#Consumer feedback and reviews

[marketxcel]

What Is Consumer Research: Methods, Types, Scope & Examples

Explore the world of consumer research with our comprehensive blog. Learn about various research methods, types, and the broad scope of consumer studies. Dive into real-world examples to understand how consumer research impacts businesses and shapes the market landscape. Elevate your knowledge and stay ahead in the dynamic field of consumer insights.

[pebblegalaxy]

Amazon Community Guidelines: A Tool for Censorship or Genuine Consumer Protection? @Amazon @AmazonIn

Amazon Community Guidelines: A Corporate Veil to Silence Honest Opinions? Amazon, the behemoth of e-commerce, has made its name by promising a seamless customer experience, a wide array of products, and, most importantly, transparency in user reviews. After all, isn’t the essence of an online marketplace to help consumers make informed choices by leveraging the wisdom of crowds? But behind the…

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Wicked Games 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: non/dubcon, cheating, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Steve Rogers

Summary: you had a one night stand. Or did you?

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Your phone wakes you. The room tilts as you open your eyes. A dull hammering thrums in your temples. The morning light makes your brain rough as sand paper. 

Dregs of vodka stick to your dry tongue. The hangover weighs you down like an anchor. Just the thought of moving hurts. 

You reach blindly for your jittering phone. Bubbly music tinkles from the speaker. Shit. It's Barrett. What did he forget this time? 

You answer and put your clammy palm to your forehead. You squint at the ceiling then your eyes slowly round. Where the fuck are you?  

"Hey, babe. You at Wendy's?" Your husband asks. 

You gulp and peel your tongue off the roof of your mouth. This isn't Wendy's house. 

"Yep," you croak. Your eyes ping side to side. 

"Look, I'm sorry about last night. Things got heated and I know I was an ass--" 

You cough as you sit up in the strange bed. "Yeah, you were." 

"So why don't you come home and we can talk it out." 

You peer around the room and your lips curve in a frown. Where the hell would you go besides home your loyal best friend's? You scratch you scalp and turn your legs over the edge of the bed, "let me get myself together." 

"Babe. Please. I'm sorry." 

"When I get home." You hang up.  

It was a hell of fight. The minute he started yelling, you bailed. He knows better. You're not doing a ten hour day and coming home his nagging. So you left out your coffee mug. Big deal. You didn't say anything about the garbage bag he left out to be torn apart by raccoons. 

Whatever. Fighting over dishes. Not of it matters right now. 

Your clothes are on the floor. Someone's floor. Who it is is far from the point. You stand and stagger. You catch yourself on the nightstand. Your hand moves instinctively between your legs. 

You're naked and tender. Did you have sex? 

Think! You ran out with your purse. You went to Wendy's. She was up for a night out. A night to forget and body did you. First drink, second, third, then it gets blurry.  

Fuck! You didn't. You wouldn't. You're pissed at your husband but you wouldn't cheat on him. You're not that type of person. Right? 

You don't have time for that. You have to get out of here.  

You dress as you search the room. It's tidy. Half the bed is mad and the other half messed from your drunken slumber. 

You shake out your hands trying to shoo away the flurry of guilt and denial. Just get out. You'll think better with some coffee in your system.  

You push down the door handle slowly. You listen to the silence of the hall. You tiptoe out warily, checking left and right as you advance. It's a nice place. A condo. Much nicer than your cramped one bedroom. 

Not important! 

You come out into the spacious front room. It's as empry as the rest of the place. The kitchen too. The bathroom. No one. 

Your purse is by the door. Your shoes too. You grab both and let yourself out. You'd rather not face your mistake. 

No, you didn't do anything. You wouldn't. 

You hurry down the hallway to the elevators. You don't look back, just keep going. You don't think, just go. 

It isn't until you're outside the familiar cafe marquee that your let your mind settle. You enter and join the queue. Your order a black coffee and drink it at a stool by the window.  

You lean your elbows on the high table that stands inside the pane. You take a slow, savouring swig of coffee and let it trickle down your throat. You shield your face from the New York morning and put your hands over your ears. 

You can't remember anything but Wendy. Your anger had you ordering round after round, trying to drown out the bile. The thought makes your stomach lurch and you gulp thickly. 

You shake your head and groan. Your phone chirps. It's probably Barrett. Several messages from him and missed calls. All through the night. It's bad enough you betrayed him, you had him up worrying. 

No, you didn't! 

It can't have happened if you don't remember it. A generous stranger took you home so you didn't wake up on the curb. That's it. 

That's the story. Nothing happened. And you'll let Barret believe you were with Wendy. It won't make a difference. 

Your mind is set. Nothing happened. 

Nothing. Happened. 

Because you don't remember. Because you were too drunk to do that. Because you're married and it can't happen. 

You're going to finish your coffee and go home. Everything will be just like it was before... after you tell Barrett where to put that coffee mug if it's such a big deal. 

[writingwithfolklore]

6 Ways to Develop Your Writing Intuition

Read broadly—articles, genres you normally wouldn’t, authors or writers you’ve never heard of, work from your classmates or friends

Try several versions of each scene—add things, take away things, experiment and explore with your stories and scenes, try things you don’t think will work, or take inspiration from prompts to change your scene in new ways

Get feedback—without colouring your feedbacker’s opinion, ask people what their impressions are of your work, listen to them

Write things you normally wouldn’t—if you always write from a female POV, try a male or non-binary one (or other). If your settings tend to be rural, try urban. Explore creative non-fiction if you’ve always written fiction, or poetry, etc.

Watch movies, student films and plays—see if there’s a film fest in your city, or a student show, or a small theatre production. Don’t just limit yourself to blockbusters.

Write reviews for different media—even if you don’t post them anywhere, by thinking critically about the media you consume you can begin to develop your sensibility for what a good story or characters look like versus ones that fall flat for you.

[redstonedust]

i wish when people blocked you online it came with reviews. maybe i want to know what i did that was so objectionable. maybe i want consumer feedback. like restaurant.

[freyaphoria]

Okay yay requests are open! So hear me out and do what you see fit or comfortable with. Sooo most yandere writers say they can never see Jongho being obsessed but if it’s true that his Venus is in Scorpio just like Hongjoong that man is just as obsessive, he is just way more low key about it. Like I could see it as him being just as confused as to way he feels this intense pull towards someone and just can’t figure it out so he starts following them because obviously something has to be wrong with who is stalking. It couldn’t be something someone wrong with him, everyone views him as this calm, proper, and very put together kind of guy. 😉 I hope that makes sense, anyways love your writing! 💕

a/n: At first I couldn't see him as a yandere either, he is just like a possessive boyfriend, but as time went by and I got more familiar with the yandere theme, I realized how much of a stalker and obsessive he was. And I tried to write as gender-neutral as possible. I hope you will like it! I'd appreciate it if you could give me some feedback♡♡♡

Is This Love?

tw: yan!stalker!friend!Jongho, stalking, obsessive behaviors, spying, mentions of kidnapping, killing and blood.

(Not proofread!!!!!)

wc: 1140

taglist: @aim-blossom @bambisd0ll @oddracha @peqchplvto

You were so breathtakingly beautiful, so irresistibly attractive, so utterly mesmerizing... These were merely a handful of the countless words that cascaded through Jongho's mind every single time his eyes fell upon you. With each encounter, his entire being was overwhelmed: his breath caught in his throat, his hands trembled uncontrollably, and his mind seemed to come to a complete standstill. Jongho found himself grappling with the emotions stirring within him. Was this love? He had experienced love before, or so he thought, but never had he felt anything remotely close to this all-consuming emotion.

In his past experiences with love, Jongho had never entertained such dark thoughts. He had never carefully plotted the killing of everyone who dared to converse with the object of his affection. He had never spent entire nights observing their window while the rest of the world slumbered peacefully. He had certainly never gone to the extreme of hacking into their phone to pore over their private conversations with friends or their personal photographs. No, in the past, he had simply... loved them. Or liked them. Either way, he had never engaged in the kind of obsessive behavior that now consumed him, like following you through the aisles of the supermarket as he was doing now.

As you meandered through the store, blissfully unaware of his presence, you appeared so pure and innocent in Jongho's eyes. While you were reviewing the items on your shopping list, Jongho was trying to approach you without being seen and trying to see what you were going to buy. Because you had written your list on paper instead of in your phone's note app, Jongho didn't know what you were going to buy. Nevertheless, he felt certain that your basket would inevitably include your favorite chocolate and chips - items he now considered his own favorites as well.

This mirroring of your preferences extended far beyond mere snack choices. Your favorite beverage had seamlessly become his preferred drink too, he had stockpiled numerous boxes of it at his home - in case you came over and allowing him the opportunity to offer you your favorite refreshment. He would watch you cook during the day by hacking into your home security camera, even mirroring your culinary creations.

Your daily routines became his own: when you were about to shower, he would step into his own bathroom; when you settled down to watch television, he would tune in to the same program, creating an illusion of shared experiences.

Part of him wanted to believe he had given up on the idea of kidnapping you after you left the store that day because he was still grappling with his own conflicting feelings. Guilt was a constant companion, keeping him from taking definitive action.

Jongho felt guilty about doing these things, when you suspected someone was constantly entering your house and told him about it, the first thing he suggested was to install security cameras; and trusting your friend, you had installed cameras in every room of the house. You thought you were completely safe now, that you could see if someone entered the house, but in reality, no one was entering the house anymore, someone, your friend Jongho, was now living in the shadows of your life. This 24/7 observation only intensified Jongho's guilt and his awareness that his behavior had crossed a line. Yet, the trust you placed in him by seeking his help became the very tool he used to further his obsession. Now able to track your every move, he no longer needed to risk physical intrusion. However, old habits die hard, and he still found himself occasionally entering your home. During his visits, he would do things he couldn't do during the day and physically get as close to you as he wanted: Inhaling the lingering scent of your perfume on the hoodie you had worn that day, gently stroking your hair as you slept, spending hours watching the rise and fall of your chest and the subtle twitches that punctuated your slumber. Hours passed as he gazed at you, imprinting these moments in his mind. Later, he would erase all footage from the cameras, ensure everything was in its proper place, and leave before dawn. When you shared your nightmares with him at college, expressing how you felt someone was watching you yet found no evidence on the cameras, Jongho listened closely, pretending to be concerned while his heart raced.

