#bacon pardner

[fandomandangstlover]

bacon <33

[lovelylogans]

the parent trap

CHAPTER THIRTEEN: riding is magic and friendship is power and love is everything to everyone

Roman gets to meet his pony. He should, by all rights, be much more excited about it, but someone had to go and ruin it for him.

⁂

Roman could barely sleep he was so excited.

Papa had mentioned, in passing, if he’d like to go for a ride ‘round the vineyard on the incredibly famous Sprout the horse. And Roman had done his best to cloud it Remus casualness—he’d obviously been riding around the vineyard on the horse before.

But Papa had smiled at him, leaned over and whispered, conspiratorially, “I’m sure Sprout’s missed you tons,” so he isn’t sure how much he’d succeeded in acting less excited.

Roman lays out his outfit the night before: a pair of jeans, a cowboy boots that he’d dug deep in the closet to gather, a cowboy hat! that had been squished under an old shoebox diorama project, a white t-shirt, and a blue-and-red patterned flannel that he’ll put over the top.

And then Roman finds an honest-to-God leather belt with a big silver belt buckle, and that seals it. He’s going full cowboy, damn if Remus would wear this outfit or not, he is about to go horseriding.

He also spends some time, wincingly, tossing various clothing items around the room in an attempt to be Remus-esque levels of messy; he leaves a shirt dangling over a lamp, the dresser draws open, and the closet ajar to its absolute cacophony that Roman doesn’t even need to try to mess up.

He bounces down the stairs in the morning, already fully dressed, hat on in the house, which Dad would decry, but it just makes Virgil snort and flick at the hat.

“Howdy, pardner,” he teases, then, nodding, “Made—”

Roman catches sight of the platters laid out and gapes. “Oh, wow.”

“—A big ol’ breakfast, most important meal of the day,” Virgil says, circling the table and settling a massive plate in front of him. “Eggs, sunny-side up. Bacon, side of biscuits, and, in case that’s not enough for you, a humongous stack of chocolate-chip pancakes, which smell incredible and I’m stealing one except you can’t yell about stealing ‘cause I made it.”

“Wow, Virgil,” Roman says breathlessly. “Thanks!”

Virgil takes off his hat solely to ruffle Roman’s hair. “Bet they didn’t do things like this at camp.”

“No, they certainly didn’t,” Roman says, plopping himself down at the table.

“Was a little worried you’d oversleep,” Virgil says lightly.

“Oh?”

“I mean, I would if I were up half the night making mysterious phone calls from my bathroom.”

Roman nearly chokes on his orange juice.

“Oh—oh, that? I was just calling a friend from camp. Augustus.”

“The piercings friend.”

“Yeah, that one! He lives in New York,” then, calculating out the time difference, hastily adds, “but he’s on vacation right now. In… Edinburgh.”

“Oh. I see,” Virgil says, leaning against the counter, mug of coffee in hand, “so you wanted to pick a time that was convenient for him.”

Roman cuts himself a large segment of egg white, shoveling it in his mouth the way Remus might.

“Mmmm,” he mumbles around the food, making a show of how good it is—it is really good, in fairness—shooting Virgil a big thumbs-up to hopefully distract him.

“Huh,” Virgil says.

“What?” Roman says around a mouthful of food, making himself cringe.

“Nothing,” Virgil says, setting down his coffee mug. “Nothing, it’s just—usually, you stab the yolk first, to get everything all runny...”

“Just… soooo hungry, I guess,” Roman says shiftily, cursing himself—why didn’t camp ever prepare their eggs any way other than scrambled so he’d know that?! “Erm—saving the best part for last!”

“...sure,” Virgil says slowly, and Roman braces himself for suspicion when Papa breezes into the kitchen, whistling cheerfully and toweling out the last of the dampness from his hair.

“Morning, Virgil, morning, kiddo—wow, look at all this!”

“Figured you might be hungry,” Virgil says, stabbing at an egg himself. “You know, after Maddox hustled you out of here after he ate half a grapefruit and before you could get anything.”

Papa seems to miss any irritation in Virgil’s voice, instead reaching to snag one of the pancakes off the pile.

“Hey,” Roman puts in a cursory complaint, though really, he probably wouldn’t be able to eat that entire plate on his own.

“Good thing, too—gotta fuel up for a ride with my favorite guy, huh?” Papa says, leaning over to nudge Roman’s shoulder.

“How’s Sprout been?” Remus says. “You know, since I’ve been off at camp.”

“Excellent, she’s great—her and Cinnamon got some new shoes a couple weeks ago. I think she was missing you, bud, she kept making big eyes at anyone in the hopes they’d feed her apples.”

Roman turns to Virgil.

“I’ll pack a couple for you to give her,” Virgil says before Roman can ask.

Roman nods, satisfied, and turns his attention back to Papa.

“I asked José earlier and he said he’d have them both saddled up when we got down, so we can just hop right on and ride,” Papa continues.

Roman breathes a very small sigh of relief. He’d been worried about that—putting a saddle and reins on a horse had been the only thing he and Remus hadn’t been able to practice at camp.

“How’s the vineyard,” Roman prompts, looking between the adults. “Any fun guests?”

And that takes up the rest of the meal, the pair of them falling over each other to tell Roman the story of some poor woman’s thirtieth birthday, much to Roman’s satisfaction—there’s so much excellent food to eat, he’s mostly focused on, one, eating like Remus, but two, not absolutely choking to death in his quest to eat like Remus. 

It’s all so excellent. The eggs are perfectly salted and peppered—the bacon is just the right amount of crispy without being fried—Virgil passes Roman honey when he picks up his biscuit without him even asking, so he guesses that’s how Remus normally eats it, and it’s incredible, all thick salt and sweet honey and Roman drinks a whole glass of orange juice just to get through it.

And the pancakes.

Not an entirely American invention—there was a whole holiday centered around pancakes back home, after all—but the American pancakes are so. good.

They’re so thick and fluffy and sweet and warm, and with the addition of chocolate chips, melting and seeping their delicious chocolatey flavor even as Roman douses the whole thing in butter and syrup and takes huge, triangular bites—his eyelashes flutter shut in pure happiness.

He bets that pancakes, plain, smothered with Crofters jelly, would possibly be the best food of all time.

Oh, Remus is so lucky he has Virgil who can cook things like this. American food is so good.

“Well—thanks, Virgil, for an awesome breakfast,” Papa says, after he��s drained the last of his coffee and patted his mouth with his napkin.

“Yes—thanks, Virgil,” Roman says.

“You ready to rock and roll, punk?” Papa says, and Roman hops up from the table, eagerly grabbing his hat and jamming it on his head.

“Ready to rock and roll!”

“That’s what I like to hear!” Papa cries out, patting Roman’s back, and picking up his own cowboy hat. “See ya, Virgil!”

“Have fun, be safe,” Virgil says, handing over a tied-up bundle containing apples for them to bribe the horses.

