#Seasons CSA mention

[mcalhenwrites]

I'm responding to AO3 comments, and I'm going to add something here that I didn't in that comment, regarding Gideon and Vivian: While it is extremely fucked up that Gideon responded to a starving teenager he didn't know stealing food by hitting him on the back of the skull, it's even more fucked up when you realize that by that point, the only means Vivian had to make money and feed himself was sex work. Which he resorted to frequently. And the power imbalances and inability to consent were double. 1. Vivian was a minor, and you can bet the men he bed were old enough to be adults. Some might have been near his age, but again: Vivian was a minor. 2. Consent is never present in a situation where your survival depends on sexual activities. In this case, Vivian needed food and clean water and sometimes shelter, and these were not provided for him. So Gideon can fuck right off with his "theft is wrong" - what did he want Vivian to do? Die? Sell himself some more? It's a shame that Vivian came to care for him. Mind, it being revealed later that Gideon also physically punished Viv if he slipped into his native tongue too often is just. Y'know. Another level of fucked. Lots of levels of fucked here.

[gh-0-stcup]

I'm gonna be honest, I really don't get the take that Daniel was saying Armand was lying about his backstory. Given the context of the scene, it seemed like a pretty clear jab at Armand's identity issues.

Daniel had just toppled a 77 year relationship built on a tower of lies. And not just lies to get out of trouble or keep Louis close - lies that Armand crafted and held onto as a preferential version of reality.

Armand wasn't just lying to manipulate, he desperately wanted to live the lie. To be the person he was portraying to Louis. To have their relationship be something different than the sad reality. If he fakes long and hard enough, eventually he'll make it. If he acts like the Good Partner well enough, eventually the harm he's done won't matter.

Armand has been trying so hard at this act that it's suffocating both him and Louis. They're weird, uncanny valley, Stepford versions of themselves in Dubai. He's trapped them in this bubble of faux kindness, faux supportiveness, masking all the resentment that lies underneath.

Armand can't confront the reasons behind his own actions to himself, let alone be honest with other people.

Armand identity is centered entirely around his role in other people's lives. He is who others see him as. He molds himself to the whims of others and has almost no concept of who he is outside of this. When the role he's inhabiting comes into conflict with the actual person he's buried deep down, it incites a breakdown. Sometimes he lashes out violently. More often, he'll gaslight or use his powers to force everything back into his preferred neat little box.

Armand is a foil for Louis in this way. Louis has also spent large portions of his life holding on to lies about himself and his relationships. But Louis does want to figure out the truth of things. He can be resistant to it because the truth tends to be more painful than self-delusion, yet he soldiers on. Louis ends the season resolving to learn to live honestly and finds empowerment through that. Armand clings to the lies and ends up alone.

So with all the context of the last two seasons and all the points made on identity and self-delusion, it seems bizarre to me that people think Daniel is saying "you lied about being raped" to Armand.

Armand, Amadeo, Arun - who are you? When did you stop living like a person and start putting on carefully crafted masks? What is real underneath all of that? Do you even know?

To me, this seems to be much more in line with what's happening in the show.

[opheliasam]

among the grating cesspool that is spn youtube clips comment sections… found some peers.. academics.. people who get it if u will

[little-bloodied-angel]

When I was twelve I read my first queer book. I gasped and cried when Dorian was the hand that drove a knife into Basil; when I understood that meant "his love killed him".

I had been told about it. I had been warned against the kind of love that would inevitably lead to your destruction. I'd been ten when it happened in real life around me for the first time, the boy I'd barely met who sentenced himself to death for who he was, while my school and my church warned us about his sin and slapped gags over our mouths.

I saw it happen again. Again. Again.

When Brokeback Mountain came out the world was so concerned with making gay cowboy jokes that by the time I dodged my mother enough to watch it I thought it was a comedy, and it gutted me. Not just because of the very real and very visceral tragedy it represented, but because I understood that the world would watch even our darkest misery and laugh.

There was no escaping it in this world, and there was no escaping it in art. The happiest endings we got were subtext. We died, or we were a mockery, or we were evil, or some godawful combination of the three.

My best friend died in my arms when I was fourteen years old and he sixteen, and I was supposed to accept that his queerness killed him as though it hadn't been his father and his priest and the self hatred that kept him pliant but ate him inside until there was nothing left.

I read De Profundis and wept and wondered if he hadn't known all along that his love would kill him too.

Being queer and trans and a mixed Jew, and growing up Catholic because the wrong parent took charge, meant growing up with the fear and the shame and the guilt and the pain; it meant burying those I claim as my people, even those who died before I was born; it meant the terror of burying someone else; it meant being pigeonholed in roles I'd never asked to play and being less than a person; and on the screen and the page it was more of the same. At fifteen I'd lived more than most people do at ninety, and I can't remember a time when my soul didn't bear permanent scars. I can remember when I started giving my body scars to match.

I am damaged. Because the world decided they knew what I was and punished me accordingly.

I looked at Izzy last year and I thought I know you, and you know me, and I let the fierce hope in my chest ignite and come fully aflame that once, just once, someone in whose eyes I saw myself would get a happy ending. I heard this show is kind this show is queer joy this show is queer love and we know how much you've needed that and I let it promise me I was safe.

I should have remembered what promises of safety have meant for me in the past.

He deserved so much better and so did we. I don't really know what else to say.

[castlesprincess]

The scene of Frank Castle just immediately murdering the guy who offers him child porn cycles in my brain constantly

[dont-look-me-in-the-eye]

the thing about this new loki episode is that the whole bit with Timely is a metaphor for grooming and csa.

like damn I hate He Who Remains but this guy needs a break.

okay let me explain:

it starts off with Timely in survival mode. These guys are trying to maim or seriously harm him. He's vulnerable. Then this lady shows up, and he likes her, right? She's smart, she's pretty much magical, but she thinks that he's special.

And if Ravonna thinks he's special, then Miss Minutes is fucking obsessed.

But anyways, they like him. And they don't wanna kill him. That's pretty big.

Then, miss minutes isolates him. Renslayer got too close, but Miss Minutes loves him. She thinks he's the fucking bomb, right?

And then she (pretty much) wants to fuck him.

The reason the csa allegory really hits home is that Miss Minutes actually does hold a lot of power over him. Even though she's just a creepy clock, she has information. She has access to the kind of shit this guy's only dreamed of.

She's way older, way more experience with the TVA. She's literally been at the end of time. And she's the only person left who actually thinks he's worth it and doesn't hate him, yknow?

Anyways, those were my thoughts about this week's episode.

[frankiebirds]

occurred to me that morgan might be reacting so strongly to william referring to him as "boy" because that's what his abuser called him. and it ruined my whole day so i need to ruin everyone else's too.

[br1ghtestlight]

protecting gene belcher from annoying fatphobic jokes in the early seasons w/ my body

[dayeongi]

I have her by the throat

by @dayeongi

I have her by the throat, that little girl. She wants to get away from me, but my nails dig deeper. She is only six, or five.

She does not know. She does not remember. But she wants to get away from me. There is nowhere for her to go. There are no stars in the vaulted sky that looms over us, only stone-cold loneliness.

This feeling she’s getting for the first time tells her she belongs nowhere and to nobody. That she is never safe. She’s so certain she’s going to die tonight; that I’m going to draw blood. That tonight, as the cold air seeps through the window, I will destroy her.

But no. She will survive. So long as she doesn’t try to leave me.

My hand is comfortably tight around her throat. She must be eight now, that little girl. No sunshine or ocean or stars are enough to banish, nor vanish me. She’s so certain she’s going to die today, it’s spring or summer. Never-ending; evergreen me, but always cold. Always lurking in the back of her head. I remind her what she already knows. That she belongs nowhere. That she is never safe. I want to draw blood for the first time, but for once, I’m her refuge.

