Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole
Lamb by x_art. Очень... визуальный текст.
Tomas is standing on the threshold of his bedroom, half in half out, arms crossed tight around his chest. He’s still dressed for the weather. His black jeans and anorak create a negative space for what little skin he’s showing, and his hands and face almost glow in the weak light. The scene is evocative, like something from one of those big, expensive art books that you find in those big, expensive book stores. If Tomas wasn’t wearing what he’s wearing, if he wasn’t frowning at the floor, Marcus would think he’s looking at a painting.
‘The Last Temptation of Tomas,’ and he bends his lips in a crooked smile. The title is fitting—picturesque Tomas is so very, very beautiful and so very ashamed. “I could debate the concept of sin with you, Tomas, but I won’t. It’s late and I’m tired.”
two exorcists walk into a bar by ggggnashville - честно, не ждала ничего хорошего от истории с таким названием
а зря, могла бы и догадаться.
Какие офигенные оба
Tomas laughs. His hand hurts from punching the man’s jaw. It had been so satisfying, though he knows it shouldn’t be. There’s blood dripping from Marcus’ nose, down his chin, onto his shirt, onto Tomas’ fingers.
“You finally got in a bar fight with me,” Marcus says, words muffled by the shirt. Tomas rolls his eyes.
“We need ice.”
Опять вспомнила про эти самые "типы Траекта". Два воина, да - к черту социальные маски, вот они как есть, оба:
“Do you like this?”
“This?” Tomas knows Marcus means exorcisms and finds himself reaching for the whiskey. Marcus laughs again.
“Yeah,” Marcus says. “Yeah.”
“This? This is hell. It’s exhausting in every way. Ways I didn’t know were possible. I’m tired. I’m angry. I feel like….I feel like sometimes…sometimes I feel nothing at all. It’s terrifying.” Tomas pauses. Takes a swig from the bottle. Puts it down on the truck bed. “I love it.”
Good Vibes Only by Miracule.
Блин, я даже не знаю... Какое-то оно всё оборванное, непонятное - что-то явно грядет, но поди догадайся, что именно.
Но очень хорошо написано. И какой замечательно узнаваемый Томас - упрямый, себе на уме; Томас, у которого свой - отдельный от Маркуса - разговор с жизнью и с Богом.
Tomas shakes his head. “I don’t know,” he snaps, defensive. “It was a bad dream.”
“Well, d’you wanna to tell me about it?”
“No, I don’t,” Tomas finishes, as firmly as he can. He’s been trying to push everything back, but it’s lingering. The coffee, the blood, the sunlight on his skin. Marcus’s voice. It’s all so close, right under his nose. And right beside him. But Marcus can’t open him up just like that. Tomas won’t let him. This isn’t Marcus’s problem.
This is his—whatever this is. Dream, vision. Insecurity. Fear. It’s all his, and he’s not in a sharing mood.
There are some things that Tomas won’t hesitate to share with his partner. But there are others that are better left unsaid.
Tomas is standing on the threshold of his bedroom, half in half out, arms crossed tight around his chest. He’s still dressed for the weather. His black jeans and anorak create a negative space for what little skin he’s showing, and his hands and face almost glow in the weak light. The scene is evocative, like something from one of those big, expensive art books that you find in those big, expensive book stores. If Tomas wasn’t wearing what he’s wearing, if he wasn’t frowning at the floor, Marcus would think he’s looking at a painting.
‘The Last Temptation of Tomas,’ and he bends his lips in a crooked smile. The title is fitting—picturesque Tomas is so very, very beautiful and so very ashamed. “I could debate the concept of sin with you, Tomas, but I won’t. It’s late and I’m tired.”
two exorcists walk into a bar by ggggnashville - честно, не ждала ничего хорошего от истории с таким названием
а зря, могла бы и догадаться.Какие офигенные оба
Tomas laughs. His hand hurts from punching the man’s jaw. It had been so satisfying, though he knows it shouldn’t be. There’s blood dripping from Marcus’ nose, down his chin, onto his shirt, onto Tomas’ fingers.
“You finally got in a bar fight with me,” Marcus says, words muffled by the shirt. Tomas rolls his eyes.
“We need ice.”
Опять вспомнила про эти самые "типы Траекта". Два воина, да - к черту социальные маски, вот они как есть, оба:
“Do you like this?”
“This?” Tomas knows Marcus means exorcisms and finds himself reaching for the whiskey. Marcus laughs again.
“Yeah,” Marcus says. “Yeah.”
“This? This is hell. It’s exhausting in every way. Ways I didn’t know were possible. I’m tired. I’m angry. I feel like….I feel like sometimes…sometimes I feel nothing at all. It’s terrifying.” Tomas pauses. Takes a swig from the bottle. Puts it down on the truck bed. “I love it.”
Good Vibes Only by Miracule.
Блин, я даже не знаю... Какое-то оно всё оборванное, непонятное - что-то явно грядет, но поди догадайся, что именно.
Но очень хорошо написано. И какой замечательно узнаваемый Томас - упрямый, себе на уме; Томас, у которого свой - отдельный от Маркуса - разговор с жизнью и с Богом.
Tomas shakes his head. “I don’t know,” he snaps, defensive. “It was a bad dream.”
“Well, d’you wanna to tell me about it?”
“No, I don’t,” Tomas finishes, as firmly as he can. He’s been trying to push everything back, but it’s lingering. The coffee, the blood, the sunlight on his skin. Marcus’s voice. It’s all so close, right under his nose. And right beside him. But Marcus can’t open him up just like that. Tomas won’t let him. This isn’t Marcus’s problem.
This is his—whatever this is. Dream, vision. Insecurity. Fear. It’s all his, and he’s not in a sharing mood.
There are some things that Tomas won’t hesitate to share with his partner. But there are others that are better left unsaid.