whether the female leads are "just friends" or something more depends on individual interpretation. all…
genres and tags describe a work’s general themes or structure. they don't prescribe how it should be interpreted
non-straight interpretations challenge traditional assumptions and open up a world of possibilities. we ask ourselves, "could there have been more to the same-sex friendship?" a healthy friendship, built on trust, mutual respect, and open communication, would be the perfect foundation for a healthy romantic relationship. the story doesn’t have to end at friendship
That's ironocally the main target audience. Its sad because this shouldn't be for them.I mean, MDL isn't actually…
women make up the majority of sexual assault survivors. and there's a dissonance between society's expressed outrage towards the assault statistics and the absence of support systems for female survivors
in practice, society doesn’t coddle female survivors more than male survivors. it interrogates them, casts doubt on their experiences, and accuses them of ruining a man's life with their allegations. what's worse, the mistreatment and humiliation of women are popular themes in "straight" nsfw content/p*rn/hentai. they reflect and reinforce a culture that doesn't value women's safety
"I don’t have much tolerance these days for scenes involving the casual, ritualistic degradation of women, which is why deciding to rewatch Game of Thrones was such a colossal unforced error. Idiotic! Foolhardy! Own goal! I made it through the first episode, where a sobbing Daenerys Targaryen is raped by Khal Drogo on their wedding night in front of an orange sunset. I got through the part where Daenerys learns to get her rapist to be nicer to her by being more of an engaged participant in her own sexual assault. I watched as Ros is forced to violently beat another woman with a scepter to gratify the sadistic sexual predilections of King Joffrey, and as Brienne is dragged away to be gang-raped by Roose Bolton’s soldiers, until Jaime saves her. I stopped watching shortly before Jaime rapes his sister, Cersei, next to their son’s dead body, and before Sansa is raped by Ramsay Bolton while Theon Greyjoy watches. It occurred to me at some point that this was becoming an ordeal ...
Game of Thrones (2011-2019) has the dubious honor of being the ne plus ultra of rape culture on television. No series before, or since, has so flagrantly served up rape and assault simply for kicks, without a shadow of a nod toward “realism” (because dragons). The genre is fantasy, and the fantasy at hand is a world in which every woman, no matter her power or fortune, is likely to be violated in front of our eyes. Rape is like blood on Game of Thrones, so commonplace that viewers become inured to it, necessitating ever more excess to grab our attention. It’s brutal, graphic, and hollow. It’s also intentional. Daenerys’s wedding night isn’t explicitly written as being nonconsensual in George R. R. Martin’s 1996 novel (despite the fact that the character was 13 at the time), and it wasn’t filmed as such in the first, unreleased Game of Thrones pilot. At some point, the decision was made to introduce viewers to the series’s most significant female character via her humiliating assault—with pornified aesthetics for added titillation—by a man who had purchased her ...
A show treating sexual violence as casually now as Thrones did then is nearly unimaginable. And yet rape, on television, is as common as ever, sewn into crusading feminist tales and gritty crime series and quirky teenage dramedies and schlocky horror anthologies. It’s the trope that won’t quit, the Klaxon for supposed narrative fearlessness, the device that humanizes “difficult” women and adds supposed texture to vulnerable ones ...
