thinking about how kim dokja thinks he's alone in the world and there is no one in the world who understands him or can possibly understand him.
but. there yoo sangah is. yoo sangah who discusses literature with him. yoo sangah who understands kim dokja bc she is very perceptive about people and very empathetic and also bc they have the kind of friendship where words aren't needed. yoo sangah who read every book in the library about kim dokja bc she was genuinely interested in her friend's life and bc she wanted to understand him. yoo sangah who figured out it was 49 and not real kdj and figured out what he did but didn't say a word bc she understood and respected his decision even though she wanted her friend back more than anything.
yoo sangah who witnessed his mundanity and monstrosity both, and loved him either way. loves him despite every irredeemable quality he thinks he has. yoo sangah who wants to be his best friend in every lifetime and live together right next to each other. yoo sangah, his best friend who understands him without words.
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DON'T GIVE UP
DON'T YOU DARE GIVE UP
IT'S NOT "JOEVER" WE AREN'T "DOOMED" THIS COUNTRY ISN'T "GOING UNDER"
WE ARE THE PEOPLE AND WE HAVE THE POWER TO CHANGE THIS COUNTRY!
DON'T LET THE NEWS SCARE YOU OUT OF ACTION! DON'T LET PESSIMISM SCARE YOU OUT OF ACTION! VOTE VOTE VOTE!!
FIGHT FOR YOUR FRIENDS! FOR YOUR FAMILY! FOR YOUR OWN RIGHTS!
WE WILL NOT BE ELECTING TRUMP. DON'T GIVE UP!
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idk why I never thought about it, but if we're assuming that this
is the brochure Bucky got at the Smithsonian in 2014, that must mean that he held on to it for two whole years. possibly carrying it in his pocket at first (you can sort of see the marks where it was originally folded), then carefully straightening it and smoothing out the inevitable little crinkles, with a tenderness he'd long forgotten he was even capable of.
moving it from journal to journal as he went through them, so he wouldn't risk losing it.
using it as a bookmark, so it would be the first thing he saw every time he flipped his journal open.
maybe tracing Steve's familiar face with his fingertips, with the odd but unfaltering certainty that he used to know what that felt like. that the memory must be somewhere in the back of his mind still, waiting to be unlocked like a treasure chest.
recalling how, during the war, he'd wished he could have carried a picture of his sweetheart on him like all the other guys did. how he'd wished he could see Steve's face every day, just for something good to hold on to, to keep him going when he felt every last shred of hope slip away from him.
and how, when Steve appeared with his new body and his old recklessness, all too eager to throw himself into battle, Bucky had learned what people meant when they said be careful what you wish for.
just. the notion of Bucky taking this fragile piece of paper in the first place, and then deciding to keep it, and then going out of his way to make sure it wouldn't tear, deliberately keeping it close at hand, cherishing it like it was his most prized possession– yeah no I need a moment
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