“Sometimes they are nice to me,” she says. But she knows she is a bad child. She knows that when things happen to her, everyone just looks but says nothing. She is not obedient enough. Facts are excuses in her mouth. Looking away at the wrong time, and even making eye contact are all wrong.

She should pluck her eyes and tongue. Then she will never do anything wrong, and she will finally be happy and loved. She will belong somewhere and to someone.

I can do it. I have the strength. When she cries in our room, I tell her: “Let me become a cancer and destroy you, and me along with you. Let us take on the pain of the world; steal an unlucky sod’s terrible fate. So many things happen to good people, and you are not one of them.”

She cries, but she agrees. I am right, but not almighty. The destruction will need to be gradual.

“Bruce Almighty”, the movie is fun. Sometimes she has fun. But it all has a price. It is all twisted, the strings attached to the good times are all tangled. They are choking her, me along with them. Princesses, fairies, mermaids. She is the only one who likes them now it’s not cool anymore. Because if she’s still a little girl, then what happened to her is not her fault. She would be too innocent for that. No man would dare touch a little innocent girl, would they? But she is foolish. She is not a little girl. She hasn’t been for three, roughly four years. She is sixteen now.

Everyone’s eyes are on her. They do not notice me because I’ve hidden in the corner of her smile, and for a year I stay there, souring every joke, kicking every tone of her voice out of tune. Everything is off, off, off. For once, she’s happy. She’s in love. At seventeen, that’s what love feels like. Someone who makes you feel at home. But she has no home. She belongs to no one, and nowhere. For once, she lets me draw blood, because everything is off, off, off. And everyone’s eyes are on her and they will know that she dared to love, and they will call the wolves and they will eat her alive.

Ugly thing.

By comparison, my sweet embrace is much more comforting, like falling asleep.

I am not almighty. The destruction needs to be gradual.

There is no escape for her now. I have her by the throat, and the only would-be’s she could dream of are now gone. They have been gone for two years, decaying in a mass grave where her mother’s body lay. I grab her so tight, she throws up for the first time, but not the last. No one is alive anymore that wants her.

She will never be safe.

It is a precarious dance, ours. The moon is lonely for company, and she just exists, me attached to her by the throat, where the last of her songs died. It is a complicated relationship, but she loves me, who will always take from her, who will never hesitate to rip away even what she doesn’t want.

I am one who lurks by the graveyards, always present, never letting go, and always suggesting opportunities to finish the job. I will not let her go, even if I wanted to, because she’s so attached to me, the darkness in her pupils; the only depth to them she can call forth.

I have been her oldest companion and the one who has never left her, even if I do choke her so much.

Now, isn’t that frightening?

But I am not almighty. The destruction needs to be gradual. It may last for as long as she outruns me. She will never be safe.

[otakusapien]

I get thinking Shiny Happy People didn't go enough in depth about certain things, especially white supremacy's place in the quiverfull movement, but one thing I disagree with is that it should have gone into the interviewees' politics.

Yes, a lot of them are still far right bigots, but this was a doc about exposing the systematic abuse they suffered. How is adding a "but they're still bad people" to CSA survivors talking about their experiences going to do anything but undermine their testimonies?

[mitzvahmelting]

oh my god the deliberate effort he must have put towards evoking boyishness in his rashid disguise... same efforts he must have made to avoid "aging out" of marius' affection

and all that goes away when he's armand again bc it's not real! it was never real! it's an affectation!

every time i think about how armand as rashid is a kind of visual echo of how he looked as amadeo i want to explode

like... his big brown eyes... all his little expressions... his hair...

[0-therw-0-rldly]

I’ll preface this by saying I’m not really a shipper. I just enjoy canon couples on TV Series/films.

Terms I’d like B*ddies to remove from their vocabulary because they don’t know how to use them correctly:

Media literacy: For a group that uses this term a lot you sure do misinterpret everything in this show.

Queerbaiting: Going to expand on this one. A show that’s already been pre established for having queer characters simply cannot queerbait.

Ship baiting: While sometimes you can argue that they could be doing that, that’s only if you look at the show in a very biased manner. You might think this is the case but the general audience doesn’t think the way you do.

Ship war: This isn’t a one tree hill situation where there was Team Brooke Vs. Team Peyton where the middle guy (Lucas Scott) had canonically been with both women. This is people not understanding fanon vs. canon and not being able to just watch the show. It’s like playing quarterback on Madden and thinking you could be better than Patrick Mahomes.

Plot device: everything’s a plot device. Move tf on.

Predator: You sound like crazy MAGA supporters calling everything regarding the LGBTQIA+ community as predatory. Sit down.

Co-parenting: I know this is a big one and discourse was brought up during the hiatus. Oliver and Ryan have loosely mentioned this years ago but it was never to be taken this seriously. Do y’all even know what co-parenting is or are you that big of a donut? Buck is someone who loves his best friend deeply and by extension, his kid too. Him taking care of him frequently does not make him a co-parent. Maybe he is a parental or uncle figure, but he isn’t a co-parent. Also, I swear y’all need to learn how a will works. He is a GODPARENT, not a GUARDIAN. Stfu.

Hag: This especially applies to women, but to say that someone 25-30+ is a hag for still being in fandoms or enjoying tv shows/films is inherently misogynistic. Men are never held to this much criticism for enjoying fictional media, but women aren’t allowed to?

Queer Coding: people of the same sex “looking at each other”, hugging, or having intimate moments all together doesn’t make them queer coded. It could mean that they just love each other that deeply platonically. While representation is amazing and just because you interpret a character as queer coded (just like my ship baiting comment) doesn’t mean others interpret it that way as well. In addition, network TV has stipulations, and also actors are allowed to decline storylines. Ryan has mentioned his character is heterosexual an abundance of times which means (at least for now) that he isn’t willing to go for this storyline.

Dead naming: Y’all construing the fact that Buck wants people like coworkers and some of his former love interests, to saying Evan is his dead name is inherently transphobic because do you even understand what a dead name is? Evan Buckley is shown as being fine with being called Evan by both Tommy and his sister. I’m pretty sure some of his love interests have called him Evan as well.

Fetishizing: You guys saw two hot guys who “looked at each other” and for 6 seasons have wanted nothing but to see those two make out with each other. Those of us who enjoy Tevan saw Buck giddy at the thought of Tommy and have wanted domestic fluff for them since.

Anything to do with racism, homophobia, and misogyny: I’ve seen the way you guys have conveniently weaponized Henren and by extension Aisha/Tracie when you didn’t get the Ryan/Oliver interview, don’t try to act like you’re morally superior. Not to mention wanting a canonically gay man to die in a show and not even holding those who use your ship name to write CSA fics accountable because you’re petty and want to throw hissy fits. Anyone looking at your comments as an outsider would think you’re homophobes and yes queer people can be homophobic.

