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#scar acceptance series
aohydrangeas · 1 year
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life-winners-liveblog · 5 months
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3dl Scar, double life Scott, secret life Jimmy (we need to find you three a group name for when we talk to you all at the same time) : do you think wishing really really strongly for sl!Scar heart to stop glitching will work?
-An General that is probably high (of the joy of a successful redstone project a baby redstoner could feel when they understand new stuff)
******
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smimon · 2 months
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I don't know anything anymore
Do you think this fandom will ever stop making fun of short people
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briar-rose-cosplays · 5 months
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Why The New Winner Should Be The Planet I Think They Should Be
Okay so Scar should obviously be the Earth. For starters: The cosmic entities we’ve decided for the other winners have had something to do with their season. Most specifically Martyn being the Comet which is very Limited Life. Scar being the Earth would not only tie into his rulership of Sunflower Valley, but also his last minute alliance with The Mounders that won him the series as they had the globe. It also makes sense with his ties to Grian who is the sun and Scar’s most reoccurring alliance and the “player” he sacrificed his life to in 3rd Life. I also just love the idea of all of the Winner art for Scar being his Sunflower skin and it would just be so pretty with an Earth motif. He’s also one of, if not the best terraformer on Hermitcraft so it would pay homage to that too. As far as symbolism goes, it can stand for potential. Scar had so much potential as a player and he finally put it all to use.
This is why Scar should be planet Earth.
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rosaacicularis · 1 year
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“you can kill me,” scar said, in a way that made it seem like he believed in grian, like he was encouraging the godforsaken act.
“what? no,” grian said, his eyes flitted between scar’s looking for any sign that he’d meant anything else. there wasn’t any. his grip tightened on his sword and the mere touch of it against his skin felt like it’d burn. he didn’t let go, he didn’t know why.
“slay me and take the enchanter,” scar leaned in a little bit, a fraction of a centimetre. a soft smile was on his lips, and grian realised that scar wanted him to do it. he wanted grian to kill him, and grian couldn’t.
“no, i literally can’t,” he didn’t want to either, he was terrified of a world that scar wasn’t a part of. he’d been a constant for so long, a steady heartbeat under his palm. green then yellow then finally red, and grian couldn’t fathom it not being there at all.
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b1odeuwed · 10 days
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more people need to reject fanon when it comes to desertduo
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atherix · 1 year
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Me when Midnight Chills makes a guest appearance (losing my mind thank you Atherix) but also when there is a prompt for moar content 👀 👀 👀
Cheeky!! Lmao here, have a nice snippet from the future <3 mildly spoilery but channeling a bit of that "Scar would absolutely abuse his authority if CC!Scar were in control" energy in this one <3 not the full snippet sorry, tis but a fragment to avoid severe spoilers <3
Pardon if I missed any format issues, posting from mobile so the format doesn't translate 1:1 jfkskfj
--
“What are you doing?”
Grian’s wings flare out and his gaze snaps over to the new voice- low and dangerous, none of the usual energy or light it carries. Next to him, Mumbo growls softly- a warning, though not aimed at Scar, who stands at what was once the entrance to the tent.
His hair, messy from sleep, is still in a braid lying limply over his right shoulder and his nightgown hangs about his shins. His feet are bare, a telltale sign of just how abruptly he woke and came rushing to their aid.
His eyes, usually soft green with the barest hint of golden flecks or rings, burn with magic that he hasn’t had a chance to expend. It stands out sharply against the soft silver light of the full moon above them.
The breeze turns warm and Grian and Mumbo share a look.
“Ah! My Prince!” the Ringmaster greets when he sees Scar, and Scar glances between the other Elf, the Fairy ring and the children trying to pull it apart. His eyes meet Grian’s now, and whatever he sees must not be good; what was already angry worried confused hardens into pure, unadulterated fury. “My apologies, had I known I would have such an... esteemed... guest tonight, I would have tidied up!”
“Is that any way to greet me?” Scar asks coldly, eyes snapping back to the Ringmaster, and the Elf freezes under Scar’s gaze. Grian swallows and Mumbo tenses up, both of them now staring at Scar-
Something about him is captivating. It demands attention, like fingers digging into the soul and grounding them, gripping their chins and forcing them to give its master all its focus, and Grian thinks he might not be able to look away.
