h
occasionally subtle
izzy's playlists!
if i look back, i am lost
pixel skylines
Not today Justin
No title available
oozey mess
Three Goblin Art
Sweet Seals For You, Always
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ojovivo
Love Begins
Game of Thrones Daily
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Show & Tell
todays bird
JBB: An Artblog!
Cosmic Funnies
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
seen from South Korea
seen from Brazil
seen from T1
seen from Philippines
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from Türkiye
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Singapore
seen from Canada
seen from Malaysia
seen from Singapore
seen from Malaysia
seen from Venezuela
seen from United States
seen from Mexico
seen from United States
seen from Indonesia
@flyingstripes
pinned.
canon-divergent blog for sam wilson of the mcu.
follows mcu canon until avengers: endgame and captain america: brave new world. ignores most falcon and the winter soldier events.
characterisation will focus on sam exploring what it means to be captain america for him: accepting the identity, legacy, and everything in-between. definitely inspired by spencer's 2015 run.
rules under the cut. other links: info, memes, threads.
Jacob peeled away the old squares of bandage, revealing the nastier cuts underneath. He sighed softly at Sam's teasing. That familiar smile, charming even in this state, did help soothe the knot of anxiety in Jacob's stomach. The cowboy didn't know how Sam managed it — looking through him like that, undoing whatever pesky thing was nagging at him — but Jacob was always grateful.
At the comment regarding Sam's wings, Jacob's touches paused. What could have been bad enough to . . . ?? The question of [ what happened ] almost left Jacob's tongue, but he decided to swallow it back. There had been a man at their table recently, referred to as a captain, and Sam spoke of a mission in the time after. Jacob's assumption at the moment was that this was military business ; therefore, he would not ask for any details. It would be up to Sam to tell him, in his own time, as was the way that they had long supported one another in regards to their experiences.
What mattered most was that Sam was safe. Jacob pressed a quick kiss to the uninjured side of his lover's forehead, fingertips stalled on the younger man's skin. " — 's'alright," he replied. Jacob cleared his throat and moved back to continue. The smell of Sam's soap was left in his wake ; Jacob had showered not long before he returned to preparing dinner.
"We'll get up there when they're all fixed up," Jacob said. He used his teeth to tear open fresh band - aids and applied them carefully. "What about the . . . rest a' ya, Sam ?? " Calloused palms turned Sam's head. Jacob whistled through his teeth before he pressed a bit of cotton to the mark on Sam's forehead. "Did'ya get hit anywhere else ?? "
Sam laughed, unable to help himself, at Jacob's attempt to comfort him. Jacob was the one who worried more. Jacob was the one, Sam was sure, who probably felt taken aback when he heard the wings were damaged at all. But he didn't call him out on it, content to hum a low "mmhmm" as band-aids were fixed on the still-bleeding parts of him. As rough as Jacob's hands were in texture, they touched him as if he were the most precious thing on earth.
"I got bruises everywhere, if that counts," he said. "S'gonna be fun when you get my shirt off next, let me tell you."
As if to punctuate that, Sam's fingers pinched lightly at the hem of Jacob's shirt. He wasn't moving to tug it off, and truthfully cared more about the point of contact more than anything else, but it was hard to resist teasing someone as easily flustered as his beloved cowboy.
"And, uh... think I got grazed by a bullet somewhere on my calve, left side. Lucky for us it didn't rip through nothing.
"But I'll heal fine, baby." Even without Jacob looking at him, Sam reached up to tuck some stray hairs over his ear. "Got you here to take care of me, don't I? That gets me through plenty."
but what would be the point of all the pain and sacrifice if i wasn’t willing to stand up and keep fightin’?
"Hey, so... sorry for beating you up the other day. Nothing personal, just had to help save the world. You know the drill." // @antwrangler
"If you think that's gonna keep you in my good graces, you got another thing comin', Tiny."
a closed starter for @flyingstripes.