Still more common, though, is the series that mistakes graphically portraying rape for having something insightful to say about it. At one point in the new seasons of The Handmaid’s Tale (2017-2025), June (played by Elisabeth Moss) recounts in detail some of the assaults inflicted on her as a handmaid in Gilead, a merciless Christian theocracy in the show’s alternate version of America. Her list is long, and yet not as long as the one I made while thinking about the show’s historical treatment of assault. Over previous seasons, viewers have watched June be raped by Commander Waterford (Joseph Fiennes); have nonconsensual sex with Nick (Max Minghella); be raped by Waterford while nine months pregnant; and be raped by Commander Lawrence (Bradley Whitford) when Waterford orders it. We’ve also seen female characters suffer genital mutilation, have their eyes taken out, be beaten with straps, and have fingers removed. One season presents a 14-year-old who’s already been raped by multiple men, and the prolonged torture of June after she’s recaptured (yet again) by Gilead
I’ll remind you that Hulu markets this show as a feminist fable. A trailer features a character saying “Blessed be the squad,” as if to borrow some of AOC’s radical chic. The show’s 2017 debut mere months into the Trump-Pence administration aligned it with ideas of a female-led resistance against patriarchal overreach. I loved the first season, the cool painterliness of the show’s aesthetic and the thought experiment it offered. But the longer the show went on—fueled, paradoxically, by the critical success of that first season—the more it became simply a series about the abuse of women. Nothing more, nothing less ...
In 2018, I wrote that The Handmaid’s Tale had crossed the line into exploitation for its repeated victimization of its characters. In the fourth season, Moira (Samira Wiley) expresses a wish to “take all the shit from Gilead and turn it into something useful,” an unintentionally apt summary of the show’s primary failure. Usefulness is also lacking in the most vile scene in Amazon’s horror series Them, a 1950s-set drama in which racism and supernatural forces terrorize a Black family. In the fifth episode, a flashback details the violent gang rape of the show’s female protagonist, Lucky (Deborah Ayorinde). The episode was written by two men: the show’s creator, Little Marvin, and the playwright Dominic Orlando. It feels peculiarly grotesque to me that both so viscerally imagine and stage a scene that neither of them could ever experience ...
Critics have been divided over Promising Young Woman, which won an Oscar last week for Best Original Screenplay, but the movie by Emerald Fennell breaks all kinds of traditions in using assault as a subject—it never shows violation on camera, it suggests that rapists are less-commonly evil serial abusers than banal office-types in button-downs, and it offers no redemptive arc for anyone. The movie begins and ends in a world mired in rape culture ..."
"I don’t have much tolerance these days for scenes involving the casual, ritualistic degradation of women, which is why deciding to rewatch Game of Thrones was such a colossal unforced error. Idiotic! Foolhardy! Own goal! I made it through the first episode, where a sobbing Daenerys Targaryen is raped by Khal Drogo on their wedding night in front of an orange sunset. I got through the part where Daenerys learns to get her rapist to be nicer to her by being more of an engaged participant in her own sexual assault. I watched as Ros is forced to violently beat another woman with a scepter to gratify the sadistic sexual predilections of King Joffrey, and as Brienne is dragged away to be gang-raped by Roose Bolton’s soldiers, until Jaime saves her. I stopped watching shortly before Jaime rapes his sister, Cersei, next to their son’s dead body, and before Sansa is raped by Ramsay Bolton while Theon Greyjoy watches. It occurred to me at some point that this was becoming an ordeal ...
Game of Thrones (2011-2019) has the dubious honor of being the ne plus ultra of rape culture on television. No series before, or since, has so flagrantly served up rape and assault simply for kicks, without a shadow of a nod toward “realism” (because dragons). The genre is fantasy, and the fantasy at hand is a world in which every woman, no matter her power or fortune, is likely to be violated in front of our eyes. Rape is like blood on Game of Thrones, so commonplace that viewers become inured to it, necessitating ever more excess to grab our attention. It’s brutal, graphic, and hollow. It’s also intentional. Daenerys’s wedding night isn’t explicitly written as being nonconsensual in George R. R. Martin’s 1996 novel (despite the fact that the character was 13 at the time), and it wasn’t filmed as such in the first, unreleased Game of Thrones pilot. At some point, the decision was made to introduce viewers to the series’s most significant female character via her humiliating assault—with pornified aesthetics for added titillation—by a man who had purchased her ...