I do hope you can expand your vocabulary. 🤍

[mybrainproblems]

#csa metaphor of all time @chiisana-sukima

#prev yeah 🙃#great metaphor for being raised in a family who takes religious separation to a cult-like level#also somehow works as a metaphor for immigrant children isolated to their family unit. not assimilating. not integrating into diaspora.#or also. being raised as a child in a family struggling with addiction/mental illness.#any scenario really where you're made an adult too young + socially isolated from a larger community + taught to keep secrets @finalgirlsamwinchester

i want to add these bc yeah. i'm not sure what exactly it means, but i see a lot of fandom discussion around sexual assault perpetrated on the male characters of spn (particular sam and dean as our dual protagonists) and their isolation from regular and hunter culture. but what i see barely anything about is how their reactions (and lack thereof) to assault and isolation are very much rooted in and normalized by their childhoods (whether you interpret explicitly as csa or not) to the point where it gets what i guess you could call a non-reaction(?) just out of sheer desensitization to the violation of their autonomy and lack of support.

the doylist reading of why the show often trivializes sexual assault against men is of course that the writers just didn't take it seriously (or got intensely horny about it). that the damage of their isolation isn't important bc rugged individualism. but the watsonian reading for why it's Like That would be to follow it to the conclusion that they've been groomed into thinking this can't be a violation because it's been so normalized in their childhoods. it bothers them for a bit (an episode or two) but they ultimately brush it off bc how could it possibly be a violation when they're so empowered as hunters? have they ever "really" been innocent? haven't they always been precocious and on the cusp of some definition of adulthood? and. well. what skincrawling contexts have i heard that in before?

i think about this a lot.

serious musings but it's so striking to me how vulnerable the kids who are raised into hunting actually are and by the nature of their childhoods, are practically groomed into being perfect victims. because they've almost always known what goes bump in the night, they can never have been truly innocent or disempowered. they aren't vulnerable in the way that "regular" civilians are because they have knowledge, but it is such a narrow bit of knowledge! they're kids who exist out on the fringes of society and are othered and isolated by the nature of hunting (and lack a holistic social support system) and because they're told that they can't share this with anyone else, that this must be kept a secret, it further isolates them.

and specifically, i think of chrissy chambers, who is told that her father was murdered by vampires and is taken in by an older hunter who is training up hunter kids after having killed off their parents. these kids all know about the supernatural, and being told that a monster killed their parent(s) and don't they want revenge? aren't they strong enough for revenge? with all that knowledge of theirs? why would they suspect the person "empowering" them is also the one who destroyed what little support system they had and is using them to their own ends?

it just really jumps out at me that there's the horrifying reality that these are kids who are held aside from a larger community and told that they must keep a secret and are taught secrecy as second nature. their support networks are narrow and compartmentalized and (from what we see in canon) often fractured by the deaths of loved ones.

these are kids who never really see themselves as victims and i'm floored by just how much that sets them up to be victimized.

[bau-muffin]

“It’s All Wrong But It’s Alright”

Summary: You and Aaron Hotchner have an interesting relationship. He’s your boss, and you’re one of the agents underneath him.

What happens when you get triggered during a case, and comforting you leads to something more?

Word count: 6,006

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x BAU! Reader

Read it on AO3

mentions: SA, CSA, it’s implied that reader has a history of CSA, oral sex, fingering

Hotch knew as well as anybody that this case would emotionally weigh heavy on the team, maybe even more than it usually did.

They had successfully apprehended Monica Menzel and her sixteen year old son Jacob, but certainly not before uncovering disturbing details that would more than likely haunt the team for the rest of their lives.

The victims, all of them, were below the age of nine. There were no preferences in boys or girls or hair color, not even eye color, but they were all tortured and sexually assaulted in the same exact way, and then their bodies disposed of and covered with a tarp, as though in remorse. As it turned out, Jacob was losing control and abusing these children while Monica disposed of them quietly.

It made Hotch doubt whether good in humanity ever existed, especially when he thought of Jack waiting at home for him to come back so he could tell him all of the shenanigans he had gotten up to at his Aunt Jessica’s and regale him with the details of classroom drama.

And, he figured, the rest of the team were thinking similar thoughts, their minds all engulfed with the children in their lives and how it only takes a split second for every sense of safety to become compromised.

But as the team left the precinct, neatly separated into SUVs, and caravanned back to the hotel, Hotch looked over at you in the passenger seat and wondered who you were thinking of. When he had opened the door for you, you’d sat down and not even murmured a “thank you,” like you usually did, instead looking as though you were a million miles away. He knew something was turning inside your head. It didn’t take a profiler to see it.

“Are you all right?” he asked as he flipped up the blinker to make a turn.

“I’m exhausted,” you replied, almost too quickly. “We’ve been up and at it with this case since five this morning, and I didn’t sleep very well last night. Probably didn’t get more than three hours

in total.”

When Garcia had booked hotel rooms for you guys, she disclosed that since the town was at the peak of tourist season, she couldn’t book enough rooms for everybody to have a room of their own; which meant that two agents would have to take one for the team and share. You and Hotch had drawn the short straws, but despite being a subordinate and superior sharing a room, it hadn’t been awkward at all. You each had a double bed and made yourselves at home.

Still, he was all too aware that you had tossed and turned into the wee hours of the morning, and more than ever he wished he could have assuaged whatever was bothering you.

“Was the bed uncomfortable for you?” Hotch asked casually, his eyes still on the road.

“Not at all. I was just… thinking, is all. You know how it can be.”

He nodded solemnly, his lips forming a solid line. “I do know.”

You hummed an affirmative noise before turning to look outside the window, though there wasn’t much to look at since it was already almost dark and most of the street lights were still off.

Hotch wished you would open up to him. Heck, even before, you didn’t mind opening up to him, even just a little. But now it was like a barrier loomed around you and your thoughts, forbidding anyone who dared approach.

“For most of this case, I found myself thinking of Jack,” he confided, glancing over at you.

“Yeah? I don’t doubt it. Having kids when you’re in this line of business… it can’t be easy.” For a moment, your tone sounded open and concerned, and he sensed your eyes on his side profile.

“It’s not at all,” Hotch said quietly with his eyes still on the road ahead of him. “It makes me wish I could take Jack somewhere and hide him away from the ugly side of humanity. But… I’m all too aware that’s not feasible, nor is it healthy. So, we persevere together, and all I can hope to do is guide him until he’s ready to step out into the world on his own.”

“I imagine he’s already seen too much of how ugly humanity can be,” you said gently.

“He has. There’s no hiding it from him now,” he admitted softly.

“Once you’ve seen it, heard it… you can’t go back from it. Even that young.”

Something in your voice made him glance your way intensely. Was it… wistfulness? Melancholy?

It was quiet for a few moments as he focused on driving while you turned back to the window and continued staring out. He figured he couldn’t force you to confide in him, so he may as well give you space, but he was still worried; probably more than he’d like to confess.

As soon as you entered the hotel room, you beelined straight for your suitcase. “I’m going to take a shower first, if that’s alright with you?”

Hotch nodded as he began plugging up his devices on his side of the shared side table. “Perfectly fine with me. It’ll give me time to call Jack before we settle down for the night. Take your time.”

You began gathering up your clothes and necessities and toted them to the bathroom, the door closing behind you softly. Hotch had never wanted to wiggle his way into your brain more and find out what was going on in there.

He’s always known you had a soft spot for children, and he was first hand testament to it, just witnessing how you’d interacted with Jack every time Jessica brought him by the BAU for a visit or when he would bring Jack for an event at Rossi’s—you’d always taken time to ask him how school was, you’d ask about some project or another he had told you about before, and often times you’d reach out to ruffle his hair fondly. When he had read up on your files during the hiring process, he also learned you had nieces and nephews, and from how you spoke of them, you seemed to love them and had a good relationship with them; probably a tad bit protective, especially considering what you’d seen on this job.

But something about the way you were withdrawing and reserved now suggested this was personal, much more personal than you wanted to let on.

Still, Hotch felt like it was none of his business, and picked up his phone to call Jack.

By the time he finished an exuberant conversation with his son and Jessica, Hotch heard your blow dryer running. (you always kept an extra blow dryer in your go bag. Derek once suggested you take it out to have more room for clothes, and Hotch thought you’d form daggers with your eyeballs and throw them at him. (Derek never brought it up again.)

