And After All These Magnificent Pictures Exist I Still Manage To Find People Who Shit On This Amazing

I'm not posting much, and I probably wont be for a while cause I'm deep into writing a fic.

Seriously, I was sure I wasnt gonna write much, but once I got into it wrote almost 3k words in a single chapter...

I don't know how it happened and I need to ask a question: if it makes sense in the story (there's a logical reason to the 3k words I have written and the many more to come), but the focus of the story should be a couple getting together, will you, reader, read through the daily life of the main character before they get together with their loved one?

P.S. Answers to this ain't going to change what I wrote, I'm perfectly satisfied with it, and as soon as I have my ao3 account, I'm going to publish it all. Though I sincerely want to know if people actually read through long stories or simply skip to the parts that interest them. Cause I had a friend back in high school who would do just that (actually only reading the dialogue parts) with all the books they read, and it made me mad.

Especially now as the author, everything that I'm writing I'm putting my soul into. I'm actively researching street names and housing arrangements for the university my character studied at in 1994. I know people aren't exactly going to fact-check my story, I wouldn't as a reader, but it would be bad if someone just skipped through all these parts.

tl;dr: would you be willing to read a story, from a 1st person perspective, of a character going through their life, or would you just skip through to the parts where them and their significant other get together?

I just betrayed you. Here's hint on how to deal with your enemy. I won't let anyone else even think they can take charge of my domain. But you can, and if someone says anything I'll personally put them in their place. If anyone disrespects me they die. But you can call me cunt and I'll let it slide.I care about my family. But if someone betrays me I'll accuse them before I even think of accusing you.

Honourable mention:

"After all this time it's just you and me."

"Shall we go, and witness the final act (together)?"

AlfieTommy IS the dynamic of all time. We work together. I could never trust you. You’re the only one who gets it. He’s a good friend, you’ll need to pay extra for me to backstab him. Sweetie. We shot each other. I take care of your dog. Only my wife is allowed to smoke around me (and you, always, apparently). I’ll cut you into pieces and stuff you in a barrel. Here’s a tissue for your nosebleed.

I was searching for a sketch like this one and found nothing. I resolved the issue. Hope you like it.

[...] I'd let my mind wander back to the newest murder; the clearness of the flesh the improvisational quality of the cuts, the complete dry spotless immaculate lack of blood.

~~~~~~~

'Like meat-packing cold,' she said. 'Why would he do that?'

Because it's beautiful, I thought.

~~~~~~~

I took a bite and turned my thoughts to Deborah's problem. I had to try to think of it that way, Deborah's problem. Not 'those fascinating murders.' Not 'that amazingly attractive MO,' or 'the thing so similar to what I would love to do someday.'

~~~~~~~

He was out there, feeding his Dark Passenger, and it was talking to mine. And in my sleep I had been riding with him, a phantome remora in his great slow circles.

~~~~~~~

I wanted to see this body stacked in the net on the ice more than anything else I could think of, wanted to undo the neat wrapping and see the clean dry flesh. I wanted to see it so much that I felt like a cartoon of a dog on point, wanted to be there with it so much that I felt self-righteous and possessive about the body.

Daily reminder that before Brian, Dexter didn’t really wanna get freak in S1

Until he saw what his brother had left him

No matter how many times I reread this on different apps, it always makes me cackle out loud like a chicken being strangled.

Okay. NOW YOU WANNA KILL ME WITH THIS THOUGH!!! "the one person who had ever looked at him without fear, without revulsion [...] His first love." My babies didn't deserve that!! You really wanna hit me in the guts with just the first paragraph alone every damn time don't you?

"their infant hearts already broken before language could name it" Imma add this to the list of lines I need embroidered, not even tattoed, EMBROIDERED on my body.

"I was always yours, even when I didn't know it" Yes my baby you were. You were for him. Even when you didn't remember he always loved you. He searched for you and cared for you.

The nickname. The "Oh, Biney" GETS ME EVERY DAMN TIME!!!

"[...] he might breathe life back into it [...]" I read a fanfiction once where Dexter found out he had some sort of blood magic and managed to bring him back. This line alone made me think of that. Sadly that story lead nowhere but it was a very good idea to use.

"Above him, Brian swayed still, like a dead angel suspended between heaven and hell" LORD. I have no other words, really, forgive me.

i held a dead god in my hands

mosercest

by atticus

His big brother's body hung inverted above him, not merely as a consequence of gravity, but as if the world itself had flipped, as if Dexter’s universe had righted itself by turning inside out—and there, at the center of its cruel design, swayed the one person who had ever looked at him without fear, without revulsion. Brian. His brother. His first love.

