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i come from the 8tracks generation where you weren’t allowed to just dump three and a half twee indie folk/tswift records into a fanmix and call it done. on 8tracks you had 8+ handpicked songs in rigid chronological order and an accompanying mission statement and thesis defence detailing exactly why each one applied to your derek x stiles coffee shop au AND cover/track-list art hodgepodged from stolen pinterest/tumblr aesthetic photography, and all of this was done under constant threat of death because it was the DMCA wild west and the site was in a constant state of gradual collapse.
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
iamnotsebastianstan: “I hate how Bucky doesn’t even flinch when Pierce hits him in the face. He hits him so hard and Bucky doesn’t even react, he just moves with it and goes straight back to what he was thinking about. I hate how used to and impassive to violence he became.”
