Priest getou and nun reader or villager reader....(anything other than the word both isnt acceptable...😡😡😡 /j) -🪄
🪄 ANON I SEE YOU AND YOU RAISE A VALID POINT but please consider…… priest!geto and non-believer!reader.
like… imagine. you just happen to waltz into a church one day. you don’t believe in god, you aren’t interested in praying, but you’re exploring a new town and the church is pretty and you figure it could be a nice way to burn time.
you enter the building to find that a sermon is taking place. a priest is speaking to the few rows of people listening; it’s a fairly small church, but paintings and sculptures and beautiful cathedral glass give it a sense of mystique that you’re drawn to. so you take a seat and halfheartedly listen, not praying like the rest, not singing along to the hymns… you stick out like a sore thumb, but hey, it’s not as if anyone is paying attention.
except someone is, and it happens to be the priest that was holding the sermon just a second ago. the same one you spent most of your time oogling once the paintings started to bore you, because he’s so pretty for a priest. beautiful long black hair, amber eyes, sharp facial features, pretty hands — and the smoothest, silkiest voice you’ve heard in your life. like a sun-soaked bundle of lillies.
… also, his cassock is just a little too tight of a fit to tear your eyes away from.
you stick around a little longer once most people have left, just scrolling on your phone and basking in the quiet, and that’s when he approaches you. he jokingly tells you that it’s always obvious when a non-believer enters a place of worship, but he’s not mad; only amused. you end up chatting a bit about your beliefs, he’s a lot more chill than you expected, and…. well. he’s just really, really charming.
so maybe you end up coming back the week after. maybe his smile is a bit like a spider’s web. maybe it becomes a kind of routine to speak to him after his sermons; you still don’t sing along to the hymns or spend any time on prayers, and he still finds it funny. maybe once in a while you end up liking a paragraph from the scripture he’s reciting, and he’s always more than happy to discuss it with you. but mostly you’re there for him. for your chats, for standing outside and badgering him about how contradictory the old testament is while he smokes and listens with an amused grin.
rain hits the ground with a steady rhythm, earthy tobacco floods your veins, spiders by the ceiling weave a web of dew, and his presence is a little more intoxicating than you think is appropriate.
suguru just… isn’t a very orthodox priest. he only believes about a tenth of what the bible says, he has his own view of god, his own thoughts on worship. he smokes. he may or may not occasionally manipulate church-goers into donating money so he can invest in another overpriced painting. you once ask him if there are any bodies in the basement you should know about, and he answers that any self-respecting priest wouldn’t conduct their blood rituals in the basement of their own church. he knows how to pick locks. he tells you once, very quietly, that he doesn’t believe man was created in god’s image. there’s a look in his eyes that you don’t comment on.
he’s funny. charming. pleasantly suspicious. your conversations are enjoyable for the both of you, and eventually the edges of his cedar eyes begin to crinkle the slightest bit whenever you walk into his field of vision. sometimes he eyes your lips for a little too long, and a honeyed irony seeps into his grin when you call him out on it. he asks you if you’re tempting him on purpose, and you shrug. whatever exists between you remains unspoken.
one day, he tells you that he believes it was god who sent you to him. you furrow your brows and protest with a mutter reminding him of your beliefs, how you believe in free will, how you waltzed into his church out of your own volition. no one else’s.
he only smiles, and flicks the butt of his cigarette. you think he remains unconvinced.
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Thinking about how people who only (or primarily) understand Mike’s arc through a “hes queer and coming to accept it / struggling with heteronormativity/will get his happy ending when he gets with Will” lens are missing at least half of what defines his arc in the wider context / themes of the show.
Forewarning: long post (& also maybe an unpopular opinion)
Even as a queer person myself, I know that his arc isn’t solely about embracing his queerness (though it’s inherently interlinked). In Mike, you have a character who is being radically challenged by both external circumstances and his own decisions through a journey away from all kinds of forced conformity (social, familial, romantic & heteronormative) and into someone self actualized enough to live how they want…while also being strong enough to accept that they made mistakes along the way. Someone who is learning to be brave enough to say “this is who I am, what I enjoy, and what/who I love…and while it took me a lot of time to figure it out, now I can exist in the world embracing that even though it will take consistently resisting the tendency to accommodate people who think it’s unacceptable.”
