When I watched My School President, I was incredibly impressed by Fourth’s acting and by how well Gemini paired with him. It felt like the beginning of a very successful collaboration, and it truly became one of the strongest CP debuts.
Now, when I look at Tee and Por, even though they had supporting roles before, this leading role feels like one of the best follow-ups to the legacy left by their peers. I am especially impressed by Tee’s performance here. Even though some of the acting was intentionally cute and exaggerated, there was absolutely no cringe for me. That is exactly how he became a favorite of mine.
People in the beginning complained that his acting was too cringey, but he proved himself completely. Now everyone loves him, and his performance in this role was perfect. Given Qin’s more somber character, the two of them balanced and complemented each other perfectly.
I hope my instinct is right again, and that this will be the start of another successful collaboration, because they are one remarkably good-looking pair with strong acting skills to match.
I also have a feeling they may eventually move to GMMTV, because DMD’s resources may not be enough for them to fully explore their talent or use them on a bigger level.
i heard this series made history by scorring 0% viewership??? i am sucker for low key slow romance plus sadness, but if they involves bastard ex's then i don't watch. can someone tell me if both has other love interest and are they bad evil, or slight annoying of annoying to blood bloil.
Frankly, whether it’s Joss or any other conventionally attractive Thai actor with a perfect body, and there are countless of them, Earth still stands out. His physique is one of the best out there. He is not overly bulky, which is exactly why it works. The muscle is built in just the right proportion, lean, defined, and incredibly well balanced. His body fat level looks ideal, so everything sits exactly where it should. The lower abdomen especially looks almost unreal, like a mannequin carved to precision. Abs can come and go on anyone, but from his chest down to the navel, that whole line looks less like gym work and more like sculpture, as if it were shaped with deliberate craft rather than just trained.
ps. Someone needs to tell Gawin to stop rolling his eyeballs and raising his eyebrows. He does that way too much and its looks awkward and literally feels fake.
considering there's been exactly one victim of each gender, i don't think you can make this statement yet? and…
I actually understand, and I don’t disagree with the core of it. Gender *is* a significant vulnerability when it comes to sexual exploitation, and historically, women have borne the brunt of systemic abuse while also being dismissed, disbelieved, or trivialized. That reality shouldn’t be diluted or denied.
But I think what I was pointing to is slightly different. It’s not about claiming that male victims are *more* marginalized or that they require greater validation than female victims. It’s about how narratives, especially in fiction, *code* victimhood differently depending on gender. The issue isn’t who suffers more; it’s how suffering is recognized and framed.
In this case, the female character’s coercion is made legible in a very explicit way, while the male character’s situation is presented with a degree of ambiguity that risks being misread as agency. That doesn’t negate the reality that women face disproportionate risk, but it does highlight how male vulnerability is often obscured or rendered invisible unless it fits a very narrow, recognizable form.
And I agree with you that support systems are deeply inadequate across the board. But that’s precisely why representation matters. If both are already operating in a space where real-world support is close to zero, then portraying one form of coercion with clarity and the other with ambiguity doesn’t just reflect reality, it subtly reinforces whose pain is easier to acknowledge.
So for me, the point isn’t competition or hierarchy between victims. It’s about consistency in how power, coercion, and lack of consent are depicted, because those dynamics don’t change based on gender, even if the way we perceive them often does.
What I absolutely loathed—and it’s a stigma that exists across industries and countries whenever stories like this are told, is how selectively exploitation is framed. What this drama is trying to expose is important, but the way it frames exploitation feels deeply inconsistent. It leans into the familiar imagery of female suffering, tears, visible resistance, emotional collapse, so the audience immediately recognizes coercion. But when the same power dynamics are applied to a male character, the narrative becomes strangely muted. His hesitation is diluted, his lack of agency is blurred, and the situation is staged in a way that can be misread as participation rather than pressure.
That contrast is not just a storytelling choice, it reflects a broader discomfort in acknowledging that coercion does not always look the same, and that men, too, can be subjected to systems of control, manipulation, and transactional exploitation. Silence, numbness, or compliance under pressure are not signs of consent. They are often survival responses.
If a story claims to engage with themes like power, access, and sexual exploitation, it carries the responsibility to treat them with equal clarity across the board. Otherwise, it risks reinforcing the very hierarchies it is trying to critique, where one form of victimhood is validated and another is quietly dismissed.