You confided in him as if he were your rock, and he reveled in that intimacy. In the eyes of those around him, Jongho was a model of trustworthiness. He was the friend everyone leaned on, the person who respected confidences without fail, the one who offered help without asking for anything in return - a kind soul always ready to lend a helping hand or a sympathetic ear. No one would ever suspect him of any wrongdoing. Even he sometimes struggled to match this reality with his own self-image. Each time he logged onto his computer to see you walking freely about your home, blissfully unaware of his stalking, he was taken aback by the stark contrast between your innocence and his actions.

What he felt could not be labeled as love; love should be a purer, more innocent emotion. What coursed through his veins was a dark, possessive desire - a need to have you all to himself, away from everyone, even if you hated him. He wanted to kill everyone anyone who had ever brought a smile to your face, spoken a kind word to you, or dared to touch you.

After putting these dark thoughts into action and ensuring your safe return from the grocery store, Jongho found himself on a chilling journey to the house of the person you liked— it was going to be a meeting full of blood and pain. As he drove through the quiet streets, his mind raced with conflicting emotions. The weight of his actions began to settle upon him, and for the first time, a sense of unease crept into his bones. The familiar thrill of his obsession was now tinged with a growing apprehension. He realized, with a start, that the line he had been toeing for so long had finally been crossed. The reality of what he was about to do struck him with full force, and he felt a cold shiver run down his spine. In that moment, as the streetlights cast eerie shadows across his face, Jongho found himself genuinely frightened - not of external threats, but of the depths of his own obsession and the lengths to which he was willing to go. This new fear of himself and the monster he had become started to eat away at his resolve, threatening to undo the world he had carefully built around his obsession.

[xylax]

Gamedev vs life

Hi I wanted to thank fans/players for patience regarding markings. I am grateful beyond belief how basically entire playerbase was so nice about it all. I got so touched, because I was so scared to disappoint you all. Thank you so much. <3

I am working hard to make up for the delay, I am very sorry it came to that point, I am very ashamed I underestimated amount of work vs manpower, and encouraged to start the encounters before everything was ready, thinking "Of course it's gonna be ready". But it's not 2018 anymore. It's not 1400 files per stage, it's ~3000, totalling 18.000 files for Jaglions... Plus - lot of things happened. Almost entire staff team got sick or experienced very difficult life news that impacted progress. However, I will talk about my situation, as this is my blog.

This month, I have finally been diagnosed with osteoarthritis. It's been an issue for years, but in last 2 years it significally affected quality of my life - this was final drop in sea of needs to get an extra lion files artist in late 2023.

In June this year I suffered a joint inflammation that made me unable to walk. My fingers bend sideways, are stiff and painful. I did receive a steroid treatment but it was not enough to affect the knee, however my fingers feel a bit better, which is nice for drawing! I also received prescription for a painkiller that works better with joints - which is a nice change from just ketoprofen I've been taking. I have more appointments set to see what treatments I can get.

I have to address that it has been affecting my work, and with this, how players experience the game I work on. It is unfair that it affects the enjoyment of the game, and we want to do everything to remedy this.

An artist who already has been with us for years just received a new contract to help us with lion files, and we are looking into getting another decor artist (we're reviewing the portfolio right now!), making us potentially get 3 new artists this year alone. I hope this will help with improving quality and tempo of the game growth. I think Wolvden gets a lot more diversity in artists and a lot less stages/files currently, so it's not an issue yet - however I hope the way we work on Lioden which is always so time-consuming will also positively impact Wolvden in future, as it grows.

Thank you again for your patience with me, DMs with support and stern feedback - I appreciate everything, always. I want this game to be so much fun and to always be pleasure to look at.

Also, fuck genAI, as always. o7

[elryuse]

yandere Minju?

Scared To Lose You

Yandere Minju (ILLIT) X Make Reader

Minju's POV

The screech of the microphone feedback jolted me back to reality. The roar of the crowd was a dull thrum in the background, a constant drone I barely registered. The spotlight hit me, a harsh glare highlighting every bead of sweat clinging to my skin. But tonight, none of it mattered. My gaze scanned the sea of faces, a relentless search for a single point of light amidst the screaming fans.

There. Second row, just left of the giant inflatable ILLIT mascot. A familiar figure, his worn light stick held aloft like a beacon. Sunshine_Y/N. His name, a secret whispered in the dead of night, a forbidden fruit I couldn't stop myself from craving.

It started innocently enough. A fleeting glance across the stage, his smile brighter than any spotlight. Then, another concert, another performance, and there he was again. Each time, he drew me in, his unwavering support a tiny pinprick of warmth in the icy grip of idol life.

One rainy afternoon, exhausted and drained, I found myself on a fancam binge. My finger scrolled, stopping on a comment - "Sunshine_Y/N." Curiosity, a dangerous thing for a guarded heart like mine, took over. I clicked.

Fan art, glowing reviews, messages gushing about ILLIT, mostly about me. A strange flutter started in my chest. Here, in the digital world, I wasn't just Minju, the cold lead dancer. I was someone he admired, someone who sparked his sunshine.

The obsession bloomed, a poisonous flower slowly wrapping its vines around me. Hours spent scrolling his social media became a nightly ritual. I memorized his birthday, his favorite color – sunflower yellow, just like his light stick – and even his dream of learning to dance like me.

The need to know more became a consuming fire. Shame battled with a strange pull, but I found myself spilling my secret to Jisoo, our manager. "There's this fan..." I trailed off, the words catching in my throat.

Jisoo raised an eyebrow, a knowing glint in her eyes. "A special fan?"

I flushed, heat creeping up my neck. "Just... A fan, okay?"

Jisoo smiled, a predator sizing up its prey. "Leave it to me, Minju."

Days later, a manila folder landed on my table. My heart hammered a frantic tattoo against my ribs as I opened it. It was Y/n's life, meticulously documented, a violation laid bare in black and white. Shame coiled in my gut, but the knowledge was intoxicating, a forbidden fruit I couldn't resist taking a bite of.

His address, his family details, even his favorite coffee shop – all there for me to consume. This was wrong, I knew it. But the thrill of knowing everything, of having him mapped out in my mind, was too powerful to ignore.

The weekend arrived, a heavy weight settling in my stomach. Armed with a disguise – a baseball cap pulled low and oversized sunglasses – I ventured out. The address led me to a small, unassuming apartment building. My pulse quickened, a frantic drum solo against my ribs.

He opened the door, blinking in surprise. "M-minju?" he stammered, disbelief coloring his voice.

I froze, caught red-handed. Shame and a twisted sense of elation warred within me. Here he was, the object of my unhealthy obsession, standing in his own doorway.

But instead of disgust, his face lit up with a mixture of awe and excitement. He ushered me inside, bombarding me with questions about ILLIT and our upcoming comeback. Flustered, I found myself answering, enjoying the way his eyes sparkled with every word.

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the room. I knew I had to leave. With a hasty goodbye, I fled back to the dorm, the image of Y/n seared into my brain.

He wasn't just a fan anymore. He was mine, a secret obsession I couldn't shake. And I, Minju, the cold, aloof idol, was hopelessly addicted to the sunshine he brought into my life. An addiction I knew, with a chilling certainty, would consume me whole.

The following days were a blur of practice sessions and promotional appearances. Every spare moment was spent replaying our encounter, dissecting every smile, every word he spoke. My obsession grew, a monstrous vine snaking its way around my heart.

One night, unable to sleep, I did the unthinkable. I used the information Jisoo had gathered to find his social media accounts beyond the one he used for fan interactions. It felt like a betrayal, a violation of the fragile trust we'd built. Yet, I couldn't stop myself.

His private accounts were a window into his soul – pictures with friends, family gatherings, even a video of him clumsily attempting a dance routine.

I watched the grainy video on repeat, a twisted pleasure blooming in my gut. Here he was, the one I held on a pedestal, stumbling through the choreography I knew with every fiber of my being. A strange sense of power surged through me. He admired me, wanted to be like me, yet he was so far out of reach.

Sleep finally claimed me, the image of his clumsy dance moves morphing into a dream where he danced flawlessly beside me, his eyes locked on mine with adoration.

The following weeks felt like an eternity. Practice sessions blurred into late-night rehearsals, my focus waning, my body exhausted. My only solace was the stolen moments I spent on his social media, a guilty pleasure I couldn't shake.

One evening, amidst the chaos of a pre-comeback photoshoot, my phone buzzed. An anonymous message, a single line of text: "Lookinh forward to your performance tonight. Sunshine_Y/N."

My breath hitched. It was him, using a burner phone? A thrill shot through me, a mixture of fear and excitement. He was following me, watching me from the shadows. This secret connection, this shared knowledge, felt like a forbidden bond.

That night, as ILLIT took the stage bathed in blinding lights, I searched the crowd with renewed fervor. My eyes scanned every face, a desperate yearning clawing at my chest. But he was nowhere to be seen.

Disappointment prickled at me, a bitter aftertaste to the roaring applause that greeted our performance. Back in the dorm, exhaustion tugged at me, yet sleep refused to come. All I could think about was that message, a confirmation of his obsession that mirrored mine.

