Just Sending You Some Love, Dibs 😘

Happy Hanukkah to my Jewish followers. May the next several days bring you light and blessings.

@positiveseed

YOUTUBE

The Half Hour S05E09 – Emily Heller

I know that it's hard to hear about innocent people dying. I know it's hard to care about politics especially if it's from other countries or if it doesn't affect you. it might be depressing for you to hear about these things happening but imagine living it. it's our last chance to win this fight, if we don't the internet is gonna stay limited, more people would die from poverty and police brutality, they will be more strict about the hijab and more afab people would be arrested. maybe you're asking yourself what can I do about it? maybe you're thinking that it's none of your business and sharing posts won't do shit. maybe you're right, at the end of the day it's our revolution, it's our fight. and I swear that we're trying our best to overthrow this brutal dictatorship.

but they're killing people, using minors as police, using schools and ambulances to hide police forces, they are breaking into people's houses and beating and arresting protesters. so I beg you to talk about it and share the news. the only reason that they haven't shut down the internet completely and haven't killed 1500 people like in 2019 is that the world is watching us, the world knows about us. after 44 years of oppression and fear and violence finally our voices are being heard. so don't let people call it a color revolution, don't let them call it islamophobic to burn a veil. these are some tactics that the government use to silence iranian people. so just ignore it and get your news from iranian people instead of so called "leaders" of the protests.

help us if you can, be our voice.

In the common room of Stark Tower:

Tony: *claps his hands and stands up from the sofa* Alright peeps! Travel plans for today

Cap: *exasperated* Tony... we are still in Lockd...

Tony: SHUSH! Travel plans for today. To the windoooow *slides over* to the waaaall *slides again* then I might go down the haaall... *catwalks away*

Loki: *stares*

You: I think Tony lost it...

Loki: I don't know...I honestly am thinking about something similar.

You: ...

Loki: *grins*

Cap: Oh no. Mischievous lookin...

Loki: Shhh shhh shhh! Travel plans for today *moves in front of you*

You: *looking into his eyes*

Loki: From the sofa to a shed *galantly bows to take your hand into his own* Now I take you to my bed.. *winks and magics the both of you away*

Banner: *stares with a can of whipped cream in hand still spraying his waffles *

Loki: *reappearing already shirtless* Let me take this.. *disappears again*

Banner: Dammit....

INSTAGRAM

I may or may have not teared up a bit

This is so sweet and an awesome reminder that there are no ugly people, only a judgemental society

How do you think Lee or any of your characters will react to an ugly reader (like me)?

Ugly reader? I'm sorry but I've never heard of such a thing. I don't think I know anyone in this world I would term ugly based on appearance. You, my lovely, gorgeous anon are beautiful and I will not stand for anyone calling you ugly, not even yourself.

You wanna know how the boys will react to you? Read on.

Steve Rogers: The moment he hears you call yourself ugly he stops what he's doing and just looks at you. He frowns, looking almost confused as he gazed at you. He takes your hand and pulls you into his massive chest, brushing your hair back so he could see you clearly.

"Ugly? You? The girl who shines so bright she lights the world around her, you're calling her ugly? Who gave you the right to talk about my best girl like that eh? No one compares to you, not from back in the 40s, not today. You’re the beacon of light that keeps me grounded doll. Gotta show you how beautiful you really are"

And he proceeds to do just that.

Bucky Barnes: He heard you say to Nat that a dress won't look pretty on your ugly body. That night, he sneaks in your room and crawls inside the covers with you, holding your body tight to his. He took your in his and metal one, lips at your ear.

"What do you see when you look at me?" He asked.

"A broken beautiful man deserving of love" you answered automatically. He tips your chin up so that he could look in your eyes, the tenderest of look swimming in the blues.

"I see the same when I look at you. I see a woman who found the most scarred man and still loved him. I see a woman so pure I fear I'll taint her with my bloody hands. Never call yourself ugly, never again."

Lee Bodecker: Lee straight away snorts when you call yourself ugly. He rolled his eyes at you as he swiftly gathers you in his arm and sits you on his lap. He takes his hat and puts it on your head, the rim falling loose and slipping over your forehead so he had to push it up with a finger. 

"You're the only pretty thing in this shitty town. You've got a heart as big as my tummy" he takes your hand and pressed it into his soft flesh "you're the only one whose smile I'd both die for and kill for. Ugly my ass, you're the most beautiful gal I know and you're all mine".

Ransom Drysdale: "What the fuck did you just say?" He asked when you said you look ugly. You look at him aghast, not expecting the outburst. He stepped closer, putting his arms on either side of you and looking at you intently. 

