oddsare

Aww I get you, bestie. I haven’t seen High School Frenemy so I don’t have that comparison point, but I can imagine how jarring it must feel if you saw Mark absolutely delivering in something intense and now he’s… playing this emotionally constipated dentist in pastel lighting.

But weirdly, I’m kind of into the absurdity? Jay feels like he’s living in a soft-filter BL dream world where logic is optional and love means forcing your crush to eat salad and jog at sunrise. It’s not deep—but it is oddly comforting?

That said, I totally see why you’re unsure. Maybe it’s a fluff detour for Mark, or maybe it’s one of those roles that makes more sense the longer you sit with it. Either way, I’m so glad we’re watching this chaos together—even if we end up side-eyeing it half the time!

Honestly?? I’d watch a whole miniseries titled “Persuasion & the Lycra Redemption: A Tale of Thighs and Emotional Growth.” Austen could never have predicted this level of poetic cling.

Disclaimer:
This fanfic contains reckless emotional metaphors, suggestive produce, and multiple crimes against Jane Austen. Side effects may include: spontaneous craving for tomato juice, erotic confusion involving Speedos, and an urge to rewatch Pride & Prejudice while shouting “¡Besame Mucho!” at your screen.

No geckos were harmed in the writing of this fic—though Chad is emotionally unavailable.

Reader discretion is advised. Especially if you’re allergic to lycopene… or fun.

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Title: La Tomatina: Lust, Lycra, and Lycopene

Subtitle: In which tomatoes fly, Mark thighs, and Jane Austen rolls in her grave (but in support).

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Scene One: Packing for Disaster (and Romance)

Tong, ever the emotional overthinker, packed with purpose:
• One Pride and Prejudice, annotated and laminated (in case of tomato splatter)
• One bottle of Gold Seduktion Parfum (for science)
• One royal blue Speedo (for Mark, obviously—for hydration, distraction, and destruction)

Mark, ex-vampire, packed nothing.
Because Mark is chaos in abs form.

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Scene Two: Arrival in Spain – The Festival of Love & Produce

They arrive in Buñol, where the sun’s out, the tomatoes are ripe, and Mark’s thighs are criminal.

Mark emerges in the Speedo—confused but stunning.

Mark: “Why is this so small?”
Tong: “To air out your emotional repression.”

Somewhere, Auntie Wan sneezes and whispers, “It has begun.”

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Scene Three: The Vision Fails (Spectacularly)

Back in Thailand, Thara channels a vision.
She gasps. Her eyes flutter.

Thara: “I see… a flood of red, a flash of thigh, and—oh. Never mind. That’s a paella recipe.”
Wan: “Girl, your third eye needs a software update.”

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Scene Four: Tomato Combat

Tong, eyes locked on Mark, launches a tomato. It splats directly on the Speedo.

Tong: “Oops. Targeted assault.”
Mark: “Why am I aroused?”

Meanwhile, Nakan appears in head-to-toe white linen (obviously Gucci), dodging tomatoes with sinister grace.

He spots Tonkla aggressively selling hotdogs.

Nakan: “I like protein.”
Tonkla: “You like me.”
Nakan: “I like challenges.”
Tonkla: “I like guys with gym memberships.”

Cue slow-motion tomato splatter.
Cue accidental hand touch while reaching for ketchup.
Cue tension.
Cue soundtrack: “Besame Mucho” played on a melodramatic violin.

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Scene Five: The Kiss and the Confetti

Mark finally admits his feelings the only way he knows how—by accidentally pinning Tong against a tomato cart.

Mark: “I don’t have my vampire senses anymore, and I still want to kiss you. Does that mean I like you?”
Tong: “Sir, that’s literally the definition of liking someone.”

They kiss.
Tomatoes explode like confetti.
Chad the gecko shifter yells “¡FIESTA DEL FLUIDOS!” from a rooftop while waving a bisexual flag.

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Final Scene: Aftermath & Jane Austen Fanfiction

Tong pulls out Pride and Prejudice, smudged with sauce.

Reads: “You have bewitched me, body and bodily fluids.”
Mark: “That wasn’t in the original.”
Tong: “It is now.”

Nakan and Tonkla disappear into a tapas bar.
Auntie Wan opens a tomato-scented candle back home.
And Thara?
She sees the vision again.

Thara: “It’s happening. The prophecy… of the Pool Scene.”

⸻

THE END (until next episode: Paella, Passion, and Plot Twists)

So, here’s the deal. This BL? Not exactly award-winning television. The budget’s clearly doing its best. The plot? Been there, angsted that. But weirdly… I’m kinda into it? Like, genuinely into it.

Andy Ko as Hei Yu Bo—man, that character is such a lovable disaster. He’s got this ride-or-die energy, like he’d absolutely walk into a sketchy back alley for his sister’s meds, then turn around and shriek at a cockroach like it owes him money. There’s something raw and oddly endearing about him.

Yes, the story leans hard into that classic “undercover turns real feelings” spiral. I saw the angst coming from three emotional breakdowns away. And yet—when it hit? Still got me. I’m not proud, but I’m also not surprised.

