#corsair void

[psgadgetreview]

Corsair Void RGB Elite Wireless Premium Gaming Headset Review

Corsair Void RGB Elite Wireless Premium Gaming Headset with 7.1 Surround Sound - Discord Certified - Works with PC, PS5 and PS4 - Carbon 

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[piratequeen1017]

FINISHED PAINTING MY SPACE PIRATES

[cai-tan]

It looks like I'm going to have to wait a little longer on getting a new headset. Best Buy screwed me over and listed this headset as 7.1, but the headset I got only has DTS (which sounds like trash and is not 7.1 at all). Checked with HyperX support and yeah, this specific model of the headset does not have 7.1 capability. Kinda pissed off.

[nictanova]

Allarain Nightsong, Void Dragon corsair

Commission art

[felsjustart]

Khelzriavoidé (Aka "Void") Nervose (Pronounced: Keels-ree-ahh-void-ay Ner-voe-see) She/Her | Age: Unknown | Height: 6’1”ft | Weight: 145 lbs/65.7kgs Aeldari + Corsair + Drukhari + Psyker

Dunno if I'm gonna have time to actually play it, but I was recently invited to a Warhammer 40k TTRPG (Wrath & Glory) and had fun making up my character with my girls since a lot of the Warhammer lore escapes me most of the time. ❤️ Her introductory write up is under the cut! TW: Mentions of Blood, Death & Descriptions of Gore

The swing of the blade is a call to dinner. Carve the flesh and participate in the blood-letting to set the table. Sprinkle the atmosphere with a careful seasoning of terror, fear or despair and let the aroma of misery guide the senses to find the soul soaking in the marinade of suffering. Then feed, feed, feed. Satisfying or not doesn’t seem to matter to the constant thirst. Even a decadent meal only seems to serve as a sloppy stopper to the forever drain… A poorly suppressed sigh escapes her lungs as she pulls her sword from the meat of her latest kill. The fleshy slorp of the limp body slumping away from her is supposed to be satisfying, but it isn’t. She cleans her blade, licks the blood from her lips and squares her shoulders to force herself to lean into the realization that it might be a bit before she can actually feed again. Before the thought fully settles though, the sound of a rapid retreat draws her gaze and she’s forced to abandon her current doings if she wants to catch them. Both feet down and discreet, she swiftly takes after the now fleeing Ganger. The familiar build up of static buzz starts behind her eyes, rips through her gums and shoots straight down to her teeth. Her former attempts at being restrained are thrown aside as her eyes begin to glow, then the familiar cacophony of voices assails her mind: each overlapping and screaming for it’s own modicum of a foothold within her. The air crackles and sizzles. Bright, streaking forks of brilliant light arc towards the Ganger. She can’t hear their screams over her own or the millions of others now echoing through her very bones. There is no way to distinguish where the smell of burning flesh is originating from, nor whether it’s fabric or skin that’s being flayed open. Then, as quickly as it began, it ends. This time the slump of their body hitting the ground is very satisfying. There's a brief, but urgent pause as the Drukhari eagerly takes in her very normal, very not Warp infused surroundings. She takes a breath to try and center herself; disguised as a last minute huff of exertion and the silence that rushes to fill her mind feels exquisite in its unmistakable message. Her lips twist into a hungry, devilish grin. The Psyker wins again.

[corsair-mercenary-companies]

Why do you use a white whale as your logo?

["Is it that by its indefiniteness it shadows forth the heartless voids and immensities of the universe, and thus stabs us from behind with the thought of annihilation, when beholding the white depths of the milky way?"]

Thank you STABBY.

It's a reminder.

It's funny how it's only been a few months but people have begun to forget Commodore. Our Mercenary Queen...

I wasn't there at the start. I only joined after the first real tragedy of CORSAIR. That was just a bit before Booker was our Posterboy. Commodore spoke of the Logo of how our words and actions carried across the stars... Like a Whalesong. She always was an anthrochauvinist at heart.

The funny thing is... I.. I don't think she designed the logo. I think it was warning from Seneschal...

We burned. We died. I could change it if I like but.... It's a reminder. The cost of vengeance. And the cost of sitting in this chair.

//Morse\\

[ashortdropandasuddenstop]

The air was thick with salt and tourists.

Chief Inspector James Norrington stepped off the dock and onto the creaking gangplank of the María Celestina, the so-called “crown jewel” of the harbor’s historical attractions. She was freshly waxed and obnoxiously polished, bobbing smugly in the water as if she wasn’t the scene of a high-profile theft.

He adjusted his sunglasses, not because the sun was in his eyes—but because he could feel a headache forming already.

A museum staffer—young, nervous, probably not used to talking to real police—greeted him near the main deck. “Sir, it—it was just gone this morning. No alarm, no signs of forced entry, nothing.”

James held up a hand. “Save the details. Just… show me the logbook.”

They led him past the velvet ropes and down into the exhibit hall, where a glass display case now sat suspiciously empty. The spotlight still shone dramatically on the void. A plaque below it read:

“Gold Doubloon – Circa 1697. Believed to be part of the Mad Red Corsair’s final plunder.”

Of course it was.

James took the logbook and flipped through the pages with a practiced eye. Names, numbers, mostly tourists. Then, at the bottom of the guest list from the night before:

“Captain Jack S.”

