On earth, we use the word “burrito” to describe a tortilla filled with things you eat. Pretty simple stuff, and I’m surprised you at least got that part right. My burrito was, in fact, filled with food. In this, you and I agree and are friends. But this is also where my lifelong hatred begins for you and anyone else whose brain has been repeatedly scrubbed with the same mixture of bleach and Pop Rocks as yours has. Because that should have killed you, but left you around long enough to do what you did to me today. Let me explain:
You’re an idiot.
Let me further explain:
Burritos are eaten from one end to the other. So that means when you assemble a burrito with motherfucking ZONES of ingredients going that direction, you create a disgusting experience for the burrito’s end user. When you make a burrito, you should put the ingredients in layerslengthwise. That way, every bite has AT LEAST A FUCKING CHANCE of getting at least two types of ingredients, and there is little chance of becoming almost hopelessly trapped in a goddamned cilantro cavern.
Have you ever eaten one of the things you make all fucking day? You should try one. They are pretty good WHEN YOU ARE NOT WILLING YOURSELF THROUGH THE FUCKING EMPIRE OF SOUR CREAM ONLY TO END UP IN LETTUCE COUNTRY.
When you eat a burrito, you don’t stand it up and bite down on it lengthwise like a fucking Rancor. Humans can’t usually dislocate their jaws, and I’m not a fucking pelican. But you must think that’s how it’s done, since that would be THE ONLY FUCKING WAY to take a bite of your crapstrosity and have it taste like a burrito.
And guess what else, player? You probably can’t guess anything, because I’m pretty sure you’re just a mop with a hat on it that fell over and spilled some shit into a tortilla, but just in case, here’s what:
Humans also don’t eat burritos like fucking corn on the cob. Like a fucking typewriter from one end to the other a little at a time and then DING next line. But today I wish I had tried that. Because at least THEN I would be able to eat some rice, then beans, then be all like HEY BEANS I’LL BE RIGHT BACK JUST GOING OVER HERE TO THE GUACAMOLE FOR A SECOND.
Nope.
My experience was more like HEY BEANS IT’S JUST GOING TO BE YOU AND I FOR A MINUTE UNTIL I CAN FUCKING EXCAVATE THE RICE FROM BENEATH YOU BUT BY THEN YOU WILL BE A FADING MEMORY OH HEY I WAS WRONG I’M IN THE FUCKING CHEESEOSPHERE NOW RICE MUST BE NEXT I HOPE IT’S NOT ANOTHER FUCKING SALSA POCKET.
You built this thing like a fucking pack of LifeSavers.
And don’t even fucking think I’m about to open this shit up and re-engineer your nonsense 90 degrees. I ALREADY PUT A HOLE IN IT WITH MY FUCKING MOUTH. YEAH. THAT’S HOW I DISCOVERED YOU FUCKING SUCK AT LOOKING AT THINGS. I AM NOT GOING TO DO FUCKING TORTILLA ORIGAMI TO GET THIS SHIT BACK TOGETHER, ONLY TO END UP WITH A BURRITO THAT’S BEEN SHOT IN THE GUT AND IS BLEEDING YOUR INEPTITUDE.
What’s that? I should ask you to mix it up first next time? IS THIS JAMBA JUICE? I DON’T WANT TO DRINK MY FUCKING BURRITO THROUGH A BENDY STRAW, AND I DON’T WANT A PILE OF BURRITO SOUP IN A FLOUR CAN.
I just want a burrito.
In conclusion:
You’re the worst thing that has ever happened to the universe, you owe everyone everywhere an apology for this burritobomination, and I hope your babies look like monkeys.
UPDATE FOR EVERYONE WHO SAID “JUST EAT IT WITH A FORK”:
A fucking fork?
I DIDN’T ORDER THE FUCKING COBBURRITO SALAD.
If anyone ever handed me a burrito with a fork, THEY WOULD BE WEARING A BRAND NEW BURRITO HAT FROM MY FALL COLLECTION TEN SECONDS LATER.
That’s like buying a car and having them hand you a fucking wrench with the keys. Like YEAH WE KNOW THIS MOTHERFUCKER’S GOING TO EXPLODE AND BE SPREAD ACROSS EIGHT LANES AS SOON AS YOU HIT THE GAS, BUT SHIT, WE GAVE YOU A WRENCH, SO BE COOL.