Jacob dumped the last of the carrots and potatoes into the crockpot and shut the lid. The vegetables would soften up in an hour or so, right when the roast finished. He liked this little invention : it let him get food going while he cut the grass and trimmed up the hedges for their older neighbor who lived across the street. Jacob had returned home with slices of homemade cake and lemonade for his trouble — dessert, he supposed. She never let him go without something, even when he tried to say no ; the crumpled twenty dollar bill sitting with his house keys on the table still made him feel guilty every time his eyes passed over it.
The cowboy placed his dirtied dishes in the sink, filled it with warm water, and stared out the window while he washed. It was a quiet neighborhood. Jacob was rather fond of it. His life here with Sam was little, and sweet, and oddly normal — and there wasn't a thing in the world he would trade it for.
Jacob looked down just as movement passed by the window. He glanced back up in time to see Sam's back disappearing around the corner. At the sound of the door, he grinned. Jacob wiped off his hands, threw the towel over his shoulder, and waited for Sam to come in.
The sight of the younger man sucked the air out of Jacob's lungs. Suddenly, the room was less bright [ and the world much larger ]. He tossed the towel on the counter as he rushed to Sam. Insistent hands pulled his lover into the nearest chair. Jacob's gray eyes swept over him as his calloused fingers gently touched his face. His expression grew more concerned at the realization at the face that someone else had attempted to hastily clean Sam up ; the blood was simply too much.
"You're bleedin'," he murmured, brows pulled together in concern. " . . . and these're some serious bruises. Stay here for me, yeah ?? I've gotta get the kit 'n get ya fixed up. — shit, darlin'."
Sam didn't think he'd get to come home without Jacob fussing over him, and not once on his ride back did he assume otherwise. The moment he was led to sit down he didn't bother fighting; Sam could say that it was the pragmatic thing to do, but he wasn't above enjoying when Jacob worried about him like this (the one time he got the flu since Jacob started living with him might've been the best damn flu of his life, and the only reason he wasn't certain was because he was too knocked on his ass to remember anything).
"Looks worse than it is," he said, turning to give Jacob's fingertips a soft kiss in reassurance. In the relative safety of his life since coming home from Afghanistan, Sam hadn't ever gotten this banged up before. Far be it for him to blame Jacob for feeling any modicum of concern.
"But if you gon' kiss it better" -- looking into Jacob's eyes, Sam offered him a smile -- "I ain't about to say 'no'."
So he sat obediently as Jacob disappeared, and continued to do so even when he returned. His left temple was bleeding, but it wasn't nearly as bad as the cut on his right cheek. On the left side of his jaw was a wound that was more raw from a nasty scrape than anything, but that also meant it smarted the most.
"My wings're busted," Sam murmured, eyes half-lidded as he felt the sting of disinfectant. "I know I promised we'd go out flyin' once I got back, but..."
@flyingstripes: sender finds receiver [ injured / bloodied ] from the nonverbal prompts B)
It was one thing to be assigned to a mission with the new Captain America. It was something else having to cover his back while he flew around the damn place. Ava couldn’t keep her attention skyward and on the ground at the same time, and that had cost her. A dagger right through the shoulder blade, fast enough to catch her off-guard before she could phase through it. But she’d experienced this kind of pain before, so it didn’t take much concentration to reach inside the man’s chest and get a grip on his heart to make it stop. A slow painful death, but one she had full control over. The dead man slumped on top of her, just in time for the “winged wonder” to descend on her location. “Anyone ever tell you you’ve got bad timing…?”
"Sure," Sam says, calm despite the way his eyes zero in on the bleeding wound on Ghost's shoulder. He pulls the corpse off of her and deposits it on the ground, then offers a hand to pull Ghost back up, too. "Plenty.
"We're almost done here." He files her wound away; it isn't major, at least, and if she leaves the blade in she shouldn't lose too much blood. "You oughta stay put, if you can."