The days leading up to our comeback single's release were a whirlwind of interviews, radio appearances, and photoshoots. The pressure mounted, the weight of expectations a constant burden. Yet, amidst the chaos, Y/n's silent presence became a flickering flame, a lifeline in the storm.

Then, the single dropped. The response was overwhelming, a positive wave of online feedback and soaring music chart positions. But the only validation I craved was his.

One morning, as I scrolled through a sea of comments on ILLIT's official page, I saw it. A message from Sunshine_Y/N, bold and glowing amidst the praise. "'Obsession' is a masterpiece. You're incredible, Minju."

Tears welled up in my eyes, a mixture of relief and something more possessive. He had seen it, had heard our song, and his praise echoed in my head like a love song.

The following days turned into weeks, then months. ILLIT's popularity skyrocketed, and so did my obsession with Y/n. Jisoo, bless her calculating heart, saw the shift in me and subtly started feeding my addiction. Pictures from events we attended, details on our schedules, anything that might pique his interest.

It wasn't enough. I craved more, a connection that went beyond stolen glances and cryptic messages. One night, after a particularly grueling promotional tour, I found myself breaking down in front of Jisoo.

"I can't take it anymore, Jisoo," I confessed, my voice thick with desperation. "I need to see him, to talk to him properly."

Jisoo, calm and collected despite my outburst, offered a solution. "There's a fan meeting scheduled next month. We can arrange a… private meeting beforehand."

A spark ignited in my eyes. A chance to meet him face-to-face, away from the screaming fans? It was a risk, a potential scandal, but the desire to be near him eclipsed any fear.

The following weeks were filled with nervous anticipation and meticulous planning. Jisoo orchestrated a secret room within the venue where the fan meeting was held, ensuring our encounter would remain discreet.

The day arrived, a storm of controlled chaos. ILLIT performed, interacted with fans, signed autographs – a machine running on autopilot. But all I could think about was the secret meeting waiting for me at the end.

Finally, the last fan left, and I found myself ushered into the waiting room. My heart hammered against my ribs as the door creaked open, revealing a nervous-looking Y/n.

He froze, his eyes widening in surprise. Then, a smile erupted on his face. "Minju? Is this really… you?"

I nodded, unable to form words. Here he was, the object of my obsessive desires, standing just a few feet away. The air crackled with a strange energy, a mix of nervousness and something darker.

The following hour flew by in a blur. We talked about music, about ILLIT, about his dreams – mundane topics that somehow felt profound in this clandestine setting. As the time drew to a close, a sense of panic clawed at me. I couldn't let him leave.

Panic constricted my throat as Jisoo poked her head in, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "Time's up, Minju. We have to get you back before anyone notices."

"No!" I blurted out, the word echoing in the sterile room. Both Y/n and Jisoo stared at me, surprise etched on their faces.

Shame burned in my cheeks, but a stronger urge, a possessive need, took hold. I couldn't let him disappear back into the faceless crowd, not after this. Not after the connection we'd forged, however twisted it might be.

Taking a deep breath, I stepped towards Y/n, my voice losing its usual icy composure. "Don't listen to her," I said, my gaze locking onto his. "We still got time."

Y/n shuffled back, his eyes darting between me and the closed door. A seed of fear bloomed in his usually sunny demeanor. "M-minju, what's going on?"

The mask of professionalism I usually wore slipped completely. "This," I declared, stepping closer, my voice barely above a whisper. "This is what's going on."

Before he could react, I reached out and locked the door, the satisfying click echoing in the silence. Y/n's breath hitched, his eyes widening in terror. A flicker of satisfaction sparked in me, a dark thrill at his fear.

"Minju, why are you doing this?" he stammered, his voice trembling.

"Because I can't lose you," I confessed, the words tumbling out in a torrent. "You may not know it, Sunshine_Y/N, but you're mine now. Your admiration, your support, it all belongs to me."

Tears welled up in his eyes, a stark contrast to the cold, chilling smile that crept onto my face. "But… but I don't understand. I'm just a fan."

"Just a fan?" I scoffed, the sound laced with cruel amusement. "Oh You're so much more than that, Y/n. You're my muse, my inspiration, the sunshine that cuts through the monotony of my life."

His fear morphed into a kind of pleading. "Minju, please. This is crazy. You don't even know me."

I leaned in close, my voice dropping to a seductive purr. "Oh, but I do, Y/n. I know everything. Your favorite color, your birthday, even your dream of dancing like me."

He stumbled back, his face draining of color. "W-wait.. H-how… how do you know that?"

A cruel laugh escaped my lips. "Let's just say I have my ways."

He looked around the room, a desperate hope flickering in his eyes. But the door remained locked, a symbol of the terrifying reality that had dawned on him.

"Don't worry, Y/n," I continued, my voice soft yet laced with a dangerous edge. "You'll get used to this. You'll learn to love me, just like I love you."

His voice, barely a whisper, shattered the twisted fantasy I'd built. "You… you don't love me, Minju. This is just an obsession."

A flicker of anger ignited within me, but I quickly schooled it. "Call it what you want, Y/n," I said, my voice back to its usual icy calm. "The point is, you're mine now. And there's nothing you, or anyone else, can do about it."

I watched, a predator savoring its prey, as the light extinguished from his eyes, replaced by a chilling realization. He was trapped, a prisoner in a gilded cage built by my twisted love, a love that had morphed into a terrifying obsession.

To Be Continued

[paleoleigh]

Emailing everyone at HBO, Max, and Warner Bros Discovery I can while my code runs this morning. Will be writing and sending letters later today. We ARE seeing an impact on social media and through the stock tanking with the news yesterday - don't lose hope just yet.

Write emails, write letters, comment on social media, tweet, post, send in a feedback form to Max if you're in the US. Please help us show corporations they can't just jerk around their consumers and expect them to keep paying for products they don't want.

Personally, I'm keeping my tone light and gently expressing my disappointment with the decision, that OFMD was the reason I purchased a subscription to Max, and that given how well it does in streaming numbers and media reviews, I would ask them to reconsider not renewing it for a third season.

Very happy to post more of what I'm sending as examples and can try to gather emails if it will help. This isn't over yet.

[bihanspookies]

Could you do headcanons of Ghost, Gaz, Soap and Graves challenging the reader to marksman contest? (You can choose who wins in each)

Forgive me, bc I am not a Graves girly so I turned to the best Graves fucker I know @chadillacboseman for assistance

Regardless I hope you enjoy 🫡

Ghost

• Congratulations! You almost caused a mission to go straight into hell and your Lieutenant was pissed. It was an accident really, what should’ve been a single headshot turned into one grazing the enemy’s head and then another that hit where it was supposed to in the first place.

• Ghost had pulled you aside back at base, questioning your skills and if you were actually competent enough to be a soldier.

• Of course you were competent enough! If you weren’t you wouldn’t be here now would you? But your LT seems to think otherwise, putting you to a test to see if you could get a better score than him.

“You get a better score, I’ll let you off the hook and won’t put this in your file. Understood?”

You gave a firm yes, loading your gun and waiting for Ghost to go first. You barely clicked it into place before he started to unload all his bullets into the target, all of them right on or near the center.

He turns to you, expressionless and places his gun on the table. He says nothing except crosses his arms over his broad chest and that’s when you realize he’s waiting for you to go.

You scramble back into your booth, slipping your earmuffs and protective goggles on. You grab your gun and point, taking a deep breath to steady yourself before you fire off.

Of course the first one is massively off course, having you internally curse before slapping yourself mentally to get your head in the game. You wanted to look good in front of your Lieutenant, show him that you were meant to be here but he was making it increasingly hard with his intimidating presence.

Steadily you regained yourself, focusing your attention on the target and you let the bullets loose. Not quite as great as Ghost but close enough. You slipped your earmuffs around your neck, turning back to look at him and waiting for his feedback. He simply stared at you, saying nothing before handing you more bullets.

“Again.”

Gaz

• It can’t just be work work work on the base, you gotta have some fun too every once in a while.

• You guys were chugging a few beers, still buzzing from an earlier mission that went off without a hitch. So naturally he asks if you want to head to the range for a little ‘friendly competition’.

• It was friendly in the beginning until he realized that you were slowly getting better shots than him. Quicker than quick he sobered up.

“Just a little ‘friendly competition’ hm?” You teased, watching him concentrate as he puts another hole right in the center of the target. He laughs, removing his earmuffs and giving you one of his famous smiles.

“What can I say? You just bring out the competitor in me, darling.”

You can’t help but chuckle, giving a pat on his back before going back to it and determined to get a better score.

You’re still there about an hour later, neither of you letting up and wanting the other to win.

“Last round, love?” Gaz says, reloading his gun before stepping back into his booth.

“Oh scared that I’m going to beat you?” You can’t help but poke fun him, his beautiful eyes sparkling in amusement as a fit of laughter escapes him.

“Terrified.”

In less than a minute both your pistols are empty, Gaz pulling in the sheets that was were chock full of holes. He rips his off and holds it up to compare to yours.

“Just as I suspected.”

You go to his side to look, ready to rub your victory in his face.

“A tie!”

He smiles at you and you can’t help but smile back, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“Next time I’ll be the winner, love.” He winks at you, resting his head on top of yours.

Soap

• You were outside practicing, needing to let off some steam after a not so friendly review from your captain. Your shots were wild and off center, too consumed by your frustration to actually try and get good hits in.

• You don’t even hear Soap come up behind you and watch as you shoot bullet after bullet, making him wince every time you missed.

• After a while he finally had enough, catching you when you emptied your gun by placing a soft but firm hand on your shoulder.

“Jesus bonnie, you’re shootin’ like shit out here.” He tries to make you laugh, sensing the tension in your body. You only shake him off and groan, going back to reload your gun before he stops you again.