"Have you met my family? My fucked up, greedy aunts and uncles? Have you met my mother? They wear a thousand dollars clothes and still manage to be the cheapest people I have ever met. And you? You can wear a burlap sack and would still be the prettiest flower because you found it in you to love a shitty brat like me. Now come here so I can show you how beautiful you are."

Andy Barber: He was driving when you made the comment, the word ugly said almost unconsciously. You blinked when he stopped the car, turning to look at you.

"I've studied law for over nearly two decades and there are two things that I know are wrong with them. The first one is that it should be illegal for anyone to be as beautiful, as amazing as you, and the second that it should be a punishable offense for anyone to call such a woman as yourself ugly. I'm a lawyer, trust my judgement. Nod if you understand."

You nod, he smiled and restated the car, one hand reaching over to pull yours in his lap.

Tony Stark: He knocked over the lab apparatus he was working with and stared at you incomprehensibly. He had that expression on his face that he reserved for idiots who didn’t understand his science lingo.

"What the hell are you on about? Sweetpie, you love a man who made weapons that killed hundreds. You gave me your love when I didn't deserve any. You gave my kindness when I didn't deserve any. You think anyone who's ugly could do that? I'll book an appointment with the ophthalmologist, you need to get those eyes checked."

Loki : He was in the middle of polishing his blade and the moment the words "I am ugly" passed your lips that blade shot out and embedded itself in the opposite wall.

"i am a man of magic. I can create the most unthinkable illusions with my mind and hands, and yet no matter how proficient I get, I'll never be able to create something as beautiful as you. You need to stop talking like this, I don't like it when people disrespect those that I hold dear."

Sherlock Holmes : He shut the newspaper he was reading and put it on the desk behind him as he pinned you with his stare. 

"When I search for something, I usually get it because I have a gaze that doesn't miss much. My every quest for beauty and love has led me to you. My mind and heart have never seen anything as beautiful as you. I am Sherlock Holmes, I don't lie. Believe me when I say you haven't got an ugly bone in your body.”

He opened his arms, asking you to come to him.

“I am a detective, let me show you the evidence of how utterly breathtaking you are.”

+++++

So my dear anon, I need you to shut up about this. You’re not ugly. You are worthy and amazing and beautiful and all things nice in this world. 

@positiveseed

It was the first time my shrieking drew someone closer to me. I saw it in the corner of the mirror. A shuffling amongst the shower curtains, grey pyjamas it looked like. They reminded me of something horrible. Black hair, fair skin. A young boy. It was like the mirror wanted to stab my eyes with the worst memories.

Except, I didn’t have eyes.

If my shrieking wasn’t going to do it, I thought my visage would. I turned slowly, revealing each rip, tear, cut, and pustule on my pallid skin. My fingers would look especially long, like the claws of some horrid roc. Their nails would be long and sharp enough to break flesh to the bone. And my teeth—when I flash my smile, my teeth would do all the talking.

But the boy had little reaction other than a slight shaking of his arms and legs. His eyes—oh what eyes he had—stared wide open at me. He was frozen, as if he had been trapped under an ice-skinned lake. His parents had chosen the wrong house to move into.

I began laughing. There was nothing funny. But I laughed, because laughter is a weapon—it’s a devastating lance that strikes straight into the gullet. Your breath escapes, you stare at the teeth and the creases on the face, and the deepened eyebrows, and the eyeless sockets of a skull with a dead woman’s flesh.

His eyes settled, and his arms and legs stopped shaking. He shoved his hands into his pyjama’s pockets.

I reached out my hand, and the boy did not so much as flinch when I touched my cold, clammy hands to his cheek. Instead, he raised his own hand and touched mine. He closed his eyes, and he let me run my hands over his head, over and through his hair, rubbing his eyebrows, feeling his tiny little ears.

“It’s not you, is it?” I asked. My first words in eighty years.

The boy opened his eyes, felt the scales and cuts on my arm, all the horrible marks of a thing too dead to be beautiful. He came closer, closer than any living thing ever had.

Then, for the first time since I died, I felt warmth. It was in the chest, or what should be the chest, if it wasn’t cleft in half to reveal rotten and diseased insides.

The boy lay his head against my chest and wrapped his arms around me.

“It can’t be you,” I said. “How could they let you come back? How could they make you come back? After all that they did to you?”

“I came back on my own,” the boy said. His voice echoed through my corpse.

“Why would you?” I asked. “Don’t you know what they did to you?”

“I know,” the boy said. “And I also know what you did for me, when no one else would.”

Another kind of warmth—this time on my face, sliding and streaming down my eye sockets, wetting my cheeks.

“You shouldn’t have come,” I said. My voice was breaking. “You don’t want to end up like me.”

The boy hugged me tighter. “I would rather be you than anyone else.”