He'd have stopped at "stay put" if he'd hoped there was any chance of the woman listening to him. But the latter part of the sentence is a fine enough out for what he expects is the inevitable refusal to listen (as is customary with these former SHIELD types, he supposes).
"Can I count on you to stand guard out here?" Sam asks, already walking backwards to the door leading into the compound. "I'll be quick, promise." And with a crooked smile, Sam disappears inside to locate the ringleader of this entire affair.
True to his word, he gets the intel they need in about three minutes. Holding a cuffed man-- the leader, clearly-- by the scruff of his neck as he exits the same door he used earlier, Sam immediately tries to locate wherever Ghost's gone to. The sooner they get out of here, the sooner he can dress her wound.
yay
youxmove:
“McDonalds?” The agent questions, her brows raising as she looks back over her shoulder in his direction. Not that she didn’t love a good double cheeseburger every once in a while- but McDonalds? “We’re in Belgium...and you want McDonalds? Something you can have any time you want back home in the states? Really Sam? I mean at the very least I’d think you’d at least say waffles.” She shoots him a teasing glance then snorts at his fish defense. It was fair. Fishing was far more enjoyable than this. But Steve needed their help- Sergeant Barnes needed their help. And while Sharon and Sam didn’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell at actually stopping or cornering the Winter Soldier- or former Winter Soldier- whoever he was- at least they could pinpoint him and get Steve in the mix and from there? Well that was up to the Captain....and the United States Government. Sharon sighs softly, standing up from the bay window then walks over to her bag, ruffling through it until she finds her purse, digging out a 100 dollar bill then hands it to Sam. “Here. Dinners on me. Get us some seafood...and some waffles.” The corners up her lips turn upwards in another smirk. “Keep the change.” She wasn’t sure how he and Steve were actually funding this little operation of theirs they had going- surely it wasn’t a financially simple task- and honestly she felt a little bad that she hadn’t stepped in sooner to help. Sure, she had to be secretive about this side gig- going behind the government’s back to track down a potential criminal/ war hero from the 1940s wasn’t exactly going to get the thumbs up from the CIA- but at the very least she could start contributing to the cause. With cash of course- didn’t want to leave a trail. But she was more than capable of helping out. “Oh and get a couple drinks.”
It's hard not to whistle at Sharon's generous offer, a grin on Sam's face as he catches the money in his fingers. Sure, it still being in dollars means he'll have to make a side trip to the money changers, but he has to admit-- holding a hundred dollar bill feels pretty damn good.
"Oh," he says, "if you insist. Be a fool to say 'no'."
And, okay, waffles and seafood is kind of an esoteric combination, but far be it for Sam to raise any questions to the generous soul so willing to feed him Belgian delicacies.
"We're going non-alcoholic, just so you know." With everything important pocketed, Sam walks to the door of their little room and offers Sharon one last glance. She's more than capable of handling herself, he's sure, but anxiety tickles the back of his neck for just a moment with that uncertainty of her safety while he's gone.
"I'll be back in an hour. Anything comes up..."
You have my number is unspoken. Sam wouldn't dare jinx the operation by voicing it so candidly.
Then he's out the door, his walk quickly turning into a jog to the bike he'd rented outside.
Overall, though, getting food is simple enough. Sam gets mussels and fish and two servings of waffles from two different places, and moves with the utmost urgency to the room they're sharing. Having been blissfully message-free, he assumes he'll find Sharon as safe as she was an hour ago. The downside here, of course, is that Barnes wouldn't have shown his damn face yet, but he'll take Sharon's safety over the stakeout being over any day.
@lgolas sent: what was your plan ?? you could’ve gotten yourself killed ! ► from dire situations
As Sam slips into the passenger's seat and belts himself in, he offers, "The plan didn't involve me dying, if you'll believe it."