(Except, he can’t help but notice, no one can; all eyes are focused on Scar and Scar alone, all silver and gold in the fire and moonlight.)
“P... Pardon me?” the Ringmaster asks, voice breaking as he does, and Scar tilts his head at him, gaze as intense as the wind whipping around them.
“I am your Prince,” Scar says slowly. “You will greet me properly.”
Your Prince.
It hits Grian, then, what is happening, and he breathes in sharply. He has never seen Scar weaponize his status- weaponize his authority, his royal voice. 
Yet Scar stares the other Elf down, and after a few long, tense seconds, the Elf makes a strangled sound and sinks down to one knee, bowing his head as he does.
“My apologies,” the Ringmaster grits out between clenched teeth. “Greetings to my Prince.” He adds something in that lilting language and Scar steps forward, closer- the dust on the floor billowing up with every step he takes. The Ringmaster rises back to his feet.
“Did I say you can rise?” Scar demands, glaring down at the Elf, and he freezes halfway. “You will kneel until I say rise.”
And what a sight the two of them make, Grian thinks as he watches; Scar, the moon practically setting the silver in his hair aglow and the torch flames reflecting the gold in his eyes, in nothing more than a nightgown glowering at another Elf, dressed in a striped suit and hair elegantly plaited down his back as he kneels at Scar’s feet.
“Oh, Scar,” Grian barely breathes, but it’s enough; the Elf’s gaze snaps over to him and softens just the slightest.
“Release them,” Scar says, his words directed at the other Elf. “Now.”
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talons-mcyt-rqs · 22 days
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✧ — hc and life series gtws pronouns ; no themes specified!
[for: 🌳🌻 anon]
✧ ey/em/emself
✧ xe/xem/xemself
✧ tho/thon/thonself
✧ vex/vexes/vexeself
✧ coin/coins/coinself
✧ co/corp/corpself
✧ tree/trees/treeself
✧ leaf/leaves/leaveself
✧ snail/snails/snailself
✧ magic/magics/magicself
✧ mountain/mountains/mountainself
✧ wagon/wagons/wagonself
✧ moon/moons/moonself
✧ void/voids/voidself
✧ cookie/cookies/cookieself
✧ avi/avis/aviself
✧ bake/bakes/bakeself
✧ diamond/diamonds/diamondself
✧ arrow/arrows/arrowself
✧ flower/flowers/flowerself
✧ poke/pokes/pokeself
✧ desert/deserts/desertself
✧ sand/sands/sandself
✧ green/greens/greenself
✧ yellow/yellows/yellowself
✧ red/reds/redself
✧ bargain/bargains/bargainself
✧ crystal/crystals/crystalself
✧ enchanter/enchanters/enchanterself
✧ soulmate/soulmates/soulmateself
✧ time/times/timeself
✧ tick/tock/ticktockself
✧ clock/clocks/clockself
✧ secret/secrets/secretself
✧ task/tasks/taskself
✧ merchant/merchants/merchantself
✧ winner/winners/winnerself
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kennabeth · 11 months
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it only lasted like 5 pages but I really prefer dustfinger's scars being disfiguring rather than "drawn on with a pencil"
#meggie being like 'looks like you got attacked by godzilla' then 'i didnt mean that' when shes less pissed at him later#i WOULD have accepted that as part of meggie's coming-of-age and learning she needs to not be a bitch about people's appearances#except that everyone else in the series from then on agrees w her that the scars are barely noticeable#boring!!!!#would have been nice for her to be like 'yeah you healed rough (i mean. as well as expected considering you probably had 6 total stitches)#but im growing up out of practical isolation and learning that facial differences dont play a part in whether someone is good or bad:-)'#WHICH!! is a belief i would expect from someone who loves roald dahl and jekyll n hyde which she does#whatever ms funke does have a problem with equating happy endings with being abled and ~looking normal~#resa getting her voice back bc shes good but cockerall getting a limp bc hes bad and darius losing his stutter for some reason#violante's skin clearing up bc people realize shes a sweetheart but balbulus losing a hand when we realize he sucks#and dustfinger's fkcing scars changing in severity depending on whether hes the good guy or bad guy in the scene#bleh#i also headcanon he has p bad nerve damage aint no way basta cut so deeply he looked freshly gored for months afterward#and still has full use of his facial muscles#meggie's like 'never seen anyone that smiles like he does' girl the bottom half of his face is not connected to the top anymore hes trying#also good explanation for why hes always touching his face if he cant fkcing feel it#dustfinger#inkheart#im gonna try so hard to make more inkheart posts i literally feel grief in my heart seeing that person say#they havent thought about it in years#it's my sole responsibility to fix this#says kenna