“C’mon now, let’s do this properly yeah?” He fixes your stance, body behind yours as he guides your movements and gives you pointers right in your ear.

“Just. Breathe.”

Your shots are better sure but that doesn’t make you any less upset and he can tell. He grabs your attention once more, a look of concern on his face.

“Tell you what darling, you get a better score than me I’ll let you buy me dinner.”

That makes you crack a smile, tilting your head in confusion as you hear his proposition.

“Shouldn’t it be you that buys me dinner if I win?”

He grins wide at you, winking before grabbing his own gun and getting ready to aim and fire. Later when both your targets are full of holes, you can already tell he’s won before even seeing it up close. Your mood sours again but you do your best to hide it.

“So, where would you like to go for dinner?” He asks you, making you look at him in confusion.

“But I lost?”

“Aye, and I won. So now I get to treat you out to dinner. Again I ask, where would you like to go?”

Graves

• Now what were you thinking accepting a challenge from Graves of all people. Have you seen how cocky and arrogant he is, of course he’s gonna go all out in this.

• Shows off his skills because if you didn’t pick it up already, he’s doing this to impress you (don’t ask about his backwards logic that to impress you he’s gonna kick your ass)

• He can and WILL use pet names bc one he’s a flirt and two he wants to try and throw you off your game.

“C’mon sweetheart just a quick game, just you n me, out in the woods and shooting the shit. Whaddya say?” He’s got his hands on his hips, a confident smirk, and his rifle perched on his back. You roll your eyes so hard that you see stars but you can’t deny that his smug attitude and that good ol’ Southern charm does tug at your curiosity.

Sure you were a good shooter but were you good enough to beat him?

Short answer is: no

But damn if you didn’t have Graves sweating in his boots when it was your turn. Especially when you were so far hitting every can without even breathing.

“C’mon baby c’mon baby…” He’s muttering to himself, watching as you set up to take the final shot at a swinging can. He’s counting on the wind and his own presence to distract you and throw you off guard.

He almost wanted to hold back his yell of glee when your bullet grazed the can instead of sniping it clean off. Instead he settled for a very sarcastic and fake sound of disappointment.

“Fuck darlin’, sure is a shame.” He puts his hands on his hips and shakes his head, tutting his tongue before turning to you with a big smile.

“Now about that bet.”

“We didn’t make a bet.”

“Oh, didn’t we? Well I won and I’m saying we did so.” He pretends to inspect his nails before looking you up and down, shamelessly ogling you.

“I got a few ideas in mind for this winner.”

[mapsontheweb]

The Most Trusted Company in Each U.S. State

Trust is at the core of so many decisions that we make every day.   When it comes to shopping, many Americans turn to online reviews of a company as a way to gauge trust before committing to a purchase. In fact, 93.7% of consumers will trust a brand more if it has received positive feedback from previous customers.   This leads to the question: 

If positive reviews translate to trustworthiness, which American companies are the most trustworthy?

This new study from OnDeck set out to find the answer by analyzing 14.9 million customer reviews of American companies to reveal the most trusted American companies.

Source: 

https://www.ondeck.com/resources/most-trusted-brands

[whenmemoriesfrost]

writing update

last week I finished a draft of my flash fiction 🐝 and short story 🌳 and sent both to my writer friend for feedback. looking forward to workshopping them with him soon.

currently i’m working on a flash fiction piece 💧 because i had a small new idea on sunday, i’m trying to be a bit more experimental which is fun, and trying to write without overthinking. in general i want to create some shorter works because i tend to write longer stories that consume my life for months.

i have another idea for a longer story but i need some more time to think about it and figure out how to really pull it off. i also want to rewrite a story from a couple of years ago when i first started writing, which i think might be my next longer project. i’m also working on a review and an interview with a writer for a lit mag!

i also wrote my first ever poem last monday which was weirdly therapeutic?

[ladylooch]

Afterthoughts and Misunderstandings - [Liv X Luca]

A/N: Part 2 of Liv and Luca's angst! ICYMI or need a refresh, part 1 is here.

Word Count: 3.2k

Part 1 | Part 3| Part 4

Although we understand school is a priority, we hope you are taking time to focus seriously on this next project. What you submitted today was nowhere near the quality of the writer that you are. We will chat more next month.

Liv scans over the words again in her parked car. Deep in the innards of her apartment building, embarrassed tears sting her eyes. The words came in an email from her editor. Two weeks ago, she submitted the first quarter of her book and the outline for the remaining pages. It was not well received by anyone on her support team. Their recommendation? Start from scratch. As if Liv hadn’t spent over 200 hours curating the pages she sent in for review.

Deflated doesn’t even begin to describe how she feels. 

Liv received the feedback in the Whole Foods parking lot. She had been gathered groceries and was getting off the phone with Luca as the email came zipping into her inbox. Luca had to run to a flight for the start of his East Coast road trip. It is still six days before he comes to New York to round out his road trip with both teams. Those six days are going to crawl by. Liv is in desperate need of his comforting arms, to feel his heartbeat beneath her cheek so she can forget the failure clutching at her throat.

She feels numb and distraught all at the same time while she rides the elevator up to her floor. The doors open. Liv pauses in the steel doorway, seeing Ryder Hughes slumped against her front door. His back is against it, head resting back toward the ceiling. One leg is curled into a bend with his wrist hanging off his knee. The other leg stretches across the hallway, almost consuming the whole width of the space. 

Liv has not seen Ryder since their almost kiss in this very hallway three days ago. She has been avoiding him. He knows it, so does she. But now he is here and somehow, Liv is expected to have this interaction when she just got dealt the biggest blow of her short writer’s career. 

Ryder hears the ruffle of her bags and turns his face towards her. He pops up immediately, jogging down to grab her bags. 

“I can..” Liv stops because Ryder has already taken all of them from her. “Okay.” She adjusts her keys in her hand, shoving them into the lock and opening her apartment door. Ryder follows behind, then goes to the kitchen to put her bags down. He immediately begins unloading them for her. “Ry.” 

“If I’m being helpful, you can’t kick me out.” He jokes, grinning as he pulls out some Liquid IV. Liv stands in the living room, looking back at him with cautious eyes. “I’m sorry. I was really out of line on Saturday. I can’t even use the alcohol excuse either.” Ryder pauses with a big grapefruit in his hand. He studies her with intense blue eyes. “Are you okay?” 

As is standard anytime someone asks her that, Liv immediately begins to cry. Because no. Nothing about what she is feeling in her body is okay. Her slender fingers come to her eyes. She presses into her black eyelashes to gather her tears, shoulders quivering with her impending sobs. 

“Livy.” Ryder murmurs. His arms wrap around her whole body, hands resting on her back ribs. He pauses, feeling her shake harder. His hands rub up her back. Then he presses his nose into the strands of her brown hair. Liv sighs heavily, which pushes her deeper into his body. She moves her hands from her face, winding them around his back to fully accept his hug.

They stay like that for several minutes. Ryder sways them a few times, rocking to soothe her sobs. Eventually, Liv sniffs, pulling back to wipe at her face. 

“Sorry.” She mumbles with downcast eyes.

“Hey, no need to apologize.” He assures her. His hands slide down to her hips, waiting as she collects herself more. She wipes under her nose with her palm. 

“I’m not having a good day.”

“I’ve gathered.” He responds supportively. “Tell me what’s going on.” Liv sighs, sniffling again. Slowly, she moves her eyes up to his face. His concern is evident, eyebrows pulled low over blue eyes and creases are forming in the corners of his frown.

“I suck at writing.” Surprise fills his face.

“News to me?”

“I do.” Liv slumps her shoulders down, looking away. Ryder squeezes her hips to keep her in place. “I sent in what I have for my second book and they roasted it. They think I should scrap it and start over!” Her voice escalates the longer she talks. “I’ve worked so hard on this, Ry. For them to think it sucks kills me.”

“So tell them you’re not doing that.”

“What?”

“Tell them you’re not scraping it. That you believe in the direction of your work and you’re going to see that through.” 

“It isn’t that simple. They have a say in what I produce.”

“Fuck that, Livy. Your first book was all you. That is what your audience wants to read. Your voice. Not 10 people in a boardroom who have a different vision. Write it your way.” Liv tucks her bottom lip into her mouth, rolling her tongue against it.

“I don’t think I am brave enough to do that.”

“You are. You have already proven that. You are already a published author. That is the bravest thing I have ever seen. Creating and letting people consume it. You’ve got big balls.”

“Big balls?” She laughs, shaking her head. 

“Sorry, it was the quickest analogy that came to me.” He reaches up, smoothing her hair down the sides of her face while cupping her damp cheeks. “You are amazing. Your work matters. I’m really proud of you.”

Awareness of everything hits Liv at once. The smell of his cologne goes up her nose like the other night. His warm palms transfer heat into her cheeks. Their faces tilted inwards to each other. Conflict begins to writhe in Liv’s stomach. The push and pull of what she knows and has with Luca and the curiosity of Ryder. His gaze surveys her face, then with a heavy sigh, he steps back from her completely. Liv stays glued in place. Ryder returns to the counter, unpacking more of her groceries.

“Go change.” He says without looking at her. “I’ll keep doing this.” 

Liv nods, even though he doesn’t see, and walks to her bedroom. There, she pulls on loungewear- a plain t-shirt, her dad’s Swiss hockey sweatshirt along with a pair of Lio’s club team sweatpants he wanted to get rid of when they still lived in their home in Switzerland. The comfort of the familiar, worn cotton blankets her skin. She goes to scrub off her makeup, then presses a cool washcloth to her eyes and cheeks to relieve the redness from crying. 

