Tanky Toon

When therapy gets a costume department

This is the kind of drama where you just have to shrug, suspend disbelief, and roll with the madness. I mean, who has the funding to recreate an entire period drama as part of a psychiatric treatment plan? Are we sure this isn't some kind of experimental influencer rehab program? With a snap of a finger or two, suddenly they are able to secure a full-blown historical film set, and apparently, every hospital staff member—from doctors to nurses—is fully committed to the bit. No one's treating other patients. It's giving “method acting” meets “medical malpractice.”

Once you buy into the absurd premise, the unraveling begins—and not in the usual narrative arc sense. The real fun kicks in when the internal logic of the "costume therapy" starts to fray. Watching characters switch gears between acting out ancient court drama and remembering they're supposed to be caretakers? Comedy gold. It’s more chaotic than it is tragic, and honestly, the awkward transitions and misplaced grandeur only made me laugh harder.

For what’s clearly a low-budget production, the acting felt surprisingly natural. No one’s trying to win awards, but they all knew the assignment—and delivered it with heart. The plot dances with transmigration tropes, but there's a sneaky twist I didn’t expect, and it kept me guessing without going off the rails. This is duanju done right: inventive, self-aware, and just the right level of quirky. It pushes boundaries without feeling bloated or desperate.

If you’re in the mood for something that juggles absurdity and sincerity with equal flair, A Lucid Dream serves it up with a wink and a side of institutional cosplay.

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Plot threads held together with vibes and mascara

I picked this during a casual scroll through the chaotic jungle of microdramas, hunting down a Yu Long title like it was part of a personal mission dossier: watch at least one drama from every actor in the top 20 micro-drama pantheon. A noble effort, maybe. But what this choice exposed—again—is that I am, without shame, a plot-over-people viewer. I’ll drop a drama mid-second kiss even if it stars someone I allegedly stan. Emotional logic beats pretty faces every time. If the story doesn't earn my attention, I bounce.

Yu Long, thankfully, made that bounce a bit slower. He’s one of the few in this condensed drama format who actually knows what he’s doing—or at least convinced me he did. His performance had some weight, some presence, even when the script was flailing. Then enters Yang Mie Mie, and with her, the slow unraveling of whatever goodwill I had left. I wish I could put it gently, but her crying scenes made me laugh out loud. There's just something tonally off about her delivery—like she’s starring in a melodrama no one else signed up for. Watching her act through ten layers of eyeliner while playing a 23-year-old psychology grad who looks 13 with a blush filter? The dissonance was louder than the actual plot.

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And oh, the plot. Another victim of the classic duanju syndrome: trying to cram a 40-episode arc into three hours and change. We got kidnapping (on repeat), vigilante justice, family secrets, trauma bonding, and criminal profiling—all poorly stitched together in a frenzy of "Look! Drama!" The puzzle pieces never clicked. One moment she’s sobbing in a basement, the next she’s a crime-solving prodigy with a degree and zero credibility. The romance? Eek. The pacing? Unhinged. I finished it, forgot it, and promptly purged every other title with this pairing from my list.

Me and My Rose isn’t the worst I’ve seen—it just didn’t deserve to be seen at all

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The Criminally Funny Drama That Shouldn’t Have Worked—But Kinda Did

If I’d stuck to my usual drama protocol—no shows under a certain rating, no exceptions—I would’ve missed this chaotic gem entirely. But I’ve seen Smile Hu and Wang Xuan pull off magic in other mini-dramas, so I broke my own rule. And thank the drama gods I did. The Love Duel is the kind of guilty pleasure that should be criminally charged for inducing uncontrollable laughter in public. I wasn’t just entertained—I was borderline delirious.

Between the tragic wigs, the plot that felt like it was written during a sugar rush, and Shen Juan Juan’s (Hu Dandan) comedic timing that borders on performance art, this drama had no business being this funny. It’s self-aware in the best way—mocking its own tropes while doubling down on them. The transmigration setup is textbook, and yes, the return to the modern world was as predictable as a drama breakup at episode 20. But watching them cough up increasingly ridiculous excuses to justify their actions? That was half the fun.

By the time the finale rolled around, my laughter had mellowed into polite chuckles, punctuated by a few cringes—especially during the ugly crying scenes that felt like someone was auditioning for a tissue commercial. Still, I didn’t regret the ride. It’s not deep, it’s not polished, but it’s got heart and humor in spades.

