#Media interpretation

[prokopetz]

Creating a burner account to post textually unsupported interpretations of stories I wrote myself and then call myself out over them.

#writing #media interpretation #media analysis #fandom #discourse #blogging #social media #tumblr

[art-crumbs-main]

Thinking about the subjectivity of art and how what someone sees in art can tell you a lot about them and their past, maybe.

Because it took someone actually telling me to realize Hozier's Take Me To Church was a song about forbidden lovers being ostracized and riddled with Catholic guilt and having beautiful, kinky, reverent sex about it.

I originally interpreted it as a bitter break-up song about someone who was deeply mentally ill being manipulated into putting an abusive partner on a pedestal akin to a deity. It ALWAYS felt deeply sarcastic to me.

#hozier #take me to church #queer media #media interpretation #trauma and media interpretation #cottagecore interpretation vs goth interpretation maybe #fuck man #not fandom for once #but i AM thinking about jakedirk #and how many playlists i put this on in this context

[mai-komagata]

Omg I loved contrapoints new video on twilight. I’ve never read twilight but great essay on women’s sexuality. A+ no notes even got theology right.

#contrapoints #media analysis #media interpretation #sexuality #Youtube

[anevilmanstit]

it's truly amazing to me how the same person in different interpretations could make you feel so different.

For example Blackbeard (aka Edward Teach)

In ofmd I would die for Ed. I love him to bits even though he's not a really good person.

In one piece I hate the everliving shit out of him. If I could kill him, I would without hesitation.

And in The Pirates of the Caribbean, I don't really care for him. I mean he's there, he did some bad and some good things, but I'm mostly indifferent to him.

#one piece #ofmd #our flag means death #pirates of the caribbean #edward teach #Blackbeard #media interpretation

[anarcho-mom-unist]

Some thoughts on interpretation and the need to resist rescuing a text

(The following is not scholarship but getting some of my thoughts in one place)

The goal of interpreting a text is not to save it and make it free of anything harmful or any evidence of bias. The goal is understanding —and that includes understanding that comes from bringing a different perspective to a text that finds meaning and applicability regardless of the author’s intention.

Like as much as there is bad translation and misunderstanding of purpose or context involved in the clobber passages of the Bible (that is, the handful of verses cited by homophobes for why queer don’t deserve dignity and God backs them up on it) and intensity of the homophobia therein, you’re not going to miraculously expunge all homophobia from the Bible —Romans 1:26–27 is not beating the homophobia allegations however you translate it and Leviticus 20:13 is still quite awful if it’s not a proscription on all sex between men just the kind that follows the power relations of heterosexual sex (you’ve replaced blanket antipathy toward all sex between men for conditional acceptability of certain kinds of sex between men, how very progressive and in line with liberation-oriented Judaism or Christianity!)

When you encounter something that goes against human dignity in a text, you don’t have to rescue you it —especially in the case of religious texts. You can recognize that your nominal coreligionists of the past took the same name(s) and authority of their god or gods that they otherwise used to make statements about the necessity of caring for strangers, lifting up the lowly, showing mercy, etc. and also said “but these types of people don’t deserve that, according to that/those which we call holy and divine.” It is, in fact, imperative to say, “that sucks, we need to do things differently.”

This kind of interpretive posture is necessary whether it’s something as high stakes as religion or something as low stakes as a cartoon that you like.

#evie.txt #religion #exegesis #Christianity #<- because that’s my context #media interpretation

[bluemanedhawk]

While i hate the facebookian metaverse as much as anyone else, i'm very confused about people calling the Snowcrash Metaverse “the torment vortex”, because when i read that book i interpreted its portrayal of its Metaverse as mostly a completely neutral setting for scenes, and in some cases a pretty positive thing. The one kinda negative thing i can remember the book saying about its Metaverse is [MASSIVE SPOILERS AHEAD] gung juvyr vgf zrgnirefr zvtug or pbby nyy gur erny unpxref fgvyy hfr gurve irel gjb qvzrafvbany pbzchgref fperraf sbe frevbhf jbex, [END MASSIVE SPOILERS] but even then i think i remember that being written in the form of being nothing more than an observation.

#Snowcrash #Literature #Literary interpretation #Interpretation of literature #Books #Interpretation of books #Media #Media interpretation #Interpretation of media #Metaverse (Snowcrash) #Snowcrash's Metaverse #The Snowcrash Metaverse #Computers #Technology

[maipareshaan]

The reason why we have so much teddy bear imagery with Dean is because he is one.