“We will!” Roman calls.

That earns Roman a strange look from Virgil, but they’re out of the door before he can say anything.

Roman reaches over and grabs Papa’s hand, swinging it between them. Papa takes it, smiling.

“Good first full day back from camp?” He asks.

“The best,” Roman says earnestly. 

“But I bet there was a lot about camp that was pretty good, too.”

“Nothing like home,” Roman says, which makes Papa beam. “But yeah. I guess camp was pretty fun.”

“Did you learn to canoe and tie-dye?”

“Yeah!” Roman says, “except I wasn’t nearly as good at tie-dye as this guy Nick? His patterns always turned out perfect, he could tie-dye anything. He’s got tie-dyed sunglasses.”

“Sunglasses!” Papa says, looking impressed. 

“But I guess I did okay,” Roman says. “I got pretty good at kayaking, though. I only ever tipped over when I wanted to, even when some people were doing bumper-boats…”

Papa grins at him. “I’m sure you know nothing about how bumper-boats got started, huh?”

Roman remembers that he’s meant to be Remus, and Remus did, in fact, start bumper-boats a lot of the time.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says, in a lofty, snooty tone that Remus would sometimes use to make fun of him, back when they didn’t know each other very well, but it makes Papa laugh.

“Well, I didn’t get any letters home from your counselor,” Papa says. “So I guess you didn’t explode any cabins.”

Not for lack of trying, Roman thinks.

“Maybe next year,” Roman says, which makes Papa laugh all the way down to the stable, even as they’re opening the doors to behold the stalls.

“All right, Cinnamon,” Papa says, approaching a big, beautiful Palomino, deep, auburn rust fur and an almost shimmeringly beautiful mane of gold. “All right, there, I got an apple for ya…”

But Roman is captivated by the other horse, who surely must be Sprout. She nickers at the sight of him, tossing her black mane.

Roman stares at her, open-mouthed. She’s a beautiful brown horse, with triangle of white splashed between her eyes and big, sweet-looking eyes.

“Hi there, Sprout,” he says very softly. He holds the apple in a flat hand, presenting it to her. “All right, girl?”

Sprout surveys him for a moment, out of those round, marble-like eyes, and bends her mouth to crush happily on his offering.

“Oh,” Roman says, very softly, as Sprout’s mouth tickles his hand. He, cautiously, brings a hand up to her neck, petting her very slowly and soothingly. Her fur is surprisingly bristly under his hand, but clean, and he can feel the powerful muscle of her neck beneath it.

He’s petting a horse. She’s eating out of the palm of his hand.

Today is one of the best days ever. He hopes Remus is having a day that’s even half as good.

⁂

They’re having lunch at home, despite Remus’s subtle attempts to learn what exactly makes a cheeky Nando’s cheeky in the first place. 

But the sandwiches and crisps serve his purposes perfectly fine, even if it is all a bit salty; he drains his water quickly.

“Would you like another drink, Roman?” Uncle Logan asks, where he’s just sat down at the table.

“Don’t bother—I’ll get it,” Remus says, hopping up from the table and traversing to the kitchen. 

He opens the fridge and sees a nice, tall bottle of Ribena, which Roman might have mentioned once or twice in passing? He thinks it’s some kind of soda. He takes a closer look at the label.

Squash? Weird name for a soda (isn’t that what Ribena is?) but okay. He opens the fridge and pours himself a nice, tall glass, bringing it back to the table.

He takes a swig and then nearly spits it out, clapping his hand over his mouth.

“Roman!” The adults exclaim.

It’s so strong. It’s like someone jammed Pure Essence of Blackcurrent into a glass, multiplied it by a thousand times, and then served it to him in liquid form, absolutely overwhelming any lingering flavor of his sandwich and crisps.

“Did you mix it?”

Remus swallows, clears his throat, and croaks out, “Of course!”

He’s pretty sure anyone who looks at it can tell he absolutely has not mixed it.

“Roman, you’re meant to dilute—”

“No, no,” Remus says, clutching the glass. “I mixed it! Of course I remembered to dilute it, I didn’t forget.”

Dad and Uncle Logan exchange a wary look.

“I hope you don’t get a sugar high,” Dad says.

“Boy’s the proper age for a sugar high,” Grandfather says dismissively. “Go play a round of footie in the park if you feel very hyper, eh? I was planning on a bit of a nap later.”

“I won’t get a sugar high,” Remus lies, “because I diluted it.”

Logan lets out a tiny sigh. “He’s certainly your son.”

⁂

The sun on his back, the wind on his face, his son and horse trotting alongside—there are very few better ways Patton can think of spending a free morning. 

“I’m glad you came out with me today, bud,” Patton says. “There’s something really important I want to talk to you about.”

“Funny,” Remus says, “I was about to say the same thing!”

Patton blinks. “Really? What about?”

“My father,” Remus says, and Patton nearly loses his grip on the reins. “What do you want to talk about?”

“...Maddox,” he says.

“What about Maddox?” Remus says.

“Well—what about your father?”

It’s whiplash, almost. He thinks of Janus every day—every day of his life since the moment they met—but to have Remus ask about him, after all this time…

“Dad,” Remus says. “I’m almost twelve. “

“Oh, Remus,” Patton says, rubbing the back of his neck. “We’ve talked about your father.”

“No, we haven’t,” Remus argues, “not really. A boy needs more in his life than half a crumpled old photograph.”

Patton swallows. Harsh, but true: the exact sort of response he’d expect from his boy.

“You know what?” Patton says. “You’re right. You’re absolutely right.”

“I am?” Remus says, surprised, then, “I mean—yeah, I am!”

 “That actually brings me to what I wanted to talk about,” Patton says. “Remus… what do you think of Maddox?”

Remus considers this as Sprout shifts her footing. His face is shielded by the shade offered from his hat, so Patton can’t get a very good read on him.

“Think of him as… what, Pa? Your publicist, your friend…?”

“Just—as a person,” Patton says, resisting the urge to bring a hand up to his mouth and bite his nails at whatever harsh but true commentary Remus might have to offer.

“Oh,” Remus says. “Well… I mean, he pays a lot of attention to his hair. Good teeth….” 

…okay. Unexpected. Patton had expected insults from the outset.

“I dunno, Pa,” Remus continues, “he’s a complete stranger to me.”

That makes sense. Him and Maddox have barely known each other for any time at all—this whirlwind romance of theirs—and Patton chews at his lip, thinking hopefully of the time he’d left them to talk by the pool, that he’d come back to all smiles, and hopefully, hopefully, the news goes over at least fine…

“Well, honey,” Patton says slowly. “Believe it or not, I’ve asked Maddox to—”

“Raceyabacktotheranch, Pa!”

And Remus and Sprout are off, racing together and kicking up dust behind them like they’re entering the Kentucky Derby.