Jesus already gave me two burrito forks. One at the end of each arm. They’re called fucking HANDS.
A fork. My god. I haven’t cried since I was six, but I’m fucking sobbing now.
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if this gets more than 100 notes i will write this in a full fic-
the night before your first anniversary with loki, frigga asks you to come to her quarters alone. you expect a heart-to-heart talk about how you better take care of her son. which does happen, and she gives you a special gift: a rare bottle of perfume from alfheim. you wear a flowy white dress and spray some of the perfume on your neck when loki comes in. he adores your figure and leans in to kiss you, only to get a whiff of the scent wafting off of you.
within minutes, he's stripped both of you of your clothes and is sheathed inside you, eager to lavish every part of your body. you don't have the strength to resist- not that you want to, he feels so good and you're on the brink of ecstacy as he thrusts at an unrelenting pace. it turns out frigga may or may not have intentionally kept it a secret that the perfume contains the realm's strongest aphrodisiacs...
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In case anyone wants some perspective on how utterly random triggers can be. I haven’t lived in a house with a garage door in four-ish years. Right now at this moment, I honestly can’t recall what they sound like, except something metallic moving and rather clanky.
There was one on tv. I wasn’t even paying attention to it, I had my headphones on and was actively trying to tune the show out. My ears picked up on the sound of the garage door, and a jolt of adrenaline shot through my body as I grabbed my laptop and moved to get out of my seat and run to my room.
I realized what happened after about two seconds.
The sound is gone from my ears, but my heart is still racing and I’m waiting for the door to the house to open, to hear the jingling of my mother’s keys and her footsteps moving through the house. My muscles are still tense and I’m fighting the urge to run to my room and stick a board in front of the door.
For years, the sound of a garage door was my warning to pack up what I was doing quickly and retreat to my room if I was out of it.
I can’t remember the sound of the garage door right now, but I can’t tell my brain to stop trying to react to it.
This can be reblogged, if anyone was wondering. I wrote up this post with the intention that hopefully people who read it and didn’t really get triggers would understand a bit.
after my super funtime medical adventure, i had to change all my bath products, because my brain had associated the scent of them with being terrified and in extreme pain.
these were products i had chosen myself because i liked the smell. and they got connected to the medical phobia because i was using them to wash off the hospital reek and the fear sweat and so forth. i don’t know why they became a trigger. maybe because washing off the hospital smell didn’t make me not in pain. maybe because their ‘fresh pine ocean breeze bluegreen spicy stuff’ smell didn’t really replace the hospital stench, just mingled with it.
but for whatever reason, smelling these objectively nice soaps made me do flashbacks and get all hopeless and wobbly. so they had to go.
triggers are random. they’re often something that was simply present during a trauma, and you can’t guess what they’ll be. no one who hasn’t heard me explain this would ever associate suave naturals ocean breeze body wash with unbearable abdominal pain. so i guess the takeaways here are twofold:
- if you have triggers, remember other people can’t predict them, and don’t expect to be protected from them all the time. that’s up to you.
- if you don’t have triggers, don’t assume you can judge what a ‘real’ trigger is, and if someone asks you to accomodate them, don’t be a dick about it. even if you don’t want to make that accomodation, decline politely and apologize, don’t disparage their request.
If you’re going to deny someone’s request to respect their triggers, don’t bother being around them. You’re not a safe person for them to be around, whether you like it or not, the simple action of declining any kind of safety (physical, emotional, mental, psychological, verbal, etc) is not something a real friend would do.
Respecting triggers is the bare minimum of decency, don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. Not respecting triggers (even through “polite decline”) is ableism.
See, I knew this take would be here in the notes, and it is unfortunately an incorrect take. There are situations in which it is reasonable to say “I’m sorry, but I cannot accommodate your triggers, and it’s important that you know I can’t do this for you so that you can decide what’s best for you accordingly”.