No address. No number. Just that—alongside a doodled compass rose that looked suspiciously smug for an ink drawing.

James glared at the empty display case, the stolen coin already weighing on his mind like a stone. He turned sharply toward Gillette and Groves, his tone biting and impatient. “Find Captain Jack S. I don’t care how—trace his steps, check the docks, question every bloody tourist if you have to. I want him now.” He paused, eyes narrowing.

Both officers stiffened and nodded in unison. “Yes, sir.”

@flighty-sparrow

[drawingdroid]

Technically, I’m Not a Pirate

Oneshot | Din Djarin x Male Reader | Season 3 Finale | Rating: T

Summary: There wasn’t a plan, just escape. But now there’s a kid, a city, and a man in beskar who keeps showing up right when it matters. You’re not sure what this is. But it might be worth staying for.

Warnings: Developing friendship, little crush, mention of slave work and hospitals (not explicit), spoilers for Season 3.

WC: 5155

A/N: Shoutout to @void-of-nonsensesense who suggested a fic where reader just passes snacks to Grogu and Din is an exhausted dad, keeping things platonic. I'm sorry, I had to sprinkle a crush into the story, because I'm in love with romance, but the oneshot revolves around friendship I swear! Tell me what you think, I had a lot of fun writing this!!!

It was the perfect opportunity. You got into the snubfighter like the other pirates, ready to battle. You didn’t truly understand your boss’s quarrel with Nevarro, but you were going to take the chance. Amidst the chaos on board the Corsair, you grabbed your sparse possessions and put them into a duffle bag before entering the small capsule-like snubfighter. You put your headset on and disengaged the small ship.

The aerial space of Nevarro was a disaster. The first thing you saw was another ship, a Kom'rk-class fighter, you thought. Your plan was simple: leave atmo as soon as possible and in one piece. Your mates were already firing at the city, and you felt bad for the people. Last time you were in Nevarro, it was a true skug hole, and now you could admire the rapid development of the city. The other pirates even told you there was a school now where the cantina stood. With luck, you won’t see those bastards or pirate king Gorian Shard again.

To be subtle, you made an initial approach to the city, but then started diverting your course. It was too dangerous to try to leave the planet now, so maybe it was better to fly low and hide in the mountains until everything was quieter. That was your plan until two snubfighters exploded around you, colliding against eachother. You jumped in your seat, having no idea where that came from. And then you saw it. Like a silver comet, cutting through the sky, a N-1 starfighter. You instantly knew you didn’t have a chance, so you did what you were most remarkable at: flying. With both hands, you pushed the controls forward and propulsed towards the mountains. But it looked like the N-1 wasn’t letting you go. They started firing with precision, and you dodged by a hair. The ship was too fast, the pilot too skilled. You were a good one yourself, but your snubfighter couldn’t outrun your attacker.

Finally, a hit. Not direct, but enough to make the ship drift to your right. You were done, that was it. When you finally had an opportunity to be free again, you were going to die. You waited for the final blow while trying to stabilise the snubfighter, not giving up. But the kill shot never arrived. The N-1 had turned and was going directly against the Corsair. That pilot was reckless or an idiot. You didn’t have time to keep watching because you had an emergency landing to do. To your dismay, the lava river was there. If you didn’t stop before it, you’d be pirate soup. Your knuckles were white with the force you gripped the controls, trying everything you learnt in your pilot days.

The last thing you saw was the red glow of the lava.

…

Somewhat, you had made it. You were alive and free. The best part was that, if Gorian Shard survived the attack, he would think you were dead. The first thing that woke you up was a headache. You put your headset away, grunting in pain. It was hot, too hot inside the ship, then you noticed. The cracked glass, the lava. You were on the verge of falling on it. Without losing a second, and afraid of having a concussion, you grabbed your duffel bag and escaped from the snubfighter.

And that’s how you ended up limping through the lava flats. Your head was going to explode, and you felt dizzy, but you had to keep going. Blood was staining your orange flight suit, a memento from another life. The only path was towards Nevarro City. You’d think later what you’d tell the people there. Because if they realized you were a pirate, you were done.

Pushing and pushing yourself, you finally saw the big arch that signaled the entryway. The city looked like a mess after the bombardment. You rested a second against a destroyed building, feeling awful for the inhabitants. They didn’t deserve this. You kept limping until you passed the arch, and people started to notice you. Some were Mandalorians, and you didn’t have time to ask why they were on Nevarro. To your surprise, one of them, a really shiny one, approached you and asked something, but you didn’t even understand because your knees gave up and you fell face-first into the floor.

…

“He’s a New Republic Pilot, what’s he doing here?”

“You have to speak with Carson Teva.”

Your eyes were closed and you were lying in a soft mattress, your head still kriffing aching. A bandage was around it, you noticed, when you finally opened your eyes.

The place was clearly not a hospital. It looked like an improvised infirmary in one of the buildings that had survived. But the most remarkable thing was a big, intimidating Mandalorian looking at you, arms crossed.

“He’s awake.” You noticed the other interlocutor and recognised him. He was High Magistrate Karga, but you had known him as the Bounty Hunter's Guild Master. Not so honorable back then. But people change, you supposed.