Like. Even from a time before puberty (see: S3) Mike wants a life that stands apart from what’s expected of him in every area, not just in choosing a romantic relationship with another guy. He wants to continue to be a nerd and “child at heart” even though something else is repeatedly demanded of him by everyone from his parents to El in his romantic relationship. He wants to be a writer and someone who takes those nerdy interests into his adult life (cue aggressive gesturing toward the duffers themselves) and grates against all that’s been constructed for him even when he’s not (yet) brave enough to challenge it directly. Mike liking boys/loving Will is just “the final nail in the coffin” of his social and societal nonconformity—not the first (or the last) aspect of what makes him different from Hawkins or the life he was made to believe would suit him best.
Even the fact that Mike has a desire to be “normal” comes from an insecurity and fear that choosing what he truly wants will lead to him being outcasted and losing the people he cares for entirely—which is partially motivated by his queerness yes, but that also has a basis in his general interests and personality…which becomes especially obvious when you realize we are repeatedly shown that he is punished/has his wishes ignored in all areas he doesn’t conform, even long before we get into a plot where it’s clearer he likes boys.
We see it in how his parents have already started to demand he put boundaries on the time he spends playing his “childhood games” the very first scene of season one, how they demand social acceptable emotions from him when Will is missing, and how Karen & Ted want him to give up toys in S2 when he’s showing signs of depression (because they think the issue is him growing up, not that he’s struggling with loss or guilt for what happened to El).
We see it in how his own father comments about taking his CA trip away from him after calling Hellfire being a group for “dropouts” in S4 (implying that he is failing on an academic and social level that matters to wheelers—and that Nancy is good at).
We even see it in the way everyone from his bullies to his own girlfriend threaten and take things away from him when he doesn’t conform to social expectations...from Troy telling him to jump off the cliff to save Dustin in S1 (as punishment for the one time Mike stands up for himself in the gymnasium) to El jumping straight into breaking up with him and spying on him when he doesn’t do exactly what she wants him to in Season 3.
All of these moments are critical to understanding Mike as a person because they show us that, even without addressing his queerness, Mike’s desire to conform to socialized expectations involves but is not solely about him moving out of heteronormativity—it’s about him moving against everything that WASP, patriarchal, heteronormative and capitalistic and performative “wholesome American” values…and how he is learning to move past the fear of what will happen if he steps outside the lines in general, even though he already knows he hates those standards.
Mike’s “coming of age” arc is about finding the strength to choose the “path less traveled” in all areas of his life—even when it means (potentially) losing the support of the people he cares about. It’s about starting from a place of privilege and becoming okay with being outcasted from it in a way your insecurities never let you be before (which is inherently different than Will, who has always been shown to have some kind of support not just for his queerness but his artistic endeavors as well). Mike’s lack of support is why he starts from a place of deep insecurity, yes—but it’s also why him learning power of choosing to be himself, even if it means “losing” people when he’s honest about who (& what) he is will be universally powerful.
You don’t need to be queer to understand the power of what it means to know you will be okay even if people leave you. You don’t need to be queer to understand the power of stepping outside social expectations or your family’s way of raising you. You don’t even need to be queer to understand the weight of breaking up with someone you were only with to satisfy what you thought you should do, rather than be with who you want to.
The power of being strong enough to overcome your insecurities in order to “step out of line” and live and love as you want to is universal, and a stunningly brave choice no matter what or why you chose to do so. The fact that Will will be there waiting to love him in that honesty with himself is beautiful, yes—but it’s not the only lesson to be learned for Mike’s character.
Mike starting out with everything the world (or, at least America) tells would make you happy, realizing he is not happy with those things and rejecting them knowing it might have consequences is what makes his arc powerful, because he is learning (exactly like his sister Nancy) to be brave enough to accept those consequences (which for him are getting dumped, and feeling like he’s being left behind by some of his friends) to follow his own heart.