Example: a follower of your blog asks you to tag something for them specifically. Maybe you don’t like using tags. Maybe it’s a tag for something really common, and it would be a huge hassle you’re expected to go through in order to make your blog trigger-safe for someone you barely know. Maybe you have a terrible memory and you know you’re not going to remember to tag this thing, so even if you wanted to make your blog safe for this one person you can’t promise strict compliance. Maybe this person wants you to tag something as a trigger that’s very personally meaningful to you/a very prevalent theme on your blog, so you’re not even sure why they want you to accommodate them because you’re not sure why they’re even here because your blog is never going to be tailored toward people like them and you are not about to even start to try making it so. (See: if someone asks me to tag “the q-slur”, not only am I going to say no, I’m going to tell them I don’t even want them following my blog because they’re straight up insulting a major facet of my identity.)
Another example: a friend is triggered by the smell of coffee, so they ask you - an avid coffee-drinker - to stop drinking coffee. Full stop. Not “don’t drink it around me”, which would be a more reasonable request, but not to drink it ever. This is an example of someone wanting their triggers respected, but who is demanding accommodation in a way that infringes on someone else’s right to live their life the way they like. In those cases, it’s reasonable to say no, because the request itself is unreasonable.
But what if it was a more reasonable request? Say, a significant other asking their partner, who they live with, not to drink coffee, because it’s kind of impossible to escape the smell of coffee when someone is brewing it in the place where you live? This is more reasonable to ask, since it’s understandably harder for the person with the trigger to avoid the trigger in such an instance…but it’s also something that could be a dealbreaker. Some people really need coffee to function. (There are even some people who need to self-medicate to some degree with coffee.) Compromise could happen - such as, maybe the partner gets their coffee from Starbucks so they don’t have to brew it in the house - but it could also be super disruptive for them, or perhaps unaffordable on tight incomes. So how do you handle that? In cases of conflicting needs, the person with the trigger needs to either try to reach a reasonable compromise with the person they’re asking to accommodate them, or accept that they need more accommodation than can reasonably be given by the other person and withdraw for their own safety. It sucks when conflicting needs like that can’t be resolved(which can sometimes happen), but it doesn’t mean the person putting their foot down is wrong to do so. It doesn’t mean it’s anyone’s fault. But it’s not only people with triggers that have a right to live comfortable lives with reasonable freedoms to do what they want.
It’s nice to accommodate someone’s triggers, obviously, but a reminder: it is not okay to make demands or expect complete compliance from strangers to make something that is not ultimately for you, specifically - such as someone else’s personal blog - safe for you. Likewise, even with close friends, making unfair demands or expecting someone to change major aspects of their life for you, without respecting their right to say “this is too much to ask of me”, is a great way to make Bad Guys out of completely reasonable people. There are limits to what it is reasonable to ask someone else to do for you, which are also tied into how well you know them and how onerous it would be for them. Asking a stranger to make very minor accommodations is not unreasonable; asking a close friend to make significant accommodations is not unreasonable. Asking a stranger to make significant accommodations, or a close friend to make unreasonable and/or actively life-altering concessions, really starts to enter “it’s great if they’re willing to, but they are not obligated to and you don’t get to call them a terrible person for saying no” territory.
Saying “I’m sorry, but I can’t do this for you” not only is a reasonable statement - after all, it gives the power of deciding what to do next, for their own safety, back to the person with the trigger(s), and it doesn’t chastise them for having their trigger(s) so much as it is warning them that a certain space cannot reasonably be made safe for them - but it absolutely needs to exist. Acting as though anyone who declines to tailor their lives to any and all trigger requests, for any reason, is ableist - without even the slightest consideration to conflicting needs, or certain spaces being inherently unsafe for certain people(if people being tied up is a trigger for you, perhaps you should not be demanding the shibari blog to make itself a safe space for you), or even whether the accommodation request was remotely reasonable to begin with…you’re basically saying “having a trigger means you have a right to make demands that only Bad People would ever refuse”. There’s no room for nuance. There’s not even room for other people to have the simplest of rights, like “having the content I want on my own blog, and the freedom to tag or not tag what I feel like in a space that is literally mine and no one else’s when tags are already a user-optional thing”.