“Who sent you, pilot?” The Mandalorian asked, visor scanning you. You were reclined in the infirmary bed, brain still coming to life. Your leg was bandaged, orange flight suit ripped to treat the wound. “Was it Captain Teva?”

“Uhhh…” You responded, half confused, half intimidated, noticing he was the same Mandalorian who had approached you in the entryway.

“Let him rest, Mando. He took a big hit.” Greef Karga interceded, putting his hand on the Mandalorian’s cuirass. Wait a minute, you knew this guy from before. He killed some of the pirates when they went to Nevarro’s cantina and found it was a school. You had silently celebrated their demise. All of them were disgusting.

“No, it’s okay,” you responded, feeling that the fog was dissipating from your brain. Now was the matter of addressing their question. Should you tell the truth? A half-truth? What if you lied and the Mandalorian discovered your lie? If you were right, he was a skilled bounty hunter. He might chase you until eternity. “Gorian Shard sent me.”

In less than a breath, his blaster was against your bandaged head. You flinched, but stood still, showing him your hands in surrender.

“Mando, you can’t kill someone in the infirmary,” Karga scolded him. “Do it outside.” His brows were frowned, obviously pissed after what had happened.

“Wait! I was with King Shard and…” Speaking was difficult with a head injury and a blaster against it. In that moment, you were so proud of yourself for keeping your New Republic flightsuit, because they’d probably killed you if you had looked like a pirate. “I was a New Republic pilot, too.”

“Can you prove it?” The raspy voice of Mando came menacing through the vocoder. He didn’t put the gun down. Magistrate Karga was waiting with his big hands on his hips.

“I don’t know this Captain Teva, but if he runs my chain code in the New Republic database, you’ll find me.” You closed your eyes, tired after speaking that much.

“If you’re lying, we’ll feed you to the Nevarro Reptavians,” added Karga, looking almost as scary as the Mando, who finally lowered the blaster.

“I’m gonna call him,” Mando said, and then he left the room.

“You look like you have a hell of a story, man,” Karga said, leaning against the window. You noticed his hand hadn’t stopped hovering over his blaster.

“You wouldn’t imagine,” you added, and then took the chance of not being under direct threat to rest a bit.

…

It seemed like this Captain Teva confirmed your identity, because Mando didn’t execute you the next few days. A nurse droid took care of you, and after a week, you felt strong enough again to try and walk around the room. You knew there were more patients, you could hear their voices and moans of pain. Probably King Shard’s attack on the city left many injured. You shivered, feeling guilty. After all, you were part of that. You were responsible for the Corsairs' engines. You could have sabotaged it, escaped before… But they had a chokehold on you. They needed your skills, so they took every opportunity to remember how they would torture you if you tried to escape. You were so lost in thought that you didn’t notice the two men entering the room.

“Yes, that’s him.” An older man said, flight suit orange like yours, helmet under his arm. Next to him was the Mando, looking shiny and imposing as always.

“Uh, good morning,” you responded, confused at how the two men had entered the room unannounced. Even the nurse droid was more polite. “Am I…arrested?” You furrowed your brow, gaze switching between the pilot and the Mandalorian. Sure, arrested was better than shot, but it didn’t mean you were happy about that.

“It depends on what you tell Captain Teva.” So this was the famous Carson Teva. The one who had to check your identity.

“Are we doing it here?” Teva asked and Mando nodded, and then he closed the door. And the infirmary became an interrogation room. The shorter man took out a datapad and started the interrogation.

“You were a Corporal in the New Republic Starfighter Corps?”

“That’s correct.” Teva nodded at your response, and you noticed how Mando was leaning against the wall. Apparently relaxed, ankles crossed, but you knew better. He would have the blaster’s barrel prepared to blow your brain out at any time.

“So, how did you end up being a pirate?”

You swallowed, hating to remember that day, but it was necessary for your survival.

“Mission gone wrong. My partner was killed. They kept me to negotiate with the New Republic, but they never responded. When they noticed I was skilled with repairs, they decided to keep me. You can see the file from that day on the database, probably, although evidently there’s no after report.” You indicated to him the date of the mission, mind on your partner for a moment. You really liked the guy; he was fearless, unlike you, a coward.

The betrayal by the New Republic hurt, too. You’d seen yourself how overloaded they were, but didn’t think they won’t even respond or attempt a rescue. Although negotiating with pirates was a delicate matter. 

“Are you bitter with the New Republic?” You knew that was a loaded question. You could be marked as a traitor.

“I did what I had to do for my survival, the New Republic abandoned me after all.”

Captain Teva nodded, writing something in the pad.

“Do you feel loyalty towards Gorian Shard?” You didn’t expect the question, and your gaze turned steel.

“He kept me imprisoned, tortured me, and forced me to work on his disgusting ship. When I arrived in Nevarro, I had just tried to finally escape, but my snugfighter was taken down at the edge of the lava river.”

“So it was you,” the Mandalorian said, he was so quiet that you had almost forgotten that he was there. “You were running away.”

“I saw a chance and took it, you responded, full of shame. You felt more of a coward under The Mandalorian’s gaze. A moment of silence stretched between you.

“We found him with a bag with all his things,” Mando added, and you remembered he was the one who first saw you at your arrival. Had he brought you to the infirmary too?

Carson Teva looked at Mando with a brow lifted.

