#ca:ws

[harvocel]

CAWS as ivan the terrible

full alt version before I deleted all the details in post :,)

[samsseptember]

Hi, Sam squad! Thank you to everyone who sent in prompt suggestions. Here's the final calendar for Samtember 2025!!!

As per usual, the event will run from Monday, September 1st to Tuesday, September 30th, with a prompt for each day. Check out the rules and guidelines below the cut and don't hesitate to drop us an ask if you have any questions.

See you in September! ✮

1. This is a no-pressure event. Fill out one prompt or fill all of them. Do as many as you like. You can also mix multiple prompts in one post.

2. All forms of fan content are welcome: fanfics, gifsets, moodboards, fanart, fan videos, graphics or edits. Whichever way you can think of to celebrate Sam, we'll take it.

3. Remember to tag @samsseptember and use #samtember2025 so we can find your post.

4. Please also include the day or prompt you’re filling (for example, if the day 5 prompt is “redwing,” use “#day 5” or “#redwing” as one of your tags).

If you are uploading your work to AO3:

A. Please include which prompt you’re filling in your notes.

B. You can also add your work to our Samtember 2025 collection that you can find here.

✮ IMPORTANT THINGS TO BE MINDFUL OF WHEN CREATING ✮

KEEP YOUR POSTS SAM-CENTRIC

Avoid framing Sam solely as a caretaker or emotional support for other characters. We also suggest staying away from AO3 tags like “Sam Wilson is a gift” or “Sam Wilson is a saint” that perpetrate this harmful trope.

Avoid focusing solely on other characters or ships. This is a Sam Wilson event, and he's always the main character in our hearts.

NO RACISM OR BIGOTRY WILL BE TOLERATED

Be mindful that race affects every aspect of Sam's life, including his interactions with other characters and the police or the government in his duties as Cap.

Be mindful of not writing Sam in a way that would be considered a harmful racist stereotype or falling into the angry/sassy black man trope.

If you are making fan art, avoid whitewashing Sam’s skin or portraying him with exaggerated proportions that would be considered a harmful stereotype of black men.

HAVE FUN AND WE LOOK FORWARD TO ALL YOUR WONDERFUL WORKS! ✮

[cakeisnotpie]

Read an article yesterday in the New York Times about why there's only two superhero movies on their list of the best 100 movies of the 21st century so far. They give all the usual pablum bullshit about how they're formulaic and rely too much on the same act structure with a lot of CGI, then the they talk about how when they ask the public for input they got a few more on that list.

NYT original list: Black Panther and The Dark Knight

NYT poll list also included: Logan, Thor: Ragnarok, and Endgame.

And I just ... yeah.

Where the fuck is Captain America: Winter Soldier?

I mean, sure, I agree most superhero movies aren't anywhere near the level of Parasite, but Endgame over Winter Soldier? Winter Soldier is a good SPY THRILLER, not just a good superhero movie. Has everyone forgotten just how good it is?

When I teach the MCU class, I start with Avengers and then we hit CA:WS. The students are always riveted by it -- the fight scenes, the act structure, the acting, the plot. By the time we get through Ragnarok and Black Panther to Phase 4 flicks (we end with Shang Chi), they talk about how they can see the difference of CA:WS to later movies.

Look, I understand why Black Panther and The Dark Knight made the list. They're great movies for many reasons. This is just my humble outrage that Bucky Barnes' murder strut, "who the hell is Bucky?", HYDRA has infested the US government with Nazis *cough, real life, cough*, and "I'm with you til the end of the line" was overlooked.

[starlitphoenix]

Stucky

“If you speak I leave.” Bucky says and he’s straddling him, Steve doesn’t know how he didn’t hear him come in. But Bucky's on top of him with Steve’s face held in a vice grip and Steve is blinking trying to find out if this is a dream or not. After a second he swallows and nods, relaxing completely. Bucky looks at him for another second before letting go completely letting Steve sag into the bed. 

