#loki prank

Inspired by this post:

So this was the 2 year old abandoned comic I mentioned yesterday having thought it would have been a fitting piece to have posted on April Fools Day, if only I had ever finished it.

Well, I wasn't able to finish it before April Fools ended, (probably because I hadn't remembered it until almost 3am the day of and it had just been a skeleton of a comic...) but we're pretty much fools year-round on this hellsite, and it's done now, so here it is. Hope you like it!

(Click images for better quality)

this was supposed to be for april fools day but i thought yesterday was still march whoops

warning: descriptive injuries, blood

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The apartment door crashes open and a limp Loki falls face-first through the doorway, actually dripping blood onto your carpet.

“What the HELL—”

You’re up in a flash and the god reaches a weak hand towards you, trying to pull himself closer to you but giving up with a grunt of pain when his shoulder pops out of its socket.

Loudly.

He grabs his shoulder and lets out a yell, rolling onto his back as you scream, too—“Arms don’t bend like that, Loki!!”

“Help me,” he hisses, his eyes screwed shut in pain, “for the love of everything, mortal, help me.”

“I-you—Loki, your bones!”

He doesn’t ask for help, like, ever.

And you’ve never really seen the god in pain, but these oddly bent limbs and gashes across his chest dripping blood all over your floor seem to be pure agony as he writhes—

“ARE YOU GOING TO JUST STAND THERE AND WATCH ME DIE?”

“Sorry, sorry!” You spring into action, snapping your gaping mouth shut and bolting to the kitchen, shaking hands rifling through cupboards: you need water, some kind of cloth, oh my god that’s a lot of blood, bandages, pain medication??

How do dosages work on Asgard?

“Loki, how much do you weigh?!” You shout and nearly drop the bowl you just filled with water.

“Is that REALLY important right now??”

“Just answer me!!” In your panic you drop the bottle of pills, sending little orange tablets flying across the kitchen. “God fucking damn it, answer me right now!”

“Somewhere over five hundred pounds, I don’t want to talk about it—” he cuts himself off with a near scream of pain, making you jump with a start and scream, too.

“WILL YOU STOP SCREAMING? I’M RIGHT HERE, DIPSHIT!!”

Fuming and shaken beyond belief, you haul all your stuff back out to the living room and dump it on the floor next to the writhing god. He’s snapped his mouth shut after your last explosion, now just whimpering and clutching his out-of-place shoulder with one hand, the other holding tight to something bleeding on his stomach.

“Okay, okay, okay…” your trembling hands hover tentatively over his body, not sure where to even begin. “Just keep breathing, Loki, stay alive for me, okay? Keep breathing, I—I’m gonna try to help you, I promise.”

He nods weakly, teeth gritting together and eyes screwed shut, and he lifts a hand to gesture at the injury to his abdomen: this one first.

“Got it, how can I—your shirt, can you roll over at all?” You scramble to undo the buckles and straps of his armour to little avail. “Forget it, I’m cutting it off you, give me a knife.”

Loki cracks an eye open and huffs a tiny laugh, lifting a finger to point to his belt under his cloak. “Always trying…always trying to get me naked, you naughty little sausage.”

You really want to slap him right now.

Blood loss seems to be taking its toll on him, his pained whimpering ceasing and being overridden by slurred words and weak touches, his eyes drooping as you find the dagger and slice his shirt open.

“Now is not the ti—oh my god, you were stabbed?!”

There’s a hole in his stomach, just under his ribs, a clean slice through his entire torso.

You know, minor injury.

“I made a monster mad…” he slurs, patting his bleeding wound almost proudly and wincing in pain each time.

“Don’t do that!”

“Pain is nice, though.” He cracks a weak smile, sending you a bloody thumbs up before going back to tapping the open wound. “Reminds…reminds me I’m…reminds me I’m alive…”

“Hey! Eyes open!” You grab his face and give him a little shake, your heart dropping to the pit of your stomach when he limply falls to the floor, unconscious. “Loki, no no no, wake up right now!”

His head lolls to the side and drops out of your hands with a loud clunk.

“LOKI!”

You drop the washcloth in water and quickly press it onto the stab wound—oh god, the gaping opening goes through him. Like, straight through his body.

What the hell am I supposed to do now? Your hands are shaking so badly that you’re pretty sure you’ve only made the bleeding worse, and the white cloth trying to stop the blood just turns bright red as it continues to soak up the never-ending flow.

Eyes start to sting when you try to keep a somewhat clean cloth applying pressure to his side and reach for his hand with the other, bringing it to your lips. “Loki, wake up, wake up, please…”

Something pokes you in the chin and you glance down at his hand.

“WHAT THE FUCK—”

His middle finger is snapped at the top knuckle, just completely going sideways, the actual bone sticking out from under a flap of skin.

