#extraordinary you review

[noona-is-afk]

Completed Dramas, Ranked

Masterlist of all the dramas I have finished and my rankings from 1-10. Keep in mind I don't usually finish dramas that I don't like, so most of these reviews will be 6+ ratings.

Recently added Money Heist - Korea, Alice, The Final Weapon, Lovely Runner, The Atypical Family

Lovely Runner - 10/10

Finished 2024-05

Truly a masterpiece from start to finish. Some incredible twists at the beginning that take the plot to somewhere completely new. The fantasy is handled so well in developing the love story and tension. SML borders on second lead syndrome, but they are the only drama to handle that role properly imo. Honestly perfect. Not a single episode or plot point I didn’t like.

Favourite quote: “It will rain tomorrow. Then as you wait for the rain to stop, live another day. If you keep this up, there might a come a day when life doesn’t seem so miserable.”

Tags: time travel, love triangle, idol drama, rom com, serial killer villain, mental health and disability themes

Twenty Five Twenty One - 10/10 Finished 2023-08 I will never recover from this drama. I cried and laughed and fell so in love with the entire cast. The friendship between the two female leads is beautiful. Nam Joo-hyuk the actor that you are. That ending will be permanently etched on my heart. Another incredible display of how talented female writers are in kdramas.

Favourite line: “It’s love. I love you, Hee-do. I don’t need a rainbow.” Tags: melodrama, sports, friends to lovers

Doom At Your Service - 10/10 Finished 2023-07 Cried my eyes out. Park Bo Young is too cute. The whole premise is so good and they do such a good job pacing it and throwing in twists to keep it interesting. Also has made me a huge Seo In Guk stan, the man is crazy talented at playing a villain with a heart of gold.

Favourite line: "Love me to the point that you will want to destroy the world for me." Tags: fantasy, melodrama, enemies to lovers

Reborn Rich - 10/10 Finished 2023-09 There has never been a better revenge drama. Succession meets time travel fantasy meets enemies to lovers romcom meets 90s period piece. Song Joong Ki absolutely nails it once again.

Favourite line: "There are 24 hours in a day and 365 days in a year. They say time is fair to everyone. However, time isn’t fair. Just like everything else in this world." Tags: revenge, enemies to lovers, time travel, 90s

My Name - 10/10 Finished 2023-07 Despite being traumatized by the ending, this is still one of my fave dramas. The acting. The fight choreography. The romance. 10000/10. Pil-do might be one of my favourite male leads ever. I love me a soft boy who would do anything to protect his strong, independent woman.

Favourite line: "Is life supposed to be fun?" Tags: revenge, action, enemies to lovers, gangs vs cops

Romance Is a Bonus Book - 10/10 Finished 2023 -07 So rewatchable. Truly the coziest kdrama out there. A great start into noona romances too. Also the line where she talks about how it was so nice to be called by her name, instead of “mom”, “honey”, “you” really stays in my heart. Also started my obsession with Jong-Suk.

Favourite line: "Instead of 'I love you,' soseki natsume said, 'the moon is beautiful." Tags: friends to lovers, noona romance, workplace romance, romcom, love triangle

Extraordinary Attorney Woo - 10/10 Finished 2023-08 Absolute perfection. Jun Ho is the new standard. Deals with autism in a surprisingly modern way. Some interesting episodes on feminism in the workplace too.

Favourite line: "All my thoughts tend to center around me, so I make people close to me lonely. I don’t know when or why I do that. And I don’t know what I can do to stop it." Tags: legal drama, autism, workplace romance

Captivating the King - 10/10 Finished 2024-03-03 Incredible directing. Best acting performance of the year surely from Jo Jung Suk. Perfect if you liked Kings Affection. So much tension, little bit gay in a great way, and the palace politics are actually so interesting. All the characters are very morally grey and make for such interesting stories.

Favourite quote: “I love to win but I cannot put up with boredom.” Tags: FL disguised as man, historical drama, enemies to lovers

Nevertheless - 10/10 Finished 2023-06 Female gaze times a million. And the supporting cast is one of my faves (except for the TAs, they were boring as all hell). It’s also one of the few kdramas that tackle a relationship that’s kind of “friends with benefits” and you can very much tell it was written by a woman.