“I—Remus!” Patton calls. “Hyah, Cinnamon—Remus, wait! I’m trying to talk to you! Remus!”

previous chapter | masterpost | next chapter

[textingtroublesanswers]

*standing out behind the base, near the cow cutout*

Hmm, I wonder if this will be a good spot. Close enough to travel, but far enough to not be in any danger. I think this would be good!

Now just how to tell the lil engineers that we're designating this spot just for them?

-🦖

Dell hands you a bottle of bacon bits, "Just like this, pardner."

[cavenewstimes]

TIL that death row inmate Lawrence Brewer ordered a triple bacon cheeseburger, meat-lover’s pizza, three fajitas, Blue Bell ice cream, and peanut butter fudge among other items and refused to eat any of it, prompting Texas Senator John Whitmire to banish all “special meal” requests in the state.

whoa there, pardner! Your request has been blocked due to a network policy. Try logging in or creating an account here to get back to browsing. If you’re running a script or application, please register or sign in with your developer credentials here. Additionally make sure your User-Agent is not empty and is something unique and descriptive and try again. if you’re supplying an alternate…

[thehumanofjustice]

*holds in a hug* the others aren’t awake yet so we can just hang out here for a bit! can’t Belive I’m already 15 pardner. Let’s enjoy it! how old are you anyway whisper?

*begins eating a bagel with bacon*

(The door creaks open, as Whisper walks in, holding what looks close enough to a cake that it’s probably good.)

H-Hey, Clover…! H-Happy Birthday!

Howdy whisper! Thanks!

oooh whatcha made?

*pulls whisper onto the bed and starts hugging them*

thanks for being here whisper.

[piratewithvigor]

Journey Out Of Darkness: The History Of Kane

Chapter 11: Breakfast

Margaret shares a great similarity to one of Abel's parents

Last Chapter ~ AO3

Taglist: @the--blackdahlia @coffee-n-bagels-comic-universe @wendigoruble @old-no7 @kayfabebabe

When Red said they woke up early, Abel had expected maybe around sunrise. He remembered some of the cowboy movies he watched in the hospital said they got up and went down with the sun. He was woken up not by his alarm clock– which he’d set for 7am, just in case the sun didn’t wake him– and nor by the sun, which was usually coming up around 6– but by the sound of horses neighing seemingly right outside his window. He sat bolt upright in bed, and rubbed his eyes intensely to try and clear the sleep and adjust them to the darkness as quickly as he could. There were no other beds in the room and no lights creeping in from the hallway under the door. That’s right, he wasn’t in the group home anymore. He was at Aurora. 

As his heart rate creeped back down, he looked at the clock next to his bed.

4:52am.

Outside the window behind the clock, there were men walking from the outlying buildings up to the house. Their voices carried through the floorboards as they open and shut the front door a number of times. They didn’t sound nearly as tired as he felt. They were happy. Jovial. Content from a morning’s work and looking forward to the day. When the smell of fresh coffee began swirling up alongside their voices, the tones became more grateful, just like the way Dad sounded when Ma handed him his first cup of the day. If he were excited for school that day, he’d be working his way through his Cheerios at the table and witness the scene, but if he was dragging his feet, he’d just hear it from bed. No matter how he was feeling, it never changed. 

He liked that smell.

Abel laid back down and tried to picture for a moment he was back in Marfa. Thomas would be taking a shower and using up all the hot water on his long hair that Dad would tease him for. Thomas would always have a sassy comeback and Ma would chastise them both for going on about it while breakfast was getting cold. He could almost hear her crossing the house to come check if he was getting ready as he fell back asleep.

–

When he woke again, it was to the quiet beeping of his alarm with bright sunlight falling across the numbers on his clock. If it’d been a school day, he would have been scrambling out of bed to try and get ready before the bus arrived, and a quiet worry in his stomach still said he should, but he quieted the worry by assuring himself that it was Saturday. No school to be had.

That didn’t mean there was no work to do on the ranch, though. 

His attention was pulled from his clock when his bedroom door opened with a soft creek and Red peeked in.

“You awake in there, pardner?”

“Guess so.”

“Best come downstairs sooner than later. Breakfast is on and it ain’t easy to gather everyone I want you to meet outside of mealtimes.”

That sounded nice. A big breakfast with people who wanted to meet him. Home cooked. He couldn’t remember the last breakfast he’d had like that.

His stomach was almost growling when he entered the kitchen in the clothes he’d found in his closet. Three men were sitting with Red at the big dining room table, passing around plates of food– bacon and eggs and home fries and tortillas and a big basket of muffins. They were all talking and chewing at the same time, loudly, animatedly.

Red waved him over and introduced him. The men were Deke, and Lucas and Tony; Abel heard the last names but didn’t remember them. These here were cowboys, Red said. Real live cowboys. They worked the ranch for Red and Margaret. All three said hey, hello, how are you, didn’t make a big deal about his burns, and went right back to eating and talking. Mostly eating.

They were talking about the ranch and the work to be done on it for sure, but beyond that, Abel wasn’t sure about the specifics. They seemed important, whatever they were, and they certainly had Red’s rapt attention. Abel was so focused on trying to riddle out the conversation that he almost didn’t notice when Mrs. Hill placed a glass of orange juice by his plate. 

“I assume you don’t drink coffee. And if you do, you’ll be making the switch this morning. The last thing a growing boy needs in the morning is caffeine,” she explained. She was firm, but she said it in such a way that Abel felt like if he did drink coffee, he would have quit cold turkey then and there, just to appease her.

“Thank you.”

“Thank you is right. Mrs. Hill, that was delicious as always,” Red smiled, dabbing at the corners of his mouth with his napkin as he stood. “But we’ll be needin’ to get back to things. Now Abel,” he squatted down to be eye-to-eye with him. “One of the cows has a bit of an infection we need to tend to before the day can get started. When Margaret wakes up, she can take you, introduce you to the horses so they can get to know you and you can get to know them. ‘Round lunch, I should be set to take you into town, find you some good boots. How’s that sound?”

The idea of having real cowboy boots was good. The idea of getting to experience being a cowboy was good too. The idea of spending the morning alone with Margaret was… less good. 

“Sounds like fun,” Abel managed to bring himself to say. 

Red must’ve known he was forcing himself to say so, judging by the way his smile wavered for a second.

“Good. Then I’ll see you this afternoon at lunch. Okay?” “Okay.”

The four men tugged their hats into place as they left the kitchen, leaving Abel alone with Mrs. Hill. Instinct drove him to start collecting dishes, even though it made her tut at him.

“I appreciate the help, but this is my job. We’ve all got our chores around here, kiddo. Just a matter of time before Mr. Red finds something for you.”

“Like what?”

“Well, that’ll all depend on what you show an aptitude for. Everyone’s got their strengths and by playing to them, the ranch reaches its best efficiency. You’ll get chores soon enough, don’t worry.” She was smiling, but as soon as she looked over Abel’s shoulder, her expression changed entirely.

“Good morning, Mrs. Barrow.”