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I don't trust anyone who liked the ending of Shadow and Bone series 2 /hj
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cntloup · 1 month
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Why not doing reader pregnant but her boyfriend leave her with her child and she has some trust issues or whatever you want and she's poor too :) then someone (you'll decide who you want) see her in a small house or maybe a garage. I don't know if it's a good idea but hope you'll like it :]
i loved this idea thank you babe<333 i might write a series for this lmk what you think :)
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9
You pass the various shops and cafes, filled with life and smiles and laughter, a sheer contrast to the void forming in your heart as you sob in agony while hugging yourself and rubbing your arms to keep somewhat warm, your flimsy dress doing nothing to keep away the freezing cold.  
Your vision is blurry from the endless streams of tears flowing down your eyes and you don’t seem to notice the large figure stepping out of the cafe and appearing right in front of you. 
You bump into the mass of muscles and jolt back in shock. You quickly wipe your tears and lift your head to see him already looking at you in high alertness from the sudden impact. You notice his serious look and the numerous scars littering his face. 
You take a step back, “I’m so sorry, sir. I didn’t see you.” you apologize while looking down and his gaze softens, noticing the timidness in your demeaner. 
“ ‘s fine.” he responds, his voice deep and gruff, but maintaining a soft tone in order not to scare you any further. 
He observes the shaking in your much smaller form and how you’re trying so hard to keep warm, and that you have been crying. 
“Do you need any help?” he asks. You shake your head no and of course he knows you’re lying. You're scared, even to ask for a small favor. He knows how that feels. 
He takes off his leather jacket and goes to drape it over your trembling body, but you flinch away, “It’s ok. Here, take it.” he says, holding the jacket in front of you. 
You open your mouth to decline but the brisk icy wind prevents you from it. You take the jacket hesitantly and put if over your shoulders, “Thank you so much, sir.” “Simon.” “Thank you, Simon.” you try your hardest to give a small smile. 
But soon the tears come flowing down as rushing rivers, “Hey, hey. It's ok.” he tries to calm you down and goes to touch your arm only for you to pull away. He takes a step back and slightly raises his hands to show you he’s harmless. 
“Do you have anywhere to stay?” he asks and you sigh followed with a bitter chuckle, “Not really.” you silently scold yourself. You barely know the guy and you say you have nowhere to stay. 
He offers to take you inside the cafe and the rumbling in your stomach urges you to say yes. So you sit and talk for a while and he tells you he’s in the military which makes you maybe only slightly trust him and you warm up to him a bit more.
“I’m three months pregnant and my asshole of a boyfriend threw me out when he found out.” you tell him while biting into your sandwich like a starved animal. 
“What a bloody cunt...” he grumbles which makes you chuckle and agree. 
“I’m gonna check you into a hotel for now. Is that ok?” he offers kindly. He was gonna offer you his own place to keep an eye on you, but bit back his tongue since he knows how it would come off. 
Something tells you he’s trouble, but you can’t decline. Where would you stay? In the streets? 
“Yeah. Ok.” you accept, not knowing this is the start of something new. 
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aohydrangeas · 1 year
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cluemily · 5 months
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Cleo and chat had a discussion about what flavour each Life series member is.
Tango is raspberry (or blue raspberry during S9) flavoured.
Pearl is mango flavoured. (5AM Pearl is red bull flavoured.)
Gem is cherry flavoured.
Skizz is banana flavoured Fundip.
Lizzie is pumpkin spice flavoured.
Grian is strawberry flavoured.
Bdubs is Sour Patch Kid flavoured.