I get why some people really don’t like this one, but I’m a big believer in not needing the main characters to be good people for it to be a good piece of art. Everyone is very flawed in this (nearing on toxic), but it tells a lot of important stories that I really connected with.

Favourite line: "I know it will cause me pain again. Nevertheless..." Tags: friends with benefits, college drama, red flag ml, love triangle

Hot Stove League - 10/10 Finished 2024-03 Baseball is life. Definitely the best sports drama out there, although it’s a close race with Love All Play. This drama has no romance, so I was really surprised that it hooked me so much. But the drama is amazing. The villains are so good. And mostly I just love this goddamn sport man. Even if you don’t like sport, I think you’ll enjoy the twists and turns and found family dynamics of this one. Also Park Eun Bin never misses.

Favourite quote: "Everyone's situation is different, we all fight with the resources that are available to us. If we start listing excuses, we'll lose again in the same situation." Tags: sport drama, found family, no romance

It's Okay Not to be Okay - 10/10 Finished 2023-07 This was a slow start for me because I found the main female lead so annoying at first. But trust me she grows on you. Literally one of my fave dramas now. The emotions are SO real, I was crying constantly. Very attached to this little trio now. And the parallels of the beginning and ending are soooo good. All the characters have so much character growth, some of the best writing I’ve seen in a kdrama.

Favourite line: "Your body is honest. When you're in physical pain, you cry. But the heart is a liar. It stays quiet even when it's hurting." Tags: enemies to lovers, autism, mental health

Alchemy of Souls - 10/10 Finished 2023-10 Absolutely binged this. Such a fun watch. The lore is really cool too. My only thing is I LOVED the female lead from S1 and it felt weird not to have her in the second season. Also second season felt a bit rushed on the ending. Otherwise perfection.

Favourite line: "If you stabe me, then I wil die as the one who released the assassin. If you withdraw your sword, I will make you another promise." Tags: fantasy, enemies to allies to lovers, magic, love triangle

Love to Hate You - 10/10 Finished 2024-04 Incredible binge watch. Only 10 episodes, and all about 40 min or less. They don't get distracted by any unnecessary side stories and really just focus on the characters. Both the ML and FL are incredible, and the secondary couple is just as cute. I will forever remember the look that he gives her when she finally says I love you back. A great mix of comedy and swoony romance.

Favourite line: "I can stand other people hating me, but I can’t live with hating myself." Tags: enemies to lovers, idol drama, fake dating, badass FL x soft boi ML

Flower of Evil - 10/10 Finished 2024-05 So good that I had to stop and take a break at ep. 14 because I didn't want it to end. The closest I've ever seen to a truly romance thriller genre. The romance between this married couple - despite one of them potentially being a psychopath murderer lol - is literally one of the most adorable and authentic in any drama I've seen. This drama has definitely given me an unhealthy bias for Lee Jong Gi soooo...

Favourite line: "He is the father of my child. He is my family. He is my person. He has a wife who will stand by his side no matter what happens." Tags: married couple, serial killer thriller, detective drama

Weightlifting Fairy Kim Bok Joo - 9.5/10 Finished 2023-08 Too cute for it’s own good. Male lead is adorable. Only docking points for some of the weird mentions of the female lead’s weight and her being ‘ugly’. Otherwise the perfect drama. Great for a light watch as there isn’t much drama between the couple really, they communicate well and most of the tension is in their family and career.

Favourite line: "You fool, I like you. Not as a friend, but as a woman. If I don't see you, I get curious. If you're depressed, I get upset. If you smile, it makes me happy. If you're sick, I get worried. It's driving me crazy. It means I like you, doesn't it?" Tags: friends to lovers, childhood friends, sports drama, college drama, romcom

Descendants of the Sun - 9.5/10 Finished 2023-09 Beautiful. So sad. Chemistry is insane between the main leads. I cried so much. Also the friendships between all the characters are really great. The plot too is amazing. Only docking it a half point because some of the military propaganda is a bit much for me, otherwise perfect.