And as far as operations go, it could've been worse. But Sam had emerged out of the one-story building relatively unharmed, even if he couldn't say the same for the goons he fought inside.
"All the info should be on this drive," he says, holding a flash drive up before stuffing it into his pocket. He's still panting from the running, and he leans his head against the the backrest with his eyes closed.
"It's fine. We're fine, Legolas."
He should probably stop saying they're fine for it to sound more believable, though.
He nods, something about this all making him feel...young. Sure, he's quite a few years younger than the man beside him, but he feels now, in asking this, that he's so much younger than his years. Will the superheroes come to defend him? Like a frightened boy looking up to--well, not his father, but...Captain America. He'd never needed them before, and he doesn't now, but...he's curious. Now that the door's been opened, he wants to know just how far it goes.
He understands that the rest of the Avengers are what's keeping the world protected from the threats that Marcos and the rest of the Underground can't begin to fight, the same way the X-Men did, but the mutants are still here, and they're still suffering. Just the same as all the people who have been displaced by the city-wide battles. They fight, and then they go.
"I think we've all gotten mad at some point or another. It's hard not to. We wonder where the X-Men went, and we wonder why the Avengers never clean up the messes they make." Maybe he shouldn't be saying this to Sam, but he doesn't think he's the type to get upset about it. "You start to wonder...if not for them, would these things be happening? Would our lives be easier without Tony Stark and Charles Xavier, or would it be the same?" He pauses. "Like you said...I get it, because we still have aliens pouring in from rifts in the sky, but...I've known a lot of people who would say that the Avengers and the X-Men haven't done them any good."
He hopes, though, that Sam's right. That this team knows him, and even if they may not act as clearly as him, they still understand him, and they support him.
He brightens at Sam's admission. It doesn't sound like it's going to see the light of day any time soon, but...it is something. Witnesses, as he says, will be hard, because a lot of people are just people, but he thinks he knows people who be willing. "That's..." he pauses, huffing a small breath of disbelief, "incredible. I won't let it get out until you're ready, but when you are...we'll be there."
"Good," Sam says, a soft chuckle coming along with it. "That's good. All we can really do is lay the groundwork down, you know?" The freedom of mobility is a privilege, at least, of being non-mutant. "But having any of your people there to really think about whatever these fancy lawyers say..." He sighs. "I'm glad to hear it.
"I mean, I'm smart and I read things, but I don't know everything you guys go through."
And it's always better, anyway, to have someone directly involved in the bullshit of the law there than to speak for them. Sam wouldn't have forced the Underground to do anything-- Lord knows the application of force is what's got them working in secrecy to begin with-- but to know such a major part of mutant salvation these days would be interested to work with him is a relief.
He shakes his head, then relaxes against his seat. "So what you said... I don't blame 'em. The folks who think these 'superteams' make things worse. Couple years ago, I heard an argument about 'correlation'-- how if Iron Man hadn't made his suit, or if the Xavier School only stayed a school, maybe the other side wouldn't have gotten so damn advanced with their schemes.
"But, shit. All that is out of my hands now." It's not like Sam can go back in time to change things (and as far as he's concerned, the Avengers ought to wash their hands of time travel altogether from now on). "This? Helping people on the ground? At least this is something I know I can do. Fuck what other people have to say about it.
"I'd rather focus on this instead of lie awake worrying about the next superthreat. There's too much noise in the real world already."
Closed starter for @flyingstripes
In an attempt to move a group of mutants to the Chicago HQ, they’d been attacked by Sentinel Services. Luckily for Clarice, Sam had been with them, had helped to get them all to a way station and set up makeshift sleeping arrangements for everyone. They’d then agreed to take turns sleeping or keeping watch until things quieted down, until they could move again, with Clarice going first (she’d forgotten how many portals she’d created, but it was enough that her body was heavy with exhaustion). However, it wasn’t long before she was suddenly sitting up, gasping for air but, Clarice being Clarice, just offered him a tired smirk before simply saying, “Guess it’s your turn. I’m going to grab a bottle of water...”