Fifteen minutes later, you walked in with your dirty clothes and stuffed them into a mesh bag in your go bag; and Hotch felt like he’d been punched in the stomach.

He hardly ever saw you dressed this casually. Your hair was down, fluffy at the crown from blow drying it, and wearing a large oversized t-shirt and shorts, as well as colorful fuzzy socks on your feet. But your face—it made him stop cold. Your eyelashes were wet with freshly shed tears, your eyes were rimmed with redness, and your cheeks were spackled with flush.

Hotch said your name, but he was interrupted.

“Hotch… just—hold me,” you said pleadingly, your voice cracking slightly.

Wordlessly, Hotch opened up his arms to you while he was sitting on the bed, and you fell into him, burying your head into his chest while your body spasmed with sobs.

He didn’t even care if you got snot on his dress shirt. Whatever comfort you needed that he could afford you, he wanted to give it to you. A washable shirt was nothing compared to the weight you seemed to be holding inside.

Soothingly, Hotch rubbed your back while his chin rested on your head and whispered, “Hey, hey.”

You continued sobbing, and tentatively his hand moved up to your hair, stroking it softly. Soon, the shaking and spasming ceased, and you just leaned into him, and the first breath you exhaled seemed like it released twenty pounds of burden from you.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked gently, his hand roving politely over your back. He couldn’t help but think about how the cotton shirt under his hand was the only thing separating him from your skin; probably just as soft and gently dewy if your face was any indicator, but he pushed it away as soon as the thought came—now was not the time.

You were quiet for a moment.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to,” Hotch said quietly, “but I know that talking about it… it can help, getting it out in the open.”

“I don’t want to burden you, Hotch. This case was heavy for all of us,” you all but whispered, almost muffled by his shirt.

“This isn’t the first time I’ve noticed you shutting down after a case. Especially pertaining to child abuse. I’ll respect your privacy, but you need to know you don’t have to bear this on your own.”

You chewed your lip as tears threatened to spill over again, contemplating your options. Lie to your boss and evade the question? Pretend everything was okay? Maybe tell him you’re emotional because you’re on your period?

Finally, you lifted your head away from his chest and looked at him. It was almost breathtaking how much comfort and care you found in Hotch’s face, and it sent a shiver down your back as the kindness in his warm brown eyes melted you.

“Hotch…”

“Aaron,” he urged softly, “call me Aaron. Don’t you think we might be beyond work nicknames now?”

“Aaron,” you tested out the name on your tongue like a foreign object as your tone lowered, “I… I have a history with…. sexual abuse.”

“It’s not in your file,” Hotch said, concern creasing his face, and a little bit of his professionalism seeping in.

You shook your head. “It wouldn’t be. I had it sealed away.”

“But-“

“I knew it would affect how people, especially employers in our field, would look at me, Hotch,” you said, “especially as a woman. I… I’m considered weaker emotionally, at least from the stereotypical level anyways. Swimming with this upstream in my public record would’ve held me back. I hold up, and I save my breakdowns for when I get home. And in my defense, this is only the second one I’ve had since I started working at the BAU.”

Hotch looked at you, his brows slightly furrowed. “That… makes sense. But I still wish you had told me- or at least one of us- about this. We could have helped you reach out to resources. You… didn’t deserve to carry all of this by yourself, especially when you know your cases might trigger you.”

“It’s taken me a while to trust anybody with this,” you said softly.

He’s silent for a moment, his hand stilling while it was smoothing your hair. “Do you trust me?”

“I trust you every day in the field with my life, Hotch.”

“Aaron,” he reminded you, “You do. But… do you trust me with your past?”

“Yes,” you murmured.

Silence fell between you as you both seemed to become aware of what was happening in that moment.

Your head was on his chest, as it moved up and down with every breath. One of his hands was in your hair while the other was resting on your back. Your hands were splayed on his shoulders. His lips were only mere inches from the crown of your head. Your legs were resting between his. You were in his arms and the shiver of sadness that came with crying was being chased away by the warmth of them around you.

The temptation on Hotch’s part to kiss your head, your nose, your lips, it was almost surmountable. But he didn’t want to take advantage of your vulnerability, or his position as your superior. He couldn’t do that to you.

So, you did what any subordinate would spontaneously do when they’re a little fatigued by his politeness- you reached up and kissed his face, only missing the corner of his mouth by half of an inch.

He said your name almost in a gasp.

It was such a simple thing, but it shifted the world underneath you both.

“I’m your superior,” Hotch reminded as much to himself as to you, “we can’t do this.”

“Why not?”

“You’re emotionally vulnerable right now. I’m your boss and you’re my subordinate, so there’s also a power imbalance. And I- I’m so much older than you. You could have any man you want, you don’t have to settle for me.” His voice cracked almost minutely when he mentioned settling, but you heard it.

You scoffed as you lifted an eyebrow. “I’m not settling, Aaron. I don’t know who told you that nonsense, but no one is settling by… by being with you. And… I may be emotionally vulnerable, yes,” you admitted before your tone turned soft, “but I’ve… I’ve been wanting this for a long time.”

Hotch felt surprise jolt through him and he tried to lean up a little more even with you on top of him, though his hand still cradled the small of your back. “Oh, really?”

“Are you really so surprised?”

“You’re just…” he struggled to find the right way to say what he meant, “you could have anybody you want, you know? I’m a middle aged man headed towards being over the hill, with emotional baggage, and a young son.”

“You’re also emotionally constipated,” you said with a small smile tugging your lips.

He chuckled quietly, and you felt the vibration of it from his chest. “Is that supposed to convince me?”

“It means I’m aware of your shortcomings, Hotch. Or what others may view as shortcomings.”

There was another beat of silence, then things started moving like a whirlwind.

He rolled you over so that you were underneath him, and his nose rubbed the side of your face as he lowered his mouth to your ear. “You really need to start calling me Aaron during these intimate times, don’t you think?”

You gulped as you looked up at him.

“Are you sure you want this?” Hotch asked quietly, “I would feel… so guilty if you ended up… regretting this later. It’s okay to take a bit longer to think about it.”

There was a hint of passion in your voice as you tilted your chin up to him. “You don’t know how long I have been thinking about this, Aaron Hotchner.”

That lit a fire in him that he didn’t know he had a wick for, and his hands slid over the sides of your face as he tilted your head up towards him, inspecting the flush that had formed on your cheeks.

“You’re so beautiful. I’ve always been aware of it, did you know that?”

You opened your mouth to answer, and he covered your lips with his own, feasting on you like a man starved. It wasn’t long before his tongue asked entrance, and you granted it, his tongue grazing against yours.

You weren’t sure how you expected Hotch to kiss. Passionately? Without a doubt. Fervently? Definitely. But you didn’t realize “reverently” and “frenzied” were adjectives that could be used together, and yet it was perfect.

You hadn’t realized you were doing it, but you were grinding against him, his slacks rubbing against the cotton of your shorts, eliciting moans from him that you’d never heard before, but felt like music to your ears as it sent a shiver down your spine. In response, his hands slid to your breasts, his thumb rubbing against your nipples through your thin T-shirt in gentle circles as the rest of his hands cupped your breasts.

“Someone didn’t wear a bra,” Hotch said almost cheekily.

“I wasn’t exactly expecting to get felt up tonight,” you laughed.

“I suppose not. You really are beautiful, you know that? And seeing you under me… I never thought you could get prettier, but apparently it’s possible.”

“Aaron…”

Hotch continued rubbing your nipples, gently, but with enough friction that it shot pleasure through you. “That’s right, sweetheart,” he whispered, “Aaron.”

“Do you mind doing me the honors of removing my shirt? Please?” You asked.

“Thought you’d never ask,” he breathed, kissing your forehead before he gently set about removing your shirt, shimmying it over your head before tossing it unceremoniously on the AC unit under the window.