Martyn is lemon flavoured. (Lemon-lime is acceptable.)
Scott is peppermint hot chocolate flavoured.
Rendog is hot Cheeto flavoured.
Jimmy is peach flavoured.
Scar is cotton candy flavoured.
Cleo is kiwi flavoured.
BigB is cookie flavoured. But also (smooth) peanut butter flavoured.
Impulse is chocolate flavoured. (Good chocolate, not the vomit-y tasting one.)
Etho is blackcurrant flavoured.
Mumbo is hot cinnamon flavoured.
Joel is cola flavoured.
Thanks Cleo.
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gayvampyr · 6 months
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CNN:
Hundreds of families gathered in the West Darfur capital of El Geneina on June 15, plotting their escape from what had become a hellscape of blown-out buildings scrawled with racist graffiti and streets strewn with corpses. The state governor had just been executed and mutilated by Arab militia groups, leaving civilians with no choice but to flee.
What followed was a gruesome massacre, eyewitnesses said, believed to be one of the most violent incidents in the genocide-scarred Sudanese region’s history. The powerful paramilitary Rapid Support Forces and its allied militias hunted down non-Arab people in various parts of the city and surrounding desert region, leaving hundreds dead as they ran for their lives…
…residents set off en masse from southern El Geneina, many trying to reach the nearby Sudanese military headquarters where they thought they might find safety. But they said they were quickly thwarted by RSF attacks. Some were summarily executed in the streets, survivors said. Others died in a mass drowning incident, shot at as they attempted to cross a river. Many of those who managed to make it out were ambushed near the border with Chad, forced to sit in the sand before being told to run to safety as they were sprayed with bullets.
“More than 1,000 people were killed on June 15. I was collecting bodies on that day. I collected a huge number,” one local humanitarian worker, who asked not to be named for security reasons, told CNN. He said the dead were buried in five different mass graves in and around the city.
Conflict erupted between the RSF and the Sudanese army in April. Since then, more than one million people have fled to neighboring countries, according to estimates from the International Organization for Migration.
Now, a telecommunications blackout and the flight of international aid groups have all but cut off Darfur from the outside world. But news of the June 15 massacre began trickling out of the region from refugees who escaped to Chad. The evidence uncovered by CNN suggests that, behind a curtain of secrecy, the RSF and its allies are waging an indiscriminate campaign of widespread killings and sexual violence unlike anything the region has seen in decades.
The RSF’s official spokesperson told CNN that it “categorically” denied the allegations.
“To say you were Masalit was a death sentence,” said Jamal Khamiss, a human rights lawyer, referring to his non-Arab tribe, one of the biggest in Darfur. Khamiss was among those who said that they fled from El Geneina to Chad, surviving a series of RSF and allied militia positions by concealing his ethnicity.
The United Nations raised the alarm in June over ethnic targeting and killing of people from the Masalit community in El Geneina, after reports of summary executions and “persistent hate speech,” including calls to kill or expel them.
The vast majority of those who managed to make it out of El Geneina alive sought refuge in the Chadian border town of Adre, about 22 miles (35 kilometers) away from the city.
On June 15, the town received the highest number of migrants in a single day, along with the highest number of casualties — 261 — since the Sudan conflict broke out, according to Doctors Without Borders, widely known by its French name, Medecins Sans Frontieres (MSF), which runs the only hospital in Adre. The number of wounded people that arrived at the hospital was even higher the next day: 387.
“The last time we recorded the death toll in Geneina it was 884,” one local humanitarian worker from El Geneina, who works for a Western non-profit organization, told CNN. “That was June 9. After June 9, it was a different story. The dead became uncountable.”
Action Against Hunger is accepting donations to provide health, sanitation and nutrition services to Sudanese refugees in Chad.
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dyaz-stories · 5 months
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stars around my scars || Cha Hyun-Su x Reader
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word count: 1.2k
warnings & tags: so soft, fluff, angst because it's sweet home, hurt/comfort, kissing, touch-starved!hyun-su, a little suggestive but it's not too bad, hyun-su needs a hug and he gets that and more eheh
previous one-shot · next part
A/N: this can be read on its own or read as a part of the little hyun-su x reader series i've got going on at the moment! no particular context needed for this one, but i wrote it in like two hours so i hope you'll enjoy it.