Steve can’t take his eyes off him, and tries to control the small breath in when Bucky reaches his flesh hand up and starts mapping his face. A warm familiar palm against his cheek, that has his eyes fluttering. They dip and press and Steve doesn’t know when he started to hold his breath until Bucky is rubbing soothingly against his chest like he did when Steve was sick. He lets out the breath and Bucky sighs with him. He runs his hands through Steve's hair and travels down again. Bucky frowns and Steve so badly wants to ask about what but he doesn’t he stays silent, letting the unsaid words hang in the air like smog. 

Bucky's eyes flicker down and finally a thumb brushes against his lower lip, and Steve stills. Bucky's eyes flicker to Steve’s, and for a second there Steve’s scared that his face might show fear. Not of having the Winter Soldier towering over him, but because Bucky was touching him so so gently, and he knows that this man doesn’t know what that means to Steve; scared that knowledge will spook him.

Bucky seems to relax though, as he searches Steve’s eyes, looking back down as he skims lightly over Steve’s lower lip maddeningly. His other hand comes up to cup his cheek, surprisingly warm. 

Steve’s sure his heart almost gives out when Bucky starts leaning forward, knows his eyes are wide as Bucky creeps imposingly closer. Especially since Bucky staring into his eyes with an intensity that has Steve wanting to squirm. 

Bucky finally rests their foreheads together briefly frowning at the gesture before going down and pressing his lips against the thump still on Steve’s lips. 

Steve’s breath hitches and Bucky runs his thumb again soothingly, actions not quite meeting the blank expression he has on his face. Watching. Cataloguing. He runs the side of his face, the movement intimate in a way Steve’s always wanted him to be and he swallows finally having to close his eyes to it all. He doesn’t want to ruin this by mucking it up with feelings.

[wolfteething]

After the Chitauri (god, after waking up this century feeling like he didn’t get a lick of sleep) Clint Barton, Hawkeye, doesn’t look at Steve much.

He figures that’s fair.

Steve looks at himself in the mirror and twists his face one way then the other, then closes the bathroom door behind him as he steps out. If the window reflects him, he doesn’t see. He jogs out the front door of his little DC apartment, trying to remember that he, Steve Rogers, is a living thing.

Needs to breathe. Needs to eat. Needs to pace in that animal way they never managed to beat out of him.

Gotta relearn all the ropes. How his muscles flow under his skin, blood coursing through his veins. Joints rotate smoothly.

It isn’t until after SHIELD’s downfall (god, when did his life become a long string of before and after), that Steve figures out Clint’s deal.

The Winter Soldier, Bucky Barnes, roams the world out there. Steve needs to find him like he needs air in his lungs and grey matter in his cranium. Sam’s with him because Steve’s liable to buzz right out his bones without someone tethering him to the earth.

Clint’s here because Natasha sent Steve a text. No hello, no how are you, just sending you a driver. He’s got Natasha’s measure though, because she sends a take care of him while she marches into Congress with her head held high.

“Let’s blow this popsicle stand,” Clint says with a laugh. He’s all Midwestern twang and miles of freckled skin, with sunglasses sitting on his nose and a roguish grin. “Come on Cap and company, I can’t go sitting around all day for y’all.”

Steve huffs and clambers in, reaches out to clasp Clint’s shoulder. “Good to see you,” he says. Then, “Sam, this is Hawkeye.”

“Call me Clint.” He adjusts the rear view mirror, looking for that perfect angle only decipherable to a sniper. That, or just fucking with Steve. “Nat had some things to say about you.”

“Good things, I hope!”

“Awh,” Clint croons as he kicks the car into gear, “only the sweetest things you ever could hear her say.”

Steve chuckles into the wind as Clint flicks on the radio to cover Sam’s peals of laughter. He leans an arm out the rolled down window, as if to brush fingertips against the rushing hillsides, like a painter with his oils. Bucky’s out there, somewhere, dismantling HYDRA systemically and efficiently.

Maybe going back to wild, wild roots.

Trying on who he wants to be, like a worn pair of sunglasses and a Midwestern drawl. Clint’s singing off-key in the driver’s seat, slapping the roof of the car only sort of in beat. Grey hawk’s eyes flicker over at Steve every now and then, with their old and aching sorrow.