You watched nervously as his eyes roved over your chest, almost feeling the burn of his gaze on your skin. But then he began leaning down and kissing a path from your collarbones, down to your belly button.

“Sweetheart, your breasts are magnificent,” he whispered before pressing kisses to each of them, “they’re just right for me.”

“Are you so easy to please?”

Hotch kissed your breasts again in answer, slower this time, as he nipped and sucked on the skin, leaving hickies in his wake. He chuckled to himself as he looked at his handiwork.

“I truly hope you weren’t planning on wearing a low cut shirt tomorrow.”

“I wasn’t, but I guess you eliminated that choice for me.”

He smiled, almost deviously, if you could believe he was capable of it. “You could, but I think you would have to answer some… piqued interests. But I also think… one part of you wants to show everyone, that you were marked, by me. And…” his voice lowered, “I can’t say I hate the idea of it.”

Before you could form a reply, he inched down towards your nipples and took one into his mouth, sucking on them gently. He wasn’t at all surprised when he felt your fingers thread into his hair, tugging at them the more he played with your nipple with his tongue.

Before he switched to the other nipple, he looked up at you, almost ironically puppy dog-like. “Are you enjoying this, my dove?”

“Yes,” you panted, “I’ve… I’ve never had this done to me before.”

He froze where he was. “None of your other partners did this for you?”

You shook your head.

“Amateurs,” Hotch muttered to himself before licking your nipple, wetting it.

Before long, he was back at it, sucking your other nipple, far less gentle than the way he had started, and his hand squeezing and kneading the first breast.

“Dear god-”

He completely unlatched from your breast to smirk at you. “I’m afraid God has nothing to say in this little foray.”

Impatiently, you reached up to unbutton his button up shirt feverishly, your fingers clumsily clashing into each other. Hotch chuckled at your excitement.

“You’re so cute when you’re eager,” he murmured to you, his own fingers reaching down to assist you in unbuttoning his shirt.

“Do you know how often I’ve wondered what you look like under here?” You asked as your eyes watched more and more of his chest expose.

“I’m not exactly… Derek in terms of body shape,” he confided. “And maybe at one point, I would have rivaled him. But I’m afraid my abs have… congealed a bit, especially since I became a dad.” He unbuttoned the last button.

“If you think that will deter me one bit, you have another thought coming, Mr. Hotchner,” you said sassily as you began pushing the shirt off of his shoulders. It was your turn to marvel at him and his body- his arms were toned, his chest had polite smatterings of hair and, much like Hotch in every other facet of his life, a happy trail that could only be described as neat and tidy. He was right that he wasn’t built like Derek, but in every line of him, you could tell he held incredible strength even for the average middle aged man, even if he had an adorable hint of tummy that you wanted to press kisses on. The scars from Foyet did not escape you, and you respectfully reached to trace them with your fingers, a ghost of pressure. To know that he endured that, and thrived in spite of it… you felt soft towards this stern looking man.

“You’re sure you still… want a piece of this?” He said almost awkwardly with a smile.

“If I wasn’t sure before, I know I am now,” you assured him as you kissed the underside of his jaw, “you’re beautiful.”

“I’m… beautiful?”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Don’t tell me no one’s called you beautiful before?”

“Handsome, sure. Beautiful… no.”

“Well that’s just sad,” you pressed a kiss to one of his pecs, “because it’s the goddamn truth.”

You’d never seen him blush before, but you smirked with satisfaction when he turned red from his ears down to his neck.

“Are you ready to take this to the next level then?” Hotch asked, his hands moving down to the waistband of your shorts, playing with the drawstrings while he waited for your confirmation.

“Absolutely.”

With shaking hands, he began pulling down your shorts, tugging them down until he could discard them across the room, leaving you in your cotton underwear.

“You’re so wet already,” he said with a small smirk as his fingers touched the crotch of your underwear, hooking it to the side before ultimately deciding to just take it off entirely, as He quickly yanked it off and sling shot it.

“Those were my nice pair,” you mumbled, though you were thrilled at being completely exposed to him, feeling the crisp hotel air against you.

“I’ll buy you some more if they’re ruined,” he promised as he moved further down your body.

“You’re so perfect, you know that?” Hotch said as he began rubbing your clit. You squirmed but you couldn’t stop the moan that sprang from you.

“That’s my pretty girl,” he praised you, “the noises you make are almost provocative, sweetheart.”

“You’re too good,” you said breathlessly, the tightness in your stomach overwhelming you. Hotch chuckled as he kissed the side of your neck, careful not to leave a mark, knowing you’ll still have to ride on the jet home with the rest of the team tomorrow.

“I’m not sure if that speaks well of me or poorly of the guys you’ve been with before, sweetheart, we’re just getting started here,” he deflected slightly. He continued rubbing your clit, the circular motion sending jolts of what felt like electricity through your body.

Your hands instinctively reached to the side and gripped the sheets when he began sliding a finger in tentatively, his thumb on your sensitive nerves now, keeping the circular motion going. His eyes searched yours, those eyes slightly darkened by warm lust.

“Is this good?” Hotch asked.

“God, yes,” you bit out.

He hummed a noise of acknowledgment while he slid in a second finger, emitting a moan from you.

“You’re so tight, darling,” he murmured, “am I going to need to stretch you out a little before we get to the main event?”

“It’s been a while,” you admitted.

“How long?”

“Before I moved to Quantico.”

Hotch was quiet for a moment, surprise registering on his face. “Baby, that was… at least over a year ago.”

“I’m so busy with work that I hardly have time to meander into the dating scene. Haven’t really wanted to either.”

“Maybe we could talk to your boss about that,” he said teasingly.

You were about to respond when you felt his third finger slide in, and you took a deep breath.

“That’s my good girl,” he breathed into your ear, his voice low with desire, “taking me so well while I fill you up with my fingers, and taking those deep breaths.”

His fingers pumping in and out of you made you gasp and grasp the bed sheets even tighter between your fingers. You hadn’t, in a million years, thought you would be in a position where Aaron Hotchner was between your legs, pleasuring you with his fingers. Those fingers you had studied for months, fiddling with pens while he listened to others talk, and fantasized what they could do to you. Now you were feeling it, you were finally feeling what exactly those fingers will and can do to you- and the answer was “make you feel fucking amazing.”

The combination of his fingers inside of you and his thumb on your clit was too wonderful to describe. You could write a sonnet and it still wouldn’t completely encapsulate how you felt.

“I think I’m ready,” you whispered.

“Are you sure, baby?” He murmured, “we don’t have to hurry. If it’s been awhile for you, then I think we should take our time. You deserve to be completely ready and comfortable.”

“I want to make you feel good too,” you said, glancing down at where you could feel his erection against your leg. Hotch blushed slightly.

“This isn’t about me, sweetheart. This is all about you. And you make me feel good when you feel good, making all those pretty sounds for me, knowing I’m the one who makes you feel like that, and that I’m the one with my fingers in your pretty pussy.”

You shivered again, but you bit your lip as you looked down at him.

“I still need to put my mouth on you, baby. Do you want that? To feel my lips on you while my tongue finds your swollen clit?”

“I… you don’t have to, I know some guys don’t-“

“Don’t tell me you think it’s an action of sacrifice on my part,” he scoffed with a smile, “like I said before, I want to make you feel good. I would be honored to eat you out, darling.”

Your cheeks were pink from the slightly crass words. “I didn’t even know you knew-“

“Just how old do you think I am?” Hotch rolled his eyes. He gently slid his fingers out of you and you barely stifled a groan as you felt the loss.

“So do I have your permission?” He asked, kissing your neck again.

“Yes sir.”