#Media interpretation #Ffvggg #Its like 2 times only i think

[cockworkangels]

truly a moment in tv history. like they are directly addressing the audience with these questions while the spn tptb are in real life bullying the show's fans over these exact questions

#sorry i actually enjoy all the meta episodes #thank you robbie thompson i guess #and honestly i've never known another piece of media to be so adamt to be interpreted in the exact same way that they want it to be #interpreted. while the actual creators don't even have a shared consensus what the story should be about and how it should be seen #s9 rewatch #9x18 meta fiction

[thief-of-eggs]

“He wouldn’t do that in canon!!!” “He would never say that!!”

SO FUCKING WHAT??

#i’m sick of people yelling at others bc their interpretation of media doesn’t align with theirs #dc #batfam #tim drake #timkon #kon el #batman #batfamily #jason todd #bruce wayne #dick grayson #robin #fanfic #fanfic writing #ao3 #fandoms #ships #marvel

[kosher-salt]

I resent the narrative of "it is unfair when bad things are done or said to Jews living outside of Israel, because they didn't even do anything" because it has an implication of "as opposed to Jews inside of Israel, who are inherently guilty and deserve it."

If you are saying the same things about us as antisemites trying to cover their own asses ("nooo I love Jews. Good Jews.") then you may want to reevaluate how you speak about us.

#and this goes for other Jews speaking about us #we may understand each other but those posts are visible to everyone and you may want to be aware of how your words can be interpreted #esp during a misinformation campaign being carried out across social media #its not a fair responsibility but its a responsibility nonetheless #jumblr #jewish #israel

[cemeterything]

was thinking about this earlier but the dynamic of cannibalism being associated with high society and the culinary elite (hannibal comes to mind specifically) while also simultaneously being associated with the socially isolated and economically impoverished (as in texas chainsaw massacre) is so interesting to me i want to read 10 million books on why it happens so much in media....

i can only speak from a place of personal opinion and general knowledge, because i haven't read that many papers or in-depth studies on cannibalism, but i think it often comes down to an interesection between the themes of the story you're telling and class structures and divisions. cannibalism is a compelling form of narrative symbolism because it's undeniably impactful and hard to ignore. when portrayed as a practice associated with the culinary and social upper class, it might be used as a critique of the rich and powerful and their lack of ethics and willingness to consume and destroy others for their own self-interest by showing them literally preying on and consuming their victims, or a horror story/cautionary tale about how having everything can lead you to never be satisfied and turn to increasingly extreme measures to feel like life is worth living, or a dark fantasy of indulgence and excess. when associated with the poor, marginalized and isolated, it's often based in bigotry and harmful stereotypes of the "primitive" "inhuman" "savage" "other", however it might also function as a revenge fantasy where the most oppressed and exploited members of society turn on their oppressors and take "eating the rich" to its most literal extreme, exposing the fragility of class divisions and pointing out that those in positions of social and economic power are hardly the mythic titans their propaganda tries to make them out to be, but ultimately just as mortal and made of flesh and blood as any other human being, and not immune to being dragged down from their position at the top of the food chain and torn to pieces by the crowd (as well as reminding the audience of their own fragile mortality and precarious position in the social order, and the humanity we all share in common - however cannibalism often divides the perpetrators from both their victims and the audience, so this is rarer than the other interpretations mentioned).

cannibalism and power often go hand in hand. cannibalism has historically been used as both a means of displaying your power over defeated opponents and delivering a final, humiliating blow to their image by consuming their flesh, and a means of othering and dehumanizing your opponent by portraying them as the cannibalistic monster.

both the very rich and very poor also tend to be perceived as more distant from the people who make and consume these stories, making them easier to project fiction onto and transform into symbols and narrative devices (or, in the worst cases, dehumanize) than those who occupy the same social spheres as the creator. they can be held at an arm's length without discomfort and, depending on the target audience, may be a source of fascination due to the differences in their lived experiences. it adds to the fantasy, and makes any inaccuracies, exaggerations and fabrications feel more plausible because the majority of the audience probably don't have any personal experiences of being in those positions to draw on.

