[General voice test]

[hates_thunder]

1.

[You've ended up with a Norse God as a roommate, under whatever circumstances causes these things to happen. He comes and goes when he pleases, eats everything in sight and hasn't even got the decency to get fat, and hits on your girlfriend/boyfriend/what-have-you. He also keeps the place spotless. Obsessively so. Oh, but that's not the worst part. The worst part is that ever since he's moved in, things have been replaced with other things, devices have malfunctioned, hot and cold water have switched... is he doing this or has he just got some kind of an area-effect chaos field?]

[Why not ask him? He's right over there, raiding the refrigerator. Again.]


2.

[YOU'VE BEEN LOKI'D AGAIN!]

[Damnit, not another prank! And this one was terribly elabourate, too, involving no less than seven supposedly erroneous phone calls, three different instances of malfunctioning chairs, and a mouse. A MOUSE. He's gone too far, this time!]


3.

[Oh, hey, person from Prompt One... wait. What the hell? It's been quiet. Too quiet. Everything is back where it belongs, everything works, your SO hasn't heard a peep, and, well, the place isn't quite so spotless any more. There's even food in the fridge! Loki is over there, on the sofa, apparently sulking. If you go over and say something to him, there's a pause... and then he looks up at you. And grins.]

[There's that sinking feeling. You've been Loki'd. YET AGAIN. OH. GOD. DAMNIT.]


4.

(Obligatory srs post)

[Things got out of control. Someone's gotten hurt or, worse, killed because of him. He's... quiet. Maybe even worried. But it's clear he doesn't regret his actions. There's no remorse at all, and he's almost disgustingly optimistic. Why? Just... why?]

Comments

3

[authoroutofspace]

"What."

It was the tone of someone very, very long-suffering, and the reason for it was obvious to anyone seeing him enter the room. It was in the eyes, mostly, the mental checklist anyone living with Loki for any length of time went through. Check the door for buckets, floor for tripwires, ceiling for...well, just in case. Checking, testing, checking again.

Jeff sighs, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. "I don't suppose we can just skip to the gloating and maniacal laughter? Would that be too much to ask?"

[hates_thunder]

"Oh, but this is too good," he chortles. "You're like a rabbit in an empty field, just waiting for something to swoop down on you. What could it be?"

Lovely. Now he's feeding off the anticipation. There's a manic glint to his eyes, almost like an addict riding a high.

[authoroutofspace]

"Oh, I don't know...something incredibly juvenile? Because it's never anything else?" Jeff deadpans. "Also, I am not a rabbit, I am a very annoyed human being who has put up with more of your shit than any of my species should be willing to tolerate."

And truthfully he's no warier than usual. OCD-level caution is simply one of the many side effects of sharing a room with Loki. It's reflexive, like the twitch that inevitably develops beneath the left eye after any length of time with the god.

His laptop is with him, he knows better than to let it out of his sight, though even that doesn't always help. He doesn't bother with his desk; by this point the bloody thing has more booby traps than featured in the entire Vietnam war. "And no, I'm not going to try to figure out what you're up to. I am not giving you the satisfaction."

[hates_thunder]

Hey, it's not Loki's fault that chair broke. ... the first time.

"Whyever not?" he asks, eyes glittering. "If you don't, you might be caught a little too unawares."

[authoroutofspace]

"No. Not going to work." Unfortunately for Loki, Jeff is a man with a great deal of patience. Check. Set up computer. Check again. Disable some sort of spring-loaded deadman switch. Toss over shoulder. Ignore small explosion and sounds of skittering. Begin working, pointedly disregarding Loki's stare.

[hates_thunder]

[Loki stares. Waaaaatches.]

[Fidgets.]

[Gets up and starts pacing.]

[Back and forth he goes, his hands twitchy, and his gaze boring into the back of Jeff's head.]

[authoroutofspace]

Loki, Jeff used to work for the New York Times. He has fixed stories, at a moment's notice, whose grammar was so bad it could possibly qualify as a dialect of ancient Mayan. All the while with his editor literally screaming in his ear. He's faced deadlines, Loki, that would make lesser men scream for searing tears in the space-time continuum. Your stares are nothing.

He can hear him though, getting more and more agitated behind him. And he tries very hard not to smile.