“No pirate will go into battle with an overnight bag,” Teva reasoned.

“And he didn’t have any guns or weapons on him.”

“They would pat me down every day to look for one. They knew what I would do to them if I had a chance,” you admitted.

“I believe him.” You looked at the Mandalorian in disbelief. The man who was ready to execute you in this same bed.

“I’ll have to go through the reports and speak with him again, but..”

“I’m not arrested?”

“You’re not.”

Your smile was as bright as the sun. Finally, you were free, truly free. But then a somber thought crossed your mind.

“Goriand Shard, is he dead?” You tried not to shiver, but the sole thought of him made you fold into yourself.

“I took care of it myself,” Mando responded, his tone dark.

You breathed after a moment, holding it.

“Thank you,” you said, and he only nodded. Like it was just another day on the job.

“He’s a skilled pilot, Teva.” The Captain was already preparing to leave when Mando stopped him. “He put up a good fight when escaping from the N-1.”

Teva looked at you. You looked at Mando, not believing what he had said. You knew where this was going.

“Well, son…if your name is cleared after this…we’ll be happy to welcome you back on the Starfighter Corps.

You couldn’t believe it and just nodded.

“Thank you…Captain, safe travels.”

“Get well soon.”

And after the farewell, Carson Teva and The Mandalorian left the room.

Had the Mandalorian just recommended you for a job?

…

“Where did you find this beauty?”

You were sitting on a crate, your leg still too weak to stand for a long time, enjoying some crunchy snacks.

“Tatooine,” Mando responded. He was lying on his back, taking apart the port where the droid went to install a glass dome because “Grogu likes to watch from there.”

The little one was sitting next to you. For every snack you ate, you passed him three. His cheeks were round and full like a womp rat. 

It was a great surprise to find that Mando (the name everyone around here called him, although it was confusing with the other Mandos everywhere) had a kid. A tiny, wrinkled, cute kid. He had brought him to the infirmary when he came to tell you that Carson Teva had checked your story, and your name was cleared. The baby had cooed softly, observing you with bug-like eyes. You decided that you liked him.

A few days after that, you were discharged from the infirmary and left to your own devices. You rearranged your duffle bag over your shoulder, looking around you. Without credits and contacts, you didn’t even know how you’d have your next meal.

That’s when The Mandalorian appeared. At this point, it seemed like he was always in the right place at the right moment.. The new school was next to the infirmary, and apparently Mando had come to pick up the little one. The teacher droid was waving in his direction, and his kid, nestled on his elbow, was waving back. Other children from the city were running to their parents, ready to go home.

The pair walked towards you.

“You’re discharged,” he simply said, tone neutral as always.

“I am.”

“What now?” He always spoke like words costed credits, kriff.

“I don’t have no idea. I need my leg to heal properly,” you admitted, a bit ashamed of not having a plan after running from Gorian Shard.

“They’re always in need of engineering personnel at the port.” You were struck, he remembered that you were the Corsair’s engineer. “I can walk you, we were headed towards the N-1.”

Thanks to his contacts, you got a job, and a neighbor let you stay at their home in exchange for helping with repairs after the bombing. Things were finally working out for you, and you could breathe.

That’s what you brought there, snacking with the child on your break. You didn’t even know what you were both eating.

“You’re spoiling him,” Mando warned, turning his visor towards you. You’d never stop being amazed at how this ruthless Mandalorian could be so caring and patient with the kid. And how he, unexpectedly, had helped you to build a life again.

“Your dad is jealous because he wants to eat too,” you said conspiratorially to the kid, who giggled and grabbed a fistful of snacks. Mando sighed and decided to take a break from tinkering.

To your surprise, he sat next to you, and the kid was immediately on his lap.

“Have you thought about Teva’s offer?” He asked, caressing the kid’s fuzzy head.

“I have.”

“And?”

“I’m not healed yet, I can’t walk for a long time, and…” 

“You don’t trust them.”

He had put into words what you were afraid to say. After they had let you rot amidst the pirates, you not only were remorseful, but also distrusting of the New Republic. And now you knew that they hadn’t come to the rescue when Gorian Shard bombarded Nevarro, although Teva tried. SO no, you won’t be returning to your job for a while.

…

You were fully recovered and thriving in Nevarro, meeting with Din and Grogu between their missions. The Mandalorians had started establishing in the lava flats, and you helped them from time to time. You had your own rented room now, and new overalls. It was while working on the electric installation of the new covert that it arrived. The first thing you noticed was something covering the sunlight. Hand over your eyes, you looked. An Imperial fleet. You run to hide the kids when the Armorer made an appearance.

It looked like the fleet was Lady Kryze’s, who emerged from the Gauntlet with Grogu in her hands. 

“Hi buddy! Where’s your dad?” You asked when Bo-Katan left the kid on the floor, and he toddled towards you immediately. He was telling you something in that babbling language of his, and you gave him one of the snacks you had stashed in your coveralls’ pockets, especially for him. The ones that were one of his favorites, blue cookies that he practically inhaled every time.

“If he pukes all over himself, you’re cleaning him.” You turn to greet Mando when you hear his voice. He had landed the N-1 and was walking with that sure swagger of his. In one hand, he had a bottle of some expensive-looking wine.

“I hope that’s not for the baby,” you say, smiling playfully. The kid was occupying himself by climbing up you, at that moment already grabbing your toolbelt.

