mcumeta:

While I was originally intending to (finally) get around to doing meta on Alexander Pierce and the way they use lighting and framing, I was taking screenshots, and noticed something about this scene that I had never noticed before.

This whole scene is a masterclass in mirroring. Usually, this is when one person subconsciously mimics another person’s gestures, expressions, and movements. It’s often so natural, a picking up of non-verbal cues, that both the person mirroring and the subject don’t even notice. Psychologically speaking, it gives the impression of closeness and similarity, and encourages a stronger connection between two people.

In this case, Alexander Pierce is doing it deliberately. This whole scene is about him trying to gauge whether Steve trusts him. And quite frankly, I find it fascinating because not only does Pierce have a similar look to Steve, but he’s closer to his age than anyone else Steve has worked with.

But anyway, back to the scene. From the very first moment of their interaction, Pierce is testing him:

“It’s an honour.”
“The honour’s mine, Captain. My father served with the hundred and first.”

He’s verbally laying down the ground work to suggest they are similar, equals, coming from the same background. This is a foundation he needs to build a strong case against Fury. If he can ensure Steve is on his side, then it will make things a lot easier.

He starts on what seems like a friendly note, telling Steve old, little-known stories about Fury to gain his trust. This is where he starts the physical mirroring, matching Steve’s position on the seat: we’re friends here. Look at us, talking like friends.

And this is the point where he thinks he is gaining Steve’s confidence, so he moves onto stage two: planting seeds of doubt about Fury. First, he talks about the bugging, then about Batroc, and the source of the funding for Batroc’s mission. All the while, he keeps casually imitating Steve’s body language: turning when Steve does, folding his hands in front of him, resting his arms on his knees. It’s casually done, but very deliberate.

It’s only when Steve shows his faith in Fury that Pierce withdraws to regroup. And here’s the interesting thing: this is the one moment when Steve mimics Pierce by getting up, which shows that he is responding to Pierce’s cues and words, by keeping them on the same level (physically, at least).

I also love the fact that Pierce very deliberately goes and places himself by the window, framing himself in light. The lighting in this moment (and really, in any scene when Pierce is still acting as a benevolent force) could not be more apt. He’s casting himself as the illuminated leader.

He has also returned to the point of Nick being an ally, a similar person to him. He has realised that Steve will not accept Nick as a traitor, so now he intends to play the loyal-friend card and try and get information out of Steve that way. And his stance by the window, leaning against the glass, the world-weary expression, the “I know what it’s like” – it’s all carefully targeted. He’s making a point that he and Nick are similar in mentality and outlook, encouraging Steve to believe that Nick would want him to know everything.

When he turns back to Steve and sees Steve in his military stance, he mirrors him once more, hands to his waist. This remains the case for the rest of their confrontation, until Steve turns to leave. I’d never noticed this before, but the fact he matches Steve’s stance when he’s talking about being angry about losing someone important to him? Jebus on a cupcake, he is pretty much hitting Steve’s big red NOPE button.

He knows about Bucky (of course he does. He keeps him in a fridge downtown) and no doubt knows about all Steve’s other dead friends. He’s trying to make Steve empathise with him and see the similarities between them by bringing up a lost friend, and he does it all while imitating Steve’s body language like the creepy bastard he is. I am like you, Captain. We are the same. We have both suffered a loss and we are both angry about it. We can help each other.

And this is the trouble with Pierce: he sees the Captain America everyone else sees, the Cap from the museum exhibit. Steve might not have the capacity to be a spy, but he’s not stupid, and he can tell when he’s being played, especially the way Pierce has flip-flopped how he’s describing Nick.

That was Pierce’s mistake the whole time – he  didn’t see that Steve Rogers was the kind of man who would disobey orders and storm a HYDRA base in the same way Nick Fury would disobey orders and rescue a group of hostages in Bogota.

Steve’s “he told me not to trust anyone” is the biggest “f*ck you and all you stand for” possible in the circumstances.

omniship-armada:

indw

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May I ask how you think Clint/Tony would go? Or maybe Clint/Tony/Phil?

Oh, man.  What we have here is two wildly different ships, despite the fact that one exists within the other.

Because Clint and Tony, that’s a bromance that slowly phases out the B without either of them noticing.  They’re a relationship built on simple pleasures good-natured arguing, and us-against-the-world.  They’re pizza at 3am, sleeping in a heap on the couch, staying up for days because Tony has an idea and Clint wants to see it finished.  They’re absent-minded kisses and tickle fights and holding each other through the nightmares, because they’ve both been there.

Clint and Tony are human beings, very aware that they are only exemplary humans, finding strength in each other.  Tony is quick to anger but quick to cool, and Clint is incredibly hard to ruffle.