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Hyun-Su sits at your table like he’s not sure he has the right to be there. He’s been less cautious around you lately, less distant, now that he knows that you accept him wholeheartedly for who he is, all that he is, even the dark, ugly parts that he tried to keep from you. But sometimes, when he is in the space that is so clearly yours, he still makes himself small, as if he thinks you’d kick him out if you remembered he was there.
It doesn’t matter that you invited him in and insisted he stayed. The fear that you could change your mind at any point, that the longer he’s around, the more he risks showing you a part of him you won’t like, that’s what sticks.
When you sit down across from him, he notices your eyes landing on his bruised knuckles, sees your brow furrows. Sheepishly, he removes his hand from the table.
“Doesn’t it hurt?” you ask.
You ask that a lot. Worry a lot. Selfishly, he likes that you do.
“It’s fine,” he replies, voice quiet. “It will heal.”
The wounds won’t get infected, they won’t kill him, and they’ll go away eventually. So, sure, it stings as long as they’re open, but he’s long stopped bothering with cleaning or treating them. Who cares about his pain anyway?
“That’s not the point,” you say, reaching out for his hand. He doesn’t resist when you take it in yours. How could he? Your fingers are soft, gentle, your skin is warm. It’s like he melts into your touch, like his muscles turn into lead.
It also makes him greedy, makes him want to know what it would do if you touched him more, in different ways. Inside him, the monster stirs, and Hyun-Su forces it back down.
You lift his hand and blow on the wounds that mar his knuckles. The gesture is childish, and despite himself, a smile breaks on his face.
“That’s not going to change much.”
He notices belatedly how fond his voice sounds. He’s usually so careful not to let it be so obvious, but you just surprised it out of him. If you notice, you don’t let it show. Instead, you roll your eyes at him — until you get another idea.
He looks at you in bemused interest as you lower your face towards his hand. And then he realizes what you’re doing, and his heart skips a beat.
You glance up at him, a silent request for his approval, before you go any further. He doesn’t know how to give it to you, doesn’t know if he should, if it’s safe.
He also doesn’t take his hand away.
Your lips press gently against his knuckles, and it sends a jolt through him that ignites his whole body. He can’t see himself, but he’s sure he’s blushing. When you meet his eyes again, he averts his immediately, swallows, clears his throat. But then he feels you open your fingers, letting his hand slip from your grasp, and he tightens his hold on you at the last second. He cannot bear the thought of losing your touch, not just yet.
“That—” His voice cracks. “That does help.”
“Oh,” you say, and then your thumb runs over his hand in a soft caress. He exhales, long and slow. He’d do anything for you not to let go of him.
When you stand up, his head shoots up, eyes following you like a puppy — only for you to get closer to him. You roll your lips together, still searching his expression for approval. You trace a wound on his shoulder, one he doesn’t even remember getting, if he’s being honest.
“Would it help here?” you ask.
Hyun-Su’s whole body is buzzing with the absolute, desperate need to be touched again.
All he can do is nod.
You lean in, kiss his shoulder, and he closes his eyes. He wants to drown in you. He wants you to run your hands over his body, he wants to touch you so bad, and he hates himself for remaining so still. But then you touch his cheek, trace his jaw, and he’s so infinitely thankful that you do what he can’t.
You’re the one who’s not meeting his eyes this time, as your index finger brushes against his bottom lip. There’s no wound there, they’re just chapped, and yet…
“How about here?”
He’s almost shaking in anticipation by now. He thinks he’d kill to be kissed by you — he knows the monster would. But again, he just nods.
So, standing in front of him, between his legs, you cup his cheek in the gentlest of ways, like he’s precious, and you kiss him again. It’s soft, gentle, just lips against lips.  You make a delicate sound when you part from him, and he regrets the loss of it immediately. It must be why he blurts out, before you can move any further “It still hurts.”
Your eyes go wide for a second, before a smile stretches your lips. He only gets a second to ask himself if he asked for too much, if you’re going to be disgusted with him for daring to ask, if—
You kiss him again, a little harder this time, nose pressing against his cheek. Your hands move to the back of his neck to support yourself better. Hyun-Su feels you part your lips, feels your tongue against his mouth, and that is when he loses it.