Steve flips down the shade, finding that the mirror’s exposed on the inside. There he is. Just as he was, with Sam’s tiny image moving in and out of the background as he howls along to Clint’s radio.

After this, Steve thinks, he might look into picking up a sketchbook.

[velvet4510]

Apparently I’m in the mood for expressing an MCU hot take at this hour, so here goes:

Steve going back in time was NOT a betrayal of his and Bucky’s friendship.

Look, at first glance, I get why Steve’s Endgame ending feels like it’s going against “I’m with you to the end of the line.” Even I had my reservations about it for a while, once my Steggy-shipping heart calmed down from its thrilled palpitations when I first watched the film.

But after giving it a lot of thought, I think in the end, it was for the best that Steve and Bucky went their separate ways, and here’s why.

Once they reunited in the present day, Steve and Bucky’s relationship became extremely codependent, and their entire arc was learning to grow out of that.

We see in Civil War especially how far Steve was willing to go to protect Bucky, and how Bucky became fully dependent on Steve. And remember that Steve had just lost Peggy before finding Bucky again, meaning that Bucky was all he had left of his former 1940s life. The fact that he fought so hard for Bucky is symbolic for his arc, far beyond their friendship. Of course he did it because he loved Bucky, that’s never in doubt. But I also think that he felt an equally strong love for what Bucky represented, which is the life he lost. His clinging to Bucky already showed us that he was unable to truly let go of the 1940s, though he tried. He tried to believe he had let go - Age of Ultron is all about him trying - but Civil War makes it clear that he will never truly belong to the present day.

Same goes for Bucky. Steve was his only reminder of his true self, of who he used to be, of the life he lost. He loved Steve himself, of course, but he also clung to Steve because Steve also represented something beyond just their friendship; he represented the hope for Bucky’s soul. That he was not HYDRA’s monster anymore, that he had a chance of living life as himself again.

The ending of Civil War set the two of them on the path that always inevitably led to what we got from Endgame. Steve and Bucky finally loosened their metaphorical grip on each other; Bucky chose to turn himself over to Wakanda, and Steve let him go. They both acknowledged that Bucky’s need for healing went far beyond Steve. While Steve was his starting point, Steve’s faith the thing that gave him hope for himself, Bucky needed far more work on himself than Steve alone could provide. So they started taking baby steps away from their codependency; Bucky moved to Wakanda and Steve continued with the Avengers. Fans who talk and act as though Steve and Bucky’s lives fully and completely revolve around each other, and each other ONLY, clearly have not actually watched the movies critically.

The narrative always acknowledged that Steve and Bucky’s codependency was not healthy, and that as much as they loved each other, they needed to learn to be their own people, and not be defined only through each other’s eyes.

Which brings us to Endgame. Perhaps the most significant detail about Steve’s final choice is that he canonically told Bucky about it ahead of time. Bucky confirmed this verbally in TFATWS. Steve did NOT return to the 1940s on short notice; he let Bucky know about it. And, on the other side of the same coin, the exact details of this conversation are private. For all we know, Steve could’ve asked Bucky to come with him, to also seize a chance at getting back the life he lost. Steve could’ve ensured that Bucky was alright with this, and if Bucky really wasn’t ready to lose his support, then he wouldn’t go. All of these are very in-character possibilities for Steve, and there is NOTHING whatsover in canon that states that he didn’t say these things.

But what happened? Bucky let him go. Bucky told Steve to go live his dream, to go be with the love of his life. Bucky was alright with it. (Remember Bucky knew from the start how important Peggy was to Steve. He was a first-hand witness to Peggy declaring Steve “the right partner.” He knew what this chance at time travel meant for Steve.) And by letting him go, Bucky chose to stay in the present. Would he have been able to do this in Civil War? No, and that’s because since then, he grew. They grew. They got to a place where the cords of codependency were finally cut, where they both knew they could live their own lives and not rely on each other to keep one another upright. They finally knew what paths they wanted to follow to live their fullest lives, and those paths were not the same one. Steve embraced a future in the past, while Bucky embraced the present moment. In other words, they finally reached “the end of the line.”