#cannibalism #classism #like this is literally just my interpretation based on my knowledge of media studies literary analysis and sociology #i cant say with any certainty whether its a True and Accurate assessment

[exilepurify]

Studio Bones’ and ONE’s masterful work with the extremely nuanced and allusive facial expressions in Mob Psycho 100 adds so much subtext and subtlety to scenes. Like there’s a rich world of emotions behind the text of a lot of important scenes—stuff said only through furtive movements and charged looks. It’s very fun to go back through the context of the anime or the manga and really pay attention to the details. People who won’t watch or read MP100 because of the art style are really missing out

#mp100 #mob psycho 100 #mp100 analysis #i also feel kinda crazy interpreting expressions from a drawn media and not live action #but honestly if the animator is good enough #it’s there regardless

[mai-komagata]

Subtext is not the same thing as queer baiting

Subtext is a way of telling multiple stories at once. It is a way of layering meaning so people can take multiple layers of meaning from a story beyond the literal one. It can allow marginalized groups to tell their stories even when they are not the target audience or would suffer legal and societal repercussions from telling it. It allows a very personal work to achieve universal applicability. Subtext can be brave and it can be cowardly. It can be intentional or unintentional.

Subtext is not a replacement for literal representation but it is a different thing entirely. Discounting subtext eliminates all complexity and richness from art. You can have both queer representation and queer themes and have those be separate. Both are valid and important ways of adding queer stories into the media canon. Subtext can be a poor way of telling a story better told literally. Literal gay characters can be weaker than subtextual gay themes when all the gay character does is say “hi I’m gay”. It depends why and how it’s done.

Subtext isn’t in itself queerbaiting. Queerbaiting is about implying that a queer storyline will happen in the *text* of the story while at the same time denying that there are queer hints in the work when pressed on it later. Those hints might take the form of subtext or explicit plot, but the key is that the expectation built is that it would be textual with plausible deniability. And the denial part will be explicit by the end.

Like the matrix isn’t queer baiting bc it has trans subtext. The trans subtext is real. It isn’t less real for being simply subtext. But at no point was it hinted that neo would wake up from the matrix a different gender or sex in a future installment.

#subtext #queerbaiting #media analysis #media interpretation #random thoughts from YouTube comments

[tiyoin]

I ate your heart

warnings: graphic description of: violence, SA, gore, mentions of cannibalism, murder, reader almost gets graped, alcoholism*, manipulation, ‘victim blaming,’ unhealthy coping mechanisms, dark content - alastor and readers relationship is up for interpretation

dawg imagine you get killed by yan human alastor.🫣

like you’re thinking that you’ll finally be safe in the afterlife, hoping that you got a spot in heaven. (yet apparently, premarital sex would automatically remove your spot in line for a chance at salvation)

blasphemy does those kinda things🤷🏻

doesn’t matter if you lived as a nun. helping sinners see the light and righteousness of god. doesn’t matter if you fed por hand your entire life. or even if you solved the trolly problem.

one toe out of line, and your ass is grass.

so you’re in hell. if you knew you’d be going to hell you would’ve done a lot worse things in your human life for more power.

imagine living on the low, yeah you’ve killed people, maybe even took a soul or two. but it’s nothing to brag about, especially compared to the over lords.

—

very important note at the end.

1-800-662-4357 - addiction hotline.

-

by pressing ‘read more’ you have consented to reading this.

just a few years into your stay they started going missing. one, by one.

there was a whisper in the wind, a chill in the air as everyone had this impending sense of dread as a new over lord would be found almost daily. ripped to shreds, horribly mutilated, with missing limbs and ginormous bite marks that would open the food gates for intestines to spill out and pool around them.

sometimes there were no intestines at all.

or a body.

yet there was always a new broadcast

it wasn’t an exaggeration that everyone has been looking over their shoulders whenever the shadows looked a bit longer than usual. when the air starting churning and crackling. when the sudden sound of screaming ripped through the air. it was a natural hell-born reflex to flinch at the slightest noise of static.

a conditioning technique his radio broadcasts seemed to involuntarily instill on sinners.

you’ve never seen this so called ‘radio demon’ in person before. well, barely have been able to escape him and tell the tale so you weren’t sure what to look for.

or look out for. all you knew is that his name was alastor. and that whenever you heard that name you blood ran cold and your body stiffened.

tour mind would ring and your head would pound as you try to remember just where you’ve heard that name before.

yet your memory always failed you.

but alcohol never did.

seated at a bar as noisy club music blasted, you trace your finger longingly on the rim of your shot glass. eyes already drooping as your wrist which was keeping your head propped up started to ache.

