for the prompts, i need dexteros doing a pinky swear
i’ll be waiting patiently 🙏
touching - send me two characters and a prompt for art and possibly some writing
31. doing a pinky swear
I.
Dex’s youngest sister insists that friends have to do it. Anteros laughs as she furrows her little brow; she remains unimpressed with their apparent indifference towards the gesture.
“You have to do it!” She pouts.
“Okay, okay!” Anteros relents, hands up in surrender while Dex rolls his eyes. Anteros is the first to put his pinky up, more easily persuaded by the demands of a seven year old, or perhaps more quick to embrace the saccharinity of schoolyard traditions. Dex matches his stance, failing to hide his embarrassed smile as the two entwine their pinkies.
“You happy now, Bri?” Dex turns to her, exasperated but not unhappy, their fingers still hooked together.
She nods triumphant, giggling like she’s gotten away with something as she runs back to her other brother on the jungle gym.
Dex looks back to Anteros and their eyes meet as they both chuckle in wordless contentment.
Neither wants to be the first to break away.
II.
The longer it went on, the harder it was stay away. Their days had become a cycle, a repetitive blur of working and planning, occasionally punctuated by the outcome of said plans—which usually meant Anteros going off and doing something dangerous. Dex would accompany him at times, but—though he’d never outright admit it to the others no matter how obvious—he preferred to be the tactician for now. As long as he got his due credit, he could live with staying away from the action.
It didn’t matter though, because as the days continued and the nights got longer, the feeling in the pit of Dex’s stomach only grew. He’d started to hate having to watch him leave. He chided himself for knowing just how much they needed each other. He wasn’t immune to the yearnings of his twenties, of just wanting to run away from it all. It was pointless to love someone in circumstances like this.
But when the day was over and they went back to their apartment together and they could hold each other without worry, suddenly everything made sense. He no longer wanted to run away, not without Anteros. When he could feel his caress and taste the smoke on his lips and fall asleep in his arms, it was this he knew he needed. This, this is why he needed to save Stilwater. This, his home. This, his promise to himself.
III.
Dex watches as Anteros argues on the phone outside. It was a trait he’d noticed early on in their relationship: Anteros couldn’t talk on the phone without pacing. He walks in an imperfect circle in the parking lot, hands trying to comb through his hair but getting caught in his curls. He’s stressed, but just as quick as the call began, it ends, and Anteros hurries back to the car.
“So this alderman guy, Hughes? Told me to meet him on his fucking yacht.” Anteros lights his cigarette while Dex rolls down the windows. “And after the stunt we just pulled, I think we’ll get Julius back.”
Dex is half-listening, his mind still catching up with the rest of his body, adrenaline from earlier still overwhelming him. He felt more anchored seeing Anteros appear so collected.
“He wants to meet you now?” Dex asks, more delayed in his response than he would’ve liked. He begins to drive back, silently opting for the scenic route.
“Yeah. In like an hour or two.” Anteros flicks his cigarette out the window. “Hey, let’s go get dinner I’m done.”
Dex feels an uncharacteristic wave of relief at the suggestion.
“Alright.” Dex smirks. “But don’t be fucking late. I know you like to take schedules as a suggestion.”
Anteros throws his head back and laughs at the remark, but his voice is clear and sincere as he reaches for Dex’s hand and replies: “I promise.”
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okay. listen. if you ever find yourself falling into a new ideological circle, pay attention. if you notice that you’re among people who define themselves as part of an “in-group” with a pre-prepared human “enemy” to constantly rail against—if everyone fantasizes about the mental state of these loathsome monsters, if they participate in witch hunts or (perhaps worse) poke bears and court harassment on purpose to comfort each other over—get the fuck out. you haven’t been enlightened to some grand conspiracy, there are no evil “enemies” or “degenerates” trying to rip apart the fabric of society, and you do not have the moral duty to “enlighten” anyone to whatever you think the “truth” is. it’s neither safe nor normal to spend hours of your day fighting with strangers on the internet
a lot of people wear this shit like a badge of honor, but it’s also not normal to hide your “in-group” status as a form of martyrdom, relishing when the “enemy” slips up around you. it’s comforting in the moment, but in the long run, you’re alienating yourself from the world outside of your bubble. the more you alienate yourself, the more vulnerable and lonely you become, and the harder it is to reject the comfort of belonging to the “in-group”
i’m writing this from the perspective of someone who grew up in a cesspool of awful, cult-like rural churches—which is its own situation—but i see similar shit happening in online communities all the time, both within and 800 miles outside of my own ideological principles. yes, every toxicass radfem i block seems to be trapped in a version of this vicious cycle, but i also see it happening in random queer circles and niche fandom communities. no one is immune, not even me. i’ve watched people fall into this shit and never make it out. be careful
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