Oh, and I find it absolutely hilarious that some people are like “how dare he retire with Peggy while Bucky is out there being tortured in the 40s?” Steve made a branched timeline when he returned to Peggy, meaning no matter what he did from then on, the Sacred Timeline wouldn’t change. And he knew that. And there is not a single piece of text to be found anywhere in canon that tells us that he didn’t immediately tell Peggy that HYDRA was still around and that they didn’t team up, take HYDRA down, and rescue Bucky before New Year’s 1950. So that argument is ridiculous.

Also, did Steve “leave Bucky alone,” as many have said? Uhhh, NO. We see this in TFATWS.

After Steve left, Bucky was not alone. He had Sam, aka a professional counselor. He had tons of friends in Wakanda, and those friendships were close enough that he could successfully request a new suit for Sam on a whim. And Sam told him exactly what he’d been needing to hear for so long: “It doesn’t matter what Steve thought. You gotta stop looking to other people to tell you who you are.”

On top of that, as we see at the end of the show, Bucky now has an entire family: he’s bonding with Sarah (who knows what that might lead to), and he’s another uncle to AJ and Cass, and he’s bringing cake to the cookout and the arm that used to be a killing weapon, he now uses as a plaything for the children to dangle from. The entire community has welcomed him as one of their own.

Steve and Bucky’s story is a beautiful one because it shows how true friends help guide you to where you need to be in life, and their support sets you on the path to being your best and fullest self. The health of Bucky and Steve’s friendship was destroyed by their shared trauma of being taken from their normal lives in the 1940s, and they clung to each other for emotional survival. Then, gradually, they helped each other get back on their own two feet, and when the time came, they learned to let each other go, because they loved each other so much.

In other words, the finale of Endgame was the natural and inevitable endpoint for their story arc. If it ended with them still together, and clinging on to each other, then what would be the point? That would just be character regression for both of them. But instead, the story concludes with both of them finally free from the codependency, leaving only their love for each other, which they will always carry with them.

[sarifinasnightmare]

Birds of a Feather

Author: Sarifinasnightmare

Rating: E for everybody!

Warning: None applied.

Summary: Young Sam had been blessed with bird speech. One stormy day it comes in handy when he receives a guest.

Notes: This is for @samsseptember. Sorry for the lateness, but I've been so busy and now I'm sick, but I wanted to support Sam Wilson.

_______________________----

One day Darlene left the window open to baby Sam’s nursery and found a barn owl perched on his crib. From her vantage point she could see her baby cooing up at the creature, smiling at it so she knew he wasn’t in any danger. The owl’s white heart-shaped face seemed to study Sam with great interest as if pondering his existence. Coming to a decision, the owl tossed its head before flapping its wings, blowing a current of air towards Sam. He crowed in surprise, kicking his legs and extending his arms as if receiving something. Darlene took a step forward and that was warning enough for the owl, who screeched at her before taking off through the window. Picking her baby up, she quickly examined him and found nothing amiss, then went to shut the window. She later talked about the incident to some friends at the hair salon. One of the oldest of the customers piped up.

“Them vodun think an owl brings the blessing of wealth, but the natives say they bring foresight.”

“Foresight?”

“Um-hm, you can sense things before they come, but maybe not. Owls are funny creatures. You got him baptized right?”

No one really paid attention to her words. Barn owls made their homes wherever they could cram themselves in, so it might’ve been a coincidence and soon the incident was forgotten.

_________________________---

Sam liked birds, or to be more specific, birds liked Sam.

Darlene and Paul had albums filled with pictures of him with a bird perched on his head at every age. He also had a habit of finding every injured bird on the property. The first time Darlene told him to throw it away little Sam burst into tears and begged her to help him save it. Unable to handle his big, sad brown eyes she eventually relented and soon took it to the vet to learn how to nurse the pathetic thing back to health.

Over time, Sam learned how to take care of them, and he’d have a shoe box or two containing a sparrow or a purple martin or woodpecker. Darlene and Paul could hear him talk to the little creatures, have full on conversations with them, but they just shrugged their shoulders and assumed he had an active imagination.