He smirked up at you as he bent his head towards your core. “You’re calling me sir now?”

“Terrible habit.”

Feeling Hotch’s lips on you was like nothing you’d ever felt before, but the moment his tongue began lapping at your clit, rolling it around and sucking on it, you don’t know where you went. Everything melted away, and all you felt was him.

Occasionally his eyes would flit up from his task and gauge your reaction, but every time, he knew you were more than satisfied. You grasped the bed-sheets tighter still, your head tilted back as a loud moan you didn’t realize you were making left your lips.

As his tongue searched relentlessly, hitting nerves you forgot you had, your legs jerked in response. Without even looking, his hand grasped your hips, stilling them firmly.

“Oh my god-“ you groaned.

Hotch moved away from you, his lips and chin covered in your juices, but a devious smile alighted on his face. “I take it that you liked it?”

You panted a few breaths. “A little.”

“Ah, yes, a little is what got your cum all over my face- imagine if it was a lot?” he chuckled as he moved himself up your body to kiss your lips, your juices meeting your tongue.

“Aaron, I…” you hesitated for a moment. He raised his eyebrows at you.

“Yeah?”

“I think… I think I want to do this again. When we get home in Quantico. And… I want to save the… you know, actual sex, for then. In one of our actual beds. Am… am I being too presumptuous?”

He kissed your forehead. “You would’ve been a fool if you thought I was going to risk it all for a one time thing, sweetheart. Of course I want this again, you’re not being presumptuous.”

Hotch moved to climb off of her, but you grabbed him by the belt loop with a hooked finger and a raised eyebrow, emboldened by your arousal.

“Where do you think you’re going?” You asked.

He chuckled. “As much as I loved eating you out, I can’t live with your juice on my face, dove. And… I figured you were signaling to me that we were done for the night, so I was going to clean you up.”

“We’re not done.”

“No?” He raised an eyebrow.

She glanced pointedly at his erection, tenting his slacks.

“Oh… darling, we don’t have to-”

“I know we don’t. I want to.”

Hotch leaned back on his knees. “Darling, I-“

“I hate having to keep interrupting you, sir, but perhaps losing the slacks will help us to continue this conversation.”

He reached down for his belt buckle with a laugh. “Bossy, aren’t we?”

Within a few seconds, he had unbuckled and his slacks beside the bed. Through his boxers, the outline of his dick was prominent, and you felt your mouth salivate at the sight of it.

“You did this to me, baby,” Hotch said softly.

You blushed, still looking at him, but your hands reached for the waistband of his boxers, and inched them lower.

“Damn, sweetie, do you have a permit to conceal this large of a weapon?” you drawled as you stared eagerly at his dick, the pre-cum gathering at the tip of it as it stood tall.

He chuckled, his cheeks turning pink. “This one and a few others.”

“How do you want us to do this?”

Hotch hummed. “On your knees on the floor, sweetheart. Do you need a pillow?”

You clambered off the bed and got on your knees, waiting for him to follow suit.

He stood in front of you, almost hesitant, but the moment you gingerly grasped his dick, something in his eyes snapped into action, and his hands grasped your hair, tugging at the roots slightly.

You licked him from balls to tip, and under your touch, you could feel him shudder.

Experimentally, you swirled your tongue around the tip, then eased it into your mouth until you felt him hit your cheek

“Fuck-” Hotch rasped, his grip in your hair getting tighter, “you’re teasing me, doll.”

You looked up at him with arched eyebrows, deviousness reflecting in the glint of your eyes.

“You’re such a sweetheart, you know that? All those times we were on cases and you’d do those cute little mannerisms of yours. You’d tap your finger to your chin, or you’d part your lips when you would lift your head to look at something. Or when you would drink your coffee and widen your eyes at me over your mug. You’re just- fuck.”

Of course, that sudden expletive was because you’d mischievously pulled a bait and switch and taken him all the way to the back of your throat, opening up wider for him.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he cursed, “sweetie, you’re marvelous, I- shit.”

You looked innocently up at him, although the slight shift in movement almost made you choke.

“That will teach you, you cheeky- oh god, I don’t know how much longer I can keep…”

Ropes of cum spilled down your throat, and somehow you swallowed it all, though it took a lot of effort to do so. After it dissipated, you pulled away from him, just sitting back on your knees and looking up at the beautiful man before you, his hands in your hair. To the eye that didn’t know anything about him, he was just an average middle aged man, but to hers, before her stood a man who had been through so much, and loved and cared despite the risks involved, and whose strength was unmatched.

Hotch gently pulled you to the bed and laid you down. “I’m going to be right back, sweet thing,” he said as he kissed your forehead before going to the bathroom to retrieve wet wash rags.

Thirty minutes later found you on his chest, skin to skin, and his arms around you gently.

“Did you mean what you said earlier?” You asked.

“Probably, but what?” He replied before kissing the crown of your hair.

“When you said you noticed all of the cute little mannerisms I apparently do.”

He chuckled, the sound vibrating his chest under you. “Absolutely I do. I’ve noticed from the beginning, when you applied for this job and came in for an interview. You kept touching your neck when you were nervous or felt vulnerable.”

Your eyebrows collided. “You were still in the process of divorcing Haley at that time.”

“I can’t say I immediately fell in love with you at first sight,” he admitted, “but I can say I felt like I met someone I thought would be nice to have around.”

“When… did you realize you liked me in a… in a different way?”

Hotch stroked your back. “When you remembered Jack’s birthday and sent home a little present by me to him.”

“God… Hotch-“

“We just went through all of this for you to call me Hotch? Really?” He smiled cheekily.

“It’s a habit! Anyways, you… you’ve known for that long? And you didn’t tell me?”

“I didn’t want to cross any lines that I shouldn’t have,” he said simply.

“We’re going to have to figure out how to deal with the fallout from here, you realize that, right? And Strauss.”

“God, I didn’t think I’d hear Strauss brought up post coitus,” Hotch groaned. You laughed heartily.

“Let’s just… keep it between us. Just for now.”

“For now,” he agreed. You snuggled into his chest, and fell asleep like that.

Of course, you forgot that he left a mark on your collarbone when you had to untangle your limbs from him the next morning to pack up and get on the jet and go home. You couldn’t use the curling iron excuse, not that far down. And it was simply too hot for a turtleneck. So, before you boarded the jet, you made up your mind to gaslight everyone. And you meant everyone.

“Am I crazy or is that a hickey?” Derek pointed out when you sat across from him at the four seater, closest to the window. Hotch lifted a brow and widened his eyes at you from where he was sitting, conveniently facing you at the two seater behind Derek.

“God, Derek, don’t you know anything? This is a birthmark.”

“A… a birthmark?” Derek sounded bewildered. “Girl, I’ve known you for almost over a year now. You didn’t have a birthmark.”

“You didn’t notice? I’m almost hurt, Derek Walter Morgan.”

“That is not my real middle name, you know that, right?” Derek leaned back in his chair. “Where could you have possibly gotten any lovin’ from, hm? I know it wasn’t boss man.”

“You know, Derek is right. I don’t remember you having a birthmark,” Spencer jumped in from where he was perched on the couch across from you guys.

“Oh c’mon, Reid, like you’re the most observant person in the room!” You said with a smile.

“I know an iron burn when I see one and… sorry, but that’s not it,” Emily quipped.

“It’s just a birthmark- have you guys considered concealer exists? What’s next, you guys believe Emily naturally has berry red lips too? Gullible.”

“So… why did you leave it off today?” Rossi asked, obviously suspicious.

“I woke up late. Didn’t have time to do my makeup routine.”

