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The lore of "Trese" is as mysterious as it's intriguing, because the comics are based off Filipino mythology. This is quite uncommon to write about, as the comic book industry is vastly dominated by the super-hero genre, with issues coming out with brand new storytelling that haven't won over the public lately, but rather pushed them away. There are several reasons for the decline of the American comic book industry, such as a focus on a character's sexuality instead of writing a substantial story or rewriting a character that has already been established years ago to fit the present narrative.

Consistency, originality, characterization and creativity seem to have been shoved aside to push an agenda forward. This agenda also drives comic book readers away, who can't stand to see their favorite characters becoming a figure of representation and diversity. This issue is problematic, as comics themselves offer a deeper introspection into the universe created by the writers; this is their vision they're willing to show to their potential readers through the characters, story and lore they create. The more original and creative a story is without the problems associated with diversity and representation, the more interested readers will be in comics.

The "Trese" series have been ongoing since 2005 and have recently been given a Netflix adaptation, due to the success of the comics in the Philippines. What has been observed is that not only is it still coherent and consistent in its story-telling, but the originality and creativity in its lore keeps eliciting curiosity and a need to learn more about Filipino myths. The black and white style used by the creators also compliments the essence of "Trese", fitting the theme of horror. Such series that have remained unaffected by the drastic turn in the comic book industry is a rare sight to behold nowadays. It would be interesting to analyze the pros and cons of "Trese" to understand why and how the series succeed where American comic books have been failing for some time.

In all JRR Tolkien’s lore, the Elves and Dwarves are diametrically opposed races. However, in the filmed adaptations of his works, we see an emphasis on the developments their positive relationships.
In The Lord of the Rings, the camaraderie between Gimli and Legolas is a core element of the films, and there’s a not-insignificant amount of fan content created about the possibility of a romantic relationship between them.
In the more recent Hobbit trilogy, a romance was added between Tauriel the elf and Kíli the dwarf prince; one that didn’t exist at all in the book (as Tauriel herself was a new addition to the narrative).
It seems likely that the new Amazon Rings of Power series will also explore dwarven-elven relations (if not relationships) as well.
What about Tolkien’s stories and worldbuilding has people consistently drawing these two sides together? Is it just the appeal of an opposites-attract narrative?

Nowadays, suicide carries less stigma than ever before, both in fiction and in real life. In many respects this is a good thing, as it means that people who experience suicidal ideation no longer have to feel like they are morally deficient. However, it seems as though some works of media have gone too far in the other direction, portraying suicide either as something glamorous or as an inevitable consequence of mental distress. A key example of this can be seen in the novel and Netflix series "13 Reasons Why," both of which seem to portray suicide as a weapon that can be used to get back at someone. Some modern Biblical commentators have even gone so far as to argue that Sarah, the holy matriarch, might have been suicidal based on little to no evidence. What are some ways in which creators can portray suicide more respectfully? Is it possible to point out the harm that suicidal ideation does without making people feel guilty or ashamed for being depressed?

Various TV series are loved and enjoyed for different factors that lead to producers investing more as time passes and ratings rise. It’s good for the show, the production, and the fans as more seasons get made. But when is the limit of stretching a story? Especially when lead actors decide to leave the cast?

Helpful examples are long running shows such as Grey’s Anatomy, Supernatural, the CW Arrowverse, Once Upon A Time, etc., and even more recent hit shows like Stranger Things. Also, a good comparison are with shows that did well with just one season, particularly “limited series”, a current television trend that includes Netflix’s Maniac and HBO’s Sharp Objects.

When the COVID-19 pandemic began, a handful of writers found solace and inspiration in Anne Frank. PJ Grisar of the Jewish Daily Forward, essayist Leigh Stein, and others wrote about how "the world [looked] to Anne Frank" during the first wave of the crisis (Grisar) and how her experiences contrasted with and mirrored our own.

Two years later, Anne Frank and her "mirror" have not gone away. Some continue looking to her for inspiration, while others, such as Robert F. Kennedy Jr., compare living as an unvaccinated American to living as a Holocaust victim, thereby stirring controversy and anger. But no matter how Anne Frank fits into the pandemic landscape, she remains a major part of it for many people.

How do you think readings and discussions of Anne Frank's diary will change as the pandemic enters a new stage and hopefully ends soon? Why do you think she resonates, even though comparing our situation to the Holocaust and Nazi Germany is rightfully offensive? Are there examples of classic or current fiction that could be read alongside Anne Frank as a study of the pandemic, lockdowns, and similar situations? Discuss.

When most people think of the mockumentary sitcom series known as The Office, they probably think of the version from either the United States or the United Kingdom. However, The Office is a multinational phenomenon, with at least eight or ten countries having their own home-grown adaptations of it, which they use to make fun of their own work cultures. What are some highlights from these international adaptations? How do they differ from their more famous English-language counterparts? Are there any adaptations that, in your opinion, do not receive the attention they deserve?