One day when he was thirteen during a particular bad winter storm, he had foolishly opened the window because he heard a sound and a peregrine falcon nearly bowled him over, flew itself straight into his room and perched on the old wooden chair by his desk.

Ten-year-old Sarah ran to check on him and yelped when she saw the bedraggled raptor flapping its wings wildly-there was something stuck on it.

“No, no! Stop screaming, the both of you!” He ordered them. Sarah immediately stopped and surprisingly so did the bird. Approaching the creature, he tenderly extended his hands out and coaxed his wings down. “You’re inside now. The storm can’t get you.” He reassured it, stroking the feathers, noticing the sticky fly paper that was enmeshed in them. “You’re confused about where you are, aren’t you? Storm blew you off course.”

The falcon blinked and lowered its head, exhausted.

“How’d you do that?” Sarah asked in awe. “You always know how to calm them down.”

Sam sighed like an old man. From the moment he could talk he’d explained to anyone who would listen that he knew what to do with the birds because they talked back. Birds came to him because they knew from other birds that the little human in the blue house by the lake could understand them. However, his family did not believe he was being literal and just thought he had a knack for birds. It was frustrating but it was probably for the best. The Wilsons have been known to run a joke into the ground, like the time his Uncle Winton who drank himself blind on his anniversary and crapped his pants. He still received the occasional brown pants for Christmas or birthday. Therefore, Sam stopped telling people that he could hear the birds and just let it be known as his special little talent.

“I just do. He’s in pain. Think you could run down and get the cardboard box in the kitchen?”

His sister eagerly ran down to get it and together they made a nest for the falcon while the storm raged outside. Sticky paper was a new problem, and the falcon complained that it would’ve dodged it had it not been for the winds that tossed it in his direction. The substance was thick and viscous, yanking his wings painfully. First thing he did was cut what he could off, making sure to be careful around the feathers.

“We need vegetable oil to get the residue off.” He mused.

Paul, hearing the commotion, went upstairs and found his children fussing over a raptor in the bathtub, carefully pouring drops of oil over the creature and gently peeling bits of tape off it.

“What in the world? What the hell is that?” He asked.

The raptor answered for himself, screeching in indignation before Sam interrupted. “It’s a falcon with sticky tape on it. I’m getting it off.”

Paul had seen his son rescue dozens of birds, and it always amazed him how good he was with them. This bird, however, had sharp claws and seemed the biting type. “Is he safe, son?”

Sam shrugged. “He’s grouchy but he’s letting us clean him up. He’ll leave after he’s dried and the storm passes. Do you think you could give me a little plate of raw beef?”

“Let’s see if your mother feels generous.” Paul replied, deciding his son had everything under control.

Darlene had been busy cooking and talking to friends, but didn’t bat an eye at the shenanigans going on. She just cut a few slices of frozen venison from her husband’s last hunting trip and passed it on to feed their temporary houseguest.

Sam allowed it to defrost as they washed and blotted the falcon, then used a pair of scissors to feed him the sliced meat. Sarah watched with great fascination.

“Ew, why does it have to be raw?” She asked.

“Because birds eat their food raw, it’s normal for them.” Sam explained. “Their bodies can’t handle all the spices and seasoning we put in our food. It would make them sick.”

“A life without spices sounds awful.” She mused aloud.

“Birds don’t have many taste buds so they wouldn’t taste much unless it was very strong.” He explained.

“They can’t taste stuff!” She gasped. “That sucks!”

The falcon gave her an offended look and screeched at her.

Sarah was startled. “Sorry!”

After feeding the raptor, their mother called them down for an early dinner, wanting to eat while the lights were still on, and the food was hot. Good thing too, because no sooner were the dishes in the sink, the lights flickered and shuddered before blinking out. Sam had to wash by flashlight, but did his best before tramping up to his room. His sister had had her fill of the falcon and decided to sequester herself in her room, not much liking the thunder and lightning.