And it opens the doors wide to people who will either make unreasonable demands because of their triggers(because people with triggers can be and sometimes are extremely unreasonable about how other people should keep them safe), or to people who will actually fake having triggers in order to force other people to do what they want. Which is utterly reprehensible, and obviously it’d never be safe to assume someone is faking a trigger, but if you’re saying people with triggers get to make demands that only evil ableists can say no to, can’t you see how tempting that arrangement would be to people acting in bad faith??? It invites people (whether they have genuine triggers or not) to strong-arm others into doing what they want, and if their demands are refused for any reason then they have an excuse to villainize and attack those people.
I’m sorry, but nuance, compromise between both parties, the possibility of conflicting needs, and the right to say “no” to accommodating triggers are deeply necessary aspects of any conversation about triggers. In a perfect world, everyone’s triggers could be accommodated by everyone else with no issue, but that is not the reality of the world we live in. You obviously have a very narrow view of who might refuse to accommodate triggers and for what reasons, but there is a lot more to consider that you haven’t taken into account. Your stance on triggers and accommodating them could do far more harm than any polite refusal.
Look at him. Look at how he treats the baby leopard (keeping in mind that he had been told to be careful with it and not let it fall because these felines don’t land on their feet, so to speak).
He isn’t annoyed by it. He doesn’t grab at it. He doesn’t try to pry it off his arm.
He is delighted by it. He supports it. He handles the booty so the lil bebe is secure.
IT IS JUST ONE OF THE MOST WONDERFUL PAINFUL HIDDLESTON MOMENTS EVER OKAY AND I CAN’T EVEN TALK ABOUT THE FACE SNUGGLING AND KITTY KISSES
I have a lot of feelings about the kenobi-skywalker-tano family and their daily interactions like
you can’t tell me that at one point anakin and ahsoka didn’t grow bored during a mission and started debating among themselves who’s obi-wan’s favourite and the arguments are getting more and more ridiculous like ‘yesterday he patted me on the shoulder absently so obviously he unconsciously prefers me’ ‘excuse you I’m his only padawan and I’m pretty sure he almost laughed at one of my jokes about windu’s butt 4 years ago’
and obi-wan is sitting right next to them
of course at one point he feels the need to stop all of this nonsense with ‘this debate is ridiculous and unworthy of jedi. Ahsoka made me a cup of tea this morning so of course she’s my favourite right now.’
the level of betrayal on anakin’s face can only be compared to the level of glee on ahsoka’s face
but the worst is when ahsoka is away on a mission by herself and anakin can’t help worrying, even when rex tries to make him feel better: ‘she’s going to be fine sir, we need to trust her. I mean, she is general kenobi’s favourite after all’
anakin stays outraged and gasping and only whispers ‘et tu, brute?’ every time he sees rex for the next three days
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First of all, thank you so much for your support on part 1! Here’s part 2 (the final part), and I hope you enjoy it! - Love, Kiki 🖤
Pairing: Loki x fem!reader
Summary: After the fight in Asgard’s throne room and the heartbreak in its wake, Loki has vanished. The TVA has shown him your fate and his, and your violent ends at the Asgardian spaceship during Thanos’ attack. It’s your fate - but Loki is intent on saving you. And who would be able to trick the fates if not the god of tricks himself?
Word count: 18 k
Warnings: SMUT (ONLY READ IF YOU’RE 18+ YEARS OLD!), unprotected sex (stay safe in real life!) mentions of death, blood, fights, ANGST WITH A HAPPY ENDING! (I promise!)
For more Loki content, check out my masterlist 🥰
As always, every like, comment and reblog is appreciated! 🖤
A/N: the cursive parts are Loki’s POV
READ PART 1 HERE
“Fate is a curious thing. I’ve always been sceptical of the stories of the three Norns, weaving the strings of fate together, parting them, tangling them. I always wanted to believe that we make our own decisions, that we’re crafting our own paths. Our own fates. A little like seidr – there are loose threads, and we are the only ones able to grasp them and weave them into something beautiful. And just as I learned to weave the yarn of seidr into an illusion, I always believed that I could weave the threads of my own fate into a beautiful tapestry.
I never dreamed for this tapestry of my life to show a king with golden horns, a ruler everyone adored. That was another dream, one I would have sacrificed without a second thought if she’d ever asked me to. I didn’t want to be loved by everyone. I only ever wanted to be loved by her. I realized too late that all this time, I’d already held her heart. She’d gifted it to me with every shared smile, every laugh, every lingering, secret glance. And then I had ripped everything apart in my rage and jealousy.
