#favouriteghosts

world-building time!  feel free to send in any questions you have about my muse’s past / people from their past and I’ll answer them for you!

steve was always an avid journal keeper.  since childhood, he had a combination sketchbook and diary he kept by his bedside.  this didn’t change when he went to war though the subject matter did.  

after the war,  the army took possession of his personal items – in part because there was no one else to claim them but also because of the confidential information steve wrote about in those journals.  he was never explicit – he knew the danger of being too specific and it falling into the wrong hands.  but with the benefit of hindsight,  the army feared people could put two-and-two together if they came under public scrutiny. 

but it wasn’t just the military content which made them lock them away.  steve had a great deal of personal writings. on everything from his political opinions, his self doubts and reflections on his role as captain america, and a decent amount of homoerotic subtext (he may not have been super direct but he’s also not a subtle person either).  

but all of these things were kept out of public consumption and, at the same time, captain america took on a life of its own.  captain america comics continued to be published but the character became an icon for mccarthyism with cap fighting communists (and carrying a huge, ridiculous gun). everything about steve was washed out of cap.

it wasn’t until the eighties the army released his personal items from the archives. however, information was redacted from the journals. a curator was allowed to publish aspects of the journals and these were used to add some context to the war legends. a few contemporaries of steve’s were allowed access to the journals when writing their own memoirs.  

one such memoir was more notorious than the rest.  it was published by a former chorus girl on the uso tour who was the first, academically speaking, to apply any kind of queer theory to steve and his writing. she contextualized much of his writing with her own experiences, though the memoir was still very much about her life, not steve’s. but it was the 80′s and captain america was still very much a propaganda tool so her memoir was mostly discredited by the academic community. 

steve’s personal items were later sold out of the archives to the stark family trust in the early 90′s. the trust financed the items being properly maintained and gave some of them to the smithsonian and some were kept in a private collection. the journals made it to the smithsonian which is where the pages were finally scanned in their original context, without the military edits.  still, the journals weren’t properly published until the early 2000′s. 

they were published with some added commentary for context which was provided by a historian who had collected other primary information on steve’s life as well as the other howling commandos. the book didn’t shy away from showing steve for who he was  —  including detailing his sexuality, as much as they could. 

but more so the book focused on steve’s deep, existential view of himself and for captain america as a figurehead: 

❛  men.  ❜     said with a scoff  /  lacks bite.  bruce isn’t the only one with a stubborn streak.  there is a certain amazon with one just as large.  for a woman with calloused hands  ,    strong enough to crush a tank  ,    her touch is gentle.  fingertips ghosting over preexisting injuries.  new  /  old.  knows they must hurt.  diana has had her own injuries  ,    even if most of them will heal after a few days.     

the amazon does bear scars.  at the thought of it  ,    the one on her shoulder stings.  even if that is only in diana’s mind.  has never hurt since the day it finally healed.     ❛  you’re getting old  ,    mister wayne.  ❜     useless to prescribe some rest for  the batman  ,    but diana will look out for him.  even in the smallest of ways.  even if that means telling bruce off every now and then  ,    if only to see his reaction at the end of it.

“lady catelyn is busy... i’m sure,” he lies, because he knows she never intended on doing anything. not where he was concerned, anyway. it was no secret that she harbored resentment towards him. the bastard of her husband, gifted from the war. unwanted.

jon winces at the application of boiled wine and even more so at robb’s terrible stitching. he glances at his brother, lip curled, “i’m getting better. ser rodrick’ll have to watch out for me,” he chuckles under his breath and then groans at the pull of the needle and thread against his skin. 

      claire quickly removes her mother’s silk scarf from around her neck and ties it around stephanie’s.  you’ll thank her for it later,  once you get a look at yourself in the mirror when the haphazardly smeared concealer sweats off by lunch break.  once she’s got it wrapped elegantly enough,  and,  more importantly,  sufficiently covering the mark there,  claire leans in to urgently whisper,  ‘ can you please me how a grown woman shows up to work with that big of a hickey ? ’  

fingers tap to get the attention of the other.  a question poised.     ❛  <  work tonight  ?  >  ❜     there is no patrol for  the blackbat  which is why she asked in so few words.  free time a rarity and not something cassandra has often.

it doesn’t fucking help matters that he’s eight hours ahead of her and the progress of their humvee has been -- well,  it’s been fucking excruciating, to say the goddamn least.  a hundred dollars out of his own pocket and it’s still working like it ought to be from the junkyard or some shit -- inflated military budget be damned.  marines make do,  had been the response to that.  he feels like he could somehow sink into the sand that’s so hot he thinks he can feel it through his boots -- that,  or it’s the sleep deprivation talking.  frank doesn’t know.  with an MRE cookie and his uniform around his waist,  he sits away from the rest of the guys,  checking through his clunky flip phone that takes even longer to text on. 

upon scanning over the messages,  squinting in the sun,  frank smiles and -- it takes him a second to do the math with the time zones.  the last message is from an hour ago,  meaning it’s -- five there.  he drinks his “cookie” from the pouch before wiping his mouth,  using one hand to type at a painstaking pace.  

he takes a quick shower at his place,  long enough to scrub the smell of any gunpowder off his skin that may have permeated through the suit ---- the daredevil suit felt as part of him as his skin and really,  he hates guns,  but this had been a pretty special occasion to use it ---- and dresses in a sensible-looking suit.  his apartment’s put-together,  pristine as ever,  and he’s careful to scrub the sink before he leaves after brushing his teeth. 

steph’s roommate gladly takes the creased hundred dollar bill he offers to leave before letting him inside,  where he goes to knock on her bedroom door.  hadn’t quite realized in all of his manic glee that it’s only eight in the morning because he’s been up night and day.