Favourite line: "Regarding the kiss, what should I do? Should I apologize for that? Should I confess my feeling to you?" Tags: exes to lovers, military drama, melodrama

Vincenzo - 9/10 Very addicting, plot is crazy fun. Leads have so much chemistry. Some episodes ran on a bit though. Tags: revenge, legal drama, workplace romance

The King's Affection - 9/10 Love the premise. Essentially a gayer Mulan plotline. Rowoon is cute AND badass. Also can’t believe this is the same Park Eun Bin as Attorney Woo?? The range!!! Tags: fl disguised as a man, historical drama, kinda gay

Love All Play - 9/10 Only docking a point because Taejun’s whole family deserved the shit beat out of them instead of a stupid redemption arc. Otherwise the perfect romance angst. Taejun is THE green flag. Tags: sports drama, college drama, partners to lovers

Soundrack #1 - 9/10 Beautiful. Short. Simple. Some of my favourite leads. Great winter watch if you’re feeling like some cozy, friends to lovers vibes. Tags: friends to lovers, winter, music

Mr Queen - 9/10 Really good, really funny. Just wish the ending was more gay. Tags: body swap, time travel, historical drama, comedy

Start-up - 9/10 I can’t believe how underrated this one is. First love triangle story that actually had me questioning who I wanted to be endgame. The male leads are written so beautifully and they are both so complex and interesting. And the female lead has you rooting for her so much. I also really loved how they wrote such an insecure male lead, the character development was amazing to watch and Nam Joo Hyuk crushed it as per usual. Tags: workplace romance, paid to date you, love triangle

Happiness - 9/10 Really really good. I always thought it would be interesting to get a zombie story post pandemic. I just think some of the directing wasn’t great near the end. Some of the scenes just needed to hit a bit harder for me, considering I know how good this cast is in other dramas. Tags: zombies, friends to lovers, fake married, cohabitation

Dr Romantic 2 & 3 - 9/10 If you like Grey's Anatomy for the crazy end of season events, this is the show for you. Wil ride, amazing chemistry with the leads, loveable found family. Tags: medical drama, found family, rivals to lovers

Hospital Playlist - 9/10 If you like Grey's Anatomy for the relationships and friendship however, this is the show for you. Medical stuff is sometimes boring in this one, but the found family and ships 100% make up for it. Also there's like 100 episodes of behind the scenes to watch and the cast is too cute. Tags: friends to lovers, slow burn romance, medical drama, found family, ensemble cast, music

Hit the Spot - 9/10

Really underrated! Double the friends with benefits to lovers trope. Very risque for a kdrama, and some really mature and modern themes around feminism and sex.

Tags: mature rating, friends with benefits to lovers, sex positive

Money Heist - Korea - 9/10

I’m such a sucker for a heist narrative. Really great found family of robin hood thieves. Great action, romance, drama. It’s got it all. Seriously underrated. Also loved all the interesting political unification stuff. Hoping for another season, I need my slow burn Rio x Tokyo plssss

Tags: action thriller, bank heist, political drama, Korea unification, romance sub plots, found family

Alice, The Final Weapon - 9/10

Perfect little action thriller. Sweet teen romance on the stage of brutal violence. Both the leads are incredible in this, both in the action and drama and in the humour bits. Easy watch as its only 8 episodes, 30 min each.

Tags: mature rating, assassin’s, teen romance, first love, mental health and suicide, badass female lead

Castaway Diva - 8/10 Loved the first 10 episodes. But felt it didn't wrap up great, especially with the romance. Tags: stranded on a desert island, music, childhood friends, finding your first love

Marry My Husband - 8/10 It's good, but kind of burnt out on revenge dramas with time travel. Villains were great though and Na In Woo is adorable. Tags: time travel, revenge, ml falls first

My Dearest - 8/10 The tension between these leads is unmatched. Also just a gorgeous show. Little too dramatic for me. Like after the tenth time they just missed each other, I wanted to pull my hair out. Also desperate for a little epilogue in the last episode. Tags: romance drama, historical, fated love

Oh My Ghost - 8/10 I love Jo Jung Suk, and with Park Bo Young??? Match made in heaven. I’m desperate for them to get on screen together again. Fun fantasy elements. Both characters have so many flaws but they develop so well. Tags: enemies to lovers (ish), ghost possession, restaurant drama