"My turn?" Sam asks, doing his best not to sound incredulous. He'd heard the intake of air, and he's not fool enough to think she'd had a pleasant dream.
Instead of bringing it up, though, he mentions, "You barely slept an hour, Blink."
And by that, Sam means he's perfectly fine continuing to sit by the window. Redwing's still out on patrol, taking score of their surroundings, and as far as he can tell things haven't died down enough for them to start moving. That's the most annoying thing about Sentinel Services, he finds-- the bastards just don't know when to give up (and really, what is it that they accomplish except make mutants feel less than human?).
"I don't know how much those... portals take out of you" -- how wild is it that there're folks that can just conjure portals without magic? -- "but you need the rest more than I do."
↪ 𝑫𝑰𝑹𝑬 𝑺𝑰𝑻𝑼𝑨𝑻𝑰𝑶𝑵𝑺 . ( a collection of dire / urgent situation sentence & action starters . adjust phrasing + ʳᵉᵛᵉʳˢᵉ as necessary . )
𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄 :
hide . hide now .
shh !! there’s somebody in the house .
i’m not gonna hurt you ! see ? look , i’m putting down the [ weapon ] .
[ name ] , what were you thinking ?!
you’re being followed , pretend you know me .
stop , stop ! just put the [ weapon ] down !
drive , just drive fast !
you seriously think i could’ve done this ?
can you walk ? i need you to walk for me , okay ?
let me handle it , just go !
what was your plan ?? you could’ve gotten yourself killed !
you’re just going to leave me here ?!
[ name ] , can you hear me ? get out of there !
you knew and you didn’t tell me ?!
don’t you know how dangerous this is ?
you’re not going to shoot me .
move and you die .
i’m gonna come back for you , do you hear me ?
we have to stop the bleeding .
can you see how many fingers i’m holding up ?
i just want to go home !
don’t move a fucking muscle .
if it weren’t for you , we wouldn’t be in this mess .
i almost DIED back there , and you’re laughing ?
you’re only making this worse for yourself .
you think this is a joke ?
if i go down , i want you to run .
we’re gonna die , so what’s the point ?
this was the ONE thing i told you not to do .
i can’t promise we’re going to make it out of here .
where’s your first - aid kit ?!
just calm down and find your phone , we need to call the police .
someone’s been stalking me .
just listen to me for once !
i didn’t think you had it in you .
put the gun down , and kick it over here .
we can’t stick around here , let’s go .
kiss me before we die .
do whatever you need to do , hurry .
i can’t breathe , i can’t -
please , please - let me in , there’s someone -
i’m gonna give you one last chance .
you have to believe me , i didn’t do this !
run , and don’t look back .
this is real , i’m real . look at me .
take this . it’ll keep you safe .
follow my instructions very closely .
put your hands where i can see them .
you can’t just let me die !
i think … i think i need a doctor .
we need to get out of here , come on .
no , this isn’t it . we’re getting you out of this .
you panicking is not going to help us right now .
𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 :
[ GETAWAY ] sender acts as a getaway driver for receiver .
[ MEDIC ] sender arrives on receiver’s doorstep , badly bleeding .
[ HIDE ] sender and receiver hide from a threat together .
[ HUSH ] sender clasps a hand over receiver’s mouth to silence them .
[ DRAG ] sender physically hauls receiver to safety .
[ RIGHTS ] sender calls receiver from a police precinct .
[ REALITY ] sender helps receiver through an episode of derealization .
[ SHELTER ] sender and receiver must find shelter from a storm .
[ ARMED ] sender brandishes a [ gun / knife ] at receiver .
[ CRASH ] sender and receiver survive a [ car / bike ] crash together .
[ SEARCH ] sender barges into the hospital demanding to see receiver .
[ BACKUP ] sender calls receiver panicking after committing a crime .