A show treating sexual violence as casually now as Thrones did then is nearly unimaginable. And yet rape, on television, is as common as ever, sewn into crusading feminist tales and gritty crime series and quirky teenage dramedies and schlocky horror anthologies. It’s the trope that won’t quit, the Klaxon for supposed narrative fearlessness, the device that humanizes “difficult” women and adds supposed texture to vulnerable ones ..."
we’re well aware of omegaverse fans’ opinions. why keep repeating the same lines? you advise us to be indifferent…
majority opinion isn't fact
the assumption that omegaverse falls under the "bl" or "yaoi" genre has been a widespread misunderstanding among bl creators and consumers. they're, in fact, separate categories that should be acknowledged as such
a drama or movie that earned its fans wouldn't need you policing the comments to defend it. this chinese drama has failed
If I remember there was another bl that was going to be the first omega verse and it was also from china but because…
we’re well aware of omegaverse fans’ opinions. why keep repeating the same lines? you advise us to be indifferent towards omegaverse, to ignore it. will you extend that level of indifference towards negative comments and ignore them?
categorizing omegaverse as "bl" or "yaoi" amounts to false advertising and labeling intended to piggyback on and take advantage of the bl genre's increasing popularity. omegaverse doesn't rightfully belong in the genre
Yoo when he said that I was confused as hell like it didn't make sense at all. I was like are the translation…
he meant that reality sometimes outdoes imagination. the twists and turns in human history can be more thrilling and horrifying than any work of fiction lol
Which ep he will be himself? 2 episodes in, first time watcher here
welcome to the wonderful cutie pie fandom! and my sincerest apologies for the delayed response. i was dealing with a few personal matters. i'm here now, and i'll be more than happy to help
"Which ep he will be himself?"
kuea lowers his guard around lian starting from episode 2, suspecting that he was the man who assisted him during a vulnerable moment of intoxication and loneliness. the tide turns in episode 8 when lian confirms kuea's long-held suspicion. kuea then becomes more relaxed and genuine in his interactions with the man
"that night, it was you, wasn't it? why didn't you say anything?" "i wanted to wait for you to be ready to tell me everything yourself. to see that i love you through my actions" (episode 8)
I would have done the same thing for my friend ,tooIs the friendship between girls so hard and suspicious nowadays?🥲
it's a common pitfall in kdramas, isn't it? they emotionally wreck the second male leads for plot points
kdramas (asian dramas in general) have some work to do in terms of gay representation, but they're trying and slowly moving away from the outdated practice of hiding or downplaying gay characters' identities. it's a promising step forward!
non-straight interpretations challenge traditional assumptions and open up a world of possibilities. we ask ourselves, "could there have been more to the same-sex friendship?" a healthy friendship, built on trust, mutual respect, and open communication, would be the perfect foundation for a healthy romantic relationship. the story doesn’t have to end at friendship
in practice, society doesn’t coddle female survivors more than male survivors. it interrogates them, casts doubt on their experiences, and accuses them of ruining a man's life with their allegations. what's worse, the mistreatment and humiliation of women are popular themes in "straight" nsfw content/p*rn/hentai. they reflect and reinforce a culture that doesn't value women's safety
"I don’t have much tolerance these days for scenes involving the casual, ritualistic degradation of women, which is why deciding to rewatch Game of Thrones was such a colossal unforced error. Idiotic! Foolhardy! Own goal! I made it through the first episode, where a sobbing Daenerys Targaryen is raped by Khal Drogo on their wedding night in front of an orange sunset. I got through the part where Daenerys learns to get her rapist to be nicer to her by being more of an engaged participant in her own sexual assault. I watched as Ros is forced to violently beat another woman with a scepter to gratify the sadistic sexual predilections of King Joffrey, and as Brienne is dragged away to be gang-raped by Roose Bolton’s soldiers, until Jaime saves her. I stopped watching shortly before Jaime rapes his sister, Cersei, next to their son’s dead body, and before Sansa is raped by Ramsay Bolton while Theon Greyjoy watches. It occurred to me at some point that this was becoming an ordeal ...
