#have my

[sparrowsstars]

i was off of tumblr and ao3 for like 8 hours why are there no new fics

[nota-person]

after talking to the fae, i now have trust issues when introducing myself

[junkartie]

Guys. Guys hold on. Im shifting into Good omwns mode

[sweetwatersong]

It's the residual anger from talking to his parents that has Buck making dinner as if the devil himself is settled between his shoulder blades. Somehow that conversation was harder when water hung heavy in the Virginia air, when the dry hills of Los Angeles weren't there to remind him he made it out. The ancient mountains of Appalachia are apparently just too damn close to Pennsylvania, literally and figuratively, and he can still hear his mother's comment about choosing not to visit them through the sizzle of oil on the stove.

He hates it. Hates that they make him so upset, hates that he picked a fight with Eddie over the missing almond extract and nutmeg for the cake, hates that his husband is spending time in their hard-earned vacation getting said ingredients because it will mollify him, give them both breathing space. Hates the hot, oppressive weight of summer on the East Coast and the expectations he thought he outgrew.

Hates that he's terrified about one day settling this same weight on Christopher.

Buck glances over at the preteen in question and pauses. Christopher has abandoned pretending to be absorbed in his Switch to look with concern out of the living room window.

"What's up?"

He frowns and actually answers, apparently too preoccupied to remember that he was mad at Buck for fighting with Eddie. "Is it going to storm?"

Buck takes the unintended olive branch for what it is. He turns the stove off and makes his way to the window bay, ducking his head to peer out. Sure enough dark clouds line the horizon, bubbling towards them over the rounded tops of the nearby mountains.

"Looks like it." He glances down. "What's on your mind?"

"The owners would have told us about the fire evacuation route if we needed it, right? I didn't see any in the binder."

It takes Buck by surprise but it shouldn't. Of course their kid would absorb all their wildfire safety lessons and look for a designated evac route in the AirBNB information. Of course he would. Christopher's worry makes perfect sense. Their only car is the rental one that Eddie's taken down the mountain to the grocery store so if they need to evacuate they'll be in a tight spot. The twenty minutes before Eddie's due back would be enough time for a spark in the California hills to spread like, well, fire.

Meanwhile, whether it's the press of humidity or the dense foliage literally everywhere he looks, Buck's mind has switched back to East Coast mode. The likelihood of a lightning strike starting a fire hasn't even occurred to him.

"Yeah, bud." He aims for reassuring, not condescending, because preteen sensibilities are tricky at the best of times. "There's no evac route because we're in an entirely different ecosystem, right? Out here on the East Coast, everything's so wet it usually takes a big drought for fire to be a risk. And with all this green it's pretty clear that's not a problem right now."

"Yeah." Christopher sounds understandably dubious. "So people here don't have fire seasons?"

"Nah, they have hurricanes. Which, let me tell you, are something else entirely, and why we're here in June instead of September."

The storm's moving quickly. Just over the ridge the first visible, fat drops of rain have begun to fall. Christopher watches them with a bafflement more reminiscent of his younger self than his current awkward forays into being a teen and the sight of it stirs something in Buck's chest. These reminders of the kid he first met are becoming rarer and rarer with each passing month. He's trying to treasure them every time he finds them now because some day their son is going to be a teenager and will rightfully be too cool for his dads, one of whom is still fighting with the ghost of his own teenage years.

A patter starts on the roof, a rhythm familiar down to Buck's bones. He seizes the moment of inspiration and straightens, nodding his head towards the door as the sound rapidly gains speed.

"C'mon. It's safe; I don't hear any thunder."

Christopher is openly confused but sets aside his Switch and follows Buck with skeptical eyes as they step out onto the front porch, his crutches clacking on the concrete.

"Are we watching it rain? I've seen it rain before."

"Maybe, but have you ever gone out puddle jumping in it?" Buck grins at him and steps off onto the walkway, the flagstone cold under his bare feet. The shower is cool on his shoulders, gentle on his face, and Buck's suddenly back in the days of his childhood; back in a hundred summer afternoons when the breaking of the heat was the only relief in his confusing, hollow battle of growing up. When it was just him and the rain and the sensation of being fully in his body instead of his head.