She returns to the living room, finding Ryder watching TV on her couch. He has taken off his shoes and jacket, tossing them by her entryway bench. There are two cups of tea steeping on the coffee table. He greets her with a small smile. Liv goes to the other side of the couch, curling her feet up next to her butt. The movie on the screen is Barbie starring Margot Robbie. Liv smiles.

“Thought this would inspire you a bit.” He shrugs. He is right, it does. So much so that she decides she isn’t going to tell anyone else about the feedback. Because they’re wrong about what they said. Ryder is right- this is hers. She can create whatever she wants because she has already done this before. This is her creation, her baby, hers to flop or soar with. She will use her gift with words to tell her publishing team to shove it. 

The sunsets over the city. Barbie ends and they ordering big bowls of pasta to share for dinner along with tiramisu and garlic bread. They decide to watch another movie once they are finished eating. Ryder picks this time, some Netflix original that is supposed to be a thrilling and wicked twister.

Partially through the next movie, Ryder’s hand moves over to Liv’s foot. His thumb works deep presses into the arch of her foot then into the big pads below her toes. Finally, Liv surrenders both feet into his lap. He works them over until she is asleep next to him. Ryder finishes the movie, then clicks the TV off. Darkness absorbs Liv’s apartment. The moonlight splices across her cheek, nose, and slightly open mouth. She looks at peace for the first time since he saw her in the hallway. 

Gently, Ryder gathers her into his arms. She curls into him in her sleep, gripping his shirt and nuzzling her cheek into his shoulder. He puts Liv in the center of her unmade bed, another clue at how tumultuous she has been the last few days. She always makes her bed. Liv slides her feet under the covers. Ryder grabs the edge of the comforter, concealing Liv beneath it. Her hand reaches out for his wrist as he rubs her head goodnight.

“Stay.” She murmurs groggily. Ryder hesitates. The room gets so quiet that Liv wonders if he snuck out and she missed it in her sleepy haze. Her blue eyes open, seeing Ryder standing next to her bed, frozen with indecision. 

“Are you sure?”

“Mhm.” She sighs, flipping open the other side of the comforter. Ryder cautiously walks over to her dresser. He grabs a pair of sweatpants of hers that he knows he fits into because they used to be her brother’s. He changes fast, then maneuvers under the covers. Liv stays curled on her right side, but reaches her hand back. Ryder laces their fingers together. Quickly, Liv’s hand goes limp in his signaling she is asleep. 

Ryder is up for hours, watching and listening to her breathe next to him. He is just falling asleep when Liv rolls over in her slumber. She finds the warmth of his side, curling into him and sighing. Her hand comes to his stomach, anchoring there with a light grip, right above his belly button. 

He looks over at her. Dark brown hair splays across her pillow. Her breathing is light, lips perfectly plumped, and he becomes aware of exactly how fucked he is.

Because he is in love with Luca Fiala’s girlfriend.

And there is no way in hell she loves him back.

- - - 

The following morning, Ryder and Liv awaken around the same time because of trucks honking outside her bedroom window. Liv opens one eye first, taking in the sleepy hockey player as he wiggles himself awake. 

“Mmm, hi.” He mumbles, putting his nose on her bicep and sighing. “Don’t wanna get up.”

“Yeah.” Liv sighs, putting a lazy hand in his hair. For the next half hour, they doze in and out of sleep together, staying in the same position. Their legs are resting by each other. Their warm skin collects pink from each other’s body heat. Then, the reality of needing to join the world settles over them with Ryder’s daily practice alarm. 

“I gotta get moving.” He mutters, resentful of having to leave her bed. 

“Me too. I have class.” Liv yawns loudly, then rolls to her back, separating them completely.

She reaches for her phone, seeing a handful of texts from Luca. She glances at Ryder as he stretches at the side of the bed. His sweatshirt rides up considerably, showcasing his muscular body in the soft morning sun. A happy trail of dark hair disappears beneath the waistband of his clothes. Liv’s eyes drift down, seeing the maroon and gold M on his left thigh. 

Liv freezes, realizing he is wearing her boyfriend’s pants. Betrayal chokes her throat. What is she doing? This is so inappropriate. Everything about last night was inappropriate. God, she yelled at Luca for having another girl in his bed while he slept on the couch. She invited Ryder to sleep with her last night. Panicked, she slowly sits up, pulling out the rest of her disheveled ponytail. 

“Want to meet up for lunch on campus? I still dream about that Italian deli you took me to.”

“I can’t.” She says, keeping her back to him. She works her hair back into a fresh pony tail, raking her fingers through the ends for a quick brush.

“Oh okay.” He clears his throat. “Maybe later in the week.” 

“Luca is coming into town.” Liv stands, pulling her sweatshirt down so it covers her body completely. She folds her arms over her chest. 

“Yeah, I know. He is coming to play me.” He chuckles. “But that’s not for a few days.”

“Well, I have to get things done before he gets here so I can spend time with him.” A twitch flickers close to the hinge of his jaw. Ryder sighs, running a frustrated hand over his face.

“What is happening right now?” She shrugs back at him. Ryder’s hand falls, slapping the gold outlined M on his thigh.

“Can you take those off please.” Ryder looks down, seeing the same logo. In the morning light, it is clear these were not the pants he thought he grabbed. He thrust the waistband down, then strides to where his jeans are still pooled on the ground. He wrestles them up his thighs and his belt closed. 

“Liv, nothing happened last night.”

“It doesn’t feel that way to me.” She holds her throat, looking terrified back at him. 

“You invited me into bed.” He says slowly, resenting the way she looks at him. Like he crossed a line. 

“That was a mistake.” 

“We’ve been making a lot of mistakes lately…” He rambles off, putting his phone in his pocket. 

“This has to stop.” Liv practically begs.

“I don’t want it to.”

“Ry, please.” Liv closes her eyes, inhaling heavily as her nostrils flare from distress. 

“Livy, I’m in lo-”

“Stop!” Liv yells. Her heavy, terrified panting fills the room. “Don’t say it. You will ruin this.”

“It already is ruined. Because I love you.” 

Liv goes rigid except her quivering bottom lip. Because I love you, because I love you, because I love you. It plays in a loop over and over again, drowning out the city noise below, running through her brain like the ticker in Times Square.

“I wish you didn’t.” She hisses through gnashed teeth. 

“Me too.” He confesses, then walks out of her room. 

In his wake, he leaves Liv and her entire world lopsided.

- - - 

The ticking of the light blue clock on Liv’s desk fills the living room. Liv has been trying to work on her paper for two hours now, but her thoughts keep drifting to Ryder and earlier this morning. Guilt scratches and mars at her consciousness until it becomes impossible to make progress on her school work. For the fifth time in an hour, she tosses her pen from where she was trying to handwrite her outline. She looks over at her phone, seeing it light up with another text from Ryder. She swipes across his name, muting his notifications for the day. 

She doesn’t want to talk to him.

She needs to talk to Luca, but he is at morning skate in Buffalo. 

Worst case, she will tell him before his game against the Islanders. Liv knows this is less than ideal timing, but she owes him an explanation. From her, not anyone else. 

She opens her phone, texting Luca again to call her as soon as he can. 

Liv waits for his call the entire day, altering her plans with her brother to make sure she is home and ready for the difficult conversation they are going to have. But Luca’s never arrives. Not after practice, or after his pre-game nap, and now she watches him on the screen in Buffalo, again without a care in the world. 

How does he keep doing this with her? How does she line up last to everything in his world when he rules hers?

In frustration, she flips the game off after the second period. The Wild are down by one, but her mood is not in it for the night. Instead, she takes a self-care shower, smearing on her skin care, snuggling into bed to read her book, before tossing her phone on sleep mode.

He won’t call anyway, she lies to herself. 

The next morning, she has a handful of text messages from him and about thirty from Ryder.

Hi baby, I’m so sorry I didn’t call yesterday. Things have been crazy. I’ll tell you about it when I see you. I love you! Goodnight 😘

I wish you were here, baby, I can’t sleep without you. I’m having withdrawals. 

Heads up, I am on Amazon passing the time. Can’t sleep. Pray for my credit card. But, I needed a new screen protector for my phone. I ordered one to be delivered to your place tomorrow morning. Can you bring it with you to the game? Thank you! I hope this doesn’t wake you up 🙈

This furrows her eyebrows. Why wouldn’t she bring it to him tonight? When she sees him for dinner?

Good morning 🥱 Yes, I’ll grab the screen protector for you. But I thought I was seeing you tonight? 

Luca calls her immediately. She stretches, then clicks the button, murmuring a sleepy hello.

“Baby, I have bad news. Please don’t kill me.” 

“What?”

“I am not going to make dinner tonight. Mandatory team building. We are going to dinner and a concert at MSG. But maybe we can get coffee tomorrow morning?”

“I have classes.”

“Well, could you skip them?”

“No, Luca. I can’t. I have a group presentation and a test in the next class. Also, I don’t appreciate you asking me that. I don’t tell you to skip morning skate when I’m in town because I understand hockey is your job.”

“Whoa, okay. I was just asking.”

“Well, don’t. What I am doing is just as important as what you’re doing.”

“Baby, I never said it wasn’t.” He says defensively. 

“You literally…” Liv trails off, running an annoyed hand through her hair. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter.”

“I’m sorry.” He tries. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just miss you.” Misses her but won’t make time for her when they’re in the same city. It’s hard to swallow that right now, even as she tries to understand that there are some obligations he cannot miss. 

“I know.” She fills in. 

“This is shit timing, but we are about to get to the rink for practice.”

“You’re skating in the morning of a back to back?”

“Yeah. Did you watch last night?”

“Um, I fell asleep.” She admits sheepishly. 

“That’s okay. We did too.” He jokes. “It was bad and this punishment is well deserved. I gotta go, babe.”