you wouldn’t call yourself an alcoholic per say. more of a,,, continuous connoisseur. which was surprising due to the  hellish prices on everything here.

it’s not eternal damnation unless there’s a 5% sales tax plus gruitivity.

so instead of working your ass off to make a living, you’ve decided: ‘hey, it’s hell! i can do whatever i want (to an extent) and so i choose to scam men!!’

with every new bar came a new rotation of men looking to take up the empty seat next to you. you puffed your chest as you recalled a few women and non conforming folks take the seat sometimes.

you always made sure to… entertain them.

feeling a familiar pit in your stomach, you pause your hand. the coldness of the shot glass cooling your hot lips as the animal man next to you howls with laughter. the alcohol hitting his system like a firecracker.

and like clock work, his hand slipped around your waist, as he whispered filthy nothings you didn’t bother to catch, having heard it all before. even the sweet begging to take out to one of the many sex rooms the club has.

yet he dragged you towards the exit.

and you allowed him.

you thought it comically ironic that you were doing just the thing that punched your ticket down here.

the bitter cold nipped at your skin and tickled your brain. you were always so confused with the temperature of hell. freezing at night, scorching during the day.

even he’ll hated the homeless. who knew 🤷🏻

in the alley next to the club the animal man was biting and clawing at you. panting and speaking gibberish as his clumsy movements seemed to cause a new line of blood on your skin. you couldn’t do much to stop it.

limbs and eyes heavy as you tried focusing on him, on his wandering hands, his filthy mouth.

you wanted to go home.

he favored ignoring your sluggish mumbling and groans to comment about ‘wanting to fuck you nice and hard, giving you a few kits to remember him by.’

your clothes were practically in shreds. the chill in the air adding a faux impression of clarity as your arms started to weakly bang against him.

you didn’t even think he noticed as your fists wouldn’t even make it to his chest. you were so weak right now.

the only reason you weren’t crumpled on the ground as because he were pinning your entire body to the wall.

yet the inconsistent grip he had on you caused you to ping pong a bit.

“s stowp” you slurred, head lolling down as you felt his claws stop momentarily. he let out a cackle that rang through your eyes and rattled your brian stem.

fuck. you hissed. this is gonna one shit of a hang over

the drunk broke your thoughts as he continued his drunken rambles.

“the moment you took the sshhhot” spit flew in your face “i paid for… you were mine” he pushed his face in your neck, the hotness of his breathe sending distressed shivers down your body. urging your body to WAKE UP

yet he kept you pinned. you head looked to the side when tears started streaming down your face and with a big, slimy lick he greedily lapped them up.

you started struggling once his claws moved to your legs.

fuck fuck fuck you fucked up. you fucked up. why did you think this was a good idea, you knew something bad was going to happen. why didn’t you just listen to your gut. why didn’t you just take his watch and turn to the next man. why did you entertain him.

why did you let him buy you that drink.

“angel shot” had different meanings for the orderer.

if a woman ordered it, then security would either beat the shit or kill the demon she pointed out. (whether the staff respected women or just wanted an excuse to get blood on their hands, was a topic you often avoided thinking about)

but, if a man orders it… he wants to take a woman to the heavenly gates of sovereignty himself.

that last part is often open to interpretation.

nothing ever got done about these drinks. you were in hell after all. you think the politicians would ban something they invited?

the sting of his drool on an open, bloody bite mark on your collarbone ripped you from the sanctuary of your minds palace as his glowing yellow pierced into yours.

in an instant you felt nails digging into the flesh of your bruised and battered neck. blood dripped from your neck and onto your body as he squeezed harder.

black spots danced across your vision, followed by white, then purple, then red.

“help” you choked out, head lolling to the alley way as people walked by, not even phased. it was just an average day in hell after all.

the arm that wasn’t trying to put distance between you and him was heavily reaching out towards the street. hoping anyone, anything would come save you from your fuck up.

“get ready to meet god, bitch” he growled, hands-

there was a squelching noise as his breathe stilled. you dropped to the ground, hard. as he let go of you. his clawed hands fell limp to his sides. his face was blank as he staggered back.

