#come to think of it moonlight chicken has heart and liming go to the very top of the city

[thistle--bug]

P'Aof when he writes a confession scene:

[frickwhat]

I WANT TO DO THE REVIEWS THINGY TOO.

1. MOONLIGHT CHICKEN:

personally i think everyone should give it a watch because it is worth it. would i rewatch it? probably not the whole thing is very heavy for me but i would watch limingheart scenes ,THEY WERE IT. the acting omg, it's so fucking hard to believe that it was their first gig. they showed us their problems individually, like they were their own characters with their own struggles but they also were there for eo. communication was on point. liming had problems, real problems with college and money. he wasn't afraid to stand up for himself the kid's a fucking icon. and he is baby i will protect him forever.

2. NEVER LET ME GO:

the plot could be better, the acting was good but could be more natural, the chemistry BHAI. have i watched it 9 times? yes. the thing that stood out the most was their relationship they met eo and palm was ready to die for him (yes i know it was his job whatever) ??? palm is so in love with neung it's disgusting but so is neung. he hides it with quips and scolding. i read somewhere and they explained that the water shows how free they are on the beach. they can be themselves and no one would judge them. they could forget their status, family expectations and all. they're my beach boyfriends and i love them.

3.BAD BUDDY:

family hates eo so they hate eo? yes. childhood rivalry? yes. enemies to friends to lovers? yes. chemistry? yes. acting natural? yes. pran liked pat bohot pahle se and they showed ki he was reluctant to be with pat. nanon ate this role and left no crumbs. there are so many things i could write but i feel lazy so go and watch it if you haven't (shame on you). they're my slut bfs.

4. MY SCHOOL PRESIDENT:

its actually a close first but idk why it's on fourth (i forgot about it). this show is so fucking wholesome that i cried (yes my friend has proof i hate her) tinn is so green flag babygirl bf. and gun is so dumbass oblivious but not babygirl bf. confessing to my crush? no become the school president and be rivals with him so he will like me. the dance scene has my whole fucking heart and i love it. idek what to say they're idiots and i love them. gun is such a complex character in my opinion. he has layers like we see that he is not very good in school but he has his musical talents and leadership qualities to make up for it. my man is actually very observant and he has the kindest heart. he deserves everything nice and so does tinn. he really was fighting for his life to get gun to like him. i would have given up in two months but that wasn't all. tinn was a really smart character and he knew how to comfort people. ahh i love him but i can't find words. geminifourth played the hell out of this. everyone should give it a watch the storyline is cliche but refreshing too and who doesn't love high school lovers.

5. NOT ME/ BE MY FAVOURITE:

a) not me: the whole premise of the show is genius and important for thai people but like also everywhere. they danced under a fucking lgbt flag and helds hand. i deserve that. the scene makes me cry everytime. sean knowing that it was black not white was nice i am thankful they didn't make him dumb. the show is politically woke so points. i don't really know the political status of thailand so don't come after me. seanwhite are my be gay and fight the government bfs.

b) be my favourite: honestly i wasn't expecting anything from this show but it surprised me. fighting for queer rights? pisaeng coming to terms with his sexuality without his love interest? kawi realising that he can't change some things and he has to accept it? him noticing that he was slowing becoming an alcoholic? max as a tired gay bestie? pisaeng loving every moment of him being a sugar daddy to kawi? kawi making him understand that they have to equals in a relationship? pisaeng being a clingy bf? everything is fucking perfect. and the time travelling part is well done too tho it makes no sense but yeah. also them actually giving pear a personality and storyline? thank you.

special mentions to:

1) the eclipse (my crybaby bfs. they deserve their own posts)

2) my love mix up

[firstkanaphans]

Lowkey... I was so excited about Moonlight Chicken bc big fan of 1000 stars and Cupids last wish.... but how did the earthmix ship have the least impact? Maybe MSP and Eclipse were more recent so those ships overshadowed? And 1000 stars and CLW don't really have side ships so the main couple could shine? or maybe bc MC didn't have a real plot and earthmix does better in plot-heavy shows?? I'm just so confused bc I only watched the show for earthmix and came out shipping the sideships more than them and I want to deeply analyze wtf happened

I want to preface this by saying that I enjoyed MLC immensely—it’s only the second Thai BL ever that I’ve rated 10/10—but I do agree that the JimWen storyline was the weakest of the three. The problem wasn’t the chemistry, though; it was the writing. EarthMix have amazing sexual chemistry and they did what they could with a flawed script.

The first problem, in my opinion, was that the character of Wen was severely underdeveloped. How do I know this? Try describing Wen in one word without using his physical appearance or profession. The only words I can come up with are slutty and sad. And unfortunately, a sad slut does not a main character make. Even Praew, who had the least amount of screen time, has a bigger personality.