“Hey, wait, I need to.. uh… talk to you about something.” She says, picking at a snag in the comforter with her blue nail. 

“Okay, can we talk after the game?” Liv hesitates. 

Future her would smack her in the face if she could. But present Liv doesn’t see the issue. 

So she agrees.

“Yes, that’s fine.”

“Okay, I love you baby.” He murmurs sweetly.

“I love you too.” She responds, having no idea what the next 48 hours will bring.

Read more Liv and Luca here.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Wicked Games 3

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: non/dubcon, cheating, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Steve Rogers

Summary: you had a one night stand. Or did you?

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

A week passes in a tense slog. Barrett continues his pandering penance and you wallow in irritation. You want to put it behind you. You want to get past it but every time you do, it just happens again.

If this was the first time, it would be easy but you’ve lost count of all the times you’ve had this fight. 

Your menial office work does little to distract. It only allows you to think about all the bullshit. The way Barrett dismisses everything you do and has to list of everything you don’t. The way he can’t see his own flaws or how you’ve never once rubbed his nose in them like a dog.  

Is it passive or weak or just acceptance? You can’t say. You just always put up with it.  It’s just easier not to make an issue of every little thing. Problem is, now it’s a big thing. 

When you come home, you’re worn out but you still have work to do. Dishes, tidying, cooking. Even your weekends don’t allow you must rest. You need to sort through the bills and go get groceries. All along the way, he’s in the way. You’re not sure he’s trying to help, more so trying to force his way to forgiveness. 

You grab a bundle of reusable shopping bags from the cupboard overflowing with them. It only took about a hundred of the things to start remembering to take them with you.  

As you shut the cupboard, Barrett’s on the other side of the oven. Watching and waiting. He’d be a lot more help if you didn’t have to tell him what to do. You forgot a mug and to him, that’s high crime, but he can’t remember to pay the power bill without six texts on the due date. 

“So... what’s going on today?” He smiles. 

It used to be that that smile made you melt. It would make all your troubles flutter away like butterflies. Now it’s just another irk. 

“Groceries.” You wave the fistful of bags. 

“Oh, cool, want me to come?” 

You nearly scoff. Every weekend you ask and every weekend he’s too busy. His pals want him to jam in their garage band or go fishing down at some dirty river. Another tick on the wrong side of the Pros-Cons list. 

“Sure,” you shrug. It’s easier to just let him come along. You don’t need another argument and you could use the extra hands. 

You shove the bags into the folded shopping cart and put your shoes on. He toddles behind like a lost child. You’re repress a glare as you grab your keys and purse. You’re going to have to talk this out sooner than later our you’re really going to hate him. 

He follows you out to the bus stop and you wait in silence. You had a car but it broke down last year. Ever since, he gets a ride off his coworkers or friends and you flash your bus pass. It’s cheaper than leasing a car, even a used one. 

You don’t know what stresses you out more; thinking about all the stuff he does or just thinking about your life. You get on the bus and sit near the back. He reaches over to grab your hand. You wince but don’t pull away. 

“Nice day,” he says. 

“Mhmm,” you grumble. 

His attempt at small talk doesn’t go much further. You get off at your stop and walk the block to the grocery store. You unfold your shopping cart and pull out your list. Barrett grabs a bag of gummy bears and dumps them in the cart. 

“Those aren’t on the list,” you say. 

“I know but it’ll be a nice treat for later. We’ll have some tonight after dinner.” 

“Oh, alright.” 

You factor in the extra cost and mentally cross off the avocado from the list. You can go without. You roll through the produce section and work your way down the list. Barrett trails behind you. 

You stop in the cereal aisle to grab a bag of oatmeal. As you stand, you flinch and cry out at a surprise peck on your cheek. Barrett puts his arm around your shoulder as he presses his lips against you. 

“What are you doing?” You ask. 

“Baby, giving you a kiss.” You look at him and he grins, “I miss you. I love you. I’m tryna be better, honey.” 

“In the grocery store?” You challenge. 

“It’s cute.” 

“Mm, it’s... let’s wait ‘til we get outta here. It’s starting to get busy.” You glance around at the other customers, hoping none of them noticed his little act. “How about you go grab some drumsticks? Flyer says they’re on sale.” 

“Oh, I can do that. Be right back!” He proclaims. 

He shuffles off and you shake your head and turn back to the shelves. The store brand on discount is all out. You hiss in disappointment. You search the rest of the selection. That’s the cheapest on the shelf and you really can’t stretch the extra dollar. 

You look up at the overstock along the top. It’s right up there but you’re just too short to reach. You give a poor attempt then stand flat on your feet. You peer up and down the aisle. You could find an employee. 

“Need some help?”  

You turn to face the stranger and give a start. They aren’t so strange after all. You know him. Well, not know-know him. Everyone in the city knows Steve Rogers, the Captain America. 

“Uhhh...” 

“What’s your brand?” He asks. “They don’t run restock until before closing. I usually come then, less busy but I got... ha, sorry, I’m rambling. What can I grab for you?” 

You lick your dry lips and glance at the shelf. You appreciate the help but telling Captain America that you need the cheapest bag on the shelf isn’t exactly dignified. You point to the price tag on the shelf and he reaches on his toes to grab the edge of the box on the top. He wiggles out a bag and stands flat. 

“Here,” he offers it with a handsome smile. “You know, it’s made at the same factory as the regular brand.” He taps the back of the bag, “exact same address. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re from the same lot.” 

“Oh, well, er... thanks,” you take the oats and put them in your cart. 

“No problem. Sometimes being a hero isn’t very glorious. Sometimes it’s just reaching the top shelf.” 

You force a chuckle. You’re sure the Cap’s life is all sunshine and rainbows. Must be a real ego boost to help the little people. 

“Well, I appreciate it, Captain.” 

“Steve,” he smirks and stares. Your lower your brows and look behind you. Is he looking at someone else? 

“Oh, of course. I should go find my husband.” You roll around him and try to shake off the awkward encounter. You look down at your list as you stop at the end of the aisle. 

“Hope he’s not lost...” Steve calls after you. He says your name and you crane to look at him. You meet his gaze and blanch. He turns and struts off without another word. 

You turn back to your path and slowly leave the aisle. How did he know your name? You replay the interaction and try to recall giving it but you can’t. Well, you’re not exactly thinking straight right now. It’s nothing. You’re just stressed. 

[flanaganfilm]

Good morning/ evening! My name’s Sam and I’m currently a film student hoping to get into freelance writing. I’ve got a couple questions if you don’t mind (hoping you haven’t already answered them and I just missed them).

When you first starting making your own films, did you have already have thick skin for any critics/ bad reviews? Or is that something you grew over time?

Also, for your production company, do you hire interns and PAs or do you prefer filmmakers with more experience?

Thank you!

To your first question, I do not have a thick skin in that area AT ALL and never have. I don't know many people who do.

I'm often approached by fans who will talk about what a project of mine means to them, or I find a review or think piece online where the author really connected with my work. I want to let that feedback in, because it's validating. But letting it in means letting ALL of it in, even the negative. I don't really get to pick and choose. Once I decided to let myself react emotionally to other people's feedback, those gates are open I've got to accept whatever comes through.

I take my work very seriously, and tend to pour my heart and soul into it. We make these things because we love them. It can literally take years of daily work to do. When people love it, it feels great. When people don't, it hurts. There's really no way around that.

Film criticism has, like a lot of things, devolved over time. I was a massive fan of Robert Ebert, who was thoughtful and sophisticated in his critiques (most of the time), and tried to approach each movie he watched on the film's own terms - from the perspective of "how successful was this at achieving what it set out to do?" I see a lot of criticisms today that don't do this, and instead are lamenting what a movie is or isn't, saying things like "I wish this was more..." or "This isn't good because I wanted it to be something else."

"I wanted a ________ and what I got instead was ______ so it sucks."

The other issue is that loud, sensationalized vitriol gets more clicks. Negative reviews, especially brutal and callous ones, get more attention than positive ones. I've gotten to know and befriend some professional critics over the years, who have all told me that the positive reviews don't generate the audience reaction quite like the negative ones. People enjoy watching things get beat up. We reward the wrong kind of discourse, and that isn't unique to film criticism - it's everywhere. That's just a symptom of our culture.

One of my great frustrations is how we assert our opinion as objective truth. There's nothing more dangerous than tweeting "I liked ______ movie!" The comments flood in about how you're wrong, how it sucks, blah blah blah. People think their own taste is somehow factual. If someone says "I had a fantastic steak dinner last night and I loved it," we don't say "you're wrong, steak sucks". We understand the concept of taste when it comes to other things we consume, but when it comes to entertainment each one of us thinks we're the ultimate authority.

For myself, my producer and my wife have long discouraged me from reading reviews. I still can't help it. It's not healthy though. I can scroll past a dozen positive ones, and they evaporate in my mind, but I read one scathing thing and it sticks with me for days. There is one particular review of MIDNIGHT MASS that is one of the most baffling and frustrating things I've ever read, as the author appears to have misunderstood just about every aspect of the series, and drawn the angriest, most misguided, most erroneous conclusions. I read it with my jaw on the ground... "but they're objectively wrong. That isn't what happens, and that isn't what the show is even about." But what can I do? Who am I to say their experience of the show is invalid? They feel how they feel, and that's fine. That's okay. It has to be.

So your skin doesn't get thicker, it is a bizarre emotional experience to put something personal out there into the world and see the gamut of reactions. But at a certain point you have to remind yourself that it's impossible to please everyone, and that these projects don't belong to the filmmaker - they belong to the audience, and each and every one of those experiences is unique and valid. Perhaps there are lessons to be learned, and perhaps the critique can help you grow as a filmmaker.