On the bright side, your blood-curdling scream wakes him back up.

Chest heaving, you throw his mutilated hand away from you and grab his face again with one hand, the other still trying to stop the bleeding. “You idiot, you’re never allowed to leave the house ever again, understood? Now stay. awake.”

He laughs and pokes your tear-ridden cheek, completely delirious from blood loss. “I’m gonna die happy,” he mumbles, and a thick trail of blood starts trickling from the corner of his mouth. “You’re so beautiful.”

“Shut up, you’re gonna be fine, just keep looking at me!” You scramble to keep his head supported in your hands, but he’s heavy and limp with dead weight. “Loki, you look at me right now, don’t you dare close your eyes.”

“It’s okay, my love, it’s alright…”

“Stay awake, you hear me?” You furiously swipe away the tears clouding your vision, leaving a dark streak of his blood along your cheekbone. “Stay with me, Loki, you’re gonna be just fine, you’re gonna do something magical, right? You’re gonna heal yourself, I know it.”

He’s…dying. In your arms.

On some random Monday morning, out of the blue, came stumbling through your door and now he’s dying in your living room. Life really is a bitch, huh?

“Loki!” You slap his cheek a couple times when his eyes start drifting shut, his head rolling onto your lap. “Loki, you stay awake or I’m gonna kill you…”

“I know this is…is unexpected,” he murmurs, voice thick with blood. “But now you’ll be b-better off.”

“You are such an idiot,” you sob, abandoning the blood-drenched cloth—it’s not exactly helping anymore—and pulling him into your arms, clutching his broken form to your chest. “Where did this even come from? And like hell I’ll be better off, don’t you leave me!”

“My own stupidity.” He laughs and a splatter of blood bubbles from his mouth. “Look at me, darling, quickly.” That broken hand reaches up to weakly cradle your tear-stained cheek, and Loki coughs up a lungful of blood one more time. “I love you like I’ve never loved before.”

“STAY WITH ME, LOKI, I SWEAR TO GOD—”

The god blinks, a slow and deliberate engraining of your image in his mind, and smiles up at you with bloodied lips. “I’ll see you again, my love.”

“You’ll see me right now, you idiot, cause you’re not dying, you idiot, idiot…”

The cool, stuttering breaths against your arm stop falling.

“Loki?” You choke and shake your head—this isn’t real. This is some sick dream. “Loki, stop fucking around, come back.”

Silence.

“Oh my god, Loki, this isn’t funny—”

“Well, it is a little funny.”

Your head snaps up at the sound of that bastard’s voice to see him lounging against the doorway, hands in his pockets with a stupid little grin on his face.

“Idiot?” He asks, pressing a hand to his heart in mock hurt. “I died, my dear, and you called me an idiot approximately five times. Thank you for the lovely sentiment, I love you too.”

The broken body in your arms sparks and fades into nothing, and you slowly get to your feet, the look in your eyes nothing short of murderous.

“That…was a joke?”

Loki shrugs, that proud smirk still plastered over his lips. “Of course. You married the god of mischief, darling.”

Your jaw tightens and Loki swallows, the smirk fading slightly when he sees how, erm, not funny you found his little prank to be.

“Oh shit.”

You barrel into him in an instant, your shoulder connecting with his gut and he crumples to the floor, laughter bubbling from his mouth when you start relentlessly smacking at his arms, chest, face, anywhere you can reach.

“That—wasn’t—funny,” you seeth, emphasising each word with a good poke to the stomach. “You little fucktard, I’m gonna kill you for real for that!”

Still laughing, Loki brings up his hands to half-heartedly block your attacks, catching your furious punches with fingers wrapped around your wrists. You try to fight, to pull your arms from his grip with a huff, but he yanks you down into a searing kiss and locks an arm around your neck—you’re stuck.

“That was extremely funny,” he mumbles against your lips, locking you in place with a solid arm as you try to squirm away from him. “You look so precious when you worry.”

“You’re a—mmph, you’re a sick fuck.” You’re refusing to kiss him back, but he won’t let you move from where your mouths are pressed together.

“Such endearing names,” he dreamily sighs, kissing your pouting lips a couple more times. “I can truly feel the amount of love you hold for my sorry, broken heart…I love you too, my beautiful ‘sick fuck…’”

“YOU FUCKING IDIOT, LET ME GO—”

“…I love you more than the stars may light the sky, my exquisite idiot…”

“I HATE YOU—”

Loki pushes himself up, breathless and red in the face from relentless kisses and never-ending laughter to wind his arms around your waist, pulling you tight against him and smashing his lips to yours.

“Idiot,” he grins into the kiss, somehow squeezing you even tighter. “I hate you too.”

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hope you enjoyed, feel free to send me ideas!

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