Even though The Duffers aren’t writing this into a tragic ending (aka: he’s not going to die or be left alone, because the duffers writing is inherently designed ro champion the outcast), these are the things that have (and will) make him relatable even to an audience that doesn’t know queerness. Erasing the fact that his lesson is the bravery it takes to follow your heart solely to talk about him liking guys (even Will) is to undermine his humanity, and the lessons to be learned from him by even the most general an audience.
TL:DR - the heteronormative aspect of Mike’s character is not the sole or even inherent issue within Mike, though heteronormativity is inherently built into his struggle.
There are deep dives on how his arc is also about a war against toxic patriarchy, toxic masculinity, emphasis on capitalistic and academic accomplishments over artistic ones, and even conformist relationships (whether they’re queer or not) that should be explored for his character—and I for one like him too much not to move out of just “this boy is queer because xyz” and into “let’s talk about Mike in terms of the wider scope of his cultural context and upbringing.” 🤷🏽♀️😂
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SOLA — Her Innocence, Sola— the anti-innocence— turns to face you. In the distance, you hear the tattoo of propellers, turning, sucking all the air. A strong wind whips her long, dark hair around her face. Her simple black gown billows behind her. The same gown she wore the day she resigned.
She has your eyes.
“Hi, Kim,” she says simply. “You don’t look well.”
PAIN THRESHOLD — Her voice is so familiar, and yet the moment she stops speaking, you cannot recall its sound, no matter how hard you try. And you have tried. Innumerable times.
AUTHORITY — What makes her think she would even *know* the difference between you looking well or unwell? She’s being presumptuous. She doesn’t even know you.
INLAND EMPIRE — She never will.
“I’m doing great, actually. Never been better.”
“Hey, I’m trying my best.”
“I’m *not* well. I’m so fucking unwell. I can’t take it anymore. Please, help me…”
“I’ll live.”
SOLA — “Hm…” She smiles apologetically. “Well, that’s all we can really ask for anymore, isn’t it?”
EMPATHY — She wishes more than anything that this was not the case. That you could ask for the world and have it.
RHETORIC — She tried to give it to you, and this is how you repay her? You’re gonna be in *deep* shit trying to explain that insignia you stitched onto her jacket.
“Um, about the jacket. It’s not what it… well, no, it *is* what it looks like. But I don’t— it’s— there’s nuance.”
“Is that really all you have to say to me?”
“I don’t know what to say to you.”
“Where are you going?”
SOLA — Her Innocence looks away from you, toward the wind. “Away,” she says, her voice distant and strange. “Yes… I’m stepping down, you see. The world doesn’t need me. It never needed me, really. It’s best for humanity to think for itself. No… it already *does* think for itself.”
She turns back to you with a small smile. The thought brings her peace.
PAIN THRESHOLD — But what does it bring *you?* She’s leaving you forever. Abandoning you for lofty ideals.
AUTHORITY — Let her go. Let her see how little you care. Don’t give her any satisfaction.
HALF LIGHT — Stop her. You won’t be able to live without her.
VOLITION — You have already lived almost all your life without her. You don’t need her. You have *never* needed her.
“What if the world *does* need you? Who are you to make that decision for the entire world?”
“Fine. Go. It’s none of my business.”
“So you’re just going to leave me behind again.”
“Please, don’t go. *I* need you.”
SOLA — “What else is an Innocence appointed to do?” Her smile turns wry. “You see? This is why I’m stepping down.”
Distant propellers turn and turn in endless circles. She glances toward them.
YOU — “Fine. Go. It’s none of my business.”
SOLA — “I suppose not.” Her voice and her face betray nothing. No sign of remorse.
YOU — “So you’re just going to leave me behind again.”
SOLA — “That was never my intention,” she says softly. “Surely you know that.”
INLAND EMPIRE — You will never truly know. No one will.