I have similar feelings when I see someone trashing someone else's work I happen to love - for example, I remain baffled by people who didn't like EVERYTHING EVERYWHERE ALL AT ONCE, but that doesn't mean anything. It didn't work for them, that's all. Nothing works for everyone.

I have found over the years that I respect and appreciate analyses and criticisms that take this more personal point of view, and talk about their own interaction with the work as opposed to just dismissing it outright. When someone says "this movie didn't work for me," or "I didn't connect with it," or "It just wasn't my cup of tea," I have a much easier time taking it seriously. It's changed how I talk about my own reactions to movies or shows that I didn't respond to. And I found that it's made it much easier for me to enjoy things even if they aren't quite for me. Instead of being reactive and saying "it sucks" or "I hate this," I've gotten better at realizing it's not a binary experience - I can look at what DOES work for me, and I can appreciate it, even while other elements might not.

It makes for a much more nuanced discussion, and helps me grow. Sometimes, though, it's just the wrong thing to watch on the wrong day, and that's fine too. Maybe that makes it a little easier. If I step out of something and just really don't enjoy it, it helps remind me that it's not personal. Clearly, other people DO enjoy these things, sometimes I'm very much in the minority. And when that happens, I can say "oh, it's not so bad if someone hates a movie I made, or a show, or whatever. Life's too short."

But I long ago decided I'd never say anything negative about someone else's work in public. I know too much about what it takes to make a movie, and I'm not a critic. I'm a filmmaker. This town is too small, and there is zero upside in dragging another filmmaker's efforts. On the rare occasions when I do see another filmmaker indulge in that behavior, it is always a terrible look. And it can have real-world consequences - there are a few filmmakers who I've seen publicly slag off other people's work, and I quietly decided never to hire them. Like I said, it's a small town... and most of us read what people say about our work.

We should get back to that work, remember how lucky we all are to do this for a living, and leave that kind of thing to the critics.

[waitmyturtles]

Turtles Catches Up With Old GMMTV: TharnType and Gray Areas Edition

[What’s going on here? After joining Tumblr and discovering Thai BLs through KinnPorsche in 2022, I began watching GMMTV’s new offerings -- and realized that I had a lot of history to catch up on, to appreciate the more recent works that I was delving into. From tropes to BL frameworks, what we’re watching now hails from somewhere, and I’m learning about Thai BL's history through what I’m calling the Old GMMTV Challenge (OGMMTVC). Starting with recommendations from @absolutebl on their post regarding how GMMTV is correcting for its mistakes with its shows today, I’ve made an expansive list to get me through a condensed history of essential/classic/significant Thai BLs produced by GMMTV and many other BL studios. My watchlist, pasted below, lists what I’ve watched and what’s upcoming, along with the reviews I’ve written so far. Today, I’ll cover the very controversial TharnType, Asian stereotypes towards queerness, and the very difficult gray areas on how this show has been interpreted by various populations over the last few years.]

TW: homophobic and derogatory ideas and language against the queer community. Critical commentary on TharnType and MAME. This review is NOT for you if you are a TharnType or MAME Big Fan.

(I want to give very special thanks to @so-much-yet-to-learn and @lurkingshan for reviewing previous versions of this post and offering the most insightful feedback I could ask for. Thank you both so much.)

Alright. Deep breaths.

TharnType was a necessary addition to the Old GMMTV watchlist. It was. I had to watch it, for:

- the tremendous IMPACT this show has had on BL culture, along with MAME’s continued influence on the genre;  - how this show affected shipper culture, and the rippling effects it’s had since then vis à vis MewGulf; - how this show continued to define “high heat” and “chemistry” in BL, and -- at least for me, possibly the most interesting point to needle on -- - what fans, ESPECIALLY the majority cishet fandom, are willing to compromise and/or equivocate on in regards to our values towards the queer community regarding what we consume in media, and how safe or unsafe it is for our queer family that this content exists in the first place.

I gotta say some stuff first before I get into this review. This is the worst show I’ve ever watched, in my own opinion. I offer this flag for MAME and TharnType fans in advance, as I get quite critical down below.

I am angry at this show, at MAME, at the BL industry for allowing this show to exist, and I unfortunately hold anger against Tee Bundit, who I know has since made shows, like Lovely Writer, that deeply criticized the BL industry (and I am enjoying his work now in Step By Step, even while I don’t hesitate to criticize it). ANYONE INVOLVED in the making of TharnType needs to hold personal and professional accountability for this show even existing. And I also think that fans need to hold THEMSELVES accountable if they defend it WITHOUT thinking about the long-term social implications of the existence of this show.

I want to also say that I need to check myself, OFTEN, as I write this, because I don’t want to be some fucking loudmouth, self-righteous ally-savior. I don’t. [My AMAZING drama friends, @lurkingshan​ and @bengiyo​, have held me down during this watch. (Friends. Thank you. Good LORD.)]

I want this review to be as fair as possible to the nostalgia of the moment that this show aired; to note that this show gave high heat, which fans clearly demanded, and IS a worthy component of some dramas if it works with the rest of what the show has to offer by way of writing; and to note that many fans saw a chemistry in MewGulf that they hadn’t seen previously. I especially note that there may be survivors of sexual assault who related to certain pieces of this show, particularly through Type’s lens and his own anger.

With that very long introduction, I will note that I’m not going to talk too much about the show details itself. I don’t need to unwind on plot. For me -- FOR ME -- the show’s plot was problematic. 

2019: earlier that year, before TT aired, you had He’s Coming To Me, which was BURIED by GMMTV, and was a TOUR DE FORCE of intricate storytelling and queer revelation. According to this amazing reblog by @so-much-yet-to-learn​ (another longtime BL observer who UTTERLY held me down during my TT watch, friend, I CANNOT THANK YOU ENOUGH FOR THE HOURS you spent me with talking about TT and other issues), shipper fans angry at Ohm and Singto went so far as to SHOW UP TO THE GMMTV BUILDING IN BANGKOK and PROTEST against the split of the KristSingto ship. This is why, in this TT review, I talk about fans needing to take responsibility and accountability for the media we consume. I believe TT exists in part because fans have allowed it to continue to exist in the universe of BL, and many even celebrate TT’s existence -- all while, in my own opinion -- much more compelling art existed before TT (Make It Right, He’s Coming To Me) and certainly after its airing.

In discussion with @absolutebl (yet another drama expert who held me down during my TT watch, THANK YOU, SENSEI), ABL Sensei brings up that, besides a natural tendency to criticize and blame MAME for our needing to have conversations about safety towards queer family, that TT does deserve to be criticized as a standalone piece of content.

I honestly don’t know, Sensei, if I’m mature enough to make that separation, but I will try. MAME herself doesn’t exist in a vacuum: she has an industry, from producers, to showrunners, to actors, to editors, to networks -- that join her in the making of her work. I’ll do my best to separate everything, but.

I noted in my review of Love By Chance that MAME traffics in common Asian stereotypes against the queer community. At the same time, I know that often, we talk about the yaoi origins of BL in Thailand. I think, over time, the explanation of the yaoi origination has been used as a means of explaining WHY certain tropes exist, such as abuse of a partner, bullying, etc. I want to note that while I acknowledge those origins, I also strongly note (as I did in the comments of my LBC review) that yaoi origins are themselves problematic, as created by a majority cishet female artist base, and thus I question the accurate representation of queer themes both in yaoi and in early and/or questionable Thai BL that lean into common stereotypes held by Asian nations. (That being said, I do DEEPLY ACKNOWLEDGE @so-much-yet-to-learn‘s point to me that many in the queer community still consumed this media, as the West was producing next-to-nothing by way of queer love and/or queer perspectives.)

Much of what I saw in LBC and TT -- gang rape, cheating, revenge, derogatory language, hurtful stereotypes of top/bottom and husband/wife -- are repeat, word-for-word stereotypes that I heard from my Asian family growing up. Examples of what I saw by way of problematic stereotypes in TharnType include:

- Tharn repeatedly and casually calling Type “his bitch,” - The use of the F word, repeatedly, by Type, - Type attacking his out classmates, and indirectly attacking his friend, Tum, - The assumption that because Tharn and Tar are gay, that they are promiscuous (even Techno assumes this while leaving Type alone with Tharn early in the series), - Techno himself not calling out Type for his homophobia throughout the series, - The use of gang rape as a means of revenge by Lhong to Tar,

and many more. I will also note that I was incredibly uncomfortable by Lhong’s redemption at the end, as if the story demanded that Lhong’s own actions that drove him to order grievous sexual violence against another man needed to be forgiven. That was a paradigm that seemed apologetic to his actions and did not sit well with me.

As I noted to @bengiyo: us international fans may be lulled to think that Thailand is majority progressive and accepting of the queer community based off of the BLs that we watch. It IS a much more progressive culture in SE Asia in supporting the queer community, and I would assume that gay culture is able to flourish in city centers, as opposed to rural areas. 

But Thailand has NOT legalized same-sex marriage. And I posit that we in the West don’t actually realize that harmful stereotypes against the queer community absolutely still exist and flourish in Thailand, Taiwan, and elsewhere in Asia -- countries that certainly leverage BL as soft power, but nations in which familial or cultural expectations may STILL make ACTUAL coming out and public existence a dangerous or risky proposition. THIS SHIT IS GRAY. BL is fiction -- it is not reality. It is still dangerous -- YES, INCLUDING HERE IN THE STATES -- to be out in very many towns, cities, and communities around the world.

Now. When I went into TT, I understood, AS ASSUMED FACT, that MAME was a sexual assault survivor, who used this style of writing about queerness and queer love to process her own SA experiences. That equivocation gave me the serious jibbles, which I’ll talk about in a second, but I understood it to be the line that most BL observers have made about her work, and/or justification or explanation for her work existing.