“I hoped to share it with you.”

You tilted your head, like Mando did when he was thinking. When you went to the cantina to catch up, he always wore the helmet and never drank. Was he going to drink in front of you, finally? At this point, you knew a little more about his tribe's customs regarding the helmet. You knew he wouldn’t remove it, but even lifting it just to drink was a big step. Did he trust you enough for that? You weren’t even sure if he considered you his friend. For you, he was the closest person in your life, the one you told your worries and projects. The one who helped you build a new life. But between his silent nature and the helmet, you weren’t sure where you stood. 

“What’s the occasion?” You asked, picking Grogu up from your toolbelt and putting him on your shoulder. He loved it when you did that.

“We’re celebrating tonight.” He shifted his weight from leg to leg. “And…I have to ask you something.”

“Whatever you need, Mando.”

…

This is how you found yourself hovering over the glazed surface of Mandalore, in a borrowed starfighter. You felt indebted to Mando, so when he asked for backup because he needed a good pilot, you said yes immediately. That, and because you felt your pride inflate like a balloon. The plan was to search for the “Great Forge”. On the path, you had encountered some Mandalorian survivors. These poor people were in terrible conditions, you didn’t know how they had survived on this inhospitable planet. You volunteer to fly them back to the light cruiser waiting with the fleet. 

You were a bit sad to abandon the expedition, especially since Grogu was being a menace using IG-11 as a walker. The discovery of being able to say “yes” and “no” had you laughing all the time.

“Grogu, does your dad snore?”

“YES!”

“Grogu, do his boots stink?”

“YES!”

“Grogu, do you think your dad should start dating?”

“YES! YES! YES!”

“Enough,” Din intervened, you laughing on the floor with tears in your eyes. This IG-11 thing was the best idea Karga had in his life.

“But Mando, there are a lot of hot fighters here, are you sure…”

He looked at you with his equivalent of a death stare.

“Don’t make me regret bringing you here.”

“I’ll behave,” you responded, wiping away your tears. Grogu giggled, amused at the situation.

That happened the night before, and now you were carrying the survivors to the light cruiser. It was just before docking that you received the distress signal. The atmosphere of Mandalore messed with comms, so the quality of the sound was terrible.

“Mando? What happens?” You couldn’t understand a thing, but in the back, there were clearly blaster shots. In a hurry, you dropped the survivors who were helped and treated. “I think something’s wrong,” you told the other Mandalorians. “I’m going back right now.”

And it was so, so wrong. Other starfighters had followed you, but you weren’t prepared to be outnumbered by TIE fighters and bombers. Your throat went dry.

“Mando! Are you there?” You tried once again, but only static responded. Cold sweat started to drip from your neck. But there wasn’t time for being frightened. The TIE fighters were coming. From where or why, it didn’t matter. You only hoped that Mando and the kid were safe.

The fight was chaotic and dirty. The TIE fighters were faster, so you had to use every trick in your sleeve to protect the fleet. You dove your ship almost to the point of colliding with the glass floor to surprise the imperials from below, meanwhile, one of your allies was taken down. It was like the rebellion days. Watching friends and allies die, again and again. But you had to stay strong, so you maneuvered the Gauntlet and fired to the point of overheating the guns, taking down the TIE fighters until no more were left. Your hands were shaking from the force you had gripped the controls.

But you couldn’t waste time, so you went directly to the rendezvous point where you had said goodbye. There was smoke in the air, but you could see the Mandalorians coming to the surface. Frantically, you looked for two specific figures, but from a distance, it was impossible. Landing as fast as you could, you ran to the group. Some were injured, you saw Axe Woves and other Mandalorians you knew from the covert. Finally, you spotted Bo-Katan, but no trace of Din and Grogu. She was looking to the sky.

“Lazy Kryze! We’ve dealt with the TIE fighters.” You had a lot of respect for her and always tried to address her formally, but desperation was coming out of you in waves.

“They’re okay,”  she assured you, before you even asked. She put her hands on your shoulders. “Great job.” And then she left to help the injured into the Gauntlet. You just waited, your hands twitching.

Until you saw the familiar unpainted helmet next to a bounty droid.

“Mando!” You couldn’t help the cry of relief, nor the run towards them. The kid looked overjoyed to see you, jumping into your arms immediately.

“You’re…okay.” He looked exhausted. You were holding back the need to hug him. “I tried to warn you…The TIE fighters…”

“We took care of them.” You assured him, rocking the kid. 

“I knew I could count on you,” he said, sounding like he was on the verge of breaking. What had happened underground? Maybe he’ll tell you later. 

“Do you need help walking? Are you injured?” You asked, looking at how he wasn’t walking.

“No…just, for a moment…” His shoulders sank, gaze fixated on the floor. “I thought you were gone, too.”

Your heart broke into a hundred pieces not only because of the confession, but because of the lingering implication. Who had he lost today? The moment of vulnerability shattered you. Not one week ago, you were wondering if Mando even considered you a friend, and now he was telling you how afraid he was for you. You were in awe that he considered you more than an ally.

But for you, it had been some time since you considered more than a friend, though. Not that you’d ever tell him that.

You came closer, and closer, giving him time to retreat. But he didn’t. “I’m here, Mando,” you said, finally hugging him, Grogu nestled between you two.

