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Romeo and Juliet, the Joker and Harley Quinn, Lizzie and Mr. Darcy…there have been many couples throughout pop culture that audiences have loved to watch fall in love. While every relationship is different, I think that Gomez and Morticia epitomize what a healthy relationship is like. They don't try to change the other, and embrace their weirdness. They are deeply devoted to each other and their family. They're not only not ashamed of who they are and what they have, but they're proud of it.

Releasing a series that covers a multitude of controversial themes, steered by one that is often disregarded due its explicit nature was bound to provoke skewed, conflicting responses as such. I can't help but muffle a chuckle as I reflect on the handful of reviews that brutally slam down the themes raised, deeming the content to be offensive to individuals facing psychological battles alone, no camera, supporting actors or stage makeup to falsify the cruel reality of their circumstances.

I imagine the majority of the demographic falling into this category would not vary significantly. I can't help but consider the likelihood that an intolerance towards portraying mental illness is intrinsically linked with the shared beliefs, attitudes and ideologies that were 'normal' of your era. This theory has been proven with time, as I've witnessed the relentless modifications and amendments to my fathers' psychological state. I've reached a point of maturity where I have come to terms that I can not help this anxious little man, as he is not willing to help himself. As malicious or spiteful as this may come across, once accepting this fate I decided to exploit this opportunity and probe at the possible causations. The blockage in his right cerebrum (that impedes his aptitude to absorb information that is current, and makes it painfully unbearable to listen to an option that differs to an insignificant degree) I find personally offensive. A sombre afternoon (I don't recall how these events unfolded), my father and I just happened to be sharing a couch. The silence was eventually broken by the theme song of 13 reasons why. The sense of gratification I received by predicting his exact response was sickening. I cannot stress enough that neither opinion is wrong neither inapplicable when tackling such a grey theme.

The circumstantial nature means that every individual's journey will differ from the next – it is impossible to hypothesise a collective response or be assured that your opinion is correct. Depending on the experience of mental illness, this series could offer comfort, relief, understanding, self-assurance, or perhaps, the complete opposite. In my opinion, it is imperative that we strive to break down the barriers that reinforce false misconceptions. I believe shining light on the prevalence of this issue on a public media platform will lead to increased discussion, in aim to remove the elephant in the room that has become mental illness.

It is interesting how nowadays technology has revolutionized the way children play. Children are engaging – more and more, day by day- in watching other children play on Youtube videos rather than playing with their own toys. Is it considerable that by doing this children become less social, do not excel well with hands-on learning, lack of imagination, develop motor skills slower than children who play with their own toys or play games non involving technology?

Both authors explored the magic of children, the innocence of imagination and characters that rebel against conforming to 'adulthood.' in what ways are these authors alike, what sets them apart. There is an importance to how an adult, or at least the idea of how adults are and how they view the world, and then there's the children that make up these stories and poems that uncover the magic. What is this importance and how does it work to serve as an analysis of the outside world of the works, the reality in which we live in?

Supernatural, Doctor Who, and Sherlock: Three very popular shows that have formed into one fandom because one is rarely watched without eventually being dragged into the other two universes. But what makes these three, very different shows, so appealing to viewers? Why this combination of Sci-Fi, Crime Drama, and Horror? The appeal could come from the witty dialogue, the action based plot lines, or maybe the great many ship-able characters that fans fall in love with.

Recently we saw how the lack of sound impacts the cinematic landscape in John Krasinski's A Quiet Place, but, of course, it is not a new phenomenon. Another wonderful example of the absence of sound (or rather music) in a film would have to be Michael Haneke's 1994 film 71 Fragments of a Chronology of Chance. It would be interesting to see how this absence lends itself to the film's plot and whether it strengthens or hinders the work. The exploration of sound/music in film is still a relatively new study, and I have not seen much in the way of discussing its absence, so it would be really fascinating to track the progress of sound and how it impacts spectatorship depending on its presence or lack thereof.

Barry is a "dramedy" television series following the life of Barry Block (his stage name), a man who is a former marine turned hit man that aspires to become an actor in Hollywood due to his hatred for having to murder people (who are often innocent). Barry feels the need to go to extreme measures in order to pursue his career in acting which results in the murder of several people whom he considers friends or colleagues. Is it appropriate to empathize with a character who performs such immoral actions?

I think it would be interesting to consider the movies of different decades and how they define the different generations. As a child of the 80s, I grew up watching Goonies, Space Camp, and Red Dawn which all impacted the way I viewed life. They presented a picture of adventure (with danger), enemies to fight, and things to hope for. What about the movies of the 90s or the early 2000's?

Monster Prom (2018) is the latest in a line of explicitly queer indie dating sims since the popularity of The Game Grumps' Dream Daddy (2017). It's tone is light, comedic, and playful, owing it's mash-up of horror and sitcom tropes to predecessors like The Addams Family (1964), The Munsters (1964), Rocky Horror Picture Show (1975), a slew of campy monster beach party movies (e.g.: 1964's The Horror of Party Beach), and even the recent popularity of the Monster High (2010) toy line and webseries. Monster Prom owes a lot to the "all-ghoul school trope," but it is also unapologetically queer; the game's Kickstarter page includes a blurb on the subject: "Don't worry if you want to romance a certain love interest as a certain character! In Monster Prom characters don't like boys or girls… they like people." This is a kind counterpart to the long tradition of queer-coded monsters and villains in horror cinema, a topic extensively covered in Harry Benshoff in his book Monsters in The Closet: Homosexuality and The Horror Film (1997). Monstrous and villainous queer subtext can be observed famously in classic monster movies like Frankenstein (1931)– which prominently features two men privately collaborating to create new life (and was, directed by a gay man, James Whale)– Dracula's Daughter (1936)– which features a butch female vampire and her effeminate male manservant– and later films like Nightmare on Elm Street II: Freddy's Revenge (1985) and Reanimator (1985). The purpose of this article is to trace the trickle: how did our media shift from implicitly queer monsters as villains to explicitly queer monsters as love interests? Also consider the quasi-ironic queer nerd slogan: "The Babadook is a gay icon" and even the non-normative love story that takes place in The Shape of Water (2017).