Game of Thrones (2011-2019) has the dubious honor of being the ne plus ultra of rape culture on television. No series before, or since, has so flagrantly served up rape and assault simply for kicks, without a shadow of a nod toward “realism” (because dragons). The genre is fantasy, and the fantasy at hand is a world in which every woman, no matter her power or fortune, is likely to be violated in front of our eyes. Rape is like blood on Game of Thrones, so commonplace that viewers become inured to it, necessitating ever more excess to grab our attention. It’s brutal, graphic, and hollow. It’s also intentional. Daenerys’s wedding night isn’t explicitly written as being nonconsensual in George R. R. Martin’s 1996 novel (despite the fact that the character was 13 at the time), and it wasn’t filmed as such in the first, unreleased Game of Thrones pilot. At some point, the decision was made to introduce viewers to the series’s most significant female character via her humiliating assault—with pornified aesthetics for added titillation—by a man who had purchased her ...
A show treating sexual violence as casually now as Thrones did then is nearly unimaginable. And yet rape, on television, is as common as ever, sewn into crusading feminist tales and gritty crime series and quirky teenage dramedies and schlocky horror anthologies. It’s the trope that won’t quit, the Klaxon for supposed narrative fearlessness, the device that humanizes “difficult” women and adds supposed texture to vulnerable ones ...
Still more common, though, is the series that mistakes graphically portraying rape for having something insightful to say about it. At one point in the new seasons of The Handmaid’s Tale (2017-2025), June (played by Elisabeth Moss) recounts in detail some of the assaults inflicted on her as a handmaid in Gilead, a merciless Christian theocracy in the show’s alternate version of America. Her list is long, and yet not as long as the one I made while thinking about the show’s historical treatment of assault. Over previous seasons, viewers have watched June be raped by Commander Waterford (Joseph Fiennes); have nonconsensual sex with Nick (Max Minghella); be raped by Waterford while nine months pregnant; and be raped by Commander Lawrence (Bradley Whitford) when Waterford orders it. We’ve also seen female characters suffer genital mutilation, have their eyes taken out, be beaten with straps, and have fingers removed. One season presents a 14-year-old who’s already been raped by multiple men, and the prolonged torture of June after she’s recaptured (yet again) by Gilead
I’ll remind you that Hulu markets this show as a feminist fable. A trailer features a character saying “Blessed be the squad,” as if to borrow some of AOC’s radical chic. The show’s 2017 debut mere months into the Trump-Pence administration aligned it with ideas of a female-led resistance against patriarchal overreach. I loved the first season, the cool painterliness of the show’s aesthetic and the thought experiment it offered. But the longer the show went on—fueled, paradoxically, by the critical success of that first season—the more it became simply a series about the abuse of women. Nothing more, nothing less ...
In 2018, I wrote that The Handmaid’s Tale had crossed the line into exploitation for its repeated victimization of its characters. In the fourth season, Moira (Samira Wiley) expresses a wish to “take all the shit from Gilead and turn it into something useful,” an unintentionally apt summary of the show’s primary failure. Usefulness is also lacking in the most vile scene in Amazon’s horror series Them, a 1950s-set drama in which racism and supernatural forces terrorize a Black family. In the fifth episode, a flashback details the violent gang rape of the show’s female protagonist, Lucky (Deborah Ayorinde). The episode was written by two men: the show’s creator, Little Marvin, and the playwright Dominic Orlando. It feels peculiarly grotesque to me that both so viscerally imagine and stage a scene that neither of them could ever experience ...
Critics have been divided over Promising Young Woman, which won an Oscar last week for Best Original Screenplay, but the movie by Emerald Fennell breaks all kinds of traditions in using assault as a subject—it never shows violation on camera, it suggests that rapists are less-commonly evil serial abusers than banal office-types in button-downs, and it offers no redemptive arc for anyone. The movie begins and ends in a world mired in rape culture ..."