Several years ago, YouTuber Whitney Avalon gave us a mashup not many people were expecting–Disney princesses competing against each other in rap battles. Some princesses, like Cinderella and Belle, competed alone, while others, like Rapunzel and Anna, competed as couples with their respective princes. Over time, Avalon expanded to Disney and non-Disney villains (Queen of Hearts vs. Wicked Witch of the West), and non-Disney heroines (Dorothy vs. Alice).

The result was a series of memorable, humorous, and surprising videos that showed princesses and heroines in new lights and arguably made the rap battle and surrounding culture accessible to broader audiences. Until Whitney Avalon, it's fairly unlikely that most of us, this writer included, ever pictured majority-white, extremely feminine princesses and heroines spitting clever, deep-cutting hip-hop lyrics.

Discuss the impact and influence of the Princess Rap Battles, especially when compared to other battles of their type (ex.: Epic Rap Battles of History). Do you think these battles make rap and hip-hop more accessible to women, Disney fans, and other such audience, or does the term Princess Rap Battle pigeonhole them? It's been awhile since the last Princess Rap Battle; what might Whitney Avalon do to improve on the content and bring new audiences in? What do these battles say about the structure and poetry of rap, hip-hop, and battles in general?

Recently finished watching Hellbound and think an article exploring its premise would be insightful. It really delivered that idea of 'god-fearing' in a new and inventive way. It is a phrase you hear a lot in a historical context and can sometimes lose a lot of impact due to this. By the end of the first series of Hellbound, you understand that fate rests with a supernatural force, the logic of which is completely hidden from humankind, and by their standards is completely wrong and unpredictable. Unexplained phenomena is a great hook, and by tying it to the idea of religious judgement, the show did a great job of making it seem like a realistic situation. A potential writer could explore the series, with reference to older artwork and literature that displays that same notion of 'god-fearing' (Left Behind by Tim LaHaye and Barry B. Jenkins is a book, though I didn't think it was very good and older, more classical examples may be more effective)

The phrase 'empathy machine' was first used to describe the way that watching films can give the viewer an understanding of what it is like to be someone different (different age, gender, nationality, etc.). More recently, it has been used in reference to virtual reality technologies and their ability to allow users to 'embody' someone else. The claims of both of these mediums as empathy machines rests upon their alleged ability to allow the viewer/player to understand and feel what others feel. This empathy is, of course, something they cannot get from their own life as they do not have the same shared experiences that the machine is allowing them to have. Thus, these tools as empathy machines are profound.

But, to what extent can literature be seen as a so-called empathy machine? Using a selection of texts, discuss how they can provide the reader with the knowledge necessary to empathise with those depicted in the texts. This could include fiction, where the reader is learning about the life of someone unreal. Or, it could be non-fiction, where the reader is learning of the life of a real person. Ensure that the specific empathetic qualities of literature are discussed. This might include literature's reliance on imagination, or the way that written texts allow for lengthy and in-depth first-hand accounts.

The potential writer of this topic could provide an overall assessment; is literature more or less effective than film or V.R. in creating empathy? Why/why not?

Over the past few years, many TV shows designed for and marketed towards children have amassed large adult / new adult fan bases. My Little Pony, Miraculous Ladybug, Owl House, and She-Ra are some examples. What is it about children's TV that draws older viewers in? Often these adult fandoms are active on platforms such as Reddit, do these platforms facilitate these fandoms or are the platforms merely making them more public? Or, from a different angle, does a large adult fan base have an impact on the trajectory of a children's show? (Ex: Some of the shows listed showcased queer representation in later seasons that was largely cheered on by the older fans).

Recently, talk among book enthusiasts has circulated that YA dystopia has burned out. The genre is certainly huge, but whether it's burned out, cliched, or tired in any way depends on whose books you read. Are there certain authors who give YA dystopia a burned out feel? Are there authors, or characters, who have brought fresh situations or themes to the genre? And if the genre is burned out right now, how might it be "revived?" Discuss.

The narrative of Horizon Zero Dawn is fascinating, and while there are many potential themes to be examined, I keep coming back to how it handles apocalypse and the end of the/our world. In the game's past, the Earth faces annellation. When all seems lost, the solution is not to cling to some far-fetch hope for salvation, but instead to for pave the way for something new. Obviously, the crises facing Elisabet Sobeck, Aloy, and today's humans are all very different. Nonetheless, I think this game offers some food for thought as we face our own climate crises: do we accept coming devastation and focus our energies on creating the conditions for a new, better world to emerge? Or do we cling to what we have and try to save the world we know? Where do we locate hope for the future? Do we have to chose between what we have and what might be? Is it possible to have hope for the emergence of something new without total destruction (as happens in the game)?

