#i need to make a tech marine model tho

[blizz4rd1203]

i demand more info :)

Theyre a group of Iron Warriors that got fed up with how perturabo was running things at the end of the Horus Heresy and split off after entering the Eye of Terror. They went through some warp time shenanigans and got spit out of the Eye sometime near the beginning of m42. They currently consist of 41 astartes, 20 of which are legionaries (fig 1) , 10 crew a Kratos Heavy Assault Tank called the Iron Repute (fig 2) , their leader Siege Captain John (fig 3) , a squad of Terminators (no picture) and a Leviathan Dreadnought named Bucko (fig 4)

They're currently allied with @hera-the-wizard 's darkmech character Mordax, Engineer of Tzeentch (fig 5) and her scions in their effort to retake her home Forge-World from the Imperium of Man. Currently the only model I have of her scions is a yet-unnamed Questoris Knight of House Caesarean (fig 6).

[mutual-monsters]

little one, you got me staring odd 🧸

Pairing: Steve Kemp x gn!reader

TW: Angst, kind of hurt/comfort, kidnapping, Stockholm syndrome, a slightly inaccurate depiction of night terrors (even tho I have them myself), negative self-talk, pet names (baby, darling)

MINORS DNI !!! 🔞

Summary: Steve finds an unorthodox way to deal with his darling’s night terrors

Word count:  913

A/N: Hello! I wrote this piece for @dadplease and her 5k stuffie writing contest! I am so, so excited to be a part of this!

The title of this fic is a (slightly modified) lyric from Disloyal Order Of Water Buffaloes by Fall Out Boy.

A couple more quick notes: this fic contains a minor Easter egg (have fun The Boys/Jack Quaid truthers)! Also, this fic will mark my official return from hiatus, and I am so majorly glad to be back in the saddle on the blog against and not just a silent lurker. This piece was also co-beta'd by @mulberrybeat and @cloudyskiesandcoffee (my loves <3).

When he told you you were different, he meant it. Not just in the way you moved or spoke, or even thought, but in the way that you reacted. Usually, he’d bring his victims downstairs kicking and screaming, and they’d fight him tooth and nail up until the day he took away their ability to speak. 

But not you.

You had been peaceful, docile even. You had obeyed him and hung on his every word. You had even initiated affection with him when he got close enough. His presence seemed to soothe you, and in return, he began to feel the same. 

As he lay in bed, exhausted one night after refusing to drive back to the city and opting to stay at the cabin instead, he found himself suddenly awoken by wailing. Quickly, he raced down the stairs, sedative in hand, ready to punish whoever had woken him up. To his surprise, however, he found the cries to be emanating from your cell. 

“Baby?” He called out.

No answer.

And so, he slid the door open, only to find you asleep, tossing and turning, whimpering, and sweating profusely. 

You awoke to him shaking you, a concerned look on his face. 

“Steve?” Your grogginess was clearly showing.

“You were screaming. I heard you from all the way upstairs.”

“Oh, shit! I’m so sorry! I have night terrors! I didn’t mean-”

Without another word, he pulled you in close. 

“Darling, it’s not your fault.”

A moment's pause while he thought.

“How about you come upstairs and sleep with me tonight?”

“I’d like that.”

Steve had marinated on the events of that night for two whole days before deciding what to do. 

Not far from his clinic there was a small tech shop, not even brand name, and Steve set his sights upon it. He opened the door to find it devoid of all other humans, save for the young man behind the counter (“Hughie”, as his name tag would suggest) who was flipping through the pages of a comic book, seemingly unbothered by Steve’s presence in the store. 

“Hey, uh, kid?” He said, knocking on the display counter between them.

After briefly losing his composure and regaining it, the boy realized what was happening and sat down the comic in his hand. 

“S-sorry,” he stuttered out, “‘s a really good issue. What, uh, can I help you with?”

Steve, now annoyed, wasted no time, “I need a nanny cam, but one of the ones that doesn’t look like a camera.”

Hughie furrowed his brows, “Uh, sure, sir, right this way.”

After listening to the attendant drone on and on about makes and models, camera quality, and quite frankly some technical garb Steve knew nothing about, he had finally landed on one he felt satisfied with; a good-sized teddy bear with a camera hidden behind its eyes. With this, maybe he’d finally be able to get the root of helping.

When he arrived back at the cabin, you were ready to greet him at your cell door. Moreover, you were ecstatic at the presence of the teddy. Your eyes watered as you kissed him, thanking him. He felt guilt in the moment, albeit fleeting, for deceiving you. 

He fed you dinner, stayed with you for a while, and then retreated upstairs for the night. 

After some time alone, he began to berate himself. After all, why could he just buy you a gift for the sake of gift-giving? Why did there have to be some other motive behind it? His wallowing felt extended as he glanced at the clock, finding it to be late, much later than he thought it was. 

And then a thought occurred; why weren’t you crying yet? Usually, by this time you’d be asleep and engulfed within the tortures of your mind, but not tonight. 

As Steve pulled out his phone to check the nanny cam, he couldn’t help but assume the worst– that you had up and died somehow, that you had suffocated on that little pillow he’d given you, that you had laid down there and suffered whilst he did nothing. But, as the video feed pulled up, he wasn’t able to draw any conclusions. All he could see was the cell door and the ground. Perhaps the bear had fallen over? (“It did seem top-heavy”).

Steve descended the stairs to the basement quietly and with extreme caution. He listened for your breath, for your whimpers, for anything. Again, no such luck. Upon reaching your cell door, he found his heart racing for the first time in a long time, terrified of what could possibly be on the other side of the door. And then, 

You, sound asleep, cradling the teddy bear with a smile on your face.

And Steve, so relieved drops his phone and rushed over to check your pulse, inadvertently waking you up. 

“Hmm…Steve?” You asked, unsure if he was really even there.

“It’s me, baby. It’s me.”

“Did I wake you up again?”

“No, baby. I just–”

He thought for a moment, still scared, before letting a single tear slip. 

“I just don’t want you to be alone.”

“I’m not alone, silly.” You said, wiping his tear. “I have my stuffie.”

“Well, why don’t you both come upstairs with me, hm?”

Looking back down at the bear, still completely oblivious to its sinister nature and feeling fully contented for the first time in a long while, you crafted up an answer, “We’d really love that.”