The second problem is that Jim and Wen’s relationship has no stakes and very little conflict. Theirs is a very quiet story, more introspective than plot-driven, and that’s a perfectly valid way to write, but you’re setting them up for failure when you make Heart and LiMing the secondary ship because Heart and LiMing are all conflict all the time—both internal conflict (Heart blaming LiMing for breaking the vase + their ongoing communication difficulties) and external conflict (the disapproval of their respective families).

We don’t spend our mental energy worrying about Jim and Wen because in the long run it doesn’t really matter whether they get together or not. If Jim never gives in to Wen’s advances, they will just go back to their separate lives and they will still be fine. The stakes in the JimWen plotline are about Jim’s diner, not the relationship itself, and it’s frustrating because they were so close to getting it right.

This is pure speculation, but my guess is that if P’Jojo had directed MLC like he was supposed to, he would have made Wen a cheater for real. And suddenly, there are stakes! I know a lot of people don’t like infidelity plotlines and I get it, but it would have made Jim and Wen’s relationship 1000x more interesting because now Wen is being forced to choose between the life he has built with a partner of six years versus the chance of something better. And on the other side, there is Jim who has unwittingly fallen in love with someone who is treating another man the exact same way Jim’s cheating ex-husband treated him. God, it would have been beautiful.

So, to answer your question, I don’t think EarthMix were overshadowed by the other couples, I think the script just fucked them over. That being said, I still enjoyed the show as a whole. Stories are going to resonate with who they resonate with. But in the case of MLC, I really do think the brunt of the issue was with the writing.

[toastofthetrashfire]

“I just built a home. I don’t want to move anywhere”

still thinking about moonlight chicken

one of the things i love is how it emphasizes the importance of finding home, a place to belong and people who understand you. There’s something intrinsically queer about this, in the way so many of us who are different have to find home much later in life. It’s something we have to fight for, even the process of imagining what home can look like outside the norm.

Of course, each character finds home in their own ways. But what stuck with me the most was Wen turning down his promotion. I love that he places home over career success, and it’s never framed as a downgrade or a limitation, but instead a form of liberation. It’s something I don’t think I’ve really seen explore in quite this way (apart from Kosenu Futari, which I think does it’s own beautiful exploration of similar themes).

Speaking from an aromantic perspective, there are plenty of stories that idealize romantic love as curing all problems (especially in straight romances). And of course there are counter narratives where the character (often a woman) chooses to follow their career and not give everything up for one boy. And I do think these have important things to say. But I often wonder if there is a bit of privilege even in these more feminist narratives. The way the choice between love and a career and the tension surrounding this type of decision can be different when you are queer or disabled, when your options are more limited, and when you may not have a traditional nuclear family or social circles to fall back on. When finding a home and connections is as essential for survival as financial stability.   

I feel like MC captures that nuance. And of course, I think it’s important as well that the show offers a very different definition of love by taking on the more expansive notion of “home” rather than simplifying this to an amatonormative love story (with it’s own roots in heteronormativity). MC also captures nuance by showing that different people can have different goals but still be part of that “home.” Liming and Heart are choosing to go out and explore themselves, to get an education and work. Meanwhile Wen is making the choice to prioritize his relationship over a promotion, because that is what he needs most and it’s what is most liberating for him.

To make this a bit personal, I’m getting to the point in my life where I’m soon going to have to face a similar decision to Wen. I’m facing a tough job market post grad school, and it’s not uncommon for partners to live apart for a number of years or simply go separate ways. My advisor’s advice was to focus on the job first, cause relationships come and go. And I understand this reasoning, the way many people limit themselves or their desires by prioritizing amatonormativity over their own goals and happiness. But at the same time, we live in a capitalist society that demands we be productive to be successful, to have value. I’ve spent most of my childhood and adult life feeling like I had to prioritize academic and career success, to grind, even if that meant sacrificing a social life and connection. And of course, as someone who is queer and autistic, those connections can be even rarer to come by. Yet in the last few years I’ve found a platonic partner who I really can build a life with. To see her as “just another fish in the sea” to sacrifice the home I am building feels like a cruel and dishonest decision. Because finding and fostering a home for myself is as much necessary for my survival as career success. And home has been so limited in my life.

In this context, to make the simple claim that home is more important than career advancement, feels like an act of survival. To prioritize care over productivity it feels crip and it feels queer and it feels liberating, like taking a full breath for the first time in a long time. And I know neither road will be easy, but as Wen wrote “I just built a home” and I think I want to follow in his footsteps and hold on tight to that.  