[ CORNERED ] sender menacingly backs receiver into a corner .
[ UNEXPECTED ] receiver comes home to find sender already inside .
[ BREATHE ] sender helps receiver get through a panic attack .
[ BADGE ] sender and receiver flee from the cops together .
[ STRANDED ] sender and receiver become stranded in the woods .
[ EMBRACE ] sender kisses receiver thinking it’ll be the last time .
[ STRANGER ] sender can’t remember who receiver is after an injury .
[ TOKEN ] sender gives receiver a lucky charm before they go into battle .
[ CHOICE ] receiver has to choose between sparing their own life or the sender’s .
In a perfect world stakeouts would be no more than an hour. And if that wasn't as obtainable then at the very least the amount she had to do would be slim to zero. But regardless, this was just part of the job- plus Steve had asked her, and after everything that had happened in the realms of SHIELD- she owed him. She owed Sergeant Barnes that too.
Despite her distaste for them, however, she was damn good at them. Watching and waiting. It was part of the reason she was so good at her job. She had a calm demeanor, a patient mind, and a watchful eye. If Barnes was in this area, she'd find him. Sam on the other hand...well he'd been pacing around this room so much she was surprised he hadn't weakened the floorboards.
"Didn't you tell me that you're the Picasso of fishermen? That your family owned a seafood business? Well the fish don't just magically end up in your store, you gotta wait them out. Sometimes it takes a long time- some days you don't come with much or anything at all. This is like fishing. You wait. You watch. And as soon as the bobber drops you hit it and pull it in- or in this case get the intel back to Cap."
The blonde turns her head, looking back at Sam, and gives him a small smirk. "But, if you're getting that antsy, why don't you go grab us some food? Then you can get some rest. One of us has to take the night shift- I'll do the first watch."
"You tease," Sam says, hands on his hips as he laughs, "but a McDonald's run is exactly what I need right now."
That said, he wastes no time going to where his backpack is, grabbing his burner phone for the week and the wallet within.
"You know, at least fishing is fun." Both articles are shoved into his pockets, and Sam's head tilts slightly to the side. "At least I like fish. From catching to cooking to eating, it's nice."
Dryly, he jokes, "I don't like Barnes enough to enjoy half a day waiting on his ass, though."
Hell, Sam hardly knows the guy. But someone screwed by a system of war and espionage? Someone who could help them take down what remnants of HYDRA are still alive and kicking? Someone who's Captain America's best friend? One of the first things they teach you at Pararescue is to set your own feelings aside for the sake of others-- Sam may not have any personal stake in assuring a supposedly dead man's security, but he won't stand idly by while he's blatantly abused, either.
Sometimes he wonders if that makes him an idiot. But it's probably best not to go down that line of thinking.
"You got any requests?" he asks, jacket slid over his shoulders and his hands pushed through the sleeves. "I'm gettin' you whatever's cheapest if you don't." Sam is, after all, gloriously unbacked by any organisations. It's been a tough couple of weeks on his savings account.
He smiles, just a little sheepishly, as he insists that he meant it every other time. He's never shown any indication of irritation, and he doesn't think he's going to, because he's Captain America, but...despite the fact that they're both adults doing a job, he can't help but feel just a little bit like a kid playing pretend next to him.
"You're doing more than enough. Trust me. This is...more than anyone's done for us in a long time." Not since the X-Men disappeared. Even then, while they'd kept an eye on them, these people...they weren't the X-Men. They helped, but at the end of the day...well, the Underground was still around, wasn't it? It had never become unnecessary. He still didn't think it was going to get there, at least probably not in his lifetime, but maybe...it would become less necessary.