Movie prequels have become increasingly more popular. Are they simply a cash-grab and do we need them? When you already know the outcome of a movie, do you even care? Do screenwriters have to work harder when writing a prequel in order to make the audience "forget" that the end is predetermined? Do we even need prequels? Is there a need to have an explanation for every tiny reference that was made in a previous movie? The Star Wars franchise is one of the biggest examples of this trend. Another franchise that comes to mind is Underworld. The third Underworld movie, Underworld: Rise of the Lycans, was a prequel. Do prequels have to work harder to make us care? Or do we need them because we care too much about those characters?

How are the LATINAMERICANS portrayed in the films and TV shows on time? Only the MEXICANS are mainly considered in US films?. What about the image from other countries?

What are its limitations? What will its advancement mean for other gaming devices?

With Fortnite and Players Unknown Battlegrounds recently making their way to mobile devices how far can mobile gaming go? Will it be limited mainly by the lack of screen real-estate and controls or will technology find a way to create an experience on a mobile phone much like you get on a Nintendo Switch?

Video production is a true full-time activity. Personally, I find that work as a youtuber is important because youtubers allow people to see the world from another angle, to reflect on topics and question themselves. However, a youtuber doesn't always get a decent salary out of his or her freelance job. Does it mean they're not working? How is this job different from being a actor, a writer or a painter?

To quote drag queen, Jasmine Master's infamous, "I have something to say, RuPaul's Drag Race has fucked up drag,' meme, this thought-provoking opinion is something that I find myself returning to every time a new drag queen expresses the validation they feel from being chosen to be on the show. Furthermore, when this validation seems only rewarded when winning, it becomes a rather toxic outlook towards drag in drag race. While I don't look down upon queens who have this belief, I do believe to an extent that it is exhausting to watch a queen dilute their talent to only being validated through RuPaul's 'stamp of approval.' Drag is a form of self-expression and the idea that for some drag queens, their admission to drag race and running time on drag race is validation saddens me, because I think drag is such a beautiful art form and the variety of nuances that it's performed in is what makes it most interesting to me. I sometimes feel like RuPaul's Drag Race, as a competition, tends to affect that with its challenges that are fine tuned to specific areas. Sure some queens are more well-versed in different areas, and the show is meant to show case the variety of talents that walk through that work room, but I notice the pressures of a competition like drag race affecting queens nevertheless. I'd like to hear other's thought on this.

With the second season of The Handmaid's Tale expanding on where the book finished, the ante is continually upped in terms of violence and horror. To keep the tension building, the torture and suffering the women in The Handmaid's Tale keeps getting worse and worse. Is this feminist tv show crossing the line with how much suffering is shown?

As a child and all the way up through high school, I found that geeky subjects were usually a great way to get one's self alienated from the group at large. As I get older, of course the internet has changed much of the way that people can socialize with each other, and so while there are now larger communities for geeky topics, I also find that some of these communities appear hostile to newcomers or even defaulting into the, 'You're only a true fan of X if…'

When I was younger, I thought geeky subjects were a great unifier, but today I'm not so sure. Do you think anything has changed in the past forty years, and if so, do you think geeky topics unify or divide people?

I'm not sure about others, but I was pleasantly surprised by the new TV series, based on the comic series, 'Runaways'. What I enjoyed was that the show made a strong nod to the comics, including a few throwaway lines and in-jokes, maintained aspects of the narrative that were iconic and important, but ultimately told a new story.

There has been much discussion on this site, and online in general, concerning the act of adapting from comics. I think 'Runaways' would be a good one to critic. Now although I enjoyed this immensely, there are also problematic issues in the alteration of the narrative, which deviates hugely from the original. In a similar way that 'Riverdale' reinvented itself for TV, 'Runaways' presents not quite a reinvention, but a reimagination.

Is this the way to compromise for comic adaptions?

Every anime fan has heard of, or even watched, 'Naruto', 'Bleach' and 'One Piece'. Till this day it remains in our hearts as the major mainstream animes of the 1990s – 2000s. With the end of Naruto and Bleach, and the continuation of One Piece, it makes us wonder what made these three animes so popular and why/if the series have 'fallen'.

Shows like 13 Reasons Why and Girl, Interrupted romanticize mental illness and the experience of depressed individual. Gender often plays into these narratives, and the specific roles that are romanticized-the depressed, their hero/protector, and the idolization of their struggle.

Since 13 Reasons Why Season 2 was released on Netflix a few days ago, there has been many conflicting opinions on the show. Some say it is informative and applaud it for raising awareness in ways no other show dares to do while many find the show extremely offensive, saying it glorifies and misrepresents mental illness as well as showing graphic scenes concerning matters such a suicide and rape that can be incredibly triggering for those suffering. What are your thoughts?