So if you’ve got a free afternoon and a tolerance for wigs that look like they were borrowed from a Halloween bin, give this drama a shot. It might surprise you. Or at least make you snort into your tea.

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AKA: The Drama I Shouldn’t Have Stuck Around to See

This review is for both Seasons 1 and 2 combined.


Season 1 was a masterclass in setup. Watching it felt like witnessing the perfect pool break—transmigration, layered court intrigue, and two leads playing emotional chess while pretending not to know the rules. The suspension of disbelief? Automatic. After dozens of soul-swap dramas, logic is a luxury. What mattered was the tension: both leads hiding their true identities, yet somehow earning each other’s trust through mutual deception. It was riveting, deliberate, and emotionally earned.

But Season 2? That’s where the table started warping. The hypocrisy wasn’t between couples—it was between the leads themselves. Leng Li kept her hidden identity under wraps for most of the series, yet turned around and judged He Lian Xuan for not revealing his alter ego, Qing Ru, sooner. The irony was loud, and the emotional logic started to crack. Qing Ru, who was magnetic and layered in Season 1, faded into the background in Season 2. His presence was diluted, his complexity flattened. Apparently, he was only lovable when he was clueless and harmless. Once he stepped into awareness? He became narratively disposable.

Midway through Season 2, I was ready to throw hands. The clean geometry of Season 1’s setup—where every shot felt intentional—gave way to narrative scratches. I expected bank shots and clever reversals. Instead, I got missed opportunities and emotional regression. The romance, once sharp and sly, started giving sibling energy: more bickering and emotional babysitting than actual heat.

And the worst part? I didn’t walk away. I stayed, hoping the drama would pull off a miracle jump shot and redeem itself. It didn’t. What started as a smart, emotionally grounded story turned into a slow unraveling of its own premise. This drama had the setup, the stakes, and the spark. But by the end, it forgot how to play the game it taught us to love.

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Not bad enough to mock, not good enough to love

This drama sits awkwardly between almost-great and nearly-forgettable, choosing instead to loiter in a weird limbo. It’s your classic prince-and-pauper story—except instead of royal identities, it’s K-pop glitz versus café grunge. The switch happens, things get mildly chaotic, and the story hums along in a very “web drama budget” kind of way.

The female lead, Seo Ji Soo, tries her best with what she's given. Her performance isn’t groundbreaking, but hey—it’s her first time leading, and the show’s runtime barely gives her room to breathe. For a short series, it’s forgivable. The dual roles are cute on paper, but the execution? A little too rushed to leave much impact.

There’s a romance simmering, but it never boils. Emotional moments come and go before they stick, and by the final episode, I was hoping for resolution with actual weight. Instead, the ending limps toward closure like it forgot there’s no guarantee viewers will watch the sequel (especially since the reviews scream “Don’t bother”).

Overall, it’s not a terrible watch. It’s light, mildly entertaining, and occasionally sweet—but don’t expect it to sweep you off your feet. This is drama purgatory: not bad enough to roast, not good enough to rave. Watch it if you’re curious, but prepare for a finish that fizzles.

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Ten kisses, one logic fail—goblin drama with more loopholes than lipstick

This drama had a premise that could’ve been fun—a century old- goblin who needs to kiss ten humans to become human himself. Cute, right? Except the execution felt like someone wrote the outline, spilled coffee on it, and said “eh, good enough.” The pacing was rushed, the emotional beats barely landed, and the whole thing screamed “we had twelve episodes and five bucks.”

Let’s talk about Oh Yeon Ah, the female lead. She’s supposed to be strong-willed, but ends up tagging along while Ban Sook kisses other women like it’s a sport. What woman in her right mind agrees to be the emotional support buddy while her crush locks lips with strangers? Unless she’s a masochist with a martyr complex, this setup makes zero sense. And don’t get me started on the exorcist subplot—apparently, a regular human can protect a supernatural being from a trained assassin. Sure, dude.

The show tries to sell us on romance, but it’s hard to feel invested when the logic keeps tripping over itself. Loopholes everywhere—characters teleporting between emotional states, plot threads dropped like hot potatoes, and a goblin queen who shows up just to be cryptic and leave. It’s painfully obvious the budget was tighter than Ban Sook’s jeans.