The plastic cocooned around him like a shroud for a martyr, glinting under the cold white light overhead as if mocking the warmth that had just moments ago drained out of the body. “Oh, God,” he choked, the words nothing but breath. “What have I done? What have I done?” Dexter stood rooted to the floor, unable to breathe, unable to blink, as if a part of him had been cut free and hoisted there too.

He had imagined this moment before. He had wondered, in some distant way, what it would be like to kill Brian. But never, never in the full weight of his soul, had he believed he would. And now with the blade’s memory still trembling in his hand, he could not reconcile the thing he had done with the boy he had once been, clutching Brian’s hand in that shipping container as their mother a red ruin between them, their infant hearts already broken before language could name it. Dexter had killed him. As surely as time kills innocence, as surely as fire devours its own oxygen, Dexter had taken from the world the only creature who had loved him utterly, and it was not even necessity.

Brian had spoke his name like a prayer, and Dexter had repaid that devotion with a blade.

It was betrayal dressed in a coward’s elegy.

He wanted to climb up and cut the wraps.

He wanted to hold Brian in his lap like a ruined bridegroom.

He wanted to kiss his mouth and taste the copper truth of what they could have been.

Dexter walked backwards until his back hits the wall and dropped to his knees. He tilted his head back to look up at the face of his brother. It was not like his other kills. There had been no satisfaction. Only the weight of decision followed by the collapse of everything he thought he had built atop his code.

“Why couldn’t I go with you?” Dexter sobbed, voice barely human. “Why did I choose them over you?”

He knew the answer.

He knew and he hated it.

The world had not stopped spinning. But it should have.

If there were any gods left in the ether, they should have screamed.

“I was yours,” Dexter rasped, barely able to hear himself over the wet patter of blood hitting the floor. “I was always yours, even when I didn’t know it.” Brian had always known how to find him, as if some magnetic horror bound them. As if being born in blood had turned them into relics of dead gravestones. “I should’ve followed you,” Dexter said, voice cracking beneath the truth of it. “Oh, Biney.”

A sob tore through him and he collapsed forward with it, pressing his forehead to the palm of his hands. His whole body shook from guilt, from the sudden hollowness that came from removing the one person who made his life intelligible. Brian had been his tether. And without him, Dexter was not a man. Not even a monster. He was something shapeless. A ghost in a shell of flesh.

And this kill—this beautiful, terrible kill—had not set him free. It had unmade him. “I loved you,” he whispered into the red. “With all the darkness I had. With everything I am.” He dug his fingers into the blood. It squelched beneath his nails like wet silk. He didn’t care. Let it stain him. Let it ruin him. He deserved no less.

He rose slowly like a man ascending the gallows. His eyes never left Brian’s face. He reached out and cupped the jaw now slack with the weight of silence. His thumb brushed the parted lips. There was no breath and resistance. But Dexter imagined, just for a moment, that the warmth lingered. That if he leaned forward, pressed his own lips to that pale mouth, he might breathe life back into it, like some grotesque inversion of fairy tales his sister loved to watch.

Still, he leaned in. He kissed him on the cheek, then the jaw, then the mouth. Gently like a priest tasting the last drop of sacrament. It was not lust. It was not sin. It was devotion. When he drew back, a thread of blood clung between them. He did not wipe it away. He welcomed it, let it drip down his chin like some holy stigmata.

“I want you to haunt me, please,” he whispered. “I want you to sit beside me when I kill. I want to hear your voice when I sleep. I want to dream of your hands on mine, always guiding me.” His voice grew distant, soft.

Above him, Brian swayed still, like a dead angel suspended between heaven and hell.

And Dexter, alone in his cathedral of death, finally understood what it was to be damned.

This act alone, had married them. Forever.

I most certainly didn't, but it gives me a sense of accomplishment and joy to know someone else perceives these two freaks exactly like I do. 💚

I resonate with this so bad fr. Deb is always whining and complaining for stuff that is, in 90% of the cases, her own fault.

Sofia has no business in existing nor complaining to Dexter. And that whole stunt she pulled kissing the other guy to make Dex jealous as if he'd care? That was so stupid!

And don't get me started on Harry! I could write entire paragraphs on how much I can't stand that man and all he did and said. I've been calling him Victor Frankenstein for as long as I can remember. He created a, as he perceived, monster to then be completely repulsed by it and preferred suicide than dealing with it? Oh give me a break ffs

sofia pisses me off too like girl dexter is not ur bf he never was he clearly didn’t want u. and deb needa stfu too like why are you getting so mad at everything like this ho screams at them at LEAST 3 times an episode. and harry can go suck a fuck too he ruined brian AND dexters lives. laguerta is a cunt too. mostly everyone else is chill tho. brian and dexter are perfect angels tho they can do no wrong. ok rant over bye