This begrudgingly seemed to suffice most of the team, but Rossi was no fool, and he noticed Hotch’s t-shirt under your flannel, and winked at Hotch, who only rolled his eyes, then glanced at you, a vulnerable smitten woman among profilers.

[greenfiend]

Mike and Will’s love will save Hawkins

Everything, and I mean everything has been leading up to this point.

Let me explain how the power of gay love will save the day…

#doorgate or #gategate

🚪🍑❤️ + 🔑🍆⚡️

TW: mentions of sex and brief mention of CSA

If you’d like to read this with a soundtrack:

So it’s been a while since I made posts about Lover’s Lake… and to be honest I thought aspects of my theory were kind of silly (but of course who cares this is just for fun). But now I’m back and more confident than ever that Lover’s Lake will be an incredibly important location for ST5, especially for Mike and Will.

To begin, let’s start with the physics set up within the show. Why physics you say? We are talking about the love of two gay nerds afterall (one of them named after a famous theoretical physicist)… of course physics is involved!

Way back in season 1, Mr. Clarke helpfully taught us how to create a doorway between two worlds. This doorway would require a massive amount of energy… “more than humans are currently capable of creating”. I appreciate the subtle hint of a possibility that one day humans could create that level of energy.

In season 2 we have Steve helpfully explain to us this alternate electricity exists. He also related it to a storm and then distinguished it from a regular electromagnetic field.

Now, interestingly enough within the book titled The Montauk Project: Experiments in Time (the conspiracy which inspired Stranger Things so much that it was originally titled Montauk), there is a mention of this type of energy as well:

“Reich was known in part for his discovery of “orgone” energy, which is orgasmic or life energy. His experiments revealed orgone energy to be distinctly different from ordinary electromagnetic energy.”

So to sum it up so far, we have learned:

1. In order to create a doorway, a massive amount of energy is required.

2. There’s an alternate form of energy known as “orgone” energy “like a sexual electricity”.

Okay. Now unto season 3…

So, season 3 had the Russians attempt to “open the gate”/door once again after it was closed back in season 2.

Back in 1984, the Russians manage to get the door slightly open but it keeps closing. The Russian working on the project begs for “more time”, shortly after (like right after the opening credits) we hear the line “just a little more time could open closing doors” from the song playing while shown a picture of Mike. Later on, we have Will claim he’s “not going to fall in love” and then the song plays “love that is new to you, you open up the door”.

We also get this association for Mike. Mike is the one who could open closing doors, in other words he is "the key".

Okay wait lets go back to the science here!

The Russians have "the key" which is said to "emit a great energy" so much so that it can "open a doorway between worlds". Alexei also mentions how the location of where the key goes matters, it is "half of the equation". They chose Hawkins because, the gate has already opened there. (I talk more about the implications of that here). In case you haven't figured it out yet, Mike is "the key", and Hawkins = Will (remember, Hawkins is not the same without him).

Mr. Clarke is back again with some more science! In this scene, he actually associates an Electromagnetic Field with two people! Implying that two people can create their own Electromagnetic Field. But of course Clarke-Byers' field is stable because there is no sexual electricity between them.

So…

We have Mike referred to as "the key". The key can create a doorway with the right location. Hawkins is the right location and Will is implied to be “Hawkins”.

Two people can create their own Electromagnetic Field.

Okay wow, are you guys still with me here?

These friends are indeed electric…

The very first one was way back in season 2. Mike placed his hand on top of Will’s and right after we cut to Will’s drawing. Look closely… there’s lightning! ⚡️ It’s “sexual electricity”!

In season 3, the electricity only grew between but simultaneously so did the subtlety of it all. They held hands in the movie theatre. Yes yes they did! That’s why we are shown a movie playing with hands popping out! This is what “triggered” Will (manifesting as a reminder of the shadow monster…). But most importantly… this is how the power went back on in Hawkins.

In season 4, it’s arguably even more subtle… but the clues are still present! Mike and Will lock eyes while the electricity flickers. Then we have the final scene which shows us a cloud resembling a heart above them with lightning! Heart with lightning… keep this in mind for later. We also have a very tiny “Live Mike” poster on Mike’s bulletin board… the association with Mike and lightning/electricity is clear…

Even in the marketing, the lightning is very much present. Notice specifically the lightning with the heart in the first picture…

Doors that keep closing…

The show constantly makes references to closing/opening doors. The gates opening are an aspect of this too! I have good reason to believe that this all leads back to Will.

I go over the door symbolism in this post but I’ll give a brief summary:

So far each time the gates have opened within the show, they have opened without Will’s consent. Now, I mean this on multiple levels. I mean this as the closet door- as people keep opening it by insinuating his sexuality. I also mean this in a more deeply tragic way. Child sexual abuse… to be blunt. This is why he’s desperate to keep all the doors and gates shut… even if it kills him. It’s a reality that forever haunts him, worse than any monster imaginable.

Will has such deep trauma that it manifests as monsters within the show. This is why I believe Will has been struggling far more than we are shown explicitly. In case you’re unaware, during the 80s and prior, there was a deeply homophobic belief perpetrated by society that gay people (specifically gay men) were predators. As a victim, Will is terrified of becoming a predator… becoming “the monster”. He’s frightened of himself.

I believe that… Will has been “pushing [Mike] away” far more than we know. He is desperately in love with Mike, yes, but the hatred he has for himself is far greater at this point in the show.

He needs to learn to love and accept himself despite all that he has been through. He needs to know that he is not a monster, and that his love and sexuality can be a beautiful thing. He needs to do this independently of Mike. Mike will be the key to his door when he’s ready.

To sum up everything thus far: doorways/gates require A LOT of energy, sexual electricity is a form of energy, and Will is associated with doors and Mike with keys. Got it?

The Russian Code

You may have already seen my post on this but it’s *very* relevant here so I’ll summarize (read the post for more depth):

The week is long because Mike and Will will be separated. Emotions affect time afterall.

The silver cat feeds the “silver cat” is a gate/doorway. Mike and Will are both associated with being a “snack” because they feed it sexual electricity thus causing it to open!

When blue meets yellow in the west. Mike will be stuck in the “East”/the UD, then return to the “West”/right side up to meet Will.

A trip to China sounds nice, if you tread lightly. “China” is on the other side of the “silver cat” doorway. Mike and Will will reach a new world through this doorway.

Again, if you think I’m reaching, please check out this post as I outline the clues in much more depth.

Opening multiple doors

As mentioned earlier, Mike is the key to opening Will’s door. This has multiple meanings:

Figuratively: Will’s closet door. Mike is struggling with his sexuality as well, but he will likely accept himself first, and inspire Will to follow.

Sexually: Will will open himself up sexually to Mike. They will have an intimate scene. I’m positive of this now.

Supernaturally: A portal door/gate to another world.

He’s truly the key to his heart…

What I theorize will happen…

So based on all the clues I’ve outlined (plus more) I will break down how everything will likely happen (leading up to the climax):

Mike confronts Will about the painting. Now, I truly believe Mike already knows that the painting and speech was all Will. He knows Will well. Will downplays the significance of the painting though making us (the audience) believe that he’s not actually still in love with Mike. (This could be why Noah now views Will’s love for Mike as a spoiler 🤔).

Will continues to push Mike away but more explicitly. Mike is frustrated. Tensions are high! Mike is “banished” to the UD, as well as nearly half of our main cast. They reunite with Max.

Will is devastated that Mike is gone. Will then faces severe homophobia and cruel accusations made his way (likely connected to those who went missing). Without Mike, he falls apart. The insecurities around his sexuality reach a boiling point for him. This will be represented by the US military closing off all the gates, separating half of our main characters from each other.

Will finds a letter from Mike. We (the audience) will realize (if we are paying attention) that Mike loves Will through the reveal of the “Love, Mike” written at the end. Will will not realize/believe it, but he is given the courage to fight on.