“w-what” he stuttered, arms shakily moving to his stomach- well, what used to be his stomach- as a black tendril was impaling him.

you couldn’t move, couldn’t even stand or lift your eyes to see the scene before you. your heart beat was slow, yet thunderous in your ears. it’s thump almost made you miss the pleading, miss the screams of absolute anguish as the sound of flesh tearing and static and laughter filled the air. miss the way his head rolled in your direction before a dark, clawed hand reached from the hands and snatched it back.

it felt like hours before someone came up to you. but realistically, it was only a few seconds before you felt something hard and metal touch your head. only for the oddly shaped stick to wrap around your hair and yank your head up.

you groaned at the pain, eyes droopy as you struggled to stay conscious. you wouldn’t have been able to fight even if you wanted to.

paralyzing fear that washed over you like a tsunami, RUN. a voice spoke. yet you couldn’t even breath automatically. that job becoming harder and harder with each passing second. you couldn’t forget about the possibility of broken bones after… your viscous assault.

so you had no choice but to stay pliant to the new player in the game. 

“well well well” your eyes snapped up, your eyes met the abyss as a ferocious, crazed grin greeted you.

“it seems you carried over that habit of keeping… bad company he mused. although there was a hint of amusement in his radio voice, you knew there was nothing to laugh about.

he sighed before picking up the demons decapitated head by his hair. pushing it toward your face you were forced to smell him.

he pulled his staff- you- closer to the head, your upper body twisted uncomfortably as you were almost nose to nose with you.

a whine left your throat as alastor face came into your peripheral vision.

“what’s wrong? i thought you two were in the middle of something! but all means continue, i would hate to intrude”

he wasn’t talking about tonight. you knew that.

you felt your consciousness slip for a moment, only for a moment as a sharp sting penetrate your skull.

in a moments time the head was gone, but it was replaced by a dreaded sense of dejavú.

your brows widened as the face of pure, unadulterated fear contorted onto your face.

his grin only seemed to widen as his eyes crinkled harder.

��it seems someone remembers something. tell me miss y/n” he leaned closer, some kind of indigenous symbols started to crackle and float around him.

“tell me what you remember” he sneered, radio voice growling as his horn stretched out longer than before.

your mouth was dry, yet your tears were bountiful as your body’s natural reactions took over.

you were petrified. alastor knew this as you inhaled the intoxicating scent of terror that cling to you like perfume as you struggled to speak.

he hummed in what sounded like disappointment. but you were never sure what he was feeling as that damned smile was always glued on his face. even now.

he stepped away as he dropped your head, luckily your arms were positioned as the perfect pillow for your head to fall onto.

“since that cat has clearly stolen your tongue” he mused, briefly looking to the furry body he just… exterminated. he got bigger. horns growing even linger from his head, like branches from a tree, his already deformed limbs cracked and snapped like twigs as they went in all they grew longer, and larger in thr wrong directions.

you hadn’t thought it possible, but his smile grew larger, sharper as more teeth were revealed. pointy, yellow stained teeth with chunks of flesh and fur still in them smiled at you.

you were scared.

scared for you life-

your soul.

you wanted an escape.

giving up on physical escape meant the only place safe was your mind. yet even there he still resides.

yet his limbs weren’t twisted and broken, his voice wasn’t shrouded in statics and his hair most certainly wasn’t red.

you gasped.

alastor.

his face deepened.

“so you’ve remembered…”

you were shaking, visibly shaking as you saw two of him.

one with full teeth and brown eyes and hair… the other…

monstrous, nightmarish. hell-ish

why’d you think you could escape him, why’d you think you’d get mercy in your afterlife, when you didn’t revive any in your past life.

you didn’t wanna die by the same man twice.

alastor, who could practically read your mind inched his face down further

“don’t worry little one, i do not plan on making the same mistake twice.” like a flicker of a candle his demonic form turned into his human form. though you must have imagined or hallucinated it. as the thing was still there.

yet with each passing moment his horns subdued into his head. his grin downgraded into a smile as the symbols slinked out of existence one by one.

“i was quite… emotional back then.” he pet your hair, instantly stopping your shaking. he pretended it wasn’t because you were scared stiff.

“i didn’t know how to react when i heard you had a midnight rendezvous with the librarians son. it broken my heart” he sniffles, eyes slowly turning back into red slits.

“it saddened me, woed me to do what i had to do.” he sighed. you felt a punch to your gut as his personality did a compete 180.

“i never wanted to… yet you left me in a tricky situation” he shook his head sadly, palm against his cheek to empathize his sadness.