No, there aren’t three old crones spinning my fate and cutting the threads which had bound me to her – it had all been my own doing. There was nobody to blame for it but myself.
This story has been living in my head since 2011 and the series gave me the final inspiration to write it down. It’s the first part of two. I’ve never been so proud of something I’ve written, and I hope you enjoy it! - Love, Kiki 🖤
Pairing: Loki x female reader
Summary: You’re the heir to the throne of Vanaheim, raised at Asgardian court as part of an agreement to one day marry Thor, Asgard’s future king. But from the very first moment you entered the palace as a child, your gaze had kept straying to the future king’s brother, Loki. As you grew up alongside the princes, so did your feelings for Loki - until the night before your wedding to Thor arrives, and everything starts to spiral out of control. There are secrets better kept hidden away… (it’s the best summary I could do without giving spoilers for the plot; the story takes place during the events of Thor 1 and the Loki series)
Word count: 20k
Warnings: SMUT (please only read if you’re 18+ years old!), unprotected sex (this is fiction - please be safe in real life and use a condom), angst
A/N: the parts written in italics are Loki’s perspective
Check out my masterlist for more 🥰
As always, every single like, comment and reblog makes me incredibly happy 🖤
“I’m the God of Mischief, so nobody has ever asked for my opinion when it comes to the matters of the heart. Love has never been the chessboard of my own mischievous games. But that doesn’t mean I don’t have a story to tell. I do. I have to warn you, though: it’s not a fairy tale – but which fairy tale ever truly captures the meaning of love? Love is not a simple and-they-lived-happily-ever-after. Love is chaos and complexity, it’s bittersweet and pure and cruel, all at once. Love is a shapeshifter. I can’t just give you one definition of love, because there is a myriad of possible definitions. But I can tell you my own story. I’ll probably need another drink for it, though.
As every good story, it starts with an arranged marriage. I said it was a good story, not a feel-good story. Just…remember that.”
***
Your anxious gaze roamed over the other children of Asgardian nobility, training with swords, with bows and arrows. Future warriors. Future subjects, you thought with a small shudder despite the warm sunlight spilling down on the gleaming palace. You were just a child. Marriage and everything it entailed was an eternity away. Right now, your concern was the dread to be alone in a new place, the feelings of not belonging and the loss of your old life in the palace of Vanaheim. But you were the heir to Vanaheim’s throne, and thus, you wiped the backs of your little hands over your eyes to dry the tears and conceal that they’d ever streaked your cheeks in the first place, straightened your posture just like your nursemaid back home had showed you and stepped onto the sun-warmed sandstone tiles of the training grounds in a most queenly manner.
Despite your betrothal to the future king of this world – Thor – there had been no official welcoming ceremony for you. You were both still children, and so both your families had decided it would be best for you if you came to Asgard like every other child of the nobility who was to grow up at court. And so, having arrived late in the evening the day before – and having cried through the night with homesickness and the feeling of having been abandoned, a whole world away from your family and your home – you stood here at the entrance to the training grounds, feeling lonelier than you ever had in your life. Nobody seemed to spare you a glance when you hesitantly stepped into the Asgardian sunlight for the first time, which was exactly what you’d hoped for.
A/N: It’s been a long time, but I’m slowly coming back :’) thanks for being patient with me folks. In return, I hope you enjoy this lil fic — it involves Jotun!Loki ;))
Out of all the days for the air conditioner to stop working, of course it had to happen during the hottest week of the year.
Tony had built countless Iron Man suits, engineered a new renewable energy source strong enough to power all of New York, and yet somehow — four days of attempted repairs later — he still wasn’t able to fix the Compound’s air conditioning system.
The temperatures were skyrocketing in New York, hovering steady in the 100s for the last few days. At first it was nice to have the strong heat filter through the building. After a summer that began mostly with cloudy days and sometimes stormy skies, the sunlight was a welcome gift to you and the rest of the Avengers. Sure the air conditioning was broken in the building, but at least it finally felt like summer, right? Going a few days in the heat wouldn't be all that bad.
Your optimism quickly melted away the longer the sun shone, however, and soon enough you found yourself in a completely different mood.
“Okay, who took all the ice?”