Abel turned to follow her gaze. Margaret was descending the stairs, clutching at the railing as if she might collapse without it. She looked as pale as Thomas did during the bad snowstorms that made them stay inside all the time.

“Good morning, Mrs. Hill. Coffee, please, and some toast with jam– blackberry jam, if we have it, and some ice water as well. And two ibuprofen, I have a terrible headache. No, actually, three please. Abel, I’m certain you’ve already eaten, but will you sit with me, please?”

It seemed like a lot of requests for one morning, but maybe Margaret’s headaches were like the migraines Ma used to get when it got too hot during the summers. They were bad enough to make her sick in bed for days. If that was the case, it was impressive that she’d gotten out of bed and down the stairs at all. The last thing Abel wanted to do was deny her a request, especially one that made it seem like she actually wanted to spend time with him. He took a seat just to the right of the head of the table. Margaret slumped in beside him, her eyes mostly closed.

“Did you sleep well?” She asked softly.

“I did, thank you.”

“I usually get up with Red and the others, but my head is killing me… Mrs. Hill! That ibuprofen!”

Abel hadn’t heard anyone talk to Mrs. Hill that way since arriving, but judging by the way she came running with the pills and a glass of ice water, it wasn’t an uncommon occurrence for Margaret to do so. Maybe these headaches were fairly frequent. He thought it was a little rude to not even thank Mrs. Hill for the painkillers, but he had to admit that when he’d been in the hospital and feeling sick from all the painkillers and hospital food, he hadn’t been in the mood to be polite either.

“So, do you like horses?” She asked, once she’d gotten the pills and the water down.

“I don’t know. I’ve never been close to one before.”

“I’m sure you’ll come to like them as much as Red and I do. I grew up around horses, you know.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes, back east. That’s where I’m from, you know. Connecticut.”

Then what in the hell was she doing down here? Whenever a car with a far-away license plate drove past, Dad would always ask that. There was the occasional James Dean fan, but tourism was certainly not Marfa’s main export. People drove through when they were lost and that was about it. He didn’t ask it like that, though.

“What made you come out here?”

“Mr. Barrow. Red. I met him at a show we both attended in New York, and–” she shrugged. “We fell in love.”

“Oh.” He supposed that was about as much romance as he should come to expect from them. The most words they’d said to each other since he’d arrived had been shouted and not sounded kind. It had to be some romantic show.

“You said you had breakfast already?”

“Eggs and bacon,” he confirmed. “And some tortillas.”

“I’m sorry to have missed out. Mrs. Hill is an excellent cook.”

“I can tell that already.”

“You’ll eat well while you’re here. I can assure you that.” 

Maybe he was just imagining things, or maybe he was putting words into her mouth, but it sounded like this was a hotel and he’d stopped in for a few days instead of the home he was supposed to grow up in and come back to visit on holidays with maybe a family he raised.

He was probably just imagining it.

When Margaret’s breakfast came, she stopped talking long enough to nibble a few bites of her toast before leaning back in her chair and sighing. 

“I’m very sorry, Abel. My head is starting to spin. It wouldn’t be safe for me to be handling a horse in this condition. I’m afraid we’ll have to postpone the lesson for today. Mrs. Hill!”

Mrs. Hill came over immediately, without even putting down the dish towel that had been in her hand. “Yes, Mrs. Barrow?”

“I’m finished. I have to go lie down again. Could you bring up a Bloody Mary in about– fifteen minutes?”

“Of course, ma’am.”

That was a familiar name. He used to hear it a lot, especially at the tail end of arguments between his parents in the mornings after the bad nights. 

“No celery, this time, please. You forgot last time.”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Barrow.”

“Quite alright. I just wanted to remind you.” She smiled at Abel. “We’re all only human, after all.”

She left the table and returned upstairs.

[dru-plays-starbound]

To Make an Ethereal Connection

Universe: Starbound Context: My entry for the Sept 16th prompt to the Homestead’s Fall Prompt Week. The prompt was: Theme: Rot & Purity; Colour Scheme: Earth tones; Quote: "To wander on a nameless road" / "Unsung hymns gather rust". Concrit welcome on this piece. CW: None Words: 1270 Tagging: @homesteadchronicles​​ @strosmkai-rum​​

I sighed with contentment as I sat back against the boulder. Over the horizon, the sun was starting to rise, bathing the world ahead in a soft buttercream glow. An easy breeze ruffled the tops of dry gasses like a fond uncle. It'd been a tough night over on Dakota's farm – bringing an electric fluffalo lamb into the world ain't ever an easy job. Poor flighty thing, shocking everyone in range who weren't me. But that was over and done with now, the new mite snuggled up and resting with his ma; me with a bacon and salsa sarnie in my hand as a thank-you breakfast, and a fine desert view to eat it in front of afore heading back star-side. It started out so quiet, at first I wasn't sure I was hearing what I was hearing. But then the sound grew louder, taking over the twittering of the birds and that easy breeze. It was like a chant – had that same repetitive cadence – only it weren't no words I ever heard afore.

Sammich forgotten in my curiosity, I peeked over my boulder. On the dusty path behind me, there stood a glitch. Old fella looked like he coulda used a lick of paint and an oil change, but there he stood in a dusty brown robe, arms raised to the sky and that buttercream-sun, making his curious noise. I climbed atop the boulder and watched awhile, listening to the sound: synthetic beeps, deep and harsh churning frequencies, gentle whirring, and bursts of fizzing static. Over and again the sequence repeated, a strange sort of yearning to it, the resonance making my gases swirl in sympathy.

Eventually, the sun rose higher in the sky, and the old glitch stopped his chant, arms dropping down to his sides. "Say, mister," I called, "you wanna bite to eat?" The glitch turned my way. "Gotta be hungry after all that," I waved an aimless hand, "lung airing. Ain't got much, but you're welcome to share it, pardner." As I chattered, I slithered over the other side of the boulder, to land on the nameless road beyond. "Friendly," the glitch announced as he came closer. "We are Bell One-Hundred-and-Three. We thank you for your offer of sustenance but wonder if perhaps you have something more... silicone-based. Apologetic: Human food does not agree with our internal combustion." "Oh shoot! Where are my manners?" I wiped a hand on my shirt and held it out. "Ogan. Pleased t'meetcha Bell. And sure, yeah, I think I've got a portion of Wattage Pottage here, should still be good." I plonked myself down in the boulder's shade and rummaged in my pack. Bell 103 sank down beside me. "Grateful: we register the affirmative – the hymns deplete our energy. Your sustenance is well received." "That was a hymn?" I asked as Bell 103 started in on the Pottage. "Affirmative." I had to think a few moments. "What's a hymn?" "Teaching: A hymn is a song or recitation to honour one's creator. That was the hymn of 64-69-61-6C-2D-75-70." He spoke the combination so rapidly I could hardly catch the string of numbers and letters. "We sing it at the start of each new day, as a way of connecting with our creator and with the universe." "Oh. So y'all sing other hymns at different parts of the day?" I asked, putting the sammich to my face and absorbing it as fission turned it to more star-stuff. "Pleased: That is correct, Ogan. You are a quick study. We also sing at noon, dusk and midnight." "How come y'all's name don't sound like a regular glitch name?" The glitch gave me a long look, then sighed in a way that seemed fond. "Accepting: we forget what talking to nova is like." They chewed down a portion of Pottage before continuing, "Nostalgic: We are named after a distant ancestor, a singer like ourself – one who strove constantly for connection to others of its kind." "Huh. But surely if they lived so long ago, then there ain't none who can understand the song anymore?" Bell 103 sat quietly, methodically stirring the Pottage to bring up lumps of currentcorn. I watched a Tritrot scurry from one side of the road to the other before Bell spoke up again. "Bittersweet: This may be partly correct, but someone must sing the hymns. They cannot be allowed to be formatted from memory, nor allowed to rust. It may sound illogical, but it is something we believe in our capacitors to be right." I gave Bell's shoulder a pat, the metal warm from the sunlight. "Well, my Memaw always used to say it don't matter a lick what other's think of what you're doing, so long as you believe in it. And that sounds exactly what y'all are doing there. So if you think it's right, then it ain't illogical." Bright LEDs winked on and off as Bell blinked at me, so I gave a solid nod to show I meant it. "Grateful," the glitch said. "We deeply appreciate your words, Ogan."

