#'me when hella1975 writes about brothers again' IM MENTALLY ILL. WHATEVER

[hella1975]

just read your nobodies hero fic and. what a way to be introduced to mordred lavore. also your writing is just INCREDIBLE I’m obsessed

‘Atlas Lavore was Mordred’s big brother by a decade, an obnoxiously handsome man with a golden aura around him that even the other idiots in the queue seemed to notice. Golden aura for the golden son, tall and broad and sharp.’ honestly I do not know what to say your writing is just so beautiful

‘after so many years with a cairn clogging his throat’ this is a bananas thing to say. a cairn clogging his throat…

‘The Lavore brothers stared each other down with the intensity of a battlefield. Perhaps it was the same. Perhaps every brother in the history of humanity knew of this silence.’ me when hella1975 writes about brothers again:

‘“Atlas,” his brother said. It was the first word Mordred learned to write.’ banging my head against the floor

‘Even after all these years, Mordred Lavore hadn’t learned how to stop being a desperate, waiting child beneath his big brother’s gaze, and the reminder of that helplessness, at how pathetic he’d allowed himself to be for so little back, made his shoulders hunch up, a chill down his spine like the crooked finger of a death god long since familiar with each bone and knob.’ girls when they think about how he was meant to die and knew it

‘Still, he couldn’t help but watch Atlas leave, overly familiar with his brother’s back, shoulders sloped in departure, the way his hair fell around them, and the certain knowledge that he never, ever looked back. Today was no different. It never was. Mordred didn’t know what he was expecting.’ AHHHH

‘Quietly, fiercely, Mordred had been so proud of his brother, so awed by his bravery to stand up to their cold parents so unflinchingly. That was before he realised that a rejection of them came with a rejection of him too. Atlas left Mordred behind like it was easy, like it cost him nothing to do so. He knew the starving ache of that big, loveless house and he left it to feed on Mordred, not so much as a letter or a phone call to satiate the hunger pangs.’ GNAWING AT THE WALLS!!!!!!

‘Not ten minutes later, Atlas walked back to the car and drove away. He hadn’t even noticed Mordred wearing his shirt. After all, he had only left behind the things he didn’t want. Like the shirt. Like his brother.’ I need to be sedated

‘It was a week since he was last here and Mordred had started to wonder if that would be it. He wouldn’t let himself wait for his brother ever again. He was done peeking hopefully out of windows looking for familiar curls. And still, his heart lurched in his chest when he noticed his brother walk in, the stupid thing never learning how to pick itself up off the floor, never learning how to die, stuck to a stage with the curtain call still ringing.’ I’m in hysterics

‘His brother paid and took the cup, wishing him well before leaving the store. Mordred, foolish, forgotten, watched him leave as he always did, watched his back, watched the window. When his brother turned to look back at him, Mordred’s breath caught in his throat.’ he looked back… oh orpheus and eurydice we’re really in it now

‘Not even a few minutes late; it was nearly an hour after he said he’d meet Atlas and he knew. He knew his brother wouldn’t still be there, that catching his brother was a chance thing, fleeting, a bird swooping past his vision one moment and gone the next. Either he worked on his brother’s schedule or he never saw him at all, and still, still, Mordred was a fool who hoped. He had never been able to help it. He walked into the little coffee shop they agreed to meet in and let hope sit on his tongue, refusing to be choked down. And Atlas smiled at him, sat in the window seat, giving a little wave so Mordred would see him, as if he wasn’t the centre of gravity in every room they shared.’ HE WAITED!!! HE WAITED!!!

‘“I’m late,” Mordred said instead. A statement. It’s raining. I'm late. You never came back for me. And easily, so, so easily, Atlas smiled at him. “I would have kept waiting, however long it took.”’ they send me INSANE

‘Mordred Lavore was an hour glass no longer spilling, left still and abandoned on a shelf with no one left to glance at him and gage his measure. He hadn’t needed to hate his brother before. He could not compete with him, and he did not need to, because he wasn’t going to last that long. And now he was here, nearly an adult, and his brother had abandoned him to all of it, and he hated him, and he loved him, and he was so, so hurt.’ !!!! MORDRED LAVORE THE CHARACTER YOU ARE!!

MAKE SOME NOISE FOR MORDRED LAVORE HE DRIVES ME CRAZYYYYYYYYYYYYYY