You shifted your gaze up from your sprawled-out position on the floor as you heard Bucky’s angry demand. He was leaning so far in the freezer, he was practically lying in it.
A few halfhearted shrugs rippled their way throughout the handful of Avengers scattered around the living room with you.
“The ice tray was full an hour ago!” Bucky jabbed a finger accusingly at the now-empty spot in the freezer. “And there were five ice packs in here as well. They're gone now. Where are they?"
As if on cue, Thor lumbered into the living room with an ice pack, which he had fastened around his head using a T-shirt to keep it in place. The other four remaining ice packs were attached in a similar fashion around his arms and legs, bearing an odd resemblance to the floaties toddlers wear while swimming. As if that wasn't enough, Thor was also hugging a bag containing all of the Compound's remaining ice against his chest, as if it were a teddy bear.
Thor looked like, in every way possible, an absolute child.
You could almost feel the prickling anger radiating off the Avengers' glares as everyone watched Thor plop himself into an empty armchair. Or... maybe that was the heat making you feel itchy. At this point, it was so hot that it was hard to tell where the sun ended and where your body began.
"I swear on the gods," Thor mumbled absentmindedly. "It was never even this hot on Muspelheim. I'll bet Surtur himself would've rather died than endure this heat..."
"Are five ice packs really necessary, though?" You demanded, propping your chin up on your hands as you glared at the Asgardian from your position on the floor. "What about the rest of us?"
Thor simply dismissed you with a noodle-like wave of his hand.
"Your mortal bodies burn far less energy than mine." Thor reclined back in his chair, moving his ice pack so it covered his eyes like a sleeping mask. "You'll be fine. Myself, on the other hand-"
"Those ice packs had my name on them!" Bucky exclaimed, stomping into the living room. "I specifically said not to touch them-"
"If anyone deserves ice packs right now," Tony interrupted with a sharp glare. "It's me. I bought the fridge, after all. My kitchen, my rules."
"Well then, what about me, huh?" Bruce nearly sprung off the couch, and your eyes widened in alarm as you noticed the edges of his skin had a sudden green tinge. "I was the one who made the ice, I deserve the bag."
"Absolutely not." Thor tightened his grip on the bag of ice in emphasis. "I found the bag first."
"Oh my god, you guys." You sighed, pushing yourself up off the floor as you rolled your eyes. Even the little amount of physical exertion it took to get back into a standing position made you feel tired. "Just make more ice, it'll be ready in a few hours."
"That's too long of a wait," Tony answered, sprawling dramatically over his section of a couch as if to emphasize his point. "I'll have melted right into the floor before the ice is done."
You shook your head, the fog of the heat sparking your irritation like a lit match to gasoline. "Maybe you should've invested in a faster ice maker then. Or at least a second freezer."
"Hey." Tony pointed a finger accusingly at you, only to be met by stifled giggles from the other Avengers.
"Better yet..." You swiped a hand over your forehead, cringing at the sheen of sweat that now stuck to your palm. It was too hot to even simply stand in one spot. "...you could've designed an air conditioning system that would, oh I don't know, actually work."
You must have uttered the magic words -- or perhaps 'cursed words' was a better term in this situation -- because a newfound wave of bickering emerged from your teammates, all of them buzzing in irritation like little mosquitoes.
Your patience had already been worn thin over the last few days. You didn't know how much more arguing you could tolerate.
You watched Thor angrily lob an ice pack at Bucky, only for his expression to morph into disappointed shame as Bucky triumphantly grasped the frozen treasure like a trophy, and you realized now would be a good time to go back to your own room.
It was a few degrees hotter in there, you thought to yourself bitterly as you walked down the hall, but at least you didn't have to share the space with these children.
As you passed by Loki's room, your pace faltered as you noticed his door had been left open.
He was hunched over on his bed, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he lost himself in the worn paperback novel that sat in his lap. Your eyes widened as you took in the god's outfit.
He was wearing a thin sweater and jeans. Jeans. In 100 degree weather.
"You're insane." You couldn't help but splutter as you continued staring at Loki in disbelief from the doorway. Loki smirked, setting his book to the side before getting up to greet you with a friendly nod. You caught him look you up and down, before his features creased into a slight frown.
"And you... look like a wilted plant. Y/N, are you alright?”