He’s happy that you have your eyes closed because, even though he feels fully in control of himself at the moment, he’s not sure which color you’d see in his just now.
He pulls you into his lap, hands on your hips at first before he moves one of them, just a little, to the small of your back. You’re all over him now, body against his, scent overwhelming, your taste on his tongue. The apartment would be quiet, if it wasn’t for the sound of your mouths together, and for the rush of his blood in his ears.
You gasp quietly into him, your teeth catch against his bottom lip and it makes him shiver. He dares then, caught in the euphoria of it all perhaps, to reach up to touch your face, long fingers stroking your cheek. His skin is on fire everywhere you touch it, but he wouldn’t give it up for the world, and he finds itself praying it never ends.
Yet it does, fairly abruptly, when he realizes, suddenly, that he’s falling. On instinct, he wraps his arms around you to protect you, and then the two of you hit the floor. The chair had to have tipped backwards at some point, without the two of you noticing.
There’s a moment of stunned silence afterwards, before you let out a quiet laugh, hiding your face in his shoulder.
Much to his surprise, he hears himself laugh as well. It just feels easy to do, when you’re in his arms. His heart is still pounding, his lips are tingling, and his breathing is shallow, but he’s feeling emotions he hasn’t felt in years.
He’s happy.
Deep inside of him, the monster takes a step back, satiated.
For now, anyway.
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i've really loved writing this and i'm quite happy with the end result, especially for something i wrote so quickly, so i hope you liked it too! please let me know your thoughts either on here, in tags, in an ask or reblog the fic, it means the world to me and it lets me know you want to see more, so it keeps me motivated!
next part
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roosterforme · 1 month
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Too Much to Lose | Rooster x Reader
Summary: Leaving for deployments had always been rough, but then Bradley met you, and the time apart and risk involved made the ache even stronger. But nothing felt quite as isolating and scary as acknowledging that he had to leave his pregnant wife with an uncertain future. Now more than ever, he had too much to lose.
Warnings: Angst, panic attack, mentions of smut, pregnancy topics
Length: 2300 words
Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader
This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.
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Bradley hated that he felt like he was going through the motions. You'd been clinging to him all day long, your eyes always on the verge of tears. His bags were packed, his flight would leave tomorrow morning, and there was nothing left for him to do at this point except wait. Wait for your tears to spill over. Wait for one last look at you for who knows how long. Wait for the official start of another deployment.
Getting hard for you was not the problem. Your lips were on his body, and his name was the only word you seemed capable of saying. Nothing ever felt as good as your touch, and you always smelled sweet. Best of all, you were carrying his baby. But the doubt still crept in, even as his body rocked against yours, even as he filled you up. Because for Bradley, this felt exactly like those months when you and he had been desperately trying to get pregnant. It felt like the two of you were focusing on an uncertain outcome instead of each other. 
"I love you, Roo." 
You had just uttered the most perfect words in your state of bliss, but he couldn't fully accept them. Why did you love him? How the fuck could you? Your hands came up to caress his face, and he was completely helpless to do a god damn fucking thing besides come for you.
"Oh god," he grunted, practically crying as you kissed his scars before gradually going limp beneath him. You were smiling as you rolled onto your side, but instead of joining you for one last cuddle, he made his excuses to retreat to the bathroom. 
Bradley splashed some cool water on his face and examined himself in the mirror. All he saw was someone who didn't know what he was doing. Someone who wasn't good enough for you. He hadn't felt this way a few days ago, rather he'd been absorbed with shopping for the baby. But the fear started to creep in around the edges today, and now it felt like it could strangle him if he let it.
Leaving home in this state could only spell disaster, but he couldn't shake it. At least when he finally managed to walk back into the bedroom, you were asleep on his pillow with one leg under the blanket and one on top. You could always make him smile, but this time when he did, he thought about what would happen next if he didn't come back. What would happen if he was no longer here to claim that pillow as his own. 
He checked his will a few days ago, and the thing was ironclad. It all went to you. Every last penny and possession. But that wasn't what had him rattled. Everything was ten times more exciting and also ten times scarier with the baby on the way. He had too much to lose. 