We’ve seen in real life, across industries and scandals, that exploitation thrives in imbalance, not in gender alone. Power structures do not discriminate in the way they exert control; they simply exploit vulnerability wherever it exists. When narratives selectively humanize one experience while aestheticizing or normalizing another, they don’t just fall short, they contribute to the erasure of uncomfortable truths.
A story like this has the potential to confront those realities with honesty. But that requires the courage to portray coercion as coercion, regardless of who it happens to, and regardless of how visibly it is expressed.
so he had a double accident? one at 19? and one at recently the present, I know my be he is lying to make him fall for him, but is it what the plot is for now!
Has KKM already decided his fate as villain??? I was happy that he finally played 2 positive roles back to back, but then he go back again to play villain roles!!!
it is so awkward whenever JJ pops in between suddenly, it clearly feels he is just there to fill the vacuum but even his presence doesn't make any difference. Poor twins, can only act on cringey written comedy and bad timings.
when they will get caught specially Tim, he will not have a 0.0000% reason to make any excuse but to bear the consequences, but I do hope...Pai gives him one hell of a time, brutal torture, tatse of his own medicine, not physical (physical also ok) but mental torture to the core...and if forgiveness comes easy then no meaning for me...
it is as typical as it can be...so predictable, so unapologetically copy paste of several plot lines pout in together nothing new, hate ML backstory, hate his cliches sadness, real fucking life isn't that dramatic, even oif it is dramatic purposes it is still not what they depict, and certainly not the entire fucking universe circles their problems, gosh, wanted to punch ML...i feel 0 connection with their sadness and sobbing stories....lol her BF was pathetic cheater bastard.
4 
1 
2 
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1 
Now, when I look at Tee and Por, even though they had supporting roles before, this leading role feels like one of the best follow-ups to the legacy left by their peers. I am especially impressed by Tee’s performance here. Even though some of the acting was intentionally cute and exaggerated, there was absolutely no cringe for me. That is exactly how he became a favorite of mine.
People in the beginning complained that his acting was too cringey, but he proved himself completely. Now everyone loves him, and his performance in this role was perfect. Given Qin’s more somber character, the two of them balanced and complemented each other perfectly.
I hope my instinct is right again, and that this will be the start of another successful collaboration, because they are one remarkably good-looking pair with strong acting skills to match.
I also have a feeling they may eventually move to GMMTV, because DMD’s resources may not be enough for them to fully explore their talent or use them on a bigger level.
ps. Someone needs to tell Gawin to stop rolling his eyeballs and raising his eyebrows. He does that way too much and its looks awkward and literally feels fake.
But I think what I was pointing to is slightly different. It’s not about claiming that male victims are *more* marginalized or that they require greater validation than female victims. It’s about how narratives, especially in fiction, *code* victimhood differently depending on gender. The issue isn’t who suffers more; it’s how suffering is recognized and framed.
In this case, the female character’s coercion is made legible in a very explicit way, while the male character’s situation is presented with a degree of ambiguity that risks being misread as agency. That doesn’t negate the reality that women face disproportionate risk, but it does highlight how male vulnerability is often obscured or rendered invisible unless it fits a very narrow, recognizable form.
And I agree with you that support systems are deeply inadequate across the board. But that’s precisely why representation matters. If both are already operating in a space where real-world support is close to zero, then portraying one form of coercion with clarity and the other with ambiguity doesn’t just reflect reality, it subtly reinforces whose pain is easier to acknowledge.
So for me, the point isn’t competition or hierarchy between victims. It’s about consistency in how power, coercion, and lack of consent are depicted, because those dynamics don’t change based on gender, even if the way we perceive them often does.
That contrast is not just a storytelling choice, it reflects a broader discomfort in acknowledging that coercion does not always look the same, and that men, too, can be subjected to systems of control, manipulation, and transactional exploitation. Silence, numbness, or compliance under pressure are not signs of consent. They are often survival responses.
If a story claims to engage with themes like power, access, and sexual exploitation, it carries the responsibility to treat them with equal clarity across the board. Otherwise, it risks reinforcing the very hierarchies it is trying to critique, where one form of victimhood is validated and another is quietly dismissed.
We’ve seen in real life, across industries and scandals, that exploitation thrives in imbalance, not in gender alone. Power structures do not discriminate in the way they exert control; they simply exploit vulnerability wherever it exists. When narratives selectively humanize one experience while aestheticizing or normalizing another, they don’t just fall short, they contribute to the erasure of uncomfortable truths.
A story like this has the potential to confront those realities with honesty. But that requires the courage to portray coercion as coercion, regardless of who it happens to, and regardless of how visibly it is expressed.
i loved it!