[ehentha]

The Laadheenee Among Us

Chapter 03 of my work in progress book "Sinking Streets". 

Chapter 01 - The Male’ City Swimming Track

Chapter 02 - Doorways to the Sea

  A short note on the word “laadheenee”.

Literal meaning: Not (laa) Religious (dheenee)

Not really Dhivehi in origin. Nobody uses “laa” to mean no in Dhivehi. It is an arab loan word.

Used to call someone irreligious in some way. Also directed at LGBTQI people whether or not they’re religious. Many Muslim LGBTQI people are also called laadheenee simply for being themselves.

Could be used to call someone a secularist, or a hypocrite (munafiq) or an apostate (murtad), or a blasphemer. I think the actual Dhivehi word for secular is illmaanee.

The word has even been spray painted on the walls of houses of people who have been suspected to be “laadheenee”. This may have been more related to its political usage as a slur against opposing parties rather than its usage against Maldivian minorities. However, the slur is ultimately accusing these political parties of belonging to or supporting non-Muslims or LGBTQI people. To date there isn’t a single political party that has even acknowledged the existence of Maldivian minorities other than as a boogeyman or scapegoat.

A dog whistle for “kafir” (infidel). Ultimately always means this (if not used ironically by progressive people).

The goal of this word is to stereotype and group Maldivian non-Muslims and LGBTI people as a homogenous entity that is actively working against “Islam” and the very fabric of the nation itself. It is much easier to ascribe conspiracy theories to “laadheenee” meehun (people) this way. This is similar to the way white supremacists say things like “the jews” or “the blacks”. The laadheenee meehun are apparently out to destroy the Maldives, it’s culture, it’s heritage, and it’s national unity. This is despite laadheenee meehun being regular Dhivehin just like everybody else.

The wind is rushing through your hair, extra salty with the mist generated by the dhoni as it gently falls on the waves ahead.

                One of you is sick, throwing up. Why are we going fishing? Your vomit leaves an orange trail on the cobalt blue waters behind us.

                As we anchor at the edge of a reef, the fires in the sky fizzles into the waves. Soon the moon rises and one of you comments on how your grandfather always said that’s a good omen for fishing. We remember we say, you tell us all the time.  

                As the moon grows brighter, the pile of fish in the center of the dhoni grows ever higher. Rai mas, filolhu, handhi, faana, and even a few tholhi. One of you mention how great mamma’s havaadhu is going to taste.

                We return to the island. A fire is lit. The fish are gutted and cleaned. The havaadhu is liberally applied into the slits cut into the side of the fish. Save me the eyes! One of you says excitedly.

                The aroma of the fish fills the air. Comforting smells of roasting cumin, turmeric, garlic, onions cut with the sharp tang of scotch bonnet chilies mixed with lime ignites a hunger in your belly. The smoke spirals up with the sparks towards the moonlight. The day feels long. Is it done yet?

                We eat all of the fish. Nothing is wasted. You say the one you caught tastes the best. You like the oily taste of charred rai’ mas skin better than the dull taste of the bony tholhi you caught. I caught the tholhi! The youngest cousin exclaims angrily. Everyone laughs shares the last of the fish as we reminisce about past trips.

                Remember the time you cut your foot as you ran out onto the beach? Remember the time we all played lava baazee on the dhoni when we went to that distant atoll? Remember the time the spicy eid chicken gave you a stomach ache? Remember the time you thought your shirt was ruined because of a surprise water fight? Remember how we sat at the water’s edge staring at the stars?

                What about the trip where we couldn’t catch enough fish, so we went walking on the reef at low tide looking for snails? You were grossed out but found them delicious. Or when your uncle nearly had a heart attack because of the sound of a falling coconut? You laughed and said maybe he should start wearing a helmet. Remember how you hugged me the day the tsunami hit? You held me close and told me everything would be okay.  

                Remember when the protests happened and we all felt so scared? When the news said everything was alright, but we could hear the shouts and screams? When we could see the smoke but couldn’t see the fire?

                Remember when we celebrated your freedom? Your right to vote? Your right to political representation? You were drunk that night. But it was alright because Friday was coming soon.

                Remember when you told me to stop saying we? As if all at once I’m banished from our memories. As if it was a stranger who laughed at your jokes. As if it was a stranger who shared your joy, your love, and your sorrow?

                Remember when you decided I was one of them? The vile, the deceitful, the enemy? Remember when you made me doubt my memories? My life? My existence? Was it not with you whom I shared my joy, my love, my sorrow?