Bell returned to their meal, mechanical grinding and the wind the only sounds. I turned my face to the sun, high in the clear mauve sky, as my fingers made runnels in the soft grit beneath. "Lotta things wrong in our 'verse," I said at length. "Lotta folk doin' their best to drive it to decay and ruin. So, ya know, it's nice to hear about a fella doin' the opposite of that." Grit trickled through my fingers. "As I see it, ain't enough folk like y'all in the 'verse, Bell." The glitch stopped eating, and out the corner of my vision, I saw that metal head twist towards me. The air betwixt us gained the weight of expectation, like the very 'verse herself was waiting on my next move. "What'd y'all say to joining my crew? Sure as stars sparkle, fella with your gumption would fit right in the Peacekeeper Corps. Job's a doddle – y'all help land an outlaw or three, get bed and board in return." I looked back to find Bell just staring at me. A part of me decided it was mighty unfair they have some darn good poker faces; part of me was glad for it, as then I wouldn't've had to see no foul expression on that weathered structure. "Hesitant," they began, "we find the wording of your offer to be most kind. We thank you for this appraisal of our character and for considering us in this matter, but we must decline. We do not believe we would be suited to such a task." I inclined my head. "Well, alright then. No hard feelings, pardner. It's been a fine thing to meet you at all. I at least give you a ride someplace?" "Relieved. Thank you, but no. We have not long arrived on this planet – we wish to wander it a while yet." "Sure thing, friend." I stood and dusted grit off my pants. Bell rose as well, and I stuck out my hand. "It's been mighty fine meeting you." Bell took my hand and clasped it between their own. "Ernest. It has been good to meet you too, Ogan. Fond. May your ship be faithful, the stars light your way, and your lungs never be empty." "Thank you, Bell." I stepped back and tipped my hat to them. "Clear skies, friend. Y'all ever need anything, you just call. I'm but a jump away." I gave another tip of my hat and let the rainbow teleport beam claim me.

[anoddreindeer]

Pardner

Shane Masters hissed through their teeth as they pulled their shirt up to inspect a long gash along their side. The wound was crusted with blood and caliche dust and surrounded by heavy bruising, and they winced as a poke drew fresh blood to ooze slowly down their side.

"Here now, none a’ that,"

Beaumont Morningstar heaved himself over the lip of rock and down into the narrow arroyo Shane had chosen to lick their wounds in. He dropped heavily down onto the sandy bottom and stomped over to the patch of shade they stood in, a frown firmly embedded in his face. He batted their hand away and framed the gash with his own, his thunderous expression at odds with the gentle motion he used to turn the wound more towards the light.

Shane shifted at the touch, leaning into Beaumont's hands just a little.

"Aw c'mon Beaumont, ain't nothin' but a scratch."

"I'll be the judge a' that," Beaumont retorted, hands lingering on Shane's hip for a long moment before diving into a pouch on his hip to pull out a canteen and some bandages.

Shane's eyebrows crawled towards their hairline.

"Ain't no thing, Beaumont. Doc'll have me right as the mail afore you know it."

"Doc's busy with Hallyer. 'Fraid you'll just have to live with whatever I can do."

Shane snorted, earning them a poke in one of the less-bruised portions of exposed flesh.

"Can't imagine Hallyer's too pleased with that. Doc's had it in for him since that crack about his knowin' not bein' worth a damn."

Beaumont gave them a dry look as he wetted a handkerchief he'd pulled from somewhere and began to clean the dirt away from the edges of the gash.

"Don't rightly think he's in a position to complain. The rattler caught him after I...after it let you go and if Talley wasn't the luckiest son of a bitch with a rifle Hallyer'd be worm food. If anybody but Doc was workin' on him, I'd be diggin' a hole right now."

Shane was quiet for a long moment before reaching out and thwacking Beaumont on the back of the head.

Beaumont dropped his handkerchief and staggered, grabbing onto Shane to keep from falling.

"Ow! The hell did you do that for!"

"The hell were you thinkin', gettin' that close to a rattler?"

Shane's hiss was quiet, but real anger sparked in their eyes, and Beaumont pulled away as he straightened up.

"The hell was I thinkin', the hell were you thinkin'! You like to run up into its mouth!"

"I'm Shane Masters and there ain't a thing I can't kill. Just had to-"

"Just had to get yourself ate, 's what it looked like to me."

The two of them glared at each other silently for a few moments before Shane looked away. Beaumont stayed still for a few moments longer before slowly reaching down to pick up the fallen handkerchief and tuck it back into his pocket.

"Reckon that's as clean as it gets anyway. Hold still so's I don't put this on crooked-like."

Beaumont stuck a piece of clean linen on the wound before beginning to unroll the wad of bandages.

"How'd this happen, anyways? Thought I shot the thing afore it got you to its teeth."

Shane held still as he began to wrap the bandages around their middle, but rolled their eyes.

"Mah hero. Anyways, thing was draggin' me right where I wanted to be 'cept it did it over a big rock."

“Draggin’ you into its belly more like,” Beaumont muttered.

A measured silence lasted for a long moment, broken only by the wind whistling down the arroyo.

"Thanks."

Beaumont's hands stilled.

"For pullin' my bacon out a the fire. You're supposed to stay the hell back and let me get up close, not the other way around. Idiot."

Beaumont didn't look up as he began wrapping the bandages once more.

"Couldn't stand by and let a partner die, is all."

Shane smirked.

"Just a partner?"

Beaumont still didn't look up.

"Just a partner."

Shane's smile disappeared as Beaumont finished wrapping and tied the bandage off.

