Derek’s favorite version of Dex is the Dex that flickers like the soft light of a candle. The Dex that doesn’t pretend that he hates being held, the Dex that whispers in Derek’s ear about his day like it’s a secret, like Derek is the only person allowed to hear the mundane facts of Dex’s life, what he ate for lunch, what Angelina from stats told him about Professor Greene. The Dex that likes to kiss Derek’s nose and eyes twice each because he doesn’t like odd numbers. The Dex who will hold Derek’s face in his hands and press their foreheads together. Who has cinnamon eyes and when he tells Derek he loves him, he believes it.
Derek’s favorite version of Dex is the Dex that skitters around like a bunny in spring. The Dex that forces him to sit down and watch the 1960s Star Trek only to talk over it the entire time. The Dex that will hook his chin over Derek’s shoulder and say “mmm yes” in a horrible impression of Yoda. The Dex that blows raspberries into his stomach when he’s drunk and sometimes when he’s sober. The Dex who has a Boba Fett action figure on his nightstand just in case. The Dex that will hold his hand when they walk into the video game store every single time.
Derek’s favorite version of Dex is the Dex who burns down cities with the slightest spark. The Dex who presses Derek down into the mattress and moans in his ear, makes his whole body throb with want. The Dex that will storm out after an intense fight and leaves him breathless. Who kisses like he wants to sear the taste of anyone else from Derek’s mouth, leaves bruises like scattered rose petals on his skin. The Dex that cries angry tears, who gets angrier the more they fall, like water thrown on a gas fire.
Derek’s favorite version of Dex is the Dex with a bleeding heart. The Dex who will donate a dollar at every drive thru. The Dex with a chip on his shoulder. The Dex who quite literally gives people the shirt off his back. Who can’t pass by a homeless person without giving them something. The Dex that can barely afford to eat every month who gives and gives and gives until he can’t anymore. The Dex who picks up strays every weekend just by “coincidence.” The Dex who sometimes can’t sleep at night because he knows someone out there is hurting. The Dex that makes Derek desperate to be better.
Derek’s favorite version of Dex is the Dex that is steadfast, dependable. Competent, in every sense of the word. The Dex that fixes the dryer and the oven and the shower every other week. The Dex that actually has a toolbox with his initials on it. The Dex that has a budget and can stick to it. The Dex who already knows about taxes and social security. The Dex who works on his truck for fun. The Dex Derek knows he could probably marry, have the 2.5 kids and the white picket fence with. The Dex who makes forever feel possible.
Derek’s favorite version of Dex, is Dex. The Dex who cries at the end of Forrest Gump, who listens to Black Dog by Led Zeppelin on repeat. The Dex who has no table manners, who shovels food in his mouth like he’s angry at it. The Dex who is unendingly wheezy in the spring, and burns after ten minutes in the sun. The Dex who hates reading and doesn’t get art and really has no clue where “to thine own self be true” came from. Dex, who never really let Derek have a honeymoon phase. Dex, who Derek is wildly, hopelessly, boundlessly in love with.
this got kind of out of hand which is why it took me 200 years to publish it?? it is also arguably the worst thing i’ve ever written and i love it. not exactly what u requested by enjoy 🙂
Kent is lying on his side on the couch with his head in
Jeff’s lap.
Jeff is watching Sports Center, and Kent is mostly just
spacing out. It’s warm and comfortable, and he feels safe, and the background
noise of the TV and Jeff’s hand carding through his hair is lulling him to
sleep.
In case anyone actually wants to know the answer: it’s the plot of Cars. The difference is literally the plot of Cars.
Highways are usually two-to-four (at the widest) lane roads that meander the US landscape. Think Route 66, dinosaur statues, mom-and-pop diners, southern gothic. There are state-level and national-level highways. Some run for a 100 miles, some, like US HWY-17, run most of the East Coast:
That red line is US HWY 17. If you follow it, you will go through tiny towns. You may hit stoplights. I kid you not, you will see spinning cows on poles. Businesses exist along highways that you are encouraged to pull over and visit. They were designed to let you see America.
Yeah.
Now, interstates were made in the 50s and were made to get people from Point A to Point B. These suckers range from four lanes to eight lanes around big cities. They cut through everything. If you want to get to a business, you have to take an exit ramp and detour. They are great for getting places fast. You can still have weird experiences on them, but usually at night, when your eyes start playing tricks on you. Or there are deer.