But the difference between a bromance and a romance is that in a bromance, there’s still things that are oversharing, things that can go unsaid and be shrugged off.  There’s a need for open and honest communication in a romance that isn’t necessarily there in a bromance.  And neither of these two is good at sharing.

Tony is insecure.  Tony doubt himself.  Tony hates himself.  Tony needs constant obvious reassurance that Clint simply doesn’t know to give him.  Clint is an honest person (his resting bitch face doesn’t count), and if he has a problem, he’ll say so.  He knows intellectually that Tony isn’t even remotely like that, but there’s knowing, and there’s knowing, and Clint doesn’t know.

This relationship is fine most of the time, because Clint himself won’t give Tony much cause to worry, but when outside forces come into play and Tony finds himself wondering, needy and hating himself all the more for it, he withdraws and Clint just doesn’t know he has to chase him.  When things get rough, they fall apart.  The fighting isn’t good-natured anymore and Clint is most definitely ruffled.  They’re too much alike in all the wrong ways to survive without something to balance them.

But Phil is very good at balancing.

Because Phil does know, he can make sure Clint does, too.  He can remain outwardly calm even when his own emotions are high, and his calm helps ground Clint and Tony.  Phil knows how to read them both, and how to keep them from upsetting each other’s balance in life.

Phil is the one who makes them go to bed after they’ve been awake too long, the one who sets out the water and medicine when they’re bound to be hung over of a morning.

Clint is a protector and Tony is a provider, and with different personalities and/or quirks, they could work on their own.  As they are, though, they’re incomplete.  They’re missing something, and that something is what Phil is very good at: nurturing.

Phil needs people to take care of, and Clint and Tony both need a caretaker.

Clint needs people to protect, and Tony and Phil are happy to be those people.

Tony needs people to provide for, and… I’m sure you get the picture.

Phil could balance just Clint, or just Tony, but Clint and Tony can’t balance each other.

Phil is happy to do that for them.

give me your MCU crackships, and I’ll give you a serious take on them

into-the-weeds:

what-larks-pip:

I’ve been trying to write a thing about Sam Wilson, but it’s been slow going and I’ve realized that all I really want is for nice things to happen to him and for him to go through life as a well-adjusted adult.

And no one wants to read a story that just goes:

And then Sam ate some Cheerios, they were delicious. Then he drank some juice straight out of the bottle, which his mother, who is both alive and very loving, would not approve of, but he is an adult and that means he gets to make decisions like this about his life.

Then he pet a really soft dog and a kitten fell asleep in his lap.

The end.

10/10 would read again.

^^

Fic prompt: Darcy and the Avengers

showgirlsteve:

“Darcy is not a professional scientist slash superhero
wrangler,” Jane frequently reminds the Avengers. “Her degree is in political
science, and her experience is in assisting
me. 
 She’s my assistant!”

Usually this is when Jane
gets the same look in her eyes as she does when she’s low on caffeine and about
to have a breakthrough, and whoever wants to borrow Darcy slowly backs away.
(My Darcy mine, say
Jane’s eyes. My coffee mine,
Jane’s eyes tell Clint. My research, mine,
Jane’s eyes scream any time a SHIELD agent wanders close to her lab. Jane is
usually mild mannered but she has a core of steel – a possessive core of steel
– and it shows.)

Darcy is very attached to Jane, herself. She would not have
followed Jane, who followed Thor, who followed his team, all the way to New
York, if she wasn’t.

Darcy, being a political science major, not a physicist, is less
attached to Jane’s work. Also, sneaking away from Jane’s lab gives her a tiny
rebellious thrill.

And she wasn’t always a political science major. She started her
college career as a hospitality major. And at one point she was a business
management major. Both totally applicable
to herding superheroes and scientists.

So sometimes Darcy lets herself get stolen away from Jane.

She isn’t a superhero wrangler, and she isn’t a scientist or a
scientist wrangler, but sometimes, sometimes,
she sorts out Hawkeye’s mess of a life for a the next five minutes, or
remembers to pick up the Black Widow’s favorite tea when she’s across town
running an errand for Bruce Banner who can’t step away from an important
experiment. Sometimes Thor smiles at her with the light of a star and Pepper
Potts trusts her enough to drag Tony Stark away from his tinkering in time for
a press interview.

Darcy isn’t changing the world, but when she gets asked about
what she’s doing with her life? She’s not ashamed to answer.

“Officially,” she tells them. “I’m an assistant for the leading
astrophysicist in the world. But sometimes? Sometimes, I get to babysit the
Avengers, too.”