[hates_thunder]

Pace, pace pace.

pace pace pace pace.

pace pa--He comes to a somehow audible halt.

"...You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

[authoroutofspace]

"I have no idea what you're referring to." His tone is all innocence, though the stalemate is getting to him as well. It shows in the slowly increasing tension in his shoulders, the typing grown somehow aggressive, that one vein on his temple throbbing. Nope, not gonna let you win, dammit.

[hates_thunder]

What's that itty, teeny creaking sound?

There it is again.

And a miniscule pop. An infinitesimal snap. Keep pounding at that keyboard, Jeff, and you'll find out what those noises mean.

Meanwhile, Loki resumes pacing.

[authoroutofspace]

Jeff is, unfortunately for him, oblivious, intent on his game of chicken with the god of mischief. Surely this will end well!

Creak.

"..."

Pop. Creeeeaaak.

"...Oh no."

[hates_thunder]

[Loki casually steps to the side to get as good a view as he can of Jeff's desk completely falling apart. Every joint, every strut, every panel, everything comes loose from everything else like an exploded view drawing in a glorious cacophony of noise, bringing everything that was ON the desk with it.]

[And when the noise finally dies down with the obligatory tiny sounds and small round things rolling away there's the sound of someone trying very hard not to laugh.]

[And failing.]

[authoroutofspace]

He could only stand stock-still for a moment, his hands still hovering over the keyboard as if it was still there and not on top of a pile of wood and screws at his feet. There was a long, long silence before he spoke.

"I. Hate. You. So. Much."

[hates_thunder]

[For an answer Loki well and truly loses the battle with his own laughter, leaning against the wall and guffawing like a drunken man at a comedy club. After a few beats of this he calms himself, wipes his eyes, and sighs in a manner that would make most people ask if he needed a cigarette, now.]

I know you do. I know.

1

[master_of_names]

Are you fae?

[hates_thunder]

[Loki looks up from rubbing an apple against a towel and takes a big, noisy bite out of it while considering his answer. It buys him time and annoys other people, because it is physically impossible to eat an apple quietly.]

Oh, no, but he is.

[He gestures behind the other man. If Elodin turns, he'll see another Loki causally walk away through the nearby wall. Like y'do.]

Always ambling through walls and upsetting things... I suppose he thinks it's funny to wear my face.

[He says all of this with a straight, if mildly affronted, face.]

[master_of_names]

[He glances at the second Loki, then dismisses him. This can't be the first time Loki has pulled this shit.]

I can normally tell. They're pretty obvious about it if you know what to look for, but...

[He trails off, like he's lost track of the conversation.]

[hates_thunder]

[KERUNCHcrunchcrunchcrunch.]

But what?

[master_of_names]

I dunno, you're harder to place.

Catch.

[Elodin tossed something small and shiny towards Loki 1.]

[hates_thunder]

[He catches it.]

[And that's his first mistake, isn't it?]

[master_of_names]

[Nope, it's a perfectly normal iron coin. If he had been Fae, however, he would have dropped it like it was red hot.]

Well that answers that. What are you then?

[hates_thunder]

[Loki leans against the counter, idly dancing the coin across his knuckles, back and forth.]

Among Midgardians I was thought of as a god.

1

[reversed_pharaoh]

hey! put down the marshmallow fluff and the leftover fries we need to talk!
[Shinji was trying to cook dinner until interrupted by one of Loki's standby prank traps, hes still covered in flour and wielding a rolling pin.]

[hates_thunder]

[Loki does no such thing. In fact, he dips a fried potato into the marshmallow goo, then pops the resulting mix into his mouth for no other reason than it's bound to disgust this Midgardian. Oh, all right, he was also curious.]

Hmm? Oh, certainly. What's on your mind?

[reversed_pharaoh]

[squints at Loki]
you know perfectly well what im talking about.

[hates_thunder]

On the contrary, I can't say I do, as mind-reading is not one of my many talents.

[He dips a finger into the marshmallow fluff and sticks said finger into his mouth. The man eats so much sugar it's a wonder he hasn't fallen over in a diabetic coma by now but, well, clearly Jotunar have invincible pancreases.]

Why don't you tell me, that way we'll both know what you're talking about.