I-95 is a massive corridor that runs from the Florida Keys to the Canadian Border. You can see the difference just looking at the maps.
As far as writing goes:
If you want quirky character development inside the car, you’re looking for an interstate. The majority of Americans take interstates to go on road trips.
If you want mysterious and/or supernatural hijinks, you’re looking for a highway. They are weird, weird places, and they’re surprisingly easy to wind up on if you leave the interstate.
(Even in America, no one’s really sure what a freeway is. Just ignore it.)
A freeway is a highway or interstate with toll points. You gotta stop and throw change in the machine before you can continue.
A highway can be both a highway and a freeway, but a freeway isn’t always a highway.
Because highways meander around, they often turn into normal two-way ‘streets’ (in cities) or ‘roads’ (in smaller towns) and then turn back into highways once you’re clear of civilization.
The only real difference between a ‘street’ and a ‘highway’ is the speed limit in my experience. If the speed limit only gets up to 55-ish, it’s still a road/street. If the speed limit goes to 60 or above, it’s a highway.
The signs made of a blue shield with a red band on the top is an Interstate. The white shield signs are highways.
So why is it called a freeway if it isn’t
you know
free
Because they’re “free” of pedestrians, crossings(at grade technically: in other words all crossings are over- or under-passes), intersections, traffic signals, or property access(you gotta exit onto a feeder to reach gas stations and whatnot), and they usually have higher speed limits. The “freeways have tolls” thing might be regional though; down in Texas they don’t. Down here, a freeway with tolls is called a “tollway”. We also have “tollroads”, but I’m not sure if these are different or not as I’ve never driven on one.
In my experience, freeways tend to be more limited geographically than highways and interstates though this could be different outside of Texas: for instance, there are all manner of Freeway Loops and avenues through, into, and around Houston, Dallas, and San Antonio, but outside of mega cities like those three everything’s highways, interstates, and surface streets.
do i have any homestucks (besides the obvious) even still following me? anyways give me vrisnep headcanons?
that’s a terrible ship and I hate you for summoning the thought into my mind out of the ether.
anyway – au where nepeta waits for vriska to go out flarping and kills her lusus, getting somewhat injured in the process but recovering anyway because (naturally) cats have nine lives :33.
vriska goes berserk with rage and attempts to hunt nepeta down across the forests and caves of alternia to exact an even worse revenge, but nepeta knows the land and has superior vision in the dark, and by the time she actually catches up to nepeta she’s exhausted and hungry and miserable and has had a chance to think about some shit.
“you’re furee :33 have some roast [bizarre alternian animal]” says nepeta, courteously, and vriska makes her punch herself in the face a few times before she completely runs out of steam and can’t mind control shit, faceplanting and shrieking into the dirt for a few solid minutes.
nepeta pawses, licks her wounds, kicks vriska over onto her back and clubs her right in the mouth with [alternian rum ham equivalent], and waits until vriska grudgingly starts chewing on it, then sits on her legs.
“what the fuck is wrong with you?” vriska asks, somewhat rhetorically. “no8ody asked you to meddle in my fucking 8usiness. like, who died and made you the Empress, huh? what made your puny little 8rain think it was a good idea to cross me?” irritatingly, nepeta giggles. “shut the fuck up, I’m interrogating you! why did you do it?”
nepeta grins. she has very sharp teeth, and her eyes are like yellow lamps in the dim firelight. “the same reason everyone hunts, silly. the glory of the kill.”
vriska swallows. nepeta goes ^w^.
“… you know what?” vriska says, a hint of something that might be admiration in her voice. “you might 8e as crazy as I am.”
“fat chance,” nepeta sniffs. then she tilts her head. “what are you gonna do, now that you don’t have to feed her?”
vriska has been trying to find an answer to that question for the past six nights she’s been pursuing nepeta through the godforsaken wilderness. she still doesn’t have an answer.
“Kick your ass,” she says.
“you can try,” nepeta offers, charitably.
“8uild my own ship and explore the universe.”
“i don’t think mister mustard likes you enough to cart you around, though.”
“Destroy the Empire.”
“… what for?” nepeta asks, perking up a bit with interest.
vriska stops gnawing on the bone and tosses it into the fire, settling her hands behind her head. her eyes wander to the entrance of the cave, and the black sky littered with stars.
“… Same reason every8ody hunts,” she says, and grins.
just moving along like everyone else 