                And now, in my time of greatest misery, you twist the knife and pretend the blood that spills onto your hands isn’t that of your brother. Your sister. Your mother. Your father. Your aunts, your uncles, your cousins. Your friends and your lovers.

                The blood pools around your ankles. But you feel nothing. You feel no guilt. For you have forgotten me. Forgotten what it means to be human. So your heart grows cold, while mine grows weary.

[jasperwoke]

Lemonade

“It’s lemonade”

“What?”

“Lemonade” Jake repeated once more.

In the middle of the table, just covered with a sky blue cloth moments ago, sat a cold pitcher of lemonade. Condensation could still be seen gathering on the sides, while the ice cubes inside slowly melted. Two lemon wedges sat on top and too much undissolved sugar sat on the bottom, each adding milky swirls into the juice.

“Why would- WHY the hell is there lemonade? It could’ve been knife. perhaps a blood covered gun. Hell, even a dead rat with a highly contagious viru- why the shit is it lemonade and how am I supposed to commit MURDER with a pitcher of lemonade?”

Aaron was just about to smash the pitcher. In all his years of being a “house painter”, he never got a client like this. And he never had to resort to means like this. Jake was his assistant. Similar to the way snipers need a spotter to call out distance and wind estimates on targets, Aaron needed an assistant to help “clean” on cases that got dirty.

Aaron accepted the case whilst meeting the patron in a coffee shop. Media often portrayed hitmen as top secretive, scrambling under the cover of night in black trenches and silenced pistols. Once he watched the movie Leon the Professional - he quite liked it. Hitmen, at least the majority, do in fact have a favorite cereal.

“Tell me Jake” Aaron composed, struggling to keep his voice a few decibels below pure rage “what light do you make of this situation?”

“Well… Clearly the lemonade pitcher has something to do with the client. Maybe its like kryptonite to peter parker”

Aaron snorted. “You mean Barry Allen, but anyway. Yes. That is what I was thinking. You are lucky to be under the apprenticeship of a professional like me. Let me tell you Jake, so many people in the field these days are amateurs” Aaron bellows a hearty laugh. “People in the FIELD” he chuckles again to himself

The target in question was not a highly sought target. Her radar was low, and at first, Aaron had to reconfirm with his client that the victim was indeed the right person. Sarah Briggen, mother of three, grandmother of two, and widowed at 65. Short gray locks hung slightly below her shoulders. Her soft brown eyes peeked form under folds of skin on her cheeks and drooping lids. She was grown and weathered. Weathered, but by no means, old.

Sarah’s house was an archetype of homely. She had a small abode out in Pennsylvania, where she and her husband used to farm chickens and store their yearly berry harvests in a tin silo out back. Her house itself was a flat one story wood building, painted in a lime green that had worn into a piss yellow over the years. However, the vibe of grandmotherly still filled the air around her farm. The scent of pies and tarts lingered as strongly as the taste of her always freshly prepared beverages. She made a killer root soda, but her lemonade was also a classic.

“This is the place, huh.”

“Sarah Briggen, age 86, says her husband died 21 years ago. And she’s been living alone all these years. Her children visit once a year around December for Christmas. Let’s see, oh, she lets passerby’s stay the night for a day’s worth of work. Who knew” Jake summarized Sarah’s file, slowly mapping out the execution in his head while doing so.

“Haha very funny Jake enough of the small talk, when does she go to sleep? We slip in slip out easy peasy you amateurs think too much read into it too much” Aaron snorted “If I took this solo case it would’ve been done already I mean, for christ’s sake, she’s 86. 86! I don’t need a pitcher of lemonade hell I don’t even need hands she probably suffers a different heart attack every day I’ll-” Aaron catches his breath “I’ll bet you this case that all we have to do is sit in this car and she’ll somehow break her pelvis and this job is closed.”

Jake glanced up. He took a while, measuring and picking his words carefully for dealing with Aaron. “I dunno boss, I think a more direct approach is better. Maybe we’d stop in around dinner, and feel her place out. Make it quick so the locals don’t suspect nuthin but I still think we should be on the lookout. After all, if she’s worth as much as the file says, I don’t think she’d be that easy.” Jake pauses, peering at the house, and quickly adds a “sir.”

They watched from the car for a few more hours. Mid July heat was no joke, but in the countryside, the overgrowth and vegetation helps circulate air. In fact, it’s been measured that it’s usually cooler outside of cities and urban areas. Sarah sometimes came out onto her patio and sat on her rocking chair. The duo didn’t find out anything else of value, expect that she really enjoyed John Denver. She moved slow, taking her time, but didn’t seem to be in stress or strain, only taking more time to catch her breath every so often. She had a small pink pocket square she hung around her waist that she would occasionally wipe her brow with. July is humid and hot.