In the end, Kiss Goblin is a meh watch. Not offensively bad, but not good enough to recommend. It’s the kind of drama you put on when you’re folding laundry and don’t want to commit to actual storytelling. Watch it if you’re curious, but don’t expect it to kiss your brain with brilliance.

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The only mystery: how they forgot to cram in an evil twin or alien abduction

Wow, this short drama is a hot mess!!! It looks like somebody trying to heat up a quick snack in the microwave and it ended up exploding. This show tried to cram in as many tropes as it could in half an hour: there’s the jealous bitch, the mean parents, the CEO BF, the blackmailing, the backstabbing, the hidden identity, the nasty ex, and to top it all off – the demure damsel in distress turns to be a gifted healer, a kick-ass martial arts master, a demonic speed racer, an ingenious hacker – like I’m surprised that they didn’t include a long-lost brother and sister forbidden romance, coupled with an amnesia trope.  

I guess the scriptwriters didn’t learn the lesson that usually, “less is more” in short-run dramas. In this case, more was actually too much.

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Rom-com meets Groundhog Day. It’s like déjà vu, but make it adorable

Despite its lackluster ratings, I quite enjoyed this drama. It’s reminiscent of “Business Proposal,” or WWWSK, but throw in a time loop and you have SBWTRE. I know it’s cliché and predictable, but watching the characters creatively and ridiculously escape the time warp each reset is genuinely fun. For a short web drama, do not expect that they bring out the big guns. Recognizing its resource, budget, and time constraints, this drama smartly avoids overstuffed plots, a frequent downfall of similar short dramas.   

What I like about this drama is its simplicity, and how it does not take itself so seriously. The banter between the leads shows their natural chemistry. It’s a very bingeable, bite-sized drama that tickles the funny bone and might make you say “Awwww.”

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Self-contained arcs, mildly cursed visuals, and one wholesome demon bromance

This drama is a decent attempt to incorporate fantastical, mysterious, modern, historical, comedic, tragic elements into one big pot. Who would have thought that a Demon and a Demon Hunter could be besties, and change each other’s perception of human or demonic nature? The concept of this drama was certainly intriguing. The arcs are all self-contained, with a well-managed transition between past and present narratives. I don’t expect the best CGI, makeup, or props, and yes, some of the acting could be improved, but for a low-budget production, I believe it maximized its limited resources.

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Story: Mainly about a group of boys who are about to graduate and find themselves anxious about serving in the military as required by all able-bodied males of a certain age range.

Acting/Cast: With such a short time to digest, I couldn't distinguish who's who.

Music: Nothing worth noting.

Rewatch Value: Re-watch only if you are seeking more answers to your unanswered questions.

Overall impression: The main focus of the show is the jarring procedure of venesection, practiced by one of the protagonist. It's brutal and bloody, and showcases the extremes that some people take in order to avoid going into the military.
This ordeal is not lost on the men as the threat of being "exposed" looms over their head.
While the short film started out as Heartbreaking, the final scenes became horrendous and unnecessary.

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I stayed for the soundtrack, not the stunts

I’m trying to figure out how to review a touching drama with subpar acting. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed this show immensely, with its message of going after your dreams and never giving up. What detracted me from the show is the contrived conflict that they produced, as an excuse to dismantle the band. 

The start was encouraging, especially given Bloom’s supposedly low popularity as a boy group, so it makes absolute sense if their performances were lack luster. By the show’s end, I thought they would have improved, but they flashed the same old choreo and some of the wardrobe choices that should have been left inside the closet.  

The friendly family feel between Asuka and the group was nice, but I’m unsure how Yuri living in the dorm advanced the story. Is that even allowed? What gives Asuka the right to let her sister stay on company property without prior consent from the boys or management? Why even bother adding the sister’s backstory? It served no purpose, just as the last-minute addition of an ex-member did to the plot.  

I think it’s the ear-worm soundtrack that saved this drama. The songs were stuck in my head for weeks. I also appreciated how delicately the drama handled the age-gap and teacher-student relationship. It was sweet and not bordering on creepy or icky territory. One might even call it understated romance, as Dan clearly felt stronger romantic feelings for Asuka, but it’s unclear if Asuka reciprocated those feelings to the same degree. Her feelings for Dan might simply be those of a mentor towards a mentee. It was very vague, and perhaps Asuka’s fondness had no further meaning beyond encouragement. While some people were clamoring for a kiss between Dan and Asuka, I’m content with a hug as a conclusion to their relationship.