You gave Loki a small shrug. "The kids are arguing in the living room again, Thor took all our ice packs, it feels like we have heated floors everywhere, and to be honest, I've started to feel a little dizzy."
Loki sighed as he took in your burst of information. With a small smile, he guided you into his room with a gentle hand on your shoulder.
"What about you?" You asked, gesturing to Loki's outfit. "Aren't you ready to pass out in that? Did you open a portal to New York in December and not tell me about it?"
Loki chuckled, the sound a warm gift to your ears compared to the screeching that had gone on earlier in the living room amongst the other Avengers.
"I'm different, I suppose."
"Well, whatever it is," you replied, stretching out on Loki's bedroom floor in an attempt to cool off as best as you could. "You and Thor certainly don't share the same temperature genes. You should see him, he's whining like a baby and he's got an icepack on each limb."
Loki smirked at your words, and you could've sworn you caught a flash of nervousness behind Loki's eyes. You couldn't help but wonder if you had said something wrong, but the emotion vanished as quickly as it came.
"I don't know how much longer I can survive in this heat." You mumbled as you laid down on your stomach and rested your head on your arms. "I haven't slept in nearly three days, I'm losing my mind."
Loki was sitting behind you, out of your range of vision, but you heard him let out a rather ragged and conflicted sigh. You frowned, unable to discern what exactly was going through the god's mind.
"I think I can help you," Loki began, his voice sounding rather constrained. Soft footsteps padded over to you, and you looked up just as he extended a hand towards you.
"How?" You asked with a frown as he helped you back up onto your feet. "Have you got a human-sized freezer you're hiding in your bathroom? Or better yet, a working air conditioner no one knows about?"
You laughed lightly at your own sarcasm, but your smile quickly faltered as you noticed how tense Loki had suddenly become. You were close enough to him now that you noticed he was clenching his jaw, and he kept picking at his hands.
"Loki-"
"Icanhelpyou." Loki repeated, the words emerging out of his mouth in a jumbled mess. "I- I can help you. I can't bear watching you suffer in this heat. But you have to promise me something."
"Anything, Loki. You're my best friend, you know I'd do anything to help you in return."
"You must keep your eyes closed the entire time."
You blinked in surprise. You weren't sure what request you were expecting from the Asgardian, but it certainly wasn't that.
"What?"
"Promise me that, Y/N." Loki demanded urgently. His hands gripped your shoulders tightly as his wide eyes searched your own. "Swear on the Nine Realms that you won't open your eyes, no matter what."
There was something so solemn, so incredibly fragile that had surfaced in Loki's eyes that you didn't even think to question him any further. Whatever this was about, you knew it was serious.
"Okay." You whispered. "I won't open my eyes, I promise."
Loki nodded, pressing his lips together into a thin line. It seemed as though the thoughts in his mind were close to being physically painful, and it hurt your heart to watch him go through this.
"You don't have to help me, you know." You closed your own hand over his for emphasis. "I'll be fine, the heat will subside in a few days."
"No." Loki's tone was stern. Final. There was no arguing with him. "I want to help you. I will help you."
You nodded, giving the Asgardian's hand one final squeeze as an attempt at comfort. With a deep breath, you closed your eyes.
You could feel your heart begin to pound in your chest as a thick silence enveloped the two of you. You waited for any sort of extreme event -- maybe a bright flash of light or sudden noise -- but nothing happened.
"Your eyes are closed?"
You couldn't help the small smile that formed on your lips when you heard Loki's question. His voice sounded so small, if it weren't for how serious he was being about this entire situation, you would've found it almost adorable.
"Yes, Loki, my eyes are closed. You can test me, if you like."
"...how many fingers am I holding up?"
"Three?"
"Wrong. Good."
You snickered, shaking your head at Loki's response.
The silence resurfaced once more, this time bringing with it a slight chill in the air. You sighed in relief, feeling your body relax ever-so-slightly as the air became cooler than it had been moments ago.
"If this is one of your illusions, I'm extremely impressed." You whispered. You were expecting Loki to chuckle, or perhaps boast even further about his powers, but all you got in reply was a bitter scoff.
"This does not merit awe or any such feelings." Loki mumbled. "Now, hold your hands out for me."