"game of thrones" does glorify rape: https://www.theatlantic.com/culture/archive/2021/05/game-of-thrones-the-handmaids-tale-them-tv-sexual-violence/618782/
"I don’t have much tolerance these days for scenes involving the casual, ritualistic degradation of women, which is why deciding to rewatch Game of Thrones was such a colossal unforced error. Idiotic! Foolhardy! Own goal! I made it through the first episode, where a sobbing Daenerys Targaryen is raped by Khal Drogo on their wedding night in front of an orange sunset. I got through the part where Daenerys learns to get her rapist to be nicer to her by being more of an engaged participant in her own sexual assault. I watched as Ros is forced to violently beat another woman with a scepter to gratify the sadistic sexual predilections of King Joffrey, and as Brienne is dragged away to be gang-raped by Roose Bolton’s soldiers, until Jaime saves her. I stopped watching shortly before Jaime rapes his sister, Cersei, next to their son’s dead body, and before Sansa is raped by Ramsay Bolton while Theon Greyjoy watches. It occurred to me at some point that this was becoming an ordeal ...
Game of Thrones (2011-2019) has the dubious honor of being the ne plus ultra of rape culture on television. No series before, or since, has so flagrantly served up rape and assault simply for kicks, without a shadow of a nod toward “realism” (because dragons). The genre is fantasy, and the fantasy at hand is a world in which every woman, no matter her power or fortune, is likely to be violated in front of our eyes. Rape is like blood on Game of Thrones, so commonplace that viewers become inured to it, necessitating ever more excess to grab our attention. It’s brutal, graphic, and hollow. It’s also intentional. Daenerys’s wedding night isn’t explicitly written as being nonconsensual in George R. R. Martin’s 1996 novel (despite the fact that the character was 13 at the time), and it wasn’t filmed as such in the first, unreleased Game of Thrones pilot. At some point, the decision was made to introduce viewers to the series’s most significant female character via her humiliating assault—with pornified aesthetics for added titillation—by a man who had purchased her ...
A show treating sexual violence as casually now as Thrones did then is nearly unimaginable. And yet rape, on television, is as common as ever, sewn into crusading feminist tales and gritty crime series and quirky teenage dramedies and schlocky horror anthologies. It’s the trope that won’t quit, the Klaxon for supposed narrative fearlessness, the device that humanizes “difficult” women and adds supposed texture to vulnerable ones ..."
"straight" media is as prone to fetishization. the men and women are eye candies and visually appealing objects meant to entertain viewers
bl stories appeal to me more. they're a harmonious mix of lighthearted moments and profound emotional experiences
the assumption that omegaverse falls under the "bl" or "yaoi" genre has been a widespread misunderstanding among bl creators and consumers. they're, in fact, separate categories that should be acknowledged as such
a drama or movie that earned its fans wouldn't need you policing the comments to defend it. this chinese drama has failed
categorizing omegaverse as "bl" or "yaoi" amounts to false advertising and labeling intended to piggyback on and take advantage of the bl genre's increasing popularity. omegaverse doesn't rightfully belong in the genre
realest thing i’ve heard all day! fiction could never compete with the mess that's humanity
"Which ep he will be himself?"
kuea lowers his guard around lian starting from episode 2, suspecting that he was the man who assisted him during a vulnerable moment of intoxication and loneliness. the tide turns in episode 8 when lian confirms kuea's long-held suspicion. kuea then becomes more relaxed and genuine in his interactions with the man
"that night, it was you, wasn't it? why didn't you say anything?"
"i wanted to wait for you to be ready to tell me everything yourself. to see that i love you through my actions" (episode 8)
kdramas (asian dramas in general) have some work to do in terms of gay representation, but they're trying and slowly moving away from the outdated practice of hiding or downplaying gay characters' identities. it's a promising step forward!