Welcome to Samdal-ri - 8/10 For the Hometown Cha Cha Cha fans for sure. Definitely under utilized Ji Chang Wook (where are the epic kisses pls), but overall the leads had incredible chemistry. 2nd ML was annoying as hell though. Give all the awards to the little girl. Tags: friends to lovers, exes to lovers, love triangle, middle-aged drama

Suspicious Partner - 8/10 Super cute. SO much chemistry. Bit too melodramatic for me and the second female lead is a bit one-dimensional. Really funny though and a decent legal drama. Tags: legal drama, enemies to lovers, workplace romance, cohabitation

Wedding Impossible - 8/10 Enemies to lovers plus a fake relationship to hide your bestie is gay. It's mostly really fun and silly, the FL is one of my favourite korean actors, but it falls a part a bit in the middle of the season. Would have been saved with more scenes with Do Han and exploring what it means to be gay in Korea. Even just more scenes where he's happy. Great finale and fluff throughout for our main leads though. Tags: Enemies to lovers, fake wedding, beard for my gay best friend, idol story

Melting Me Softly - 8/10 Really great premise and the chemistry of the leads is unmatched. Don’t be fooled by the branding, this is very much more of a rom com than a melodrama. Really liked the directing too, beautiful show. Tags: time travel, shared fate, workplace romance

Revenge of Others - 8/10 You know I love a good revenge thriller. Very good series, incredibly gritty for a high school drama. Twist at the end was kind of meh though. And also wish there was more romance as the leads were so cute. Tags: little to no romance, high school drama, revenge

While You Were Sleeping - 8/10 Really great premise. The main trio are all so good. I just think some of the romance drama near the end was a bit annoying. Shoulda been like 3 episodes shorter, just got a bit tiresome. Tags: shared fate, fantasy (ish), legal drama

Fight For My Way - 8/10 Very cute friends to lovers. Great chemistry between the leads. Very similar vibe to Weighlifting Kim Bok Joo, just wish the last episode was a bit more impactful. Tags: friends to lovers, sports, college friends

King the Land - 8/10 Very cute and fluffy. Love both leads. Liked how there was no unnecessary drama between them. Really healthy relationship. Just not my favourite plot of all time, hasn’t hooked me like other shows. Tags: workplace romance, chaebol ml, hotel management

Crash Landing on You - 8/10 Definitely hooks you. Starts to drag in the last 5 episodes with too much melodrama. But I loved how they switched it up mid-way through. Really engaging. Also the chemistry with the leads is unreal, makes sense that they’re married in real life now. Tags: found family, north korea, enemies to lovers, melodrama

Moon in the Day - 8/10 Very solid fantasy romance. Found it a bit boring though in the middle. Kim Young Dae is defs underrated though. Hopefully this will kickstart him as a lead now. Tags: fantasy, loved each other in a past life, revenge, enemies to lovers to enemies to lovers again

Sh**ting Stars - 8/10 Like 90% fluff. Also cool to see the behind the scenes of k actor management. Lee Song Kyung literally plays enemies to friends to lovers perfectly. Nearly same love story as Dr Romantic and Bok Joo, love to see it. Tags: enemies to friends to lovers, college friends, acting drama

Business Proposal - 8/10 It’s pretty good, but very trope-y. If you like a chaebol romance or workplace romance you’ll love it. It just didn’t surprise me that much, so very middle of the road. One of the few times that I actually was more obsessed with the secondary love story than the main. Tags: workplace romance, fl pretending to be someone else

Let's Talk About Chu - 8/10 Kind of ridiculous but surprisingly deep and heartwarming. Loved the chemistry of all the couples. Tags: sex positive, queer secondary couple, friends with benefits, taiwanese

The Atypical Family - 8/10

This show really surprised me after a few episodes. The characters are all so very morally grey, but it really builds to something unique. Chemistry really gets going near the end. My main issues with the show are around the use of a fat suit (hire big girls! you can do it kdramas!) and the redemption arc they gave to some truly evil characters. A really fun ride nonetheless, with some very interesting themes around mental health. I am also now obsessed with the female lead’s filmography, she’s sooooo freaking good.