He kissed your forehead and then your belly, and he pulled the blanket over both of your legs, and then he went out to the living room with Tramp at his heels. The house still smelled delicious; you'd made him Marry Me Rooster and lemon cupcakes for dinner. You always pulled out the stops when he was leaving, and he loved you for it. But what the fuck were you getting in return?
He grabbed his phone from where he'd left it on the kitchen counter. You and he had been sharing a plate of dinner while he started to consider what your life would be like without him. You'd have the baby here with you, but you'd really be alone. It was too hard to breathe while he thought about it, so he unlocked his phone and dialed the only person who wouldn't think he'd gone completely off the deep end with his request.
"Bradshaw. Shouldn't you be enjoying your wife before you fly off into the sunset?"
"Hangman," he rasped, walking to the couch and collapsing down onto it. "I need to talk to you."
There was a brief pause before Jake said, "I'm all ears."
Bradley cleared his throat, feeling like an absolute idiot as he said, "I bought a jungle gym playset for my backyard. A really big one. For the baby."
Jake hummed and said, "Right." And somehow that was enough to make Bradley keep going. 
"It's on pallets. On my driveway. There's an instruction book on top of my refrigerator. Everything should be here."
"Okay," Jake said quietly. 
Bradley swallowed and swallowed, his throat burning as he managed to force out the rest of the words. "If anything happens to me, I need you to... build it."
The only thing he could hear was Jake's soft breathing before he muttered, "Shit." 
Bradley ran his palm back and forth over his face as tears streaked down his cheeks. "Hangman. I need you to promise. I need that fucking thing in the yard."
"Yeah," Jake grunted. "Yeah, I promise."
Bradley sucked in a deep breath before he added, "And I need you to promise to take care of her. Take care of them. Make sure she knows you're around if they need something. Make sure she knows she can go to you and Cat for help."
There was no way to tell if the barely controlled sobs were his own or Jake's as he held the phone tighter to his ear, waiting for an answer. "Yeah, Rooster. I'll take care of Angel. I promise."
Bradley managed to choke out two words before ending the call. "Thank you." His phone fell from his hand onto the floor, and he curled up on his side. He thought about his dad. Goose died during a training exercise. If the most basic parts of Bradley's job could become deadly, he was honestly tempting fate at this point. Was this still the right thing to do? With a baby on the way? He wasn't so sure anymore.
Both of his parents were gone before he was an adult. If he made it just a few more years, he would live to be older than either of them had. This wasn't the first time he'd thought about that number, but right now, he was having a hard time catching his breath. 
Forty. Carole died when she was forty years old.
Thirty-seven. Bradley was just three years away.
"Fuck," he gasped as he rolled onto his back, pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes. He was nauseous and dizzy, and his chest was aching like there was something pressing down on him. Something heavy. He shouldn't leave you alone now, because he might never come back. He might never get to meet the Nugget who he was already so in love with. The baby might never have a dad at all, but at least Bradley got to have one of those for a short time. He could remember little bits of how it felt when Nick Bradshaw picked him up, and the soft laughter in his voice when he read a bedtime story. But the Nugget deserved more than that. This baby deserved everything, including a dad who was already so devoted that it hurt. A perfect mom and a loving dad, just like Bradley had once upon a time.
He could feel Tramp licking his elbow and whimpering, but he couldn't open his eyes. He couldn't move at all. He needed to catch his breath. He started counting in his head but couldn't keep track of how far he'd gotten. He wanted to meet his kid. He needed to.
"Bradley?"
Your voice was the most perfect sound in the world, and when you spoke his name, he had a visceral reaction to it. Then your hand was on his cheek, and the heavy feeling lifted away a little bit. 
"Oh, Bradley."
You replaced your hand with your lips, and he could feel how warm you were as your body came to rest on his. Your voice and touch invaded him in place of that terrifying weight on his chest. He felt safer because it was you. And the baby, too. When he opened his eyes, you looked concerned, and he hated to be the cause of that.
His voice didn't sound like his own, but you looked relieved as he said, "Sweetheart."
