spent with his late wife, Dorothy, and the children they raised together.

Rest In Peace, Harry Cecil Johnson, you have slipped the surly bonds of earth.

Source:  Warbird News Facebook Site.

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