You extended your hands, perhaps a little faster than you had anticipated. Your fingers grazed something ice cold for a brief moment, the sensation feeling almost like a burn in contrast to the warmth of your hands.
You gasped as you jolted back, and as your reflexes kicked in, you accidentally opened your eyes.
The person in front of you was Loki, but then again... it wasn't.
His skin was now cobalt blue, with intricate markings spiralling their way up his hands and tracing the outlines of his cheekbones and forehead. His nails were such a dark shade of blue that they were almost black, and his eyes.
They were completely red, and filled with a mix of sadness and horror and betrayal as your gaze locked on his.
"I'm so sorry." You gasped, immediately squeezing shut your eyes once more. "I didn't mean to do that, it was a reflex, I didn't see anything-"
"Stop lying." Loki spat. "You can open your eyes. I know you saw."
Your eyes fluttered open slowly, but you kept your gaze glued to the ground.
"I'm really sorry, Loki." You whispered, feeling the sting of tears fill your eyes. It seemed as though his hurt expression had burned itself into your mind. "I broke my promise."
"Are you afraid?"
You looked up at Loki with a frown, his question catching you off guard.
"I'm sad that I hurt you. I regret moving as fast and as suddenly as I did, I regret not fighting my reflexes, but no. I'm not afraid."
Loki's gaze was unwavering, yet there was an absence in his eyes. It seemed as though he was somewhere far away in a memory.
"You should be."
You stepped forward, bridging the distance between the two of you, and held both of Loki's hands in your own. You inhaled sharply as your skin made contact with his and an icy chill coursed up your arms, but you didn't flinch away.
In fact, Loki was the one who tried to flinch away, but you kept your grip steady as you laced your fingers through his.
"I trust you with everything I am." You whispered. "I know you'll never hurt me. This is no exception."
"I'm a monster."
Loki's voice cracked almost imperceptibly on that last word. You shook your head, adamant to prove him wrong.
"This side of you is just as kind and loving as the other." You smiled softly, tracing a finger lightly across the ridges that marked his cheekbones. Loki turned his now-pained gaze to the ground as you caressed his cheek soothingly.
"You wanted to help me feel better, even if it meant revealing the side of you that you hated the most. No monster would do that, Loki. Hell, I don't even think some of the Avengers would be willing to risk their comfort levels the way you just did. And you did it all selflessly, because you didn't want me to overheat.
"In fact," you continued, smiling in awe as you studied the markings on Loki's face. "You're absolutely beautiful, both on the inside as well as the outside. You put Greek sculptures to shame, you're a work of art."
Loki let out a small choked gasp, and your heart skipped a beat as you noticed a few stray tears begin trailing their way down his cheeks. You brushed them away with a slow swipe of your thumb before leaning forward to kiss his cheek.
"Whatever events may have happened in the past to cause you to feel the way you do," you whispered, wrapping your arms around Loki and pulling him closer to you. "They're over now. The hurt ends here. I'll make sure of it."
"How?" Loki didn't even try to hide the disbelief in his voice. You pulled back from your hug, only to trail your hands down his arms and hold his hands tightly in your own.
"By being the first to love you as you are. Every part of you."
Silence passed between the two of you as Loki eyes allowed you to glimpse the war he was currently fighting internally with himself and his past. You knew this wasn't easy for him.
"You don't have to say anything, but I just want you to know that I'm here for you. This doesn't in any way change how I feel about you, Loki."
As silence settled between the two of you like little particles of dust, Loki stepped forward and caught you off guard. He pressed a delicate kiss to your forehead before wrapping you gently in his arms.
“Thank you for cooling me off, by the way.” You whispered with a small smile. “It’s only been a few minutes, but I’m already feeling much better.”
“I’m glad to hear that.”
“…Loki?” You asked as you rested your cheek against the god’s shoulder.
“Hm?”
“This is way nicer than tying ice packs around my arms and legs. You give good hugs.”
That earned a genuine laugh from Loki, and although he didn’t reply, he gave you a gentle squeeze in acknowledgement.
Despite the chill that ran through your body as Loki remained pressed up against you in an embrace, you had never felt such intense warmth inside your heart.
This side of Loki — his true form — was more beautiful than you could’ve ever imagined.
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