“I betrayed her, Mitch.” I cried hysterically as he drove like a madman to Lee’s house. “I told her I was gonna be there with her. If something happened to Nia, it’s all my fault.”
“Nothing happened to her.” Mitch replied, looking over at me with determination in his eyes. “She’s alive. I’m sure of it.”
“I-I’m gonna have to live with the weight of this for the rest of my life, aren’t I?” I sobbed.
“No, you’re not because she is okay.” My boyfriend argued.
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because this is Nia we’re talking about. She’s strong and intimidating as hell. No bomb is gonna bring that girl down.”
My doe eyes looked up at Mitch in complete awe. Here was this guy who just happened to stumble into my life and ended up becoming one of the most important people to me.
I gave him a smile and a nod just as we entered Lee’s street, the loud sounds and flashing lights of cop cars and ambulances stealing my attention. The whole road was full of police officers and paramedics hard at work, pulling bodies and a few survivors out of the completely destroyed house. Black smoke filled the air and you could practically taste the burning wood on your tongue. Firefighters held up hoses in front of the house as they put out its fire. The whole street was an open invitation to pure chaos.
I was born and raised in Kentucky, near the foothills of appalachia. I could drive twenty minutes in any direction and find myself square in the middle of abject poverty. Every spring, winter-hardened homeless men reappear to beg for change by the end of most interstate off-ramps.
The people here don’t love me. I’ve been glared out of nearly any kind of establishment you can think of. The south is a place where there are crosses in sight nearly everywhere you go and Mitch McConnell has been voted repeatedly back into office since 1984. They play country music in the Dairy Queen and everyone has a Ford pickup (“because they’re made in the USA!”). It’s a place where speaking in tongues isn’t crazy but being transgender sure is.
Everyone I know wants to leave. They set their sights on Colorado, California, Washington, Oregon. Out in the west where everything is bigger, more open, more open-minded. A place where they might feel safe.
But Kentucky is my home. I love it from deep within my bones. The hills nestle you into them, lovingly, nurturing. In the summer, the air presses into your lungs like it has something burning to say. The forests here are more alive than any other place I have seen; the cicadas sing nonstop and the greenery is so lush that it holds you. A teacher once dubbed it “the sacred yoni” and I have since longed for nothing but mother earth’s embrace. I feel her magic everywhere.
Y'all. I can’t leave. I love these people the way you can only love the people where you come from. I love all of the brave queer kids and the scared queer adults and everyone in between. I love the homeless men begging for the kind of change that you can’t pull out of a wallet. I love the hills and the rivers and the trees.
Someone has to stay. Someone has to make it a better place.
Author: @dumbass-stilinski Rating: NSFW 18+ Pairing: Dylan O’Brien/Reader Words: 1,952 AN: Okay so this was spurred on by the teaser for the teaser trailer for AmAs, I had so many feelings and I just wanted to die and also fuck Dylan so here you go? Sorry not sorry. Also I didn’t edit this well so I apologize for any mistakes.
Dylan arrived home to an empty house, his eyes drooping due to jet lag. It was a long flight, but he was glad to be home. He was early, wanting to surprise you, but it seemed like you weren’t there. His suspicions were confirmed when he saw your makeup littering the bathroom counter. He wasn’t mad, of course, glad you were going out and having fun when he wasn’t around. He hated to think you’d be cooped up in the house alone without him.