"'For what it's worth'?" he repeats, smiling faintly and shaking his head. "All you'd have to do to make a difference to these people is walk in and take a picture with them. The younger kids don't stop talking about you." Here his smile fades, and he becomes more serious. "Since the X-Men...we haven't had someone to look to. You know, someone out there that people look up to. That people could look up to. And maybe you couldn't have the X-Men without the Brotherhood, but...it meant something to people. And then...they disappeared, and this attack happened, and now the only thing people say about mutants is that they're worried about how to keep their families safe. But you...what I'm saying is that it's worth more than you think."
He thinks for a moment, his gaze falling to the window as he watches the street pass by. "Do you think they would?" A beat. "I'm not asking them to, and I'm not asking you to make them, but...I think we're all a little curious."
"Would what?" Sam offers, glancing briefly in Marcos' direction before he's back on the road. "Stand up for you? Fight for you?
"I know the Avengers have a reputation" -- and Sam's not sure what to think of it; the bodies left behind after Sokovia, the damages after Thanos, the alien invasion in New York all those years ago -- "but, to me saving the world against a huge threat's one thing. Making sure that world is one that's good for folks to live in, in peace? That's another."
He makes a turn towards the highway exit, inhaling deeply. Even here, in the cover of darkness, there's a certain regality to his pose. Sam's hardly aware of it, but he tends to straighten every time he thinks about what kind of Captain America he wants to be.
"I feel like the people that came before me didn't focus on that enough. You get so busy looking at the sky for threats, you forget about the people on the ground. I understand why they did it, but I don't want that to happen to me."
He chuckles, caught somewhere between mild embarrassment and a certainty of his beliefs nevertheless. "My team knows this about me. And I don't think they'd keep me on as leader if they didn't feel the same way."
Fingers tapping lightly on the wheel, Sam weighs the pros and cons of admitting something else, then decides there's no better time than the present.
"We've been trying to figure out ways to get legit help going. I've been talking to Wasp, Hope van Dyne of the Pym van Dyne Foundation? And her lawyers to, uh... 'combat Sentinel Services' head-on. But it's tricky figuring something out that works for mutants and ain't breaking laws. Laws that don't benefit you to begin with, I know, but getting amendments going are a little out of my depth right now."
Sam smiles slightly. "We're nowhere near prepared enough to ask for the Underground's input. And I understand how important it is for your people to stay hidden, especially if you'll be evacuating folks for years to come, so if we ever need witnesses, it'll be a tricky thing.
"But it's... something. Something I'd like for you folks to weigh on once we have a concrete plan. If you're interested in that side of things, anyway."
@youxmove
It's been maybe ten hours since their stakeout started. A sighting of someone that might be the Winter Soldier had been reported about 12 miles from Antwerp, Belgium. Sharon pulled some strings to give them two days before the authorities do their own official operations-- something about "information taking a while to get to where it has to go", Sam didn't ask for details-- and while Steve is tracking Barnes' movements on the ground, his two companions have been given the grand task of watching the building Barnes is supposedly staying at.
Sharon might be used to this sort of stuff; Sam's not sure what it is they did at SHIELD except keep secrets, so he supposes surveillance might be normal to her. In comparison, though, he's a soldier-- a boots on the ground, moving where there's action kind of guy. And while his companion might be more at home lying in wait, Sam's never been more restive.
It irritates him lying in wait like this, unable to influence the events before him. It bothers him that he doesn't have any control. Earlier he'd been seated with Sharon by the window, his leg bouncing every so often, but ten hours of no movement has left him pacing in the room with his hands on the back of his neck.
"How do you do it?" he asks, because it's still fucking quiet and Barnes is nowhere to be found. Dimly, Sam wishes Steve would've let him come with him, but he understands why it's better for him and Sharon to stick together-- a super soldier alone is already capable of more than two normal folks by a mile.
Turning towards her, Sam can't believe how still Sharon's been. "You're just... sitting there. Watching. It doesn't drive you crazy?"
Zbigniew Herbert, from The Collected Poems: 1956-1998; “Three Poems from the Heart”
Text ID: living—despite / living—against