"You saying you woulda done that for Vandall? Hallyer? Talley? McCloud? You woulda run into the maw of a rattler just for a partner?"

Beaumont's silence spoke volumes. Shane shoved him away hard enough to dump him on his ass and knock his hat clean off.

"Thanks for the patch job, partner," they spat, and turned to stalk down the arroyo in the vague direction of camp.

Beaumont stayed frozen for a long few moments before climbing to his feet and grabbing his hat. He looked down at the offending article for a long moment, seemingly uncaring of the fact that it was crumpling in his grip, before slamming it hard against his thigh with a puff of dust.

"Damn it."

He shoved his hat on his head and began slowly making his way back to camp, shoulders slumped.

[artmann100]

https://www.drivethrurpg.com/product/372173/Clipart-Critters-647--Zombie-Cowpoke

For some reason, Zombies and Westerns seem to go together like eggs and bacon, peanut butter and jelly, and masked serial killers and cheerleaders. So saddle up with this image for your next project, pardner, cuz those brains ain’t gonna eat themselves!  Perfect for any off-kilter Western or horror setting.

[fandomandangstlover]

ah have been given a stylist. this was made with it :3

fellas my beloveds

[shoopuffymove]

All of them

god dylan.. ok, buckle yup

hello kitty: someone you admire?

The mcelroys probabllly i just am glad theyre good and know they are never done fixing themselves

my melody: do you have a big family?

yes huge and i hate them all and the feelings mutual

keroppi: are you good at sports?

im great at softball but thats it

badtzmaru: something that got you into trouble once?

eating a giant chocolate chip cookie in class. eating one of those huge french bread loaves from a bakery in class, drinking a litre of dr pepper in class, also eating stright up bacon and eggs i cooked and brought to school in 1st period. i ate more than i learned b4 dropping out lol. im basically shaggy.

chococat: are you shy or outgoing?

both? it depends, without anxiety in social situations i am very loud and upbeat and friendly.

cinnamoroll: dream job?

a baker. thatttss the dream.

gudetama: what's your sleep schedule like?

pretty bad. i stay up p late cuz.. issues.

pompompurin: favorite food to eat for breakfast?

bIRTHDAY BAGELS

little twin stars: do you believe in luck?

yes!

tuxedosam: do you like to dress nicely?

yessssssssss. i am very show offy and love to feel like i look good.

pochacco: are you clumsy?

major. my friends used to call me ‘prone-o’ like accident prone cuz how much i would get hurt and banged up and bruised in non dangerous enviroments. found out later its called dyspraxia and i have aspies lol. i bump into most walls and door frames and drop a lot.

hummingmint: favorite outdoor activities?

picnics!! im a picnic gay. i love to make meals for my loves and bring them on cute dates.

bonbonribbon: what are your talents?

i can sing?, play the ukelele, baking/cooking, arting!, and letting my belongings gather in a pile next to my bed and being able to find stuff in it still.

charmmy kitty: a pet you've always wanted?

i just want a fucking cat again please god, but also a chameleon no lie thweyre so cute and i want to have one chill on my shoulder while i cook with a tiny chef hat on his head bump

sugarbunnies: favorite desserts?

saltwater taffy !! strawberry icecream! cheeeesecake!!

my sweet piano: what kind of music do you listen to?

hmmm everything i guess but i love mika, neon trees and superfruit. so gay music lol. i also rn looove bts n orange caramel.

chibimaru: 3 things that cheer you up?

my pardners and friends, polygon, and dnd stuff!

tiny poem: describe your dream home?

mmm warm apartment with lots of candles and cool decor from etsy and red velvet heart chairs our menorah up on the entertainment system. this cool table n chair thats old diner ish for my dining are. rubber ducky themed bathroom. realllly cool kitchen utensils like the loch ness ladle and stuff.

wish me mell: favorite colors to wear?

black and blue!

usahana: are you tidy or messy?

both. i love to organize but im.. so depwessed i let everything clutter and get so out of hand its overwhelming and even when i feel well i dont feel like ding it. rip

nya ni nyu ne nyon: do you get along with your siblings?

i hate the rat bastards

[buckybarnesappreciationsociety]

Kindergarten Blues

Summary: Time has come for little Stevie, 5 years old, to start kindergarten and Bucky’s having a difficult time grasping the concept of his little boy growing up. Steven  Barnes crosses into the scholastic realm. How will Bucky deal with his little man leaving the nest?

Pairings: Bucky x Reader OFC Steven James and Bella Barnes, Ms. Nelson, Kindergarten Teacher

Warning: Separation anxiety and a boatload of happiness

A/N: This fic is part of “The Chronicles of Bucky Barnes-Family Man.” From time to time, I’ll post one shots about Bucky, his wife, Bella and little Steven. I wanted to write how he handles his kids growing up. Hope you like it. Feedback is encouraged and thank you for reading!

You’ve heard of kids crying, latching themselves onto their parent’s leg on the first day of kindergarten. Somber mothers and fathers peeped in the door’s window, searching for one more glance of their “baby.” What they fail to realize is it’s 8:00 a.m. and the school dismisses kindergartners at noon.

James Buchanan Barnes felt as if little Stevie was going off to war. Two weeks prior to the first day, he was a real sourpuss. And from what Jillian gathered, those poor new recruits caught pure hell. So much so that Nick Fury spoke to Bucky and requested he ease up a bit. Bucky complied.

Jillian thought it funny the way her teddy bear husband was acting. She understood what Bucky was going through; she’d experienced the same thing with Bella. Come to think of it, he went with them to school and had to be dragged away!

Uncle Tony paid tuition for Bella and little Stevie to attend the uber exclusive “Whittington School.” Before his niece and nephew even set foot in the door, all staff members were stringently vetted. He made sure no stone was left unturned. This school was attended by kids with “extraordinary” parents.

The likes of Clark Kent and Lois Lane, Bruce Wayne, Scott Lang among a few had their children enrolled in the school because security was high and the buildings were secure. Cameras were strategically placed around the perimeter, infrared beams dotted the treelines and a reinforced wall kept hooligans out. If all that wasn’t enough, kids wore mini-trackers, attached to the inside of their clothes, just in case an incident occurred.

The Night Before “D-Day”

Sitting on his bed, little Stevie packed his Iron Man backpack. Bucky walked in his room and sat next to him and said, Hey son, you ready for school?” Little Stevie couldn’t contain his enthusiasm, “Yeah daddy, I can’t wait to meet my teacher and make friends and see Bella and…”

Bucky chuckled, “Slow down pardner. Breathe.”

Inhaling loudly, the excited little fella spoke again, “Oh and I already know my ABC’s and my colors and some of my numbers! Daddy, can we go NOW?” Bucky pulled him onto his lap, “Tomorrow is Monday. That’s when you go to school.” Laughter erupted as little Stevie jumped up and down on his bed singing, “♫♪♫I’M GOING TO SCHOOL IN THE MORNING♪♫♪!”

