Steve Rogers did, in fact, realize that something was off when he saw the outline of the woman’s odd bra (a push-up bra, he would later learn), but being an officer and a gentleman, he said that it was the game that gave the future away.
#EXCUSE ME MA’AM BUT YOUR TITTIES ARE NOT CONES I’M CALLING BULLSHIT (via)
No, see, this scene is just amazing. The costume department deserves so many kudos for this, it’s unreal, especially given the fact that they pulled off Peggy pretty much flawlessly.
1) Her hair is completely wrong for the 40’s. No professional/working woman would have her hair loose like that. Since they’re trying to pass this off as a military hospital, Steve would know that she would at least have her hair carefully pulled back, if maybe not in the elaborate coiffures that would have been popular.
2) Her tie? Too wide, too long. That’s a man’s tie, not a woman’s. They did, however, get the knot correct as far as I can see - that looks like a Windsor.
3) That. Bra. There is so much clashing between that bra and what Steve would expect (remember, he worked with a bunch of women for a long time) that it has to be intentional. She’s wearing a foam cup, which would have been unheard of back then. It’s also an exceptionally old or ill-fitting bra - why else can you see the tops of the cups? No woman would have been caught dead with misbehaving lingerie like that back then, and the soft satin cups of 40’s lingerie made it nearly impossible anyway. Her breasts are also sitting at a much lower angle than would be acceptable in the 40’s.
Look at his eyes. He knows by the time he gets to her hair that something is very, very wrong.
so what you are saying is S.H.E.I.L.D. has a super shitty costume division….
Nope, Nick Fury totally did this on purpose.
There’s no knowing what kind of condition Steve’s in, or what kind of person he really is, after decades of nostalgia blur the reality and the long years in the ice (after a plane crash and a shitload of radiation) do their work. (Pre-crash Steve is in lots of files, I’m sure. Nick Fury does not trust files.) So Fury instructs his people to build a stage, and makes sure that the right people put up some of the wrong cues.
Maybe the real Steve’s a dick, or just an above-average jock; maybe he had a knack for hanging out with real talent. Maybe he hit his head too hard on the landing and he’s not gonna be Captain anymore. On the flipside, if he really is smart, then putting him in a standard, modern hospital room and telling him the truth is going to have him clamming up and refusing to believe a goddamn thing he hears for a really long time.
The real question here is, how long it does it take for the man, the myth, the legend to notice? What does he do about it? How long does he wait to get his bearings, confirm his suspicions, and gather information before attempting busting out?
Turns out the answer’s about forty-five seconds.
Sometimes clever posts die a quiet death in the abyss of the unreblogged. Some clever posts get attention, get comments, get better. Then there’s this one which I’ve watched evolve into a thing of brilliance.
Magolor chuckled. “And I can uproot trees.” Magolor picked up Valrun, bundle of blankets and all, making her way to the small garden she had on board to help purify the air and as a place to relax in a small piece of nature.
The little hound cracked his first smile since the event. It was small and feeble, but Valrún didn’t often give big ones anyway. Whenever he smiled at all was usually cause for celebration. He was so careful about when he gave them.
"I don’t weigh as much as a tree," he told her, though he knew she didn’t believe so either. Stating such an obvious thing helped settle the little one. It made talking not such a hard thing and none of what was said had anything to do with his feelings or what happened.
There were some Earth plants but most were native to her home. Sitting down under a tree with low hanging fronds of leaves akin to a Weeping Willow she loosened her hold a little, taking in a small breath of the fresh air and giving Valrun the option to walk around barefoot in this place. None of the plants could harm him and she hoped being in a more natural setting would help even if it was by a small amount.
There was the soft clack of metal as an eagle who stood 6 foot hopped over, his metal feathers and talons the colour of bronze clinking lightly as he was curious about the droopy pup in his master’s arms. Was he another squalling thing she had decided to care for? Still the bird knew to give them enough distance, head tilting and bobbing now and then.