Tags: superheroes, mental health, eating disorder, enemies to lovers, time travel

Destined with You - 7/10 Another drama where the chemistry of the leads really carry the show. Also Rowoon is so talented. I like the premise, but the execution was kinda messy and the first few episodes kinda drag until they let Rowoon being a goofy boi. Must watch though if you love fluff and soft bois. Tags: enemies to lovers, love potion, fantasy, past life, betrayal

W: Two Worlds - 7/10 Despite wanting to rewatch this show constantly, it is kind of a hot mess. Really fun though, just the plot is like a yo-yo. Insane chemistry with the leads. Tags: fantasy, love across universes (webtoon comes to life)

Lovestruck in the City - 7/10 Great show and then the last episode is just like really a bummer. The main couple are super cute though and I like the jumping back to the beach town. Good summer watch! Not sure I really like the mockumentary style, but it’s quite cute. Tags: mockumentary, short episodes, summer romance, exes to lovers

So I Married the Anti-Fan - 7/10

The beginning and middle are really good and cute. Ending is just kind of rushed and feels a bit disjointed from the plot. Overall fun rom com though!

Tags: rom com, enemies to lovers, kpop idol

Strong Woman Do Bong Soon - 7/10 It’s very cute, but just way too fluffy for me, especially near the end. It’s a good light watch if you’re looking for something like that. Highly recommend watching the behind the scenes of this series too, because Park Hung Sik is just so in love with Park Bo Young and it’s adorable. Tags: workplace romance, superpowers, comedy

Hometown Cha Cha Cha - 7/10 This was my very first drama so I really need to rewatch it as I don’t know if my review is just because it’s aged in my brain. But it’s very cute, very wholesome. Supporting cast is incredible. My only real issue with it is I don’t love the female lead as much as I like other leads, just didn’t root for her as much as I would have liked. Tags: small town, enemies to lovers, found family

Forecasting Love and Weather - 7/10 Bit boring, but the chemistry is unreal between the leads. Really good twist near the beginning that still sticks with me. Also love seeing Song Kang as little puppy dog heart of gold boi. Tags: noona romance, workplace romance

See You in My 19th Life - 7/10 Love the premise and the leads are amazing. Female lead in particular nails the role. Just a bit too melodramatic for me. Another one where the side characters really make the show, especially her sister. Tags: past lives, childhood friends, murder mystery

Vagabond - 7/10

Great action thriller, the political plot had me the whole time. Suzy never misses. But it ended on a cliffhanger and I wish I’d known that before. Especially since Season 2 hasn’t been announced 😭 Otherwise the romance is great, ML is incredible.

Tags: action romance, enemies to lovers, spy thriller

Coffee Prince - 7/10

I think this drama is a bit overhyped, but I still binged it pretty quick. I’ll be honest, though I loved the main couple, I skipped over almost every other side plot because they were so boring. But Gong Yoo is great in this and we know I love a kdrama that’s a little gay, so still definitely a drama I’d revisit in the future I think.

Tags: FL pretending to be a man, kinda gay, rom com, office romance

My Holo Love - 5/10 Kinda just meh. Like it was cute and fun but nothing special. Female lead was really good though. Also I do like the plot around face blindness, just not super memorable as a show in general. Tags: mystery, ml shut in

Love Alarm - 3/10 Too cringe and immature for me I think. Interesting premise though. Song Kang is really good in it (although he plays a massive red flag again lol), I just really didn’t like the other male lead to be honest. Tags: love triangle, fated love, fantasy (ish), red flag ml

#kdramas #kdrama reviews #2521 #extraordinary attorney woo #doom at your service #romance is a bonus book #nevertheless #its okay not to be okay #weightlifting fairy kim bok joo #descendants of the sun #reborn rich #vincenzo #love all play #alchemy of souls #mr queen #start-up #happiness #dr romantic #the kings affection #oh my ghost #welcome to samdalri #suspicious partner #revenge of others #fight for my way #captivating the king #love to hate you #flower of evil #coffee prince #lovely runner #the atypical family

[k-nonsense]

My updated rankings/reviews of all the k dramas I have seen so far (up to 55 now). I would recommend any show I gave a C grade or higher, which is most of them. I bolded recently added shows.

