Thinking About MAG 101 Again, Specifically The Line “He Cared For Her, He Trusted Her, And She Fed

I am confined by physical limitations; pull me closer.

Hanya Yanagihara, A Little Life / Fyodor Dostoevsky, The Idiot  / Donna Tartt, The Secret History

—-

Source: Love Shook My Heart; New Lesbian Love Stories - edited by Irene Zahava

no te salves (2007) ph. francisca ulloa

Pet shop of horror’s implied romance b story works so well because never have two people so wrong for each other been so obsessed with each other. D is a supernatural pet shop owner who hates humans (does not) and once pushed Leon out of a boat floating in the sky. Leon is a Straight ™️ (is not) detective whose main interest appears to be boobs. They have never gone more than five minutes without screaming at each other. D has pretended Leon is his boyfriend at least once. Leon investigated D for murder so many times he kind of ended up living at D’s residence. Leon’s brother regards D as some sort of parental figure. They go on vacation together. Multiple times one of them has been kidnapped as blackmail for the other. Leon at the end of the series apparently deserted his family and his job in order to travel the universe and find D again. There is no universe in which any of this could have worked out, and not even because they’re in some star crossed lovers situation (though they are in volume 10) but simply because they are both so fundamentally incompatible and deeply unwilling to move on or do anything about this. And THATS my otp.

the fact that this matches their faces exactly

It is November of 1893. You have just killed a vampire. Exhausted and worn, you close your eyes and rest.

You wake up. It is May of 1893. You are on a train en route to Transylvania. Your diary says you have had queer dreams lately.

You try to believe it.

(An old woman puts a rosary in your hands. You accept it without question.)

You are a guest in a castle you have never been in before (you recognize every hallway and know without trying that every door is locked). Your host is a man you have never met before (you killed him you killed him you killed him he had turned to dust and there was blood on the snow).

One morning you cut yourself while shaving.

There is nobody behind you in the pocket mirror’s reflection.

You turn fast, and the razor is like a Kukri knife in your hand.