“Din. It’s Din.”

You inhaled sharply, having spent enough time among Mandalorians to learn that their name is sacred.

“Din, thank you for returning safe and sound.”

…

The Mandalorian settlement started growing, tents became little cabins with the efforts of the warriors and the help of the people of Nevarro. And you. One of those cabins was Din’s. He had accepted it after Karga offered in return for his services. And that was where you were headed after a long day of building new houses and wiring the ones that were finished. 

After the mission on Mandalore, the dead were honoured and the survivors healed. And Din and you had grown closer. He even told you about Paz Vizsla, his brother in arms, who had died ensuring the survival of all of them. To your dismay, the little crush on your friend had only grown. You tried to keep it down, tucked in your lower ribs, but every time you saw him, especially now that he looked relaxed for once in his life, it got worse.

That evening, he insisted on cooking for you, a skill he was putting an effort into learning after years of living off ration bars and broth. Now he had a child who needed a proper diet to grow strong. You brought some spicy buns that a Mandalorian family had given you in exchange for helping them with the hydraulic door system.

Grogu greeted you at the porch, losing interest in a poor lizard that he had caught.

“Don’t snack before dinner, buddy, your dad is trying so hard to cook for us,” you said, patting his fuzzy head. Apparently, he was very hungry, because when he smelled the spicy buns, he tried to fly them from the envelope. 

“Don’t give him anything before dinner,” Din’s voice came from the inside between the sound of pots and pans. “Or he won’t eat his vegetables.

“C’mon, Din, at this point, you know he’s a carnivore.” You picked up the kid and sat him on your hip, going inside the cabin.

“We don’t know,” he grunted. After some time, you still didn’t have any information about the kid’s race, in spite of Din’s traveling. You took a look at him after crossing the threshold. Even though he was more relaxed now, he wouldn’t remove even a little piece of his armor. So, currently, he looked hilarious trying not to ruin dinner, like the pot contained a thermal detonator. To his credit, the smell was good.

“It looks like you’re getting better,” you said, your smile brightening your features like every time you saw him. 

You and Grogu set the table, and the three of you started eating. After that time when you shared the expensive wine, Din started to eat in front of you, only lifting his helmet enough, trusting you won’t peek. You ate in silence, enjoying the stew Din had prepared and the spicy buns. You loved these moments shared with them, although you had to push down for foolish feelings so they wouldn’t surface.

“I need to ask you something,” he suddenly said, leaving the spoon in the bowl.

“Shoot,” you cleaned your chin and observed how Grogu tried to steal your bun. “Those are bad manners, Grogu, if you want more, you gotta ask,” you scolded him, and he lowered his ears, but soon babbled to point to an untouched bun. You gave it to him and took a sip of water. “Sorry, Din, you were saying?”

“I want you to be my partner.”

You spat all the water over him.

“Sorry, what? You said, feeling half embarrassed, half shocked, your heart trying to escape from your ribs. He looked unbothered and just cleaned the water, but the kid was giggling.

“The New Republic contacted me. Carson Teva wants me in. It’s a steady job, less dangerous.” He looked at the kid, but you didn’t know where this was going. “I accepted to join the Adelphi Rangers.”

You frowned until the gears in your brain started to turn. So he meant that kind of partner. You hoped the disappointment didn’t show on your face.

“You want me…To join, too? Be your partner in the Starfighter Cops?”

“Captain Teva’s offer is still standing.”

You evaluated your situation, still shattered by the misunderstanding. 

“I don’t know Din…” You would admit you missed the corps, but you were still a bit hurt by the New Republic letting you rot in the hands of the pirates.

“I trust you more than anyone in the galaxy, and you’re a great pilot.” His voice was solemn, and you felt your face getting hotter. And it wasn’t the spices. 

“Well, it would be a good way of keeping an eye on you so you don’t get into trouble, I mean…” He tilted his head to the left, not saying anything, but you were already an expert in his microexpressions. “C’mon, don’t give me that look, you attract problems like a magnet.”

“So that's why I attracted you?” He said, and you inhaled sharply. You knew he was joking and he wasn’t meaning that kind of attraction, but another more double-entendre of words today, and you’d have a heart attack. You decided to shoot your shot.

“More like you were attracted to me, it was you who decided to help me. I didn’t know my handsome face would ever soften a fierce bounty hunter enough to take care of me,2 you said drastically, but your insides were twisting. Din and you didn’t flirt, you were friends. Remember? He wasn’t interested in you or in dating in general.

He didn’t respond at first. Just shifted on his seat. The kid was now silent, looking at you alternately. He sensed your nerves with his magic baby antenna, probably. Din tilted down his helmet at put himself forward into the table, getting closer to you. You felt like a teenager again with how your pulse was pounding against the collar of your flight suit. And finally, with a tone you’d never heard him using, a low pitch that sounded like a Tatooine dune, soft and sandy, he asked:

“What kind of partner did you think I meant before?”

[btmc-official]

----------------------------------------

>>Terminal Connected - Welcome to the Omninet<<

>>BTMC BROADCAST

>>Type - Long distance

----------------------------------------

<Flashflood> ".. Alright, here we go. Ahem."

