Mosercest - Blog Posts

[...] 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

This is the most Mosercest-coded post I ever came across. Especially the kind of Mosercest that dear @atticuseros writes about. And I love it.

Perfectly agree with Wincest but also Mosercest.

i think the reason why i personally love wincest so much is because it makes me feel. that's the most honest way i can put it. it makes me feel like i'm in love too - like i've found that rare, once-in-a-lifetime-if-you're-lucky kind of connection. it’s intense and overwhelming and impossible to look away from. it’s the kind of love people spend their whole lives searching for. it’s forbidden, yeah. it’s dark and complicated and a little bit fucked up—but it’s also beautiful. it’s messy and toxic and codependent in ways that shouldn’t work, and yet somehow, it feels like the purest form of love. it’s every emotion all at once. it makes me laugh, cry, scream, melt. i get angry, i get butterflies, i get it all.

and the morality? the fact that it’s “wrong”? honestly, that just adds another layer. there’s something so compelling about watching two people love each other so fiercely, so destructively, that they’d burn the whole world to keep each other. and the fact that they’re brothers—bound by blood, by history, by everything—just makes it that much more intense. there’s no escaping it. no clean lines. just chaos and devotion and love all tangled together. wincest just gives you every kind of love in one relationship. it’s romantic, it’s platonic, it’s familial, it’s obsessive. they’re soulmates, best friends, two soldiers fighting the same war, everything. it’s insane. it’s epic. and when you let yourself really feel it, when you stop trying to box it in or sanitize it, it hits you like nothing else.

they have that one-in-a-million connection. the kind you don’t come back from. and yeah, it’s dark. but it’s also honest. and it stays with you.

What if Hanahaki Disease AU. Brian has it but covers it up so well Dexter doesn't find out until he gets close to Brian's body to undo the plastic wrap and notices the petals coming out of Brian's throat right where he slashed it.

Darkly Dreaming Dexter

But more than that, more than his message to the police and the public, he was talking to me; taunting me , teasing me by quoting a passage from my own hurried work. He had brought the bodies to a construction site because I had taken Jaworski at a construction site. He was playing catch with me, showing all of us just how good he was at telling one of us - me - that he was watching. I know what you did, and I can do it, too. Better.

I suppose thta should've worred me a little.

It didn't.

It made me feel almost giddy, like a high-school girl watching as the captain of the football team worked up his nerve to ask for a date. You mean me? Little old me? Oh my stars, really? Pardon me while I flutter my eyelashes.

I took a deep breath and tried to remind myself that I was a good girl and I didn't do those things. But i knew he did them, and I truly wanted to go out with him. Please, Harry?

i bring a real "this piece of media has incest subtext that you're ignoring" vibe to the function that nobody really likes

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 desperately need, but have no capability to create myself cause my writing sucks and I can't characterise specific people well, to read a story where Brian reveals himself to Dexter much sooner. In some stupid way like calling Dexter Barbie when they're alone or shit. One where he never used Rudy's alias and was maybe in a relationship with Deb but only to dump her post revelation. And after Dex finds out they decide to act like brothers through and through, and find a way to live with one another (Dex with his Code and Brian with his hate of it) and they reveal it to people too, like Angel, Masuka, Deb, Rita and co. like "Hey, this is my long lost blood brother that I just found". It all happens where Dex is still with Rita (no slander of that poor woman accepted) but somehow him and Brian end up fighting (about the code or stuff related to it cause I find it unlikely that they'd start fighting about anything else) and you know the classical heated make-out session post fight? Exactly that, all in the heat of the moment. And the story revolves around Brian who just wanted exactly that from the start but hadn't dared cause he feared losing Dexter again and Dexter having an existential crisis cause of it since he still loves Rita and even if he were to leave her he already introduced Brian as his blood brother to practically everybody.

Is it just me? Am I crazy? Cause in this scene, when Dexter kills him, you cant hear a peep coming from Brian.

You know how usually people who choke on their blood make a lot of noise but he didn't. Like he accepted it and it almost seems like he tried to hold back as to not have Dexter hear him.