When the fireflies started flying and the crickets started chirping but the birds stopped and the frogs began their low croaking, Aaron and Jake stepped out of their car. They parked behind a line of trees, and were sure Sarah hadn’t seen them during the day. They trekked up her gravel roadway, noting the two big tractors she had out front.

“Strange, I didn’t think a woman like her needed two tractors” whispered Jake.

“Oh my dears! Come on in, come in! Please. I’ve just been simmering some stock with McGrady’s be-” She stops to catch her breath. It’s clear she doesn’t get a lot of visitors and has a lot of love. Sarah beckons them in with her short flabby arms, making grandiose gestures in her not so grand shape, “Please, sit my loves, y’all ain't intruding at all oh hush up, you.”

Sarah gingerly takes out half a leftover peach cobbler from her fridge. The crust had grown a bit soggy from the moisture, but it was clear it was puff pastry. Small grating of orange zest adorned the top of the pie along with flecks of powdered sugar, whilst under, the peach jam stayed firm from the cold refrigeration. Sarah also pours them two tall glasses of lemonade. The sweet glazed nectar trickled down the sides of a highball liquor glass. She brushed the rim with specks of salt, and split a lemon wedge, softly pushing it into place on the glass. The lemonade was dense. It wasn’t just milky like the pitcher that Aaron had seen earlier. The way the light caught on the edge, the way the streams ran down the glass, the way the sugar didn’t collect at the bottom; the lemonade was conspicuous.

Aaron readily chugged it. He waited all day in a more than hot sedan in the July heat. He then plunged into the pastry, readily digging with his fingers. Had his partner not known better, Jake would’ve assumed Aaron was Sarah’s own family with how he was adjusting himself. Jake was positive at this point Aaron didn’t even know who Sarah was or where he was, only that the cobbler and lemonade were delicious. Aaron didn’t notice how his cup wasn’t filled with what Sarah pulled out from the fridge. He didn’t realize Jake pulled out their pitcher, and filled his cup with the placebo. He didn’t quite notice the underlying metallic taste in his drink, as Aaron readily gulped down two straight glasses. Aaron didn’t notice Sarah preparing and simmering her vegetable stock with a butcher knife, back turned to him, obscuring her face.

Aaron awoke in the kitchen again. It was dark out. He wasn’t tied or restrained, but his body wouldn’t respond. His arms hung limp at his sides, he could feel his fingers slightly numb from all the blood gathering at the tips. His head tilted back onto his seat, but the seat was tall enough to make him look forward. His eyes opened. It took a moment to adjust to the dark kitchen, with only two light sources.

“Wait, two?” thought Aaron

Moonlight streamed through the window curtains above the oven. Under the window was a slow cooker lit on the gas stove. The two light sources. On opposite sides of the light were two figures. One with a short 86 year old grandmotherly stature, and another resembling Jake. Aaron was confused. Perhaps it was him waking from the nice nap he took in the summer evening, perhaps it was from the copious amount of juice he drank, either way, his head was not too clear.

“Who- why? We’re on the same team you little- you PIECE OF-” at which Jake shoved Aaron’s sweat stained sock into his mouth.

“Well you see boss, I got called aside by a client too” Jake paused and inspected his nails. In the dark, as Jake raised his hand to his face, it looked more sinister and ominous, as if he was reaching for something. “Lovely Ms. Briggens here caught wind of what was going down. You see, her son is a very wealthy ambassador currently hosting a meeting in the United Arab Emirates as we” Jake waited for the right word “as we have this conversation. But anyway, it said somewhere in Ms. Briggens file that I so uncaringly forgot in the car, that her insurance covers about five million worth in equities.” Aaron choked a little. 5 million? His contractor was only offering fifty thousand, barely a scratch in her or this case’s worth.

“Well, why am I here? HUH? You’re the new fish you should be- why I oughta,” at least, that’s what Aaron tried to say. The sock in his mouth made him sound more, passive. Like he was whimpering. Perhaps, Aaron was scared.

“Well darling, let’s get to work shall we?” Sarah piped up. “The base has been cooking for a while now, I think it’s time to add the,” she cleared her throat. Her brown eyes caught the moonlight and for a split second, gleamed pure white. Two pale dots on a soot black face. Aaron gulped. He started trembling. He hadn’t notice his pants were soiled, or did he just soil them? His eyes too grew wide like Sarah’s, but not out of eagerness for the killer gumbo she was preparing. Sarah finished her sentence in a soft gingerly voice. The way a mother sings a lullaby to her child, before putting them to sleep. “I think it’s time to add the meat.”