How does the act of writing self-help help writers?
The benefits of writing are widely documented, as are the benefits of teaching others. This, combined with the growing popularity of autoethnography, provides an opportunity to examine self-help authors and their relationships with their material. What benefits (or issues) arise from the act of writing self-help? For example, Sarah Knight (author of the No Fucks Given Guides) says her writing reflects what she has learnt about managing her own anxiety. However, was she already codifying her strategies while learning to deal with anxiety? Did writing help her, or was she simply out to fill a gap in the market?

HBO's "We're here!" is, essentially, doing what the reboot of "Queer Eye" did– heading into rural and isolated communities and confronting the structural limitations of that community, building a pop-up drag show for one weekend. The queens work with a few people (some cis, straight men; some queer folk; some baby Queens) to help them embrace their femininity and performativity. And it is clear that a connection is made. But then what? Queer Eye's reboot has been critiqued by feminist, gender studies, and queer writers for the appropriation of racialized cultures, the shaming of people living in poverty, and the kind of neoliberalist fantasy that consumerism will save someone. Is "We're Here!" doing a similar kind of thing? My instinct is that "We're Here!" is avoiding some of the traps of Queer Eye while falling into a few of them.

Consider the role of technology in romantic relationships. For example, how many relationships begin on Tinder and other dating sites. Or how people can meet on social media and get into relationships. How are these things shown in film?
Think of old tropes such as a man waiting 3 days to call a woman after a date. How does that impact audiences to watch these tropes today? For example, with this trope, how would contemporary audiences feel watching “He’s Just Not That Into You” (2009)? If it were remade today, what would be done differently?

The act of catfishing — pretending to be someone else online to lure someone into a false relationship — has become a somewhat common occurrence. This also means that this behaviour has started appearing in more entertainment media. This, then, begs the question. How is the act of catfishing portrayed in media?

An analysis of this topic could start with the TV show Catfish, which depicts the act as cruel whilst simultaneously often showing sympathy to those who participate in catfishing depending upon their individual circumstances.

Through looking at other examples — either fictional or non-fictional — try to determine whether popular culture depicts this as a severe violation, a minor problem, or somewhere in between.

If possible, make a comment about what this says about societal values.

Note: I have placed this in the Arts category, but it could potentially sit in the other media forms (like TV or Film) if they are most discussed.

Romcoms are an incredibly popular genre, and some of the relationships – from the perfect meet-cute to the inevitable dramatic finale – are truly dream-worthy. But a lot of romantic comedies also feature clearly unhealthy relationships. Consider The Wedding Planner, where the male lead is engaged for the majority of the film, or How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days, where both sides of the couple are trying to trick one another. There are countless other examples.

It would be interesting to explore why this is. Does a relationship need to be unhealthy (or, commonly, founded upon lies) to be "funny"? Why can we set aside critical judgement of blatantly unhealthy behaviours when we're watching these movies?

The Artifice is a magazine about visual arts so it would be interesting to read an article about how art in China has been evolving since ancient times. The author is invited to focus on the history of painting in this specific cultural context and make it into a story that helps the reader explore different times through the lens of Chiense painters. Using a chronological order would be helpful to follow and making the tone narrative instead of informative would also be more engaging. As an oil painter, I would be intrigued to read something related to the origins of this particular painting type.

'Dickinson' is the Apple TV series 2019-2021 about American poet Emily Dickinson. The premise (taken from Anreeva & Pelski 2018) is that Dickinson takes place "during Emily Dickinson's era with a modern sensibility and tone. It takes viewers into the world of Emily, audaciously exploring the constraints of society, gender, and family from the perspective of a budding writer who doesn't fit in to her own time through her imaginative point of view. Dickinson is Emily's coming-of-age story – one woman's fight to get her voice heard."

The best word there is audaciously – the series makes direct use of Dickinson's actual poetry throughout the series to theme the episodes and to add to a story about a complex poet. Biographies on Dickinson indicate she was an isolated, eccentric and (reading between the lines) anxious woman in a period of relatively large gender, race and class oppression. Little of her poetry was actually published through her life, and most information about her is based on her prolific letter writing. It is easy to see through the series that they have taken great liberties with both her character and her life…but is this a problem? The show itself heavily highlights the oppressive period she lived during and her struggles as a poet and a woman. Many of the themes and topics are ones that resonate with young women today – about finding self, about morality, about understanding life and love and friendship.

It would be interesting to explore this topic in more depth: is there value in taking liberties with a real person's life and works if it still serves the message or purpose of their story? Can a fictional biography be as meaningful to the contemporary viewer as a real biography? Or is this a betrayal of a woman who suffered enough during her own time?

Is it worthwhile to adapt YA books into TV or film? What determines if it is done well? Is it wise to change a lot when carrying over to a different medium? Compare popular examples like the Harry Potter, Twilight, The Hunger Games, etc.