1. Hometown Cha Cha Cha: An absolute masterpiece. It’s a heartwarming fish out of water story about a big city girl who finds herself in the quirkiest little seaside town. I wanted to stay in Gongjin forever. Grade: A+(Netflix)

2. Extraordinary Attorney Woo (S1): Delightful! Never have I ever rooted for a lead harder. She is the most endearing lead you will ever find. And the male lead is so so swoony. Grade: A+(Netflix)

3. Alchemy of Souls: The wildest of rides and the perfect blend of fantasy, adventure, mystery, comedy, and romance. The characters are just so lovable, you’ll never want it to end. Season 2 just as good as Season 1. Grade: A+ (Netflix)

4. Lovely Runner: the most beautiful love story ever told. ImSol and Sunjae forever! In every timeline! My only wish is that the drama would never end. Grade A (Viki)

5. My Demon: This show had me utterly enthralled, it was so mysterious and suspenseful and yet incredibly goofy and romantic. My new favorite main couple in all KDrama land. Yes it wasn’t perfect but I enjoyed it so much, it really encapsulated everything I love in a tv show. Grade: A (Netflix)

6. Love To Hate You: New fastest binge of my life. 10 episodes and I didn’t fast forward at all. There were no bad/slow parts. Also the funniest KDrama I’ve ever seen. Just watch it. You won’t regret it. Grade A+ (Netflix).

7. Business Proposal: It’s got every trope you can think of and it does them all to perfection. Plus it’s hilarious. Grade: A (Netflix)

8. Healer: This super romantic action mystery drama will keep you on the edge of your seat. Ji Chang Wook is equal parts sexy and adorable which is a seriously winning combination. Grade A (Viki). One caveat: I was very disappointed by a certain wardrobe decision in episode 3.

9.Her Private Life: Super funny and charming. The romantic leads have incredible chemistry. The premise is so good! Might be the one of the most rewatchable kdramas. Grade: A (Netflix)

10. Castaway Diva: Just utterly heartwarming. An instant classic. Ultimate underdog, redemption, story that teaches us what real love and family is. Also Ki-Ho is the new standard by which all men will be judged. Grade: A (Netflix)

11. Rookie Historian Goo Hae Ryung: Great strong female lead. Very good messages. Couldn’t stop watching. The most adorable prince I’ve ever seen 💜Cha Eunwoo💜 Grade: A (Netflix)

12. Bad Prosecutor: Absolutely thrilling and hilarious. It’s like a heist, detective, lawyer, action comedy that will keep you wondering who is outsmarting who? Super shocking plot twists. Amazing OST. Stuck the landing with a truly satisfying finale. Grade A (Viki)

13. Sh**ting Stars: Probable the biggest turnaround of any show I’ve seen (The “Africa” part was so problematic). However it turned out to be one of the funniest and swooniest KDramas out there. There are 5 couples and you will cheer for all of them. Grade: A- (Viki)

14. Strong Woman Do Bong Soon: The main couple is absolutely everything! Just fast forward through pretty much every side plot (they are not important) and you’ll love it. Grade: A- (Viki)

15. So I Married the Anti-Fan: It’s campy, fluffy, goodness, with a fierce female lead and a K-pop star enemy/love interest. 2nd fastest binge of my life. Grade: A- (Viki)

16. 100 Days My Prince: An absolute classic period drama romcom. Who knew D.O. could kiss like that? Such a great strong female lead. I LOVE a show with adorable, quirky, townspeople. Grade: A- (Netflix)

17. Romance is a Bonus Book: Might be the most romantic K-Drama I’ve ever seen. Nothing about the trailer or setup intrigued me but I’m so glad I watched it anyway. It was a truly beautiful love story. Grade: A- (Netflix)

18. Because This Is My First Life: This drama really does everything right for me… A slow burn romance built on mutual love and respect. Supporting characters who I genuinely cared about and had incredible side stories of their own. A critique of the patriarchy. Women supporting women. An adorable cat. Maybe a bit melodramatic at times but not too much. Grade A- (Netflix)

19. Start-Up: Exceptional acting, compelling storylines, intriguing plot twists, great cinematography