Bucky insisted his son get some sleep. Little Stevie pouted but eventually relented, not before he tucked his backpack under the covers. .

Bucky wore a tight smile on his face. He felt a sharp pain in his stomach and heart. Bella and little Stevie were growing up right before his eyes!

Jillian sitting against the headboard of their bed reading, put her book down when her glum husband meandered into the room.

She knew her brooding husband suffered a case of ‘my kids are growing up too fast.’ Jillian beckoned him to the bed and Bucky complied. Gently stroking his chocolate locks, Jillian asked, “Buck, look at me.” He turned his gaze towards his compassionate wife. “You knew this day would come sooner or later. Remember Bella’s first day of kindergarten?” He nodded. “I had to practically yank all of the Avengers from the school. You, Steve and Wanda cried, while Tony videotaped the event. Let’s not forget Nat whispering in Bella’s ear self-defense moves.”

The bed rumbled with his laughter. Placing a chaste kiss on Jillian’s lips, Bucky mused, “Yeah I remember that. Sam was on a mission. He had a fit. That was a great day.”

Rolling her eyes, Jillian pretended to hit her husband in the chest. She smiled, “Yeah he was fit to be tied!” They looked at each other and burst into raucous laughter.

“Come on Sarge, it’s bedtime. Early day tomorrow.” Jillian turned the bedside lamp off and pulled the cover over herself. Bucky draped his left arm over her body and pulled her close to him. Sleep came to pulled him under its spell.

First Day of School

The alarm clock buzzed at 6:00 a.m. Bucky reached back and swatted it, rolling back over.

Jillian attempted to move but a heavy metal appendage laying across her body prevented it.

Struggling to get loose, Bucky protested and asked for 5 more minutes. Jillian pecked him on the nose and shuffled into the bathroom.

Bucky groaned, “Oh well, let’s get this over with.”

Walking down the hall, giggles came from little Stevie’s room. As he got closer, the voices of Bella and her brother was heard.

Opening the door, the kids ran to his arms for a bear hug from daddy.

Little Stevie let out a high pitched laugh, “Good morning daddy. Is it time to go yet?”

Bella chimed in, “No silly goose. We’re not dressed. C’mon little bro, let’s eat.”

The smell of pancakes, bacon and eggs caught the attention of the hungry bear and his cubs.

Bella and little Stevie said ‘good morning’ to Jillian. She in turn began platting their food.

Bucky loved sitting at the table with his wife and kids. He’d laugh and carry on sometimes intense conversations with his 12 year old daughter. Bella was so intelligent and well-spoken. Her favorite subjects were math and science.

After breakfast came the moment of truth. While Jillian got little Stevie ready, Bucky filled his son’s backpack. Inside were Bucky bear, a Captain America jacket and cap. Leaning against the doorway, his wife shook her head.

Time To Let Him Go (Until Noon)

After clearing security, the Barnes family stepped inside. Bella hugged her parents and walked toward her locker. Little Stevie’s was absolutely amazed at his classroom.

Along the wall hung animals, alphabets and numbers. There were little cubbies to hang backpacks and jackets. Tiny tables and chairs dotted the center of the room, along with a reading corner with every Dr. Seuss book imaginable. The carpet was a giant jigsaw puzzle. 2 restrooms off to the side of the classroom and a spacious outside play area, with swings, slides, see saws, and horses that teters back and forth on heavy duty springs.

Ms. Nelson, one of the instructors, greeted them. “Good morning Barnes family. I’m Ms. Nelson, Stevie’s teacher.” Bucky and Jillian exchanged pleasantries while little Stevie found his personalized cubbie and hung his backpack.

Running back to Bucky, he jumped in his daddy’s arms and whispered in his ear, “Daddy, I’m gonna have so much fun. I love you.” Bucky smiled as little Stevie ran off again to greet his classmates.

“Mr. and Mrs. Barnes, Steven will be fine. We encourage parents to leave once the kids have turned their backs and start playing. This makes it easier on them not to see their parents crying.”

Jillian couldn’t stifle her laughter. “C’mon Sarge, let’s go home. Our son’s gonna be just fine.”

Hesitating, Bucky walked to the door and tried to turn around, but Jillian pulled him out the door and into their car.

First Day Joy

Like clockwork, Bucky and Jillian anxiously waited outside for their son in the pick-up lot. Kids were escorted out to their parents vehicles by their teachers.

Spotting his daddy, little Stevie sprinted into his arms and hugged him around the neck.

Breathing hard, little Stevie ran down the day’s activities. “Mommy, daddy I had a lot of fun. Ms. Nelson’s really nice. She asked who knew their alphabets and I raised my hand.

Then I said them and she said I was really smart and at art, Marcus, Linda and me sat at the table together, they’re my friends and we went outside and ran around and we came back inside for storytime and we had lunch and then, Bella came by and a waved at me!”

Jillian and Bucky snickered as their over zealous son continued to ramble on and on about the day’s events.

Squeezing Jillian’s hand, Bucky knew from that day forward, life would change for them. Growth is inevitable. As a parent, the reality of your ‘baby birds’ leaving the  nest tugs at the heartstrings.  Simply roll with the punches, hold tight to the memories made and look forward to those milestones still to come.

[meridie]

i spy a beauty :o 'tis you

@pistolslang

     ‘ pardner, there ain’t nothing more beautiful here than you &. i saw a juicy bacon burger this mornin’ ‘

[fandomandangstlover]

oh yeah btw. bacon pardner is a lesbian. no ah do not take criticism.

[fandomandangstlover]

spengineer & bacon pardner.. ..... <33

[buckybarnesappreciationsociety]

“Kindergarten Blues”

Summary: Time has come for little Stevie, 5 years old, to start kindergarten and Bucky’s having a difficult time grasping the concept of his little boy growing up. Steven James Barnes crosses into the scholastic realm. How will Bucky deal with his little man leaving the nest?

 Pairings: Bucky x Reader OFC Steven James and Bella Barnes, Ms. Nelson, Kindergarten Teacher

 Warning: Separation anxiety and a boatload of happiness

 A/N: This fic is part of “The Chronicles of Bucky Barnes-Family Man,” series. From time to time, I’ll post one shots about Bucky, his wife, Bella and little Steven. I wanted to write how he handles his kids growing up. Hope you like it. Feedback is encouraged and thank you for reading!

                                            *******************

You’ve heard of kids crying, latching themselves onto their parent’s leg on the first day of kindergarten. Somber mothers and fathers peep in the door’s window, searching for one more glance of their “baby.” What they fail to realize is it’s 8:00 a.m. and school dismisses the kindergarten class at noon.

James Buchanan Barnes felt little Stevie was going off to war. Two weeks prior to Stevie’s first day, Bucky was a real sourpuss. And from what Y/N gathered, those poor S.H.I.E.L.D. recruits caught pure hell. So much so that Nick Fury spoke to Bucky and requested he ease up a bit.