<Flashflood> "I am Silvania Mandileq, of the Karrakin house of Dust, minor house of Mandileq, callsign Flashflood, and I am the current captain of the Black Torrent Mercenary Company. We were present during the schism of CORSAIR Mercenary Company, assisting the Loyalist sided individuals present aboard Sylvia's Requiem. While I was not there, callsigns Etiquette, Severance, and Faithless of BTMC were, and told me it was horrific."

<Flashflood> "First, I would like to honor those who lost their lives that day. On either side. While the so-called 'mercenary queen' may have gone too far, and while many of the members of CMC may have created a cult of personality, they were still worthy individuals. May their souls find a bounty of rest and respite, as should those who fought to keep CMC in a stable state of existence. Til legends bleed."

<Flashflood> "Now to move on. As CMC has.. for lack of a better word, disintegrated as a mercenary company, there is a much needed hole to fill amongst Union space. As such, I will once again be extending my vice-captain's--Etiquette's--previous message."

<Flashflood> "To all individuals, groups, or companies; we are extending an offer of work. Attached to this broadcast will be the BTMC contract form, which can be filed to request our services. Furthermore, while this company is formed primarily by mercenaries, some individuals amongst our crew have medical training. We will be responding to what distress calls we can after the events of the CMC, to 'pick up the slack', as callsign Etiquette says."

[A heavy sigh can be heard, followed by a minute of silence. Some background chatter starts up, the speakers being indistinguishable, before falling silent once more.]

<Flashflood> ".. Again, to.. close off this broadcast; Black Torrent Mercenary Company will be taking extra contracts in the foreseeable future, so as to fill the void left by the destruction of CORSAIR. In addition, we will provide temporary lodging to any individuals or small groups in need or distress."

“Black Torrent Mercenary Company, signing off.”

----------------------------------------

>>Omninet Connection Terminated<<

>>Attached file; BTMC Contract

----------------------------------------

P.S. “Let us hope that Death is the friendly sort."

Signed, <Flashflood>

----------------------------------------

[dzthenerd490]

Warhammer 40K Retold

Description: A simple art project about changing the style and lore of certain aspects of the Warhammer 40K franchise after finding many, MANY flaws and elements that I wasn't satisfied with. If you're a diehard Warhammer 40K fan or perhaps even a normal WH40K fan this will defiantly piss you off, so sorry in advance but also, I don't care. I'm doing this for fun so I'm not going to stop anytime soon. Sorry but you know, not really.

.

WH40K Retold

Lore

The Galactic Imperium

Space Marines

Traitors to the Galactic Imperium

Coming Soon

Forces of Chaos

Coming Soon

Eldar

Craftworld Eldar

Dark Eldar

Exodite Eldar

Corsair Eldar

Carnival Eldar

Renegade Eldar

Hybrid Eldar

Void Eldar

Tyranids

Hive Fleet Leviathan

Hive Fleet Behemoth

Hive Fleet Kraken

Hive Fleet Oroboros

Hive Fleet Collosus

Hive Fleet Naga

Hive Fleet Dragon

Hive Fleet Hydra

Hive Fleet Gorgon

Hive Fleet Kronos

Hive Fleet Scarabus

Hive Fleet Locust

Hive Fleet Medusa

Hive Fleet Megalodon

Hive Fleet Charybdis

Hive Fleet Chimera

Orks Skaven

Coming Soon

Necrons

Agdagath Dynasty

Atun Dynasty

Charnovokh Dynasty

Maynarkh Dynasty

Mephrit Dynasty

Nekthyst Dynasty

Nephrekh Dynasty

Nihilakh Dynasty

Novokh Dynasty

Ogdobekh Dynasty

Oroskh Dynasty

Oruscar Dynasty

Sautekh Dynasty

Thokt Dynasty

Vralekth Dynasty

The Tau Empire

Coming... Eventually

Other Factions

Dalek

Transformers

Guana

[umbrasnow]

[Decrypting]

[CMC IDENT]

[WARNING UNSTABLE CODE]

[Open Package?]

[Y/N]

{Before you can respond}

[Y/N]

{You're immediately given access to a list of names some of which crossed out}

High Command members who wanted to sell you out for a profit. I've taken the liberty of having a few killed for you. In the case you want the rest of your potential vengeance go get em.

Real surprising how CORSAIR treats it's best ones. You can thank the Handlers for talking these names out of it but well.... Never said I liked the idea of people like that existing in my old home.

Good to see what you and your other half have been up to. I like it. I reward things I like. You've now got yourself an in with a gal with so many fingers in pies that you won't believe it.

And all you gotta do to get more is follow the breadcrumbs I've left you and that other half of yours. No bullshit. No unfair prices. Just a list of jobs needing doing and a pile of information that you two would love to have.

Enjoy your little spree :p

[B to the R to the O to the A to the D to the B to the A to the N to the D]

◊ [ it is a long moment from when Khione opens this message, to when their fingers start to move to write a response. Anyone stood in the courtroom with them, and the drastically smaller number who would look for them, might see their eyes flicker over their screen; a furrow creases their brow, then their shoulders stiffen. Finally, a demeanor settles over them that only two in that courtroom would recognise. ]

◊ [ The admittedly pallid warmth bleeds out of them in its entirety, leaving in its wake a void so frigid as to burn. Their eyes rise to scan the room around them. Are there faces here, that they can put to these names? Could they keep their tenuous control over themself if there were? ]

◊ [ Perhaps. They should hope so; they are surrounded on all sides. And is still a response they've yet to pen. Slowly they look back to their device, and consider their words. Carefully. ]

◊ Broadband. More and more I find myself taken aback these days, by how broadly I was truly known amongst those of CORSAIR who held power. For a decade I made no mention of my history, never uttered a word of what I may have left behind.