There’s this unexplainable pull to the show. Maybe it’s the sincerity buried under all the chaos. Maybe I’ve just watched too many polished dramas and forgot how nice a little mess can be.

All I know is—I keep hitting ‘next episode.’ And that probably says more than a 10/10 rating ever could.

Sweet Tooth, Good Dentist Ep.3 gave us: “If you dream it, I’ll make it (softly, sneakily) come true.”

Jay didn’t just hear Sant’s dream. He curated it.
Subtle, sneaky, drop-dead romantic.
Honestly? That’s not just love—that’s full-service fantasy fulfillment.

Shoutout to Kak: the bestie who folds, fries, and flails for friendship.

While some friends offer moral support, Kak said:
“Here, take my joints, my sweat, and an army of intricately folded banana fritters.

This BL multiverse has range, baby—literature, latex, and lyricism. We feastin’ every week and I’m not even mad.

YES, thank YOU!! You said it so perfectly.

It’s honestly wild how following someone on social media suddenly gets interpreted as a political endorsement, marriage proposal, and secret blood pact all in one. Like… maybe the man is just keeping tabs? Staying informed? Or doomscrolling like the rest of us? We don’t know.

And yes—if someone’s following both Trump and Biden and Obama, that screams curiosity or research, not allegiance. I also kept up with both sides during the election because being informed isn’t a crime—it’s common sense.

The Andrew Tate thing? Could be for context, could be for cringe, could be for a role prep, could be a mis-tap mid-scroll. People hate-watch entire dramas weekly but lose it when someone hits “follow.” Come on.

Let’s not be so quick to cancel with half the picture. Let people be nuanced. We can all hate shady politics and still give people space to be messy humans.

LOL, Kuea Keerati could never quote Jane Austen while recovering from a kiss-induced flu and writing a thesis on “Eros, Psyche, and Tomato Juice as Modern Symbols of Desire.” Tong out here getting his BA in Bodily Fluids and British Literature and I’m eating it up!

And yes! It’s giving Comparative Lit x International Studies x Emotional Damage, and I’m so here for this scholarly gay chaos. Finally, a BL where the boys flirt in full sentences and literary metaphors—my English degree is shaking.

Disclaimer before we get spicy:
We don’t know Joss’s actual views, his intentions behind following certain accounts, or whether he’s hate-following like the rest of us watching BLs we can’t stand but can’t quit. This is pure satire, no shade—just sparkly vamp fangs and cheeky speculation. Don’t cancel, just cackle.

____

Oh honey, if following someone meant endorsing them, then I guess half of us would be legally married to our exes, and the other half would be contractually bound to flat-earthers and MLM girlies.

Maybe Joss is doing field research—you know, for a role as a morally bankrupt, protein-powder-peddling vampire who thinks the patriarchy is a pre-workout.
Or maybe he’s in the comments like, “Sweetie, that’s not alpha energy, that’s just unresolved childhood trauma in a gym tank.”

It’s giving:
“I follow Andrew Tate the way people watch reality TV—horrified, but intrigued.”
And you know what? That’s a kind of discipline I respect.

Besides, some of y’all been hate-watching BLs since 2015 like it’s a full-time job with benefits. So maybe Joss is just doing what y’all do—except with biceps and better lighting.

While most Thai BLs love to slap their characters into Engineering or Medical school uniforms like they’re printing OTPs off an assembly line, My Golden Blood went full literary academia realness. Comparative Literature? Jane Austen? Greek mythology?? That’s not just a degree—that’s a whole ✨aesthetic.✨

And the irony? You’ve got Joss and Gawin—both hulking, broad-shouldered, masculine titans—quoting Austen and analyzing Eros and Psyche like they’re one moody lighting cue away from a BBC period drama. It’s giving “he lifts dumbbells and recites poetry,” and I, for one, am swooning.

It’s a refreshing break from the boyish softness we usually get in BL. This time, we’re served muscles, meltdowns, and metaphor.
A romance carved from classical literature, sealed with tomato juice, and delivered via vampire thirst traps.

Honestly?
Your fave engineer couple could never.

Takato Saijou in the Japanese original? Textbook Tsundere.
He’s the king of cold glares, prideful monologues, and classic “I don’t need you—unless I desperately do.”
He spends the first arc of the manga looking like he’s auditioning for “Best Dignified Sigh While Secretly Swooning,” and honestly? He nailed it.

But…

Akin in Top Form? Oh honey.
Still got the tsundere spice, but now it comes with emotional backstory, career pressure, and existential dread.
He’s not just pushing Jin away because he’s flustered. He’s pushing him away because he’s spent years performing for a spotlight that doesn’t clap when the scene ends.

This isn’t just “baka!” energy anymore.
This is “I’ve built my entire identity on control and now love is ruining my brand” realness.

So yes, he was a tsundere.
But now? He’s a whole damn drama syllabus—and I’m taking notes.

Agree to disagree, besties.
Let’s just all enjoy the honey, the ancient robes, and the full-throttle feelings with zero emotional airbags.