 Y/N thought it funny the way her teddy bear husband was acted. She understood what Bucky was going through; she’d experienced the same thing with Bella. Come to think of it, he went with them to school and had to be dragged away!

 Uncle Tony paid tuition for Bella and little Stevie to attend the uber exclusive “The Whittington School.” Before his niece and nephew even set foot in the door, all staff members were stringently vetted. He made sure no stone was left unturned. This school was attended by kids with “extraordinary” parents.

 The likes of Clark Kent and Lois Lane, Bruce Wayne, Scott Lang among a few had their children enrolled in the school because security was high and the buildings were secure. Cameras were strategically placed around the perimeter, infrared beams dotted the treelines and a reinforced wall kept hooligans out. If all that wasn’t enough, kids wore mini-trackers, attached to the inside of their clothes, just in case an incident occurred.

 The Night Before “K-Day”

 Sitting on his bed, little Stevie packed his Iron Man backpack. Bucky walked in his room and sat next to him and said, Hey son, you ready for school?” Little Stevie couldn’t contain his enthusiasm, “Yeah daddy, I can’t wait to meet my teacher and make friends and see Bella and…”

 Bucky chuckled, “Slow down pardner. Breathe.”

 Inhaling loudly, the excited little fella spoke again, “Oh and I already know my ABC’s and my colors and some of my numbers! Daddy, can we go NOW?” Bucky pulled him onto his lap, “Tomorrow is Monday. That’s when you go to school.” Laughter erupted as little Stevie jumped up and down on his bed singing, “♫♪♫I’M GOING TO SCHOOL IN THE MORNING♪♫♪!”

 Bucky insisted his son get some sleep. Little Stevie pouted but eventually relented, not before he tucked his backpack under the covers. .

 Bucky wore a tight smile on his face. He felt a sharp pain in his stomach and heart. Bella and little Stevie were growing up right before his eyes!

 Y/N sitting against the headboard of their bed reading, put her book down when her glum husband meandered into the room.

 She knew her brooding husband suffered a case of ‘my kids are growing up too fast.’ Y/N beckoned him to the bed and Bucky complied. Gently stroking his chocolate locks, Y/N asked, “Buck, look at me.” He turned his gaze towards his compassionate wife. “You knew this day would come sooner or later. Remember Bella’s first day of kindergarten?” He nodded. “I had to practically yank all of the Avengers from the school. You, Steve and Wanda cried, while Tony videotaped the event. Let’s not forget Nat whispering in Bella’s ear self-defense moves.”

 The bed rumbled with his laughter. Placing a chaste kiss on Y/N’s lips, Bucky mused, “Yeah I remember that. Sam was on a mission. He had a fit. That was a great day.”

 Rolling her eyes, Y/N pretended to hit her husband in the chest. She smiled, “Yeah he was fit to be tied!” They looked at each other and burst into raucous laughter.

 “Come on Sarge, it’s bedtime. Early day tomorrow.” Y/N turned the bedside lamp off and pulled the cover over herself. Bucky draped his left arm over her body and pulled her close to him. Sleep came to pulled him under its spell.

 First Day of School

 The alarm clock buzzed at 6:00 a.m. Bucky reached back and swatted it, rolling back over.

 Y/N attempted to move but a heavy metal appendage laying across her body prevented it.

 Struggling to get loose, Bucky protested and asked for 5 more minutes. Y/N pecked him on the nose and shuffled into the bathroom.

 Bucky groaned, “Oh well, let’s get this over with.”

 Walking down the hall, giggles came from little Stevie’s room. As he got closer, the voices of Bella and her brother was heard.

 Opening the door, the kids ran to his arms for a bear hug from daddy.

 Little Stevie let out a high pitched laugh, “Good morning daddy. Is it time to go yet?”

 Bella chimed in, “No silly goose. We’re not dressed. C’mon little bro, let’s eat.”

 The smell of pancakes, bacon and eggs caught the attention of the hungry bear and his cubs.

 Bella and little Stevie said ‘good morning’ to Y/N. She in turn began platting their food.

 Bucky loved sitting at the table with his wife and kids. He’d laugh and carry on sometimes intense conversations with his 12 year old daughter. Bella was so intelligent and well-spoken. Her favorite subjects were math and science.

 After breakfast came the moment of truth. While Y/N got little Stevie ready, Bucky placed filled his son’s backpack. Inside were Bucky bear, a Captain America jacket and cap. Leaning against the doorway, his wife shook her head.

 Time To Let Him Go (Until Noon)

 After clearing security, the Barnes family stepped inside. Bella hugged her parents and walked toward her locker. Little Stevie was absolutely amazed at his classroom.

 Along the wall hung animals, alphabets and numbers. There were little cubbies to hang backpacks and jackets. Tiny tables and chairs dotted the center of the room, along with a reading corner with every Dr. Seuss book imaginable. The carpet was a giant jigsaw puzzle. 2 restrooms off to the side of the classroom and a spacious outside play area, with swings, slides, see saws, and horses that teeters back and forth on heavy duty springs.

 Ms. Nelson, one of the instructors, greeted them. “Good morning Barnes family. I’m Ms. Nelson, Stevie’s teacher.” Bucky and Y/N exchanged pleasantries while little Stevie found his personalized cubbie and hung his backpack.

 Running back to Bucky, he jumped in his daddy’s arms and whispered in his ear, “Daddy, I’m gonna have so much fun. I love you.” Bucky smiled as little Stevie ran off again to greet his classmates.

 “Mr. and Mrs. Barnes, Steven will be fine. We encourage parents to leave once the kids have turned their backs and start playing. This makes it easier on them not to see their parents crying.”

 Y/N couldn’t stifle her laughter. “C’mon Sarge, let’s go home. Our son’s gonna be just fine.”

 Hesitating, Bucky walked to the door and tried to turn around, but Y/N pulled him out the door and into their car.

  First Day Joy

 Like clockwork, Bucky and Y/N anxiously waited outside for their son in the pick-up lot. Kids were escorted out to their parents vehicles by their teachers.

 Spotting his daddy, little Stevie sprinted into his arms and hugged him around the neck.

 Breathing hard, little Stevie ran down the day’s activities. “Mommy, daddy I had  so much fun. Ms. Nelson’s really nice. She asked who knew their alphabets and I raised my hand.

 Then I said them and she said I was really smart and at art, Marcus, Linda and me sat at the table together, they’re my friends and we went outside and ran around and we came back inside for storytime and we had lunch and then, Bella came by and a waved at me!”

 Y/N and Bucky snickered as their over zealous son continued to ramble on and on about the day’s events.

 Squeezing Y/N’s hand, Bucky knew from that day forward, life would change for them. Growth is inevitable. As a parent, the reality of your ‘baby birds’ leaving the nest tugs at the heartstrings.  Simply roll with the punches, hold tight to the memories made and look forward to those milestones still to come.

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