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A love story with more casualties than actual battles

The premise of a badass female assassin, coupled with an equally formidable leader of the opposing nation -- this is a rivals-turned-lovers plot that is right up my alley. Initially, their relationship was captivating, a passionate, even aggressive game of cat and mouse, with Ru Yi claiming Yuan Zhou as the father of her unborn children. Talk about brash and bold, with a not-subtle hint of non-consent. Why the writers decide to ruin such a character with this character flaw is beyond me, but I guess this is her shortcoming. Otherwise, Ren Ru Yi is unbeatable.  

For his part, Ning Yuan Zhou was supposedly indestructible as well, that is, until he succumbs to the offensive charms of Ru Yi. Trying to get away from a life in the court, did not last long as he had been called to task by the Prime Minister to go into basically a suicide mission. Because he had nothing better to do, Yuan Zhou complies and brings along his comrades who have been equally withering away due to the lack of exercise.  

We see all the pomp and circumstance of dressing all of them in dashing blue uniforms, so women (or perhaps men, too) can have their pick. The drama regales us with their backstories, so we all can be emotionally attached when they venture into enemy territory, because their unworthy king’s ass needed to be saved.  

Everything was going as well as it should, despite many setbacks. With a traitor, ten or more, an inexperienced prince, and a hidden assassin amongst them, it’s a miracle Wu’s delegation made it halfway without killing each other—internal conflict was inevitable.  

Meanwhile, we see that the State of An has their own unsavory characters, beginning with the Emperor and his unruly sideburns, and of course, the man-child Li Tong Guang who has an obsession with his master and with a curling iron. One would expect that seeing Ru Yi and Yuan Zhou’s affection so often would discourage him, but it only intensifies his anger. Like dude, you have zero chance. How many times should they tell you?  You want them to have sex in front of you? On second thought, Li Tong Guang might enjoy it. Scratch that.

While most of the secondary cast were adorable, there were some that were underutilized. For example, Chu Yue and her father; I really thought that they would be more prominent in the drama. Instead, the drama included insignificant quibbles of the An princes vying for the throne. The story would have benefited from a reduction of flashbacks about the dead Empress and more development of subsequent scenes.  

By the show’s halfway mark, I found Ru Yi and Yuan Zhou’s romance unconvincing; their willingness to leave their comrades while going on dates felt contrived. The most ridiculous part was the pair lip-locking on the battlefield as if death and destruction weren’t around them. Meanwhile, the soldier’s on the field: “Hey guys, it’s rude to kill them while they’re making kissy-faces, so let’s just leave them alone.” Duh!

The only character development that I admired was that of Yang Ying's. From a vulnerable princess seeking marriage to her childhood crush, she grew into a strategic and benevolent ruler, bravely facing her enemies while caring for her subjects.  

Because it was highly rated, I expected this drama to be amazing, which is a mistake on my part. It might have been better to watch the drama without preconceived notions. While I anticipated a casualty or two—Yuan Lu, whose illness meant he’d likely not live past 20, and potentially Sun Lang or Qian Zhao—on this journey. So many deaths happening in rapid sequence and so suddenly was completely unexpected. I prefer them all dying, or, failing that, at least Yi Shi San surviving to recount their heroic sacrifices to future generations. I think killing him off is the gravest sin of all.

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Dynasty drama with politics, power, and plot holes you can ride a horse through

While this drama slowly started as a woman trying to shirk her filial duty into marrying into a noble family, it became so much more than this. Zhuo Hua rose from being an unrecognizable member of her large family, to becoming one of the highest-ranking officials in the land, through sheer effort and cunning capabilities.  

Early on, Zhuo Hua meets the formidable, unemotive general Liu Yan, who seemed old enough to be her father. While I was initially dubious about their pairing, their quirky interactions are adorable that I can’t stop smiling throughout their courtship. My initial worry that the ML would be controlling was unfounded as the show depicted him allowing the FL to grow independently.  