Thanks 😊

I just—“THE SPIRIT OF THE JUICE”???
Ma’am this fanfic is Oscar-worthy. It had thunder, trauma, tomato-induced exorcism, and a Domino’s deal. I laughed, I cried, I now believe tomato mist can possess people. This is the BL vampire lore I signed up for.

Also “Juice Shock Syndrome” is now canon. Mark is patient zero. Somebody get him a garlic-scented humidifier and a soft boy to tuck him in. Preferably with a sponge bath.

I need this entire saga in hardcover, paperback, audiobook, and embroidered on a decorative pillow.

Bravo, Faery. Encore.

Shoutout to Boom for acting like he’s possessed by ten drama professors and a Shakespearean ghost. That car scene? ATE. No crumbs.

Top Form Ep. 4: A meditation on identity, legacy… and yes, a little shirtless vulnerability.

This episode isn’t just about the heat (though, hello, there is heat).
It’s about what happens when a man who’s only ever lived through characters is finally asked to be himself—and realizes he has no idea how.

Akin’s world has always been scripted. Every glance, every smile, every heartbreak—performed, rehearsed, perfected. Real emotion? That’s for off-camera. If he ever lets the camera turn off.

But here’s the twist no one warned him about:
Sometimes the person you’re acting with quietly becomes the one you can’t act around.
And suddenly, all those years of emotional control start cracking like stage makeup under a spotlight.

And then there’s Jin, quietly orbiting, not demanding anything—just being there. Like a North Star, if the North Star had messy bangs, a sugar stash, and a habit of breaking down walls you didn’t know you built.

Also—credit where it’s due: the writing? Symbolic and restrained in the best way. The directing? Cinematic with a touch of mystery. And Boom’s performance?
Devastating in all the right places.
His breakdown scene? Subtle, raw, and so personal it almost feels like you shouldn’t be watching—but you can’t look away.

This episode isn’t loud. It lingers.
It doesn’t yell “I love you.”
It just quietly shows what it means to finally want to be yourself—for someone.

And honestly? That kind of storytelling hits harder than honey.

HAHAHA in BL, we get ice cubes, carbs, and condiments with trauma.

Like, TharnType had ice because why not introduce frostbite into foreplay.
KinnPorsche? Bread as a love language—because nothing says “I’m yours” like aggressively buttered toast.
TopForm went full Winnie the Pooh with honey foreplay, and now My Golden Blood said:
“Hold my tomato juice box.”

Now every time Mark sees a carton, he doesn’t think “snack,” he thinks “Tong’s bodily fluids.”
And honestly? Same.

BL courtship is just ✨deranged culinary symbolism✨ at this point.
We’re two episodes away from someone getting proposed to with a dumpling.🤣

Exactly!! It’s not a real Thai BL unless someone nearly dies from a drizzle and is nursed back to health via sponge bath of destiny. Fever? Irrelevant. It’s about the ritual. The sacred towel. The simmering eye contact while dabbing the clavicle.

And yes—covering the chest post-makeout is like locking the door after the house burned down. Sis, we’ve already seen the goods in 4K with soundtrack and slow-mo. What are we hiding now—regret? Humility? Please!

We’re just waiting for the official “we’re faen now” rice ceremony and shared toothbrush reveal. Then, and only then, is the chest allowed to roam free.

Girl, you’re asking the real questions and I’m over here taking notes like it’s a thesis defense.

Honestly, BL logic says: pre-relationship nudity = accidental, innocent, or comedic.
Post-relationship nudity = charged with 300% more emotions and 2 hand-towel minimum.

Why cover up now? Because suddenly that chest comes with feelings, emotional tax, and the ghost of Jane Austen whispering, “Leave something to the imagination, darling.”

And as for sponge baths—if a man doesn’t wring out a warm cloth while gazing longingly into your feverish eyes, is it even love?

Look, I know what the meteorologists say.
I know Thailand is a tropical country.
I know you can step out into a monsoon in Bangkok and return home bone dry in 20 minutes thanks to the humidity gods.
But in the BL Cinematic Universe, rain is not a weather pattern.
It’s fate.

You don’t just get wet.
You catch feelings, catch a fever, and maybe—if you’re lucky—catch a sponge bath from your emotionally repressed love interest.

Is it medically sound? No.
Is it narratively brilliant? Also no.
But is it iconic, dramatic, and absolutely essential to the sacred coming-of-love arc?
Absolutely, irrevocably YES.

Like jealousy without communication, or sleeping in the same bed “accidentally,”
Rain Fever™ is part of the BL starter pack—right next to oversized white shirts and repressed gay panic.

It’s not just a cold.
It’s a plot device wrapped in a moist blanket of longing.
It’s how you know a character’s love antibodies have been activated.

So, yes.
Let them get soaked for 3 minutes and somehow develop a 102-degree fever.
Let them weakly murmur “I’m fine” while looking like a Victorian child with consumption.
Let the other boy dab his face with a trembling towel while realizing, Oh no, I care…

We don’t watch BLs for realism.
We watch them to believe that a drop of rain can change everything.

And if you, dear viewer, still question it?
Don’t worry.
You’ll ease into it.
Just like we did—with open hearts, wet hair, and a perfectly folded towel.