Will spends time with his mother and friends who express to him how much they love him unconditionally. As he starts to slowly accept himself, the gates slowly show signs of opening up.

After a long week of separation, on one fateful stormy night, Mike finds a way to escape the UD through watergate and Will is there to retrieve him. Will is likely not alone, he’s with the “right side up” crew on a boat trying to save those in the UD. Only Mike is able to get through the gate… (possibly through radio communication with Will, they create enough electricity for the gate to open).

Mike and Will are soaking wet and Mike is injured, thus he and Will make their way to Reefer Rick’s Lakeside House. They have to remove their shirts, and the sexual tension is through the roof. Will tends to his wounds and sparks fly. Mike reveals just how deeply in love he is with Will and how much it pains him that Will has been so closed off. Will turns away- not wanting to hear it at first, thinking he doesn’t deserve it. He doesn’t deserve Mike’s love.

Tears start pouring down Mike’s face as he continues to tell Will that he’s done with hiding, and he’s done with pretending that he isn’t in love with Will. Will stops, finally starting to believe Mike’s words. Mike, thinking that his words still aren’t getting through to Will, turns and starts walking away. Will calls Mike’s name, Mike swiftly turns his head. He says “I love you too” while in tears, walking towards Mike. He then kisses him ever so passionately! Mike is taken aback with wide eyes for a brief moment then is quick to shut his eyes, grab onto Will for dear life and reciprocates the kiss very enthusiastically. They go horizontal on the bed, Mike on top.

While they are making love enough sexual energy is created for thunder to erupt and lightning. One giant lightning strike hits right in the centre of Lover’s Lake into watergate and opening it up completely! The (heart shaped) lake is literally a broken heart resuscitated by electricity. The water from the lake is parted right in the middle (think Moses parting the sea… or perhaps… like a surfer boy?) making it possible for everyone to walk out easily from the gate. It opens it up SO much that everyone trapped there escapes. They’re all freed!

The sun rises, the storm clears, and of course- there’s a giant rainbow. Will and Mike wake up and smile more brightly than ever as they recall the events of the night prior. They walk out hand in hand and head towards the end of the rainbow. They find a new gate hidden behind watergate and descent into it together. It’s fairyland. They then agree to start their own party, just the two of them.

Fairyland/Feywild

Credit to @byler-alarmist and their post for bringing my attention to this very likely possibility.

The Feywild was a place of unrestrained and awe-inspiring natural beauty. The plane is always bathed in twilight of the setting (or perhaps rising) sun, with lanterns and fireflies providing additional, haunting lights. Visitors to the plane found that all sensations, both sensory and emotional, were heightened. Smells were stronger, colors were more vivid, and sounds were clearer, but at the same time shadows were darker and impulses were harder to control. x

Feywild is a location in DnD just like Shadowfell (which likely represents the UD).

What better way to represent love and acceptance than a beautiful green realm full of light? I assume that it will resemble the real world, just like the UD. I’m also guessing that Mike and Will will find the remnants of the old Creel house and rebuild it as their own castle/fortress. (Credit to @thestrangestthing89 for this beautiful idea.)

Rewriting History

After WWII, the alliance between the East (USSR) and West (US, England etc) dissolved and then began The Cold War. Leading to Russia and the US essentially becoming enemies. They viewed each other as a major threat to their safety. They also were in major competition with each other, specifically regarding space exploration. Each nation wanting to be the first to reach the Moon.

Germany was a nation that ended up being “split” into the East and West. The Berlin Wall divided the two sections. The song “Heroes” by David Bowie is about lovers separated by the Berlin Wall. In 1989, the wall fell and Germany was no longer divided.

Where am I getting at with this? Well, I believe that Stranger Things is both majorly referencing this conflict, and rewriting history. Let me explain. I think that the scenes with the Russians are representative of Mike’s struggles. He feels as though he has no choice but to conform- not unlike those who live under communism. We see he is slowly escaping this mindset, however, as we watch some of the Russian characters rebel against their government.

Yes that means- the US government represents Will’s struggles. They view El as a monster that needs to be contained/removed. This is exactly how they viewed gay people during the AIDS crisis. We see resistance there as well though… through Owens.

In Stranger Things, the gates are the Berlin Wall. Once they open up again (properly… with Will’s consent), the division between the nations will cease. The war will come to an end.

Instead of one nation “winning” the space race, Stranger Things will end with both “Russia” and “America” reaching a new world together- as Mike and Will.

All you need is love

This is the whole message of the show. So many times we let fear and hatred take over us but we must always remember… we can choose love. In a world full of division, we can choose inclusion. We can choose to extend understanding and patience to others who are different or who may hold differing beliefs. It’s all up to you. You hold the power. It’s your choice. Choose wisely.

[fatum679]

T/W mention of csa. Please lmk if you want me to stop bothering you w/my questions. I'm so disgusted with ppl calling Aemond a "milf hunter", claiming he was happy to have consensual sex with the brothel madame and pointig out by Wesrerosi standards, a 13 year old is already an adult. Like in spite the "Wesrerosi standards" we call Daenerys, Alicent and Helaena child brides, although by the abovementioned Wesrerosi standards, Drogo was a really decent, protective husband, Viserys I wasn't that terrible (he actually asked Alicent if she was ok), and the book Aegon, who was btw just 2 years older than his sister wife, used to get along with Helaena. I fear, however, that HBO is gonna give "Aemond the milf hunter" enthusiasts what they want, making the madame his lover, confidante and comfort person.

Hello! I'm glad you're interested in my opinion.

I've read these theories about Aemond lying on the brothel madam's lap. Even if this is true, there is no evidence that they had sex, the woman is fully clothed.

I don't support the theory that Aemond is a "milf lover", in the first season, when Aemond recognized her, he was embarrassed, he lowered his head and tried not to draw attention to himself. It's not normal for a 13 year old to have sex with a stranger. Viserys 2, also at the age of 13, had sex with his wife and she became pregnant from him, but they had love, they were happy together.

Only in Westeros! as an exception, this can happen with mutual love, but not when it is a marriage of convenience and the partners do not love each other.

Aegon did not get along with Helaena in the book: “Princess Helaena was breaking her fast with her children when the Kingsguard came to her…but when asked the whereabouts of Prince Aegon, her brother and husband, she said only, “He [Aegon] is not in my bed, you may be sure. Feel free to search beneath the blankets”” “Though the good septon admits Prince Aegon was with a paramour when he was found, he insists the girl was the daughter of a wealthy trader, and well cared for besides”

I was thinking about why they gave this information that Aemond lost his virginity at the age of 13. If the writers went with the idea that Aemond is the father of Helaena's children, this is important information. The age difference between Aemond and Helaena is one year. He, like Viserys 2, could impregnate his sister at the age of 13.

If we consider the version that Aemond is not lying on Helaena’s lap, then I am inclined to the version where Aemond is with a girl who dressed up as Helaena and in her dress. Perhaps they will have sex, after which Aemond will suffer from the fact that he cannot be with his sister.

A person can have sex with anyone, but still love and desire to be with someone else. Daemon had many sexual partners, but he always wanted to be with Rhaenyra. And I compare Daemon to Aemond because it's obvious and there are parallels we see between Daemyra and Helamond.

I'm not a fan of TB, but if you look at it objectively, Aemond and Daemon died for their queens. All these parallels are like a shot to the head. This shows their connection as characters, that this is one house with similar destinies. The entire Targaryen war is like a snake devouring itself - ouroboros.

I still believe in Helaemond's theory because all these hints that were obvious in the series. But I understand that everything is in the power of the writers and they can ruin everything.