That worry later turned into fear when Liu Yan looks like he's at death’s door and would croak at any moment's notice. I wasn’t even sure if he will last another episode, so when he dies halfway through, I was resigned to the fact that he will stay dead. So with Liu Yan out of the way, I’d begun to root for Zhuo Hua and the Crown Prince, hoping they’d get together, though I knew that typical plot devices would likely prevent it. 

Disregarding the plot, the cast delivers a respectable performance in this drama. Though she turns out to be a righteous villain, Wang Li Kun embodied the Princess Ruo Jia perfectly, that I could not even hate her when she veered off the path. It was such a satisfying watch seeing how everyone try to outwit each other to achieve their goals.  

The only thing that disappointed me is the loosely wrapped arcs of the other princes and Yun Yun’s, as if they faded into obscurity without getting their just deserts. But otherwise, this drama is an engaging watch if you don’t mind age-gap romance.

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I came for resolution. Got flashbacks, filler, and secondhand discomfort instead.

Although I enjoyed this drama, this did not quite pack the same punch as the first. It was a watered-down version of the original premise I loved, although no less significant. Here, we see the stronger individuals that the MCs have become, but they could still rely on each other.  

I am quite unsure how I feel about the brother arc, though. I am not saying that it was an unnecessary addition to the plot, but I would have liked it expanded to include the parents’ role in Mikoto’s abandonment.  

While the first season was very self-aware of the implications of presenting a taboo relationship, the second season pushed the envelope further by uncovering their past entanglement. During the first installment, we can excuse this as a mentor preventing a mentee from attempting suicide, as a life-changing lesson, but it is harder to prove the naysayers wrong with this problematic second season.

However, the drama is still very cognizant of the fact that this is a taboo relationship when Mikoto rejects all of Haiba Jin’s advances. She explicitly says she will wait until they are no longer in a teacher-student relationship before being intimate. To this end, we can say that the production is doing their due diligence by not showing any type of skin-ship between the two.

Having said the above, this drama is still a decent watch, although unnecessary. I would have been satisfied if the show had ended with the first season. This is more of a filler for the staunch fans of the pair.

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Romance with HR violations, but make it wholesome

Typically, what we see in Boss-employee dramas is that the Male Lead being the domineering CEO, catered by a savvy, sassy, or silly Female Secretary. So, when a role reversal appeared in the drama world, I was definitely intrigued, and this drama did not disappoint.  

It has all the hallmarks of a decent drama. From the expected banter to the secret relationship cliche, this drama has it down pat. I barely remembered both leads in their previous roles One Spring Night and Stranger, but in this instance, the chemistry between the actors is palpable on screen.  

Lee Jun Hyuk is quite adorable in his role of a single-father who prioritizes his child’s mental well-being over his career advancement. Well-organized, and extremely resourceful, Yoo Eun Ho is perhaps the poster-boy for all green-flag male characters ever in K-drama land, especially for those women who didn’t mind dating somebody with a child in tow.  

And Kang Ji Yun didn’t seem to mind. In fact, despite her prickly, almost anti-social demeanor, she hit it off with Eun Ho’s child, unbeknownst to the father. Han Ji Min delivers all the sass and seriousness needed by her C-suite level character. Initially feared by her employees for her coldness, Kang Ji Yun uses it as a shield against emotional pain stemming from her past, and not as a sign of indifference.  

Eun Ho’s thoughtfulness and warm heart gradually thaws Ji Yun’s icy demeanor, that she eventually garners respect from her employees enough that they stood by her during the hard times. While I enjoyed the primary plot line, the secondary pairing felt contrived for me.  

I wasn’t entirely convinced the second male lead, who once felt something for the female lead, would fall for the second female lead, who had loved the male lead for a long time. While I understand that dramas sometimes employ such tropes, I find the sudden and inexplicable shift in their affections, solely attributed to rejection by their first loves, to be somewhat implausible.

Not saying that the second leads’ performances were poor; it was the quick escalation of their relationship that dissatisfied me. The rest of the cast were also decent and Eon Ho’s daughter was as adorable as the father.

While the plot moved at a good pace, I was hoping for more details about Ji Yun’s experiences at her previous job, as the potential for a great arc was present. Some plot points were irrelevant and quickly brushed aside. But overall, this is a decent attempt at reversing a common trope on its head.

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