“but!” he said, a smile on his face as he pointed up. “i know it wasn’t your fault, that boy had been ogling you far too long so i did the only thing i thought that was fitting.”

his free hand opened his palm, showing you a faux image of smoke and mirrors, a woman and a man.

they looked around before they noticed each other. you could tell what their relationship was by how they ran to each other.

before they could reach each other, he crumpled his fist, nails digging into his glove as his slits narrowed.

“i ate you heart”

—

1-800-662-4357 - addiction hotline.

*as the author I feel obligated to write this : reader is an alcoholic but they can’t see that they are. due to having friends struggle with this i’m telling you guys straight out. that reader is addicted to alch so that part isn't up to interpretation. it’s very serious and very isolating, please think about your friends and families before you go down this path. voluntarily or involuntarily. addiction isn’t fun or even remotely ‘cool.’ the more serious talks we have about addiction instead of crossing it out as 'something only dirty people do' and start seeing it for the monster it truly is; is the day we will get as a society. although i didn’t struggle with alcohol addiction, i was victim to another kind that plagues me to this day, so please take my advice and make smart choices.

this also extends to self destructive behaviors, like what reader is doing

personally, i think alastor is some kind of ace / demiromantic

out of all the things I was gonna write to come back, I never would've thought it was gonna be a hazbin hotel imagine. let alone an alastor x reader one.

#if you guys want more lmk☝️ #personally I think alastor is ace #alastor my love #but what is media if not interpretable #if ANY of you are going through something #not just my moots #im always here to talk as I've seen through a thing or two cause ive been through a thing or two😼 #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #yandere alastor x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor

[see-arcane]

Thinking about how Jonathan Harker’s role as the haunted vampire hunter-archenemy has been so thoroughly pushed onto Van Helsing's shoulders. Annoying as it is to see in so many adaptations and spinoffs, I can’t help King Laughing about both the comedic and dramatic potential of this misconception as it would apply to future supernatural shenanigans post-Dracula canon

Specifically, how hilarious and/or advantageous it would be to

Have would-be enemies getting bamboozled by one of Dr. Abe’s monologues, as per rambling banter rule, only to have some soft-spoken solicitor drop off the wall behind them and kukri them in half without a word. Or,

Have our good friend Jonathan Harker constantly getting approached by people with a bad case of the Horrors, said people assuming the white-haired, haunted-eyed, knife-wielding, vampiric vendetta fellow must surely be the famous Abraham van Helsing who—by way of a game of Victorian telephone is assumed to have—‘spent a season in close quarters with a horde of vampires, injured the latter without even a holy item on his person, scaled a mountainside and traversed the Carpathians barefoot, and sent Count Dracula himself running after nearly splitting him in two..!’

All while Jonathan ‘Only Assertive Under Duress’ Harker is just sitting there, politely waiting for the chance to speak up and say, no, actually, that professor over there is Abraham van Helsing. His name is Jonathan H—

“Oh, Jonathan van Helsing? My apologies. Was it your father who did all that?”

Jonathan, sweating: “um—"

Van Helsing, not immune to a Good Bit: “No, no, it was him! My child, do not be shy on the matter of your so many harrowing feats! He brings such pride to the Van Helsing name.” :)

Jonathan, internally: (Why this???)

Mina, internally: (It keeps our name out of the wind and away from snooping supernatural ears, darling. I’d rather Mary not open the door on an angry undead horde because they knew where to find Mr. and Mrs. Harker.)

Mina, out loud, the Power of Prank Compels Her: “He really is too modest.” <3

I just think it’s a gimmick that could get some good mileage as a misdirection ploy and a feasible in-universe excuse for why Van Helsing keeps getting all the Dracula Nemesis credit

#it could be such a fun thing to play with if only it wasn't so warped into a literal interpretation Every Single Time by Dracula-media #augh #jonathan harker #abraham van helsing #mina harker #dracula #re: dracula #dracula daily

[shaniacsboogara]

"don't be scared little child, you're no demon" has got to be one of the most heartbreaking lines conan's every written. yes, it's meant to be a reassuring statement to whoever the song is written to, but it reflects a devestatingly reality. so many children, literal children, grow up terrified that there's something wrong with them or that they'll go to hell just because they're queer. this line isn't hyperbole or exaggeration, it's something some kids genuinely need to be told because they believe they're doomed. and that's why the message of this song is so fucking important.

#if anyone has a different interpretation of the song PLEASE lmk #i fucking love discussing media like this #did this line make me cry??? yes #OH GOD I'M GONNA SOB HEARING IT LIVE #conan gray #found heaven