SOLA — She stares out at the horizon through the tendrils of hair that almost seem to threaten to swallow her. Her expression is strange and ambiguous, shifting every time you try and look directly at it.
YOU — “Please, don’t go. *I* need you.”
SOLA — She looks at you, and her eyes are full of what might be genuine sadness. But they could also be full of anything else.
“Oh, Kim… You must make do with what you have. I don’t know what else you want me to say…”
RHETORIC — What?! There are a million other things she could say! Forty-one years worth of possibilities! She could say *anything!* Anything at all… Even if she’d only left you a single word, it would be better than this…
VOLITION — It’s pointless to wish. Please, no more of this. It’s too sad.
“You could say that you’re sorry.”
“Say that I turned out all right.”
“Say that you’re proud of me. That you love me.”
SOLA — “Then I’m sorry.” She closes her eyes. “It was terrible of us to leave you alone.”
Her voice is utterly calm and emotionless.
PAIN THRESHOLD — No… Wrong, all wrong…
YOU — “Say that I turned out all right.”
SOLA — “You’re a good man despite it all. That is all I ever hoped for you.”
Again, there is no warmth to her words. No conviction.
VOLITION — Lieutenant… Please, don’t do this to yourself.
YOU — “Say that you’re proud of me. That you love me.”
SOLA — “I’m so proud of you and everything you’ve accomplished. You wear that jacket well.”
Her eyes have nothing behind them. A pair of two millimeter holes in the world.
“I love you.”
PAIN THRESHOLD — Your lungs seem to constrict at her words. Your chest hurts more than it’s ever hurt. This wind is hard to breathe in.
YOU — “No! Don’t you fucking get it?! You don’t love me!”
SOLA — “Then I don’t love you.”
YOU — “You should be *ashamed* of me!”
SOLA — “Then I am ashamed.”
YOU — “I betrayed you! I betrayed everything you stood for! I’m a fucking cop!”
SOLA — “Then I am betrayed.”
She proclaims it as dispassionately as she proclaimed her love.
YOU — “For god’s sake, *say something real!*”
SOLA — She just looks at you. The propellers keep on turning.
DRAMA — She can’t speak for herself, sire…
LOGIC — Of course she can’t. Of course…
PAIN THRESHOLD — Your lungs feel like they could collapse. Empty, crumpled, dark. Hot tears prick your eyes for the first time in what feels like a long time.
SOLA — “Do you understand now?” she asks gently.
LOGIC — She cannot speak for herself because you do not know what she would say.
There are many memories that you have been slowly recovering, little by little. Your mother will never be one of them. Her, the revolution, the aerostatic brigade— they all died before you could even comprehend loss.
AUTHORITY — You did not become a detective so that you could find your lost mother. You became a police officer because you did not want to end up like her.
VOLITION — She can neither forgive you, nor condemn you. She is dead, Lieutenant. She can only be what you make her.
RHETORIC — You’re asking your own echo for answers…
SOLA — “Humanity must think for itself,” she says again, turning again toward the wind. “What point is there in asking me where to go from here? I’m a failure. We all failed…”
RHETORIC — The revolutionaries failed their children, and the children are failing their parents, and all of them are dying, dying, dead… What’s the point in any of this anymore? I cannot argue in favor of any of it.
VOLITION — There is a point. There is a way forward. But you won’t find it here, Lieutenant.
“I hate you. You made me everything I am and then you just *left.*”
“I miss you… How is it even possible to miss someone you never met? It’s like someone ripped a part of me out and all I can do is bleed.”
“I don’t know what I am. I need you to tell me what I am.”
SOLA — One last time, she turns back to you. She slowly bridges the gap between you and reaches out a hand to cup your cheek. Her fingers feel like your own.
“You are whatever kind of animal you choose to be,” she says, so quietly that you don’t know how you can hear it over the distant roar of engines. “I cannot make that choice for you.”
EMPATHY — She died hoping that you would grow up with the freedom to choose to be whatever you wanted. Instead, the world that raised you hardly let you dare to want anything.
VOLITION — But you can still make a choice. Humanity can still think for itself.
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