Thor Fic — Letters
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Jul. 31st, 2012 | 07:46 pm
mood: 
busy
This pic!
...inspired feels. Those feels inspired fanfic. This fanfic is un-beta-ed, and only lightly edited, so forgive me if it sucks… but I had no choice. I BLAME THE FEELS!
(Seriously: none of my stuff is beta-ed, but this is the single most un-beta-ed thing that I have ever written. I'm not even kidding you. I didn't even reread it myself, that is how first draft this crap is. The feels THE FEELS I'm telling you.)
Title: Letters
Genre: General
Rating: K
Timeline: Modern AU-ish.
Characters: Loki and Thor (indirectly).
Warnings: Un-beta-ed and only lightly edited. No real plot? Unabashedly angsty? IDK.
Summary: Loki does not miss home, and he most assuredly does not miss Thor. He makes no comment as to the letters.
Other Hosts: Here at my tumblr. Here at FF.net.
They come, like clockwork, every Tuesday.
Loki can only imagine what lengths Thor goes to to ensure such a precise schedule; he had never been so meticulous before. Thor was always a bundle of agitated chaos, unable to plan, even when the tasks were important to him. This is very unlike the Thor that Loki knows.
Still, the fact remains that, every Tuesday, Loki opens his mail to another letter, each as crisp and white and perfect as the last.
Perhaps he doesn’t know Thor very well after all.
——
The first letter arrived a mere week after he left. Back then, it had been a great surprise.
Loki had not told anyone that he was leaving. He himself had scarcely known until he was gone. Slipping away unnoticed, he had left no trace, nor any means by which they could contact him. He had taken little, and regretted…
Nothing. He had regretted nothing.
By all accounts, it had been a clean break. Certainly a long time in coming. But that very next Tuesday—no sooner than he had found lodgings, in fact—he received his first letter in the mail, and they continued coming even when he didn’t respond.
Loki still doesn’t know how Thor got his address. Tony, maybe?
He doubts they will stop, though, if they haven’t yet. Today it will have been a year.
——
Loki wakes that morning, showers, and then sets about brewing his customary pot of tea. He has become a creature of habit since moving in with Stark. Once the kettle is boiling, he checks the mail and sorts through it with a feeling of dread that he will never acknowledge.
Magazine, magazine, advert, bill…
There.
Loki’s fist clenches around the letter. Simultaneously, something in his chest relaxes.
He sets it aside, then turns to finish making his tea.
——
Later, that letter joins the others in his closet, unopened. The pile is growing quite large.
Loki never reads them, but nor can he quite bear to throw them away.
——
The Tuesday after that does not bring a letter. It arrives instead on Wednesday, the postman apologizing for the delay when Loki meets him at the door, snatching the mail from his hands and combing through it.
There.
He will never admit to exhaling in relief at the realization that this was not another of Thor’s failures.
Just a fluke. That’s all it was. Just a fluke.
——
That letter does not find its way into the closet. Instead, Loki lays it out on the counter and stares at it intently.
He stares at it all week before finally stowing it away with the others.
——
Next Tuesday, another letter arrives like clockwork… and what does it matter to him anyways if Thor writes? It’s not like he ever reads them. Or replies.
——
That evening, Loki stares at his unread mail with a damnable tightness in his throat, and thinks back on all the things that made him leave. The favoritism. The lies. The constant degradation. Thor’s consistent failure to meet even the lowest of his expectations.
Slowly, his fingers inch toward the envelope until they are just barely brushing its edge.
Fifty-two. That is the amount of letters Thor has sent him, including this one.
Maybe if he keeps ignoring it, he will stop.
——
Loki opens the letter.
——
Dear Loki,
I miss you, brother….
The End
...inspired feels. Those feels inspired fanfic. This fanfic is un-beta-ed, and only lightly edited, so forgive me if it sucks… but I had no choice. I BLAME THE FEELS!
(Seriously: none of my stuff is beta-ed, but this is the single most un-beta-ed thing that I have ever written. I'm not even kidding you. I didn't even reread it myself, that is how first draft this crap is. The feels THE FEELS I'm telling you.)
Title: Letters
Genre: General
Rating: K
Timeline: Modern AU-ish.
Characters: Loki and Thor (indirectly).
Warnings: Un-beta-ed and only lightly edited. No real plot? Unabashedly angsty? IDK.
Summary: Loki does not miss home, and he most assuredly does not miss Thor. He makes no comment as to the letters.
Other Hosts: Here at my tumblr. Here at FF.net.
They come, like clockwork, every Tuesday.
Loki can only imagine what lengths Thor goes to to ensure such a precise schedule; he had never been so meticulous before. Thor was always a bundle of agitated chaos, unable to plan, even when the tasks were important to him. This is very unlike the Thor that Loki knows.
Still, the fact remains that, every Tuesday, Loki opens his mail to another letter, each as crisp and white and perfect as the last.
Perhaps he doesn’t know Thor very well after all.
——
The first letter arrived a mere week after he left. Back then, it had been a great surprise.
Loki had not told anyone that he was leaving. He himself had scarcely known until he was gone. Slipping away unnoticed, he had left no trace, nor any means by which they could contact him. He had taken little, and regretted…
Nothing. He had regretted nothing.
By all accounts, it had been a clean break. Certainly a long time in coming. But that very next Tuesday—no sooner than he had found lodgings, in fact—he received his first letter in the mail, and they continued coming even when he didn’t respond.
Loki still doesn’t know how Thor got his address. Tony, maybe?
He doubts they will stop, though, if they haven’t yet. Today it will have been a year.
——
Loki wakes that morning, showers, and then sets about brewing his customary pot of tea. He has become a creature of habit since moving in with Stark. Once the kettle is boiling, he checks the mail and sorts through it with a feeling of dread that he will never acknowledge.
Magazine, magazine, advert, bill…
There.
Loki’s fist clenches around the letter. Simultaneously, something in his chest relaxes.
He sets it aside, then turns to finish making his tea.
——
Later, that letter joins the others in his closet, unopened. The pile is growing quite large.
Loki never reads them, but nor can he quite bear to throw them away.
——
The Tuesday after that does not bring a letter. It arrives instead on Wednesday, the postman apologizing for the delay when Loki meets him at the door, snatching the mail from his hands and combing through it.
There.
He will never admit to exhaling in relief at the realization that this was not another of Thor’s failures.
Just a fluke. That’s all it was. Just a fluke.
——
That letter does not find its way into the closet. Instead, Loki lays it out on the counter and stares at it intently.
He stares at it all week before finally stowing it away with the others.
——
Next Tuesday, another letter arrives like clockwork… and what does it matter to him anyways if Thor writes? It’s not like he ever reads them. Or replies.
——
That evening, Loki stares at his unread mail with a damnable tightness in his throat, and thinks back on all the things that made him leave. The favoritism. The lies. The constant degradation. Thor’s consistent failure to meet even the lowest of his expectations.
Slowly, his fingers inch toward the envelope until they are just barely brushing its edge.
Fifty-two. That is the amount of letters Thor has sent him, including this one.
Maybe if he keeps ignoring it, he will stop.
——
Loki opens the letter.
——
Dear Loki,
I miss you, brother….
The End