All he could focus on was the steady stroking of your fingers through his hair and your lips on his. "Tell me what's wrong, Roo," you whispered between soft kisses. "Talk to me."
He wasn't sure how long it took or how you managed to do it, but he ended up sitting on the couch with you curled up in his lap, ready to talk. Your cheek was resting against his heart, and his hand was under his old gym shirt that you were wearing, pressed to your belly. He wanted to tell you everything he was thinking. He wanted you to understand. But all he could say was, "I'm scared."
You nodded and hummed softly. "Me too."
When he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you in tighter, he asked, "Then why do I keep doing this? The last thing I'd ever want to do is scare you."
Your fingers found their way back up into his hair. "It's scarier this time, because of the baby," you whispered. "But you're an amazing pilot, and you love flying, and that's important, too."
"Not as important as you," he swore immediately. "Never as important as the Nugget. I just don't know if the risk is worth it anymore." He swallowed hard but let the tears slide down his cheeks again. "What if I burn in or get shot down before the baby is even born? Then what? Because I had no fucking clue until pretty recently how badly I want to be a dad."
"Come here," you whispered, your arms winding around his neck as you straddled his hips. You didn't seem alarmed by this conversation as you ran the tip of your nose back and forth along his cheek, letting him get used to feeling calm again. "It's all risky, Roo. All of it. We've talked about it before, and the facts are never going to change. But being married to you is worth it. Having to figure out how to potentially live without you is a risk I'm willing to take for the chance to be with you now."
"Fuck," he whispered, melting into your touch. 
"You're worth everything," you told him sincerely. "Getting to hold you right now is worth every bad feeling that might come later."
All he could do was nod, because he felt exactly the same way about you. But there was another layer. Another wrinkle. It was with a steadier voice that he managed to say, "I don't want to end up like my parents. Or worse... I don't want to miss the chance to meet the baby altogether."
You leaned away from him a little bit, running your knuckles gently along his cheek. "You promised me you would always fight for the chance to come home again."
"Always. Please, don't ever doubt that I will fight until my last breath, Baby Girl."
Now you had tears in your eyes. "I never knew I could feel this loved. And you've already given the Nugget so much of yourself through your notebooks and your little private conversations with my belly where you pretend I can't hear you." Bradley laughed as you touched his face and neck. You kissed his forehead and whispered, "He or she is going to be just like you. I can tell already. And you'll fight your way back home to find out for sure."
"I will," he promised, throat tight with love instead of fear this time. "God, I fucking adore you."
As he ran his thumb around the diamond in your engagement ring which once belonged to his mother, you said, "I know it."
Twenty minutes later, once Bradley felt almost completely calm again, you stood and disappeared into the kitchen. He missed your warmth immediately. It was late now, and he knew you both needed to get a good night of sleep, but you insisted you knew what else would make him feel better. Just when he was about to say that the only thing he wanted to do was hold you in bed, you returned with a plate and a steaming mug. 
You settled onto his lap again, so certain that was where you belonged and where he always wanted you. He took a sip of the tea while you nibbled on the lemon cupcake, then you held it up to his lips for him to take a bite. He ate half of it in one go, making you smile. 
When you took another nibble, he whispered, "I'll be home in no time. Back with my perfect wife. My family."
You gently shoved the rest of the cupcake into his mouth as you smiled and said, "We'll be here waiting for you."
You started kissing his scars as he chewed and muttered, "Let's go to bed, Sweetheart."
He was still thinking about his brief conversation with Jake as you stretched out on your back and let him run one big hand along your belly and down to your tattoo. Bradley touched you everywhere, memorizing the softness and flawless warmth of your body with the Nugget. He would come back home to this because he had to. He would be here to construct the jungle gym himself. There was simply no other choice. 
"I love you both."
---------------------------
That phone call between Bradley and Jake made me cry. Bradley has been dreaming of that jungle gym playset in the backyard for so long, he needs the guarantee that it will happen for his Nugget even if he's not there to see it through to the end. BG always knows what to do when he's struggling, but she's not going to be there to take care of him while he's deployed. In the next one-shot, we'll see how Bradley and Payback are holding up while away. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls and everyone who reads and interacts and makes this pairing so fun to write!
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