Making sure she was snug tight, he prepared himself for bed still using his trusty flashlight. Settling himself on his bed he peered at the falcon resting peacefully in his box.

The bird blinked at him. Your sister is loud.

Sam shrugged. “Sorry, she’s ten. She only has one volume.”

Fledglings are loud too until they grow up and learn to be quiet and listen.

“Not everyone listens.” Sam interjected. “Adults don’t listen to us kids or to anyone sometimes.”

Humans are smart, but arrogant and fragile, very easy to break. Being a flyer is better. We live, we eat, we hunt, we breed. If we must fight, we fight, but if we die, we die. Understandable. That is life.

“But you didn’t want to die.”

Only because I knew you were near. Had I been alone, I would’ve accepted my fate.

“Well I’m glad you’re not dead. Birds like you make the world pretty.”

The falcon cocked its head. Pretty?

“Nice to look at? When you look at something or someone and it makes you happy then it’s pretty.”

No such word for pretty amongst flyers.

Sam frowned. “How do you pick a mate then?”

If she is healthy and biddable, she could be a mate.

“What about a tree? Don’t you want a pretty tree to build a nest?”

A tree must be strong, it doesn't need to be pretty.

“Oh well, when I see you guys fly up in the sky and do all those aerial maneuvers, I think that’s really pretty.”

I enjoy moving through the air. Do you find that pretty?

The boy nodded.

The bird cocked his head the other side and fluffed his chest feathers. I am pretty. He mused, tasting the word.

Sam bunched his pillow underneath him and stared out into the dying storm outside. “I wish I could fly, but fly like you do, without fear.”

I’ve seen humans in those solid things fly much higher than me.

“I guess that’s flying, but to really fly, with the air in your face, swooping and diving. That would be so cool.”

Flapping his wings a little, the falcon replied. To do that you need to follow your intuition. All us flyers learn to listen to the wind, heed the change and act accordingly. It takes great skill to do what we do.

Sam reached out and caressed a wing. “Maybe I’ll join the Air Force and learn to fly.”

Then let me give you a gift should you reach the skies. Come close to me, friend.

The boy didn’t hesitate and soon he lowered his head until their faces touched. A warmth pressed against his forehead that made him feel good, then the bird withdrew.

Should you get your wings, friend, then fly like my kin.

“Thank you.” He replied kindly.

The storm softened enough to lull them both to sleep and by the next day they awoke to some mild flooding, but the electricity came back.

Sam and Sarah carefully carried the falcon to their private dock, wearing their rain boots to wade through the muddy water. Paul kept a careful eye on his children as Sam carefully lifted the bird from the box.

“Have a nice life and thanks for the visit.” He murmured to his feathered friend.

The falcon allowed Sarah one gentle stroke over its back before flapping his wings and swiftly catching air, taking off into the bright morning sky.

They stared at it until the raptor was just a little speck in the distance.

“Hey sis, I’m thinking of joining the Air Force. What you think?” He mused aloud.

Sarah paused. “You want to fly, dontcha?”

He smiled. “Yeah, why not?”

“I want to fly too!” She threw out her arms and started to run, jumping onto the watery path and back to their daddy’s side.

He patiently followed behind her.

___________________----

Several decades later.

Sam was taking a well-deserved break from being Captain America. Currently, he had his magnificent wings stretched out in the garage giving them some much needed detailing.

Sarah strolled in and admired the grace, beauty and power of them. “Hey Uncle Sam, got a minute?”

“Sure, what’s up?” He asked, glancing up briefly from his cleaning.

“I know you’re on vacation, but the neighbors called asking if you still took care of sick birds. Got one that’s all tied in fishing lines.”

He straightened up. “Sure of course. Tell them to bring it in.”

She grinned. “Always ready to save the day.”

“Absolutely.” It was the least he could do. After all, they gave him great blessings. Only right to return the favor.

[primaryalcohol]

drawing this scene has been a good exercise.

my take is, although in the past the winter soldier’s emotional vulnerability had been used to subjugate him again and again, in the end vulnerability essentially brought about his liberation. when you think about it it’s a bit poetic eh