◊ I suppose I shouldn't be that surprised, that the ghost of the girl I was found itelf dug up regardless. Preventative measures. Precautions. I can picture any number of explainations that I might have been given, had I discovered that fact sooner.

◊ This, there could have been no excuses for. They would have returned me to what I had killed to escape. Sold me out... I would argue you have used one word too many. They would have sold me, as one might a painting or sculpture. If only the price is high enough... I had thought us better than that. Perhaps we were, for some. But that is speculation.

◊ That you have already had a number of these names scrubbed out speaks volumes to your earnest displeasure; for that, and for lending your voice to the Handlers who argued against this betrayal, you do indeed have my thanks. And you will have more.

◊ It is good that you speak of work to come, Broadband, of jobs that you want doing. I do not believe I will be myself for some time, as I scratch through this list. Name, by name. I will need to work, between moments of blood beneath my fingers. You will have your straightforward bargain.

◊ We will speak again. I will want that latter half of names.

◊ If you have enjoyed the show thus far, the next act will be riveting.

[ KHIONE ]

[corsair-princess-nenime]

The Path of Strength

The scuttling stormclouds of Isobelis parted through Nenime’s fleet.

Bladed reavers in Ynnari red sailed side by side with graceful Heg Ravens warships, watchful over the downed Baham’Uth.

Nenime studied them, looking out from the observation canopy of her own flagship, the void-stalker Mathlewa’s Dream. Quite the force.

But not what she needed at the moment. She needed guile. Conviction. A sort of cunning brutality.

The Corsair princess meditated on such as she awaited the admission of her own hired blade. @creeping-kommando

[tearofisha]

Piracy.

Aelinor coughed, covering her mouth with the back of her hand in an attempt to disguise her revulsion for what she had just tasted.

"That is vile, Rishaeron." The Farseer coughed, but the Ranger was nonplussed. He swirled the last dregs of black Corsair rum in his cup and drained it with a smile on his face as the spiced liquid warmed him from the inside out.

"Yes, I didn't think it would be to your taste. However, it's what all the locals favour, and I know you're all in favour of expanding your horizons lately." Rishaeron indicated around the hubbub of the spaceport where exotically armoured Aeldari, Drukhari and their slaves ferried cargo, weapons and other ill gotten gains with the swashbuckling swagger unique to their kind.

The two black clad Ulthwéans and their sleeping Gyrinx cut an unusual figure sitting outside a bar at a small table but no more so than the carnival of colour surrounding them, but all the same Rishaeron spotted a figure a short distance away eyeing up the pair intently.

"Eyes up, Seer." He whispered, putting down his cup and leaning forward in his seat. "We appear to have company." He nodded in the direction of their observer.

"Greetings, friend. Do we have a problem here?"

@ash-and-the-void

[iloveoutlinesiswear]

Finished out Acadi's playthrough and wow is her ending different from Karroleen's, despite them both being Iconoclasts.

Apparently, traveling with Acadi was so traumatizing for Yrliet and Marazhai that they trauma bonded over it. Also, Acadi's break up with Yrliet in pursuit of Heinrix turned her into a corsair. So the two Eldar weirdos ended up with each other and raiding Acadi's holdings on a regular basis.

On the whole, between my two playthroughs, Karoleen's holdings were a lot more stable BUT personally tragic, because pretty much all of her companions left her. They had happy endings but she ended up completely alone. She was very good at uplifting others and bringing out the best in them, but bad at going after what she wanted. As a result, everyone adored and admired her, but distantly as if looking up at a star. Only Heinrix's occasional visits would break up the miserable march of years, leaving her simultaneously proud of what she built but quietly resentful of it. (I might play through again as a waif because of this, I feel like several choices I made early on wouldn't have been choices she made.)

Acadi was more uneven which makes sense. Foul tempered, snarky, and frankly rather bitchy, she ended up making Tortuga with poor houses, protected by a benevolant star god. There was a lot more post game blood shed, and several of her companions died rather ignominiously or became a problem for her. I suspect that Acadi went on to become rather bitter and bored, furious that she didn't make her world any better than her predecessor. Ultimately, I think she would end up abandoning her protectorate, flying off into the void with only Heinrix.

[nictanova]

Princess Arrya of the Void Riders Corsair fleet

Commission art

[peliginspeaks]

To the frostbitten tomb colonist: have you had a favourite profession from over the years?

Her eyes seem to light up a bit, which is quite a feat for two empty voids amid a nest of bandages.

"I quite liked being a pirate back in the day, before they were styling themselves 'corsairs'."

She folds her hands over her cane and continues in a voice like a cold draft through paper.

"I always did find it so quaint how surprised the crews would get when I boarded them. It is so funny how all across history, people seem not to realize that others can simply take things. It got boring after a while, though, of course." She tilts her head. "I suppose zailors expect it more, these days."