He cracks an eye and looks back to see Christopher staring at him from the safety of the porch. "What? Are you going to leave me hanging?"

Christopher's face says quite clearly that he thinks his pops is being an idiot but he braces his crutches on the flagstone and follows Buck out anyway. Buck's heart has so much love for him that it hurts. He won't do to Christopher what his parents did - still do - to him. He won't.

Unlike his parents, he loves his son.

Christopher yelps as soon as the cold rain sticks to his skin. Buck laughs. "Feels good, right?" He calls over the din. His own shirt is rapidly becoming soaked, wicking sweat from the back of his neck down the curve of his spine and taking his tension with it.

Overcoming his shock Christopher relaxes, blinking. "Yeah!" He tilts his head back, letting the rain splatter across his face and glasses. "It almost tickles."

"Kinda does, doesn't it."

The storm is continuing to race through; already the rain is so thick the air looks white, the trees at the edge of the yard hazy and obscured. Water's begun to pool in the grass next to the walkway. Buck grins.

"I gotta show you, this is the best part!"

He jumps into the growing puddle with both feet. It splashes to gratifying effect for being so shallow, even managing to catch Christopher in the shins. Christopher shrieks.

"Pops! No fair!"

He turns his head, looking for a puddle of his own, and jumps into it without hesitation. Buck laughs when the spray catches him, and it's - it's like the noise takes with it all the big, dark anger that's been spinning in his chest. There's no place in this moment for the rancor or the resentment, the remembered push and pull of trying to be someone - something - he's not. He feels blessedly empty; gratifyingly simple.

Right here, right now, he's all he ever needs to be, for himself and his husband and his son: Buck. Just Buck.

Christopher hops to another puddle, this one made deeper by a depression in the lawn, and Buck twists to let most of the water catch on the backs of his legs. They're both giggling madly at this point, probably only one step away from straight up kicking water at each other, and it's - it's good. It's just good.

In another few minutes they'll go back inside, tugging off their uncomfortable wet clothes and trying not to drip on the tile floor. He'll throw it all in another load of laundry and ask Christopher to mop up any stray puddles before Eddie pulls back into the driveway with the groceries. He'll catch him at the door and kiss an apology into his lips, his cheek, the curve of his wedding band. They'll have dinner together as the trees drip the remnants of rain onto ferns and the clouds gradually darken, finally leaving the kitchen's warm lights to shine into a night of reflected light and fireflies. Eddie will complain about Buck stealing his shirt when he changed and Christopher will be over his fathers' shameless flirting and Buck will serve a molten chocolate cake that won't remind him quite so painfully of his childhood home, the sweetness Hershey promised but didn't hold.

But for now, for now, Buck lets the rain come down as he laughs with his son, dancing in the rain, and the storm washes the world around them clean.

[defectiveparts]

something else i need to expand on, but want to get out there. for my blog / writing purposes, buck did not immediately forgive his parents and sister after the truth was revealed. yes, he talked to both his parents and maddie in the aftermath. yes, he agreed to therapy with his parents and made up with maddie. but he was still upset! it was a huge secret, that impacted his entire life, and that's a lot to swallow. after the first initial agreed upon therapy session, buck realized he wasn't ready to completely forgive his parents. he discontinued the sessions with them and went back to working one on one with dr. copeland in regards to the whole mess. even with maddie, it took a few in depth sessions before he completely forgave her, even if it was easier with his sister. he still doesn't have a relationship with his parents to this day ( current canon ) and he's not sure when or if he ever will regardless of what he once wished for.

[dwell-the-brave]

If you see this, post the last 3 lines you’ve written.

“It used to be a wonderful place,” he said, before bowing his head. “Come along - it’s late, and I’m sure you will want to rest,” and then he strode off down a dimly lit corridor, Tony following. Clint jogged to keep up, until Steve paused outside a tall wooden door, which gold leaf flaked off. “This will be your room for the duration of your stay with us,” Steve said, before twisting the latch on the door and pushing it open, slipping inside. Clint followed him, his jaw dropping open.

[mini-faust]

.