I’ve since learned that this is not necessarily fact: that it is not known if MAME is an SA survivor, and that she is notoriously private and has not revealed much, if anything, about her own past.

So, from there, how do I process this? How do I process that it’s FANON -- NOT FACT -- that MAME may or may not write from a survivor’s perspective?

I also note here, thanks to the wonderful @so-much-yet-to-learn​, that many fans who are SA survivors have written in the past about how they related to Type’s anger and/or homophobia after his own assault experience. I also understand that SA survivors have, in the past, had difficulty with strong rejections of TharnType, like the one I have composed here, in reaction to the fear that they cannot tell their own stories of internal anger against their perpetrators and the communities from which their attackers come from.

Thus, I want to note a VERY DIFFICULT PROPOSITION TO WORK THROUGH. What we’re facing here is that there may be people, SA survivors in particular, who related to Type’s homophobia. This is Type’s fictional homophobia -- as written by a very real, assumed-to-be female author. At the same time, I myself very much acknowledge that I still see stereotypes against the queer community, in a very Asian voice that I am familiar with, in MAME’s shows.

Let me tell you why this gives me, personally, the jibbles. Let’s assume that MAME is an SA survivor. As someone trained in the social services, I am not sure that I would advise a potential client to create very public content that is potentially harmful towards a minority community, as a means of their own personal processing. MAME is FAMOUS. Her work is POPULAR. Can we justify the dangers that her work poses -- the stereotypes and assumptions she traffics in against our queer family -- for her own psychological processing?

If I am her therapist, I am guiding her to instead journey map, to meditate, to advise her of HUNDREDS of other therapeutic psychological modalities to process her pain -- all modalities that do not set up a minority community to be stereotyped through very publicly consumed content. 

I posit here -- MY OPINION, FAM -- that MAME has leveraged her own personal bigotry against the queer community in her shows for clout with Asian and international audiences that would not quibble about the harmfulness of the stereotypes that the show portrayed. And she’s gotten away with it for the utter control she has over her own content. AND SHE KNOWS THERE’S AN AUDIENCE FOR IT, so she keeps making what I call bigoted content.

I thought TT was a DANGEROUS show for perpetuating harmful stereotypes about queer family. And I am distraught at the BL industry for seeing dollar signs against that clout and investing in it. 

The equivocating in support of TharnType certainly exists. There are people who view this show with nostalgia, as there still wasn’t the volume of BL content, with heat, in 2019 as we have today. There are people out there who may very well openly relate to Type’s homophobia as a character, and MAME’s homophobia as an author and as a human. Hell, Foei Patara, who we see in everything these days, shared a very anti-LGBTQ+ video on his Instagram just recently.

I DO have to give a nod to nostalgia. I have to try to be fair here. This is the ENTIRE POINT of the OGMMTVC. BL fans in 2019 wanted a thing. High heat, high chemistry. I know that there are fans that are AWARE of these high-level issues of MAME’s work. And yet, there are many that still look back on TharnType with fondness, because it brought something new to the field. 

What I’m suffering from here is the equivocation of MAME’s work by way of analysis against a presumed opinion -- NOT fact -- that MAME is an SA survivor. That seems to open some sort of door to allow us to watch her work, despite the dangers of the stereotypes contained within her work.

The ethics of this. I’m not a strong enough person to go near that equivocation. Because I am not a survivor. I’m an Asian. In MAME’s voice, I hear the stereotypes against the queer community that I grew up with. And that’s where I’m writing this review. I’m hurt and appalled by her proliferating what I term to be dangerous viewpoints against my queer sisters and brothers -- assumptions that I heard growing up in my Indian community.

Fuck. Am I ever glad that I DIDN’T watch this show in 2019. I’m protected by a fortress of past and present works that I can rely on that proves that there are other arenas in which BL is being leveraged for good, for progressive art, for the introduction of ideas that support our queer family, AND that might also offer critical commentary on issues that affect other minority or vulnerable corners of society, à la Moonlight Chicken. 

I haven’t even gotten to the MewArt scandal and the problematic nature of the MewGulf ship. All of those are also very important issues, but I can’t bring myself to get deep about them, because just talking about the show itself is a lot. But Mew Suppasit’s past alleged behavior is certainly problematic, and is worth considering if folks were to think about watching this show.

In any case: I’m never watching another MAME show again, ever. And as a side note, MewGulf didn’t do it for me. At this point in 2019, I feel like we’d seen ships with much better chemistry and even heat, like PerthSaint (a MAME ship, actually), OhmToey, MaxTul, and even OhmSingto and their utterly brilliant acting. @he-is-lightning-in-a-bottle noted in the comments of one of my TT late-night posts that they didn’t see the MewGulf chemistry, and frankly, I didn’t either -- I didn’t see that these guys, as the acted characters of Tharn and Type, bodily and ferally WANTED AND VISCERALLY LOVED each other in fiction, the way that actor pairs like EarthMix, OhmNanon, FirstKhao, and others have since perfected in their work as their respective characters.

This post is about the responsibility that so-called “artists” bear when taking up the mantle of created content about a minority community, as well as the responsibility that we bear, as fans, as the majority cishet female fanbase, to consume this content. MAME and the slices of the BL industry that support her MUST understand that perpetuating stereotypes about a minority community WILL HAVE VISCERAL SOCIAL IMPACTS in REINFORCING THOSE STEREOTYPES, among a majority cishet fanbase and across society, to the danger of the existence of our queer family. 

THIS IS WHY WE NEED MORE QUEER CONTENT BY QUEER FILMMAKERS.

That is the way in which this paradigm will be broken over time. And us in the cishet fanbase MUST STAND READY to support art -- in the words of dear friend @wen-kexing-apologist -- by queer family, for queer family, about queer family. We in the cishet majority bear a responsibility to break the paradigm of dangerous stereotypes, perpetrated by who create content through their own bigotry, either consciously or unconsciously -- or both.

[I finished TharnType in record time. I needed to get it out of my system. And now I’m fully invested in OffGun and having a DELIGHTFUL time with Theory of Love: I AM OBSESSED WITH THIS SUBVERSIVE, MINDBENDING SHOW. Ooooooooooooooooooh. Right up my alley! Hopefully I can muster my usual Monday review for ToL -- let’s see. I still feel somewhat broken by TT, but ToL and OffGun have been SUCH a salve.

Here’s the list as it stands currently. We have two changes! First, thanks to a suggestion by @wen-kexing-apologist and @lurkingshan, I’m adding a non-BL (!!!!) to the list in 3 Will Be Free. I have a number of separate Jojo Tichakorn priorities to achieve before Only Friends airs, and this is a big one; as this is a show from 2019, I want to see where GMMTV was willing to go in pushing queer content in non-BLs, and this is the perfect time to watch it. I’ll still include a review in this space! 

And, per @absolutebl Sensei’s suggestion, I’ve added YYY (2020) to this, to enjoy Cheewin unhinged in what seems to be a disaster of a show -- but an important one for real queer representation (THANK YOU, SENSEI!). I’m excited for chaos. I’m watching it out of chronology with ITSAY and planning it as a mental break. As always, I’ll take any feedback on the list as it stands!

1) Love Sick and Love Sick 2 (2014 and 2015) (review here) 2) Make It Right (2016) (review here) 3) SOTUS (2016-2017) (review here) 4) Make It Right 2 (2017) (review here) 5) Together With Me (2017) (review here) 6) SOTUS S/Our Skyy x SOTUS (2017-2018) (review here) 7) Love By Chance (2018) (review here) 8) Kiss Me Again: PeteKao cuts (2018) (no review) 9) He’s Coming To Me (2019) (review here) 10) Dark Blue Kiss (2019) and Our Skyy x Kiss Me Again (2018) (review here) 11) TharnType (2019)  12) Senior Secret Love: Puppy Honey (BL cuts) (2016 and 2017) (I’m watching this out of order just to get familiar with OffGun before Theory of Love -- will likely not review)  13) Theory of Love (2019) (watching) 14) 3 Will Be Free (2019) (not a BL or an official part of the OGMMTVC watchlist, but an important harbinger of things to come in 2019 and beyond re: Jojo Tichakorn including queer content in non-BLs) 15) Dew the Movie (2019) (not an official part of the OGMMTVC watchlist, but I want to watch this in chronological order with everything else) 16) Until We Meet Again (2019-2020) 17) 2gether (2020) 18) Still 2gether (2020) 19) I Told Sunset About You (2020) 20) YYY (2020, out of chronology) 21) Manner of Death (2020-2021) (not a true BL, but a MaxTul queer/gay romance set within a genre-based show that likely influenced Not Me and KinnPorsche) 22) A Tale of Thousand Stars (2021) (review here) 23) A Tale of Thousand Stars (2021) OGMMTVC Fastest Rewatch Known To Humankind For The Sake Of Rewatching Our Skyy 2 x BBS x ATOTS 24) Lovely Writer (2021) 25) I Promised You the Moon (2021) 26) Not Me (2021-2022) 27) Bad Buddy (2021-2022) (thesis here) 28) Bad Buddy (2021-2022) and Our Skyy 2 x BBS x ATOTS (2023) OGMMTVC Rewatch 29) Secret Crush On You (2022) [watching for Cheewin’s trajectory of studying queer joy from Make It Right (high school), to SCOY (college), to Bed Friend (working adults)] 30) KinnPorsche (2022) (tag here) 31) The Eclipse (2022) (tag here) 32) GAP the Series (2022-2023) (Thailand’s first GL) 33) My School President (2022-2023) and Our Skyy 2 x My School President (2023) 34) Moonlight Chicken (2023) (tag here) 35) Bed Friend (2023) (tag here) (Cheewin’s latest show, depicting a queer joy journey among working adults)]