Trickster’s Game
April Fools, Floods & Flowers — Article X
April Fools, Floods & Flowers Series — where what is played is not always a game… and what laughs does not always mean well.
By Raven Tomes
There are gods who demand worship.
There are gods who demand fear.
And then… there are those who ask for neither.
Only attention.
Only participation.
Only a moment—just long enough for you to think you understand what is happening.
In Norse myth, there is one who does not belong neatly among gods or monsters.
A shapeshifter.
A liar.
A helper, when it suits him.
A destroyer, when it doesn’t.
They called him Loki.
But names have never been the important part.
Because Loki was never just a figure.
He was a pattern.
A presence.
Something that thrives in the space between what is true and what is believed.
Stories paint him as clever. Chaotic. Entertaining. The kind of force that turns order on its head and leaves laughter in its wake.
But the older versions—the ones that weren’t softened—tell something else entirely.
That his games were never meant to be harmless.
Only amusing… for him.
There is a reason trickster figures exist in nearly every culture.
Because deception is universal.
Because the moment someone chooses to believe what is placed before them—without question, without hesitation—that moment becomes something else.
An opening.
A doorway.
An invitation.
Loki did not force anything.
He suggested.
He nudged.
He placed the idea in front of you and let you step toward it willingly.
And once you did…
The game had already begun.
There are stories—quiet ones, rarely told the same way twice—of people who claimed to encounter something like him.
Not a god.
Not a figure from legend.
Just someone who appeared at the right moment.
A stranger with a knowing smile.
A voice that seemed to understand exactly what you needed to hear.
A suggestion that felt harmless.
Easy.
Almost funny.
Until it wasn’t.
Because the trick is never in the lie.
It is in the truth that surrounds it.
Just enough reality to make the rest believable.
Just enough trust to make the step forward feel safe.
And then—Everything shifts.
Not all at once.
Not dramatically.
Just enough that something is no longer where it should be.
A door that was closed… isn’t.
A path that was familiar… leads somewhere else.
A choice that felt small… becomes something you cannot undo.
And somewhere in the background—quiet, patient—there is laughter.
Not loud.
Not mocking.
Just… satisfied.
Because the game was never about winning.
It was about playing.
And once you start…
You do not decide when it ends.
That part was never yours.
There are still days set aside for tricks.
For jokes.
For small deceptions meant to pass quickly and leave no harm behind.
But some things do not understand the difference.
Or worse…
They understand it perfectly.
And choose to ignore it.
Because every joke requires someone to believe it.
Even for a moment.
Even just long enough.
And sometimes…that is all it takes.
🃏🃏🃏
If something feels like a game—
Ask who started it.
Because you may not be the one who gets to stop playing.
Reminded me of all the years I made fun of people just to get a laugh . I learned a little late that hurting people with jokes isn't funny even if you get people to laugh. Loki was responsible for Balder's death.