Не просите – и будет вам дано, не ищите – и найдете. А тот, кто делает – тому опаньки.
put to death therefore what is earthly in you by Margo_Kim
Господи, какой изумительный текст. Первый случай, когда я рекаю (речу?)) не дочитав - что бы там ни было дальше, оно не отменит первой главы, этого мгновенного погружения по самую макушку, этого горячего порно, и драмы, и вот этого болезненного ощущения, когда ты - читатель - уже знаешь, но Томас еще не.
И сам момент, когда он узнаёт. КАК он узнаёт. Этот ООС Маркуса, который, как пресловутое исключение, только подтверждает цельность его характера. Их обоих,потому что, черт тебя дери, Томас, ну как ты мог ошибиться?!
Просто о-ху-енно
“But our work, the people who need us—”
“Sure, we’ll still help them. You’re a powerful exorcist, Tomas. Shouldn’t take too much time out of your schedule. I’ll drive you out where you need to be, you’ll send the demons scattering with a wave of your hands.” Marcus’ voice drops the way Tomas so loves to hear it drop, like Marcus is telling a joke for Tomas and no one else, not even God. “You can show me how it’s done.”
“It is God's doing,” Tomas says, and Marcus says, “Only for exorcists too weak to do it themselves.”
Tomas closes his eyes and for a moment, a moment he knows he will wish could last longer, feels nothing at all. The moment of breaking through thin ice must be a numb shock, when the steady ground splinters and suddenly the world is in an instant not what it was before. It is deadly and you are drowning, and your body forces upon you in the account moment of crisis a terrible stillness not unlike acceptance, in which you may press your hands against the underside of the ice and wonder what happened, what you’ve done.
This time when Tomas sits up, Marcus does not stop him. Or cannot. His hand is still on Tomas’ back, his lower back, where Marcus has so often graced his hand to guide Tomas or comfort him or tease him or simply, Tomas has always hoped, because Marcus took the same pleasure in touching that Tomas took in being touched. “This is not real,” Tomas says through numb lips.
Господи, какой изумительный текст. Первый случай, когда я рекаю (речу?)) не дочитав - что бы там ни было дальше, оно не отменит первой главы, этого мгновенного погружения по самую макушку, этого горячего порно, и драмы, и вот этого болезненного ощущения, когда ты - читатель - уже знаешь, но Томас еще не.
И сам момент, когда он узнаёт. КАК он узнаёт. Этот ООС Маркуса, который, как пресловутое исключение, только подтверждает цельность его характера. Их обоих,
Просто о-ху-енно
“But our work, the people who need us—”
“Sure, we’ll still help them. You’re a powerful exorcist, Tomas. Shouldn’t take too much time out of your schedule. I’ll drive you out where you need to be, you’ll send the demons scattering with a wave of your hands.” Marcus’ voice drops the way Tomas so loves to hear it drop, like Marcus is telling a joke for Tomas and no one else, not even God. “You can show me how it’s done.”
“It is God's doing,” Tomas says, and Marcus says, “Only for exorcists too weak to do it themselves.”
Tomas closes his eyes and for a moment, a moment he knows he will wish could last longer, feels nothing at all. The moment of breaking through thin ice must be a numb shock, when the steady ground splinters and suddenly the world is in an instant not what it was before. It is deadly and you are drowning, and your body forces upon you in the account moment of crisis a terrible stillness not unlike acceptance, in which you may press your hands against the underside of the ice and wonder what happened, what you’ve done.
This time when Tomas sits up, Marcus does not stop him. Or cannot. His hand is still on Tomas’ back, his lower back, where Marcus has so often graced his hand to guide Tomas or comfort him or tease him or simply, Tomas has always hoped, because Marcus took the same pleasure in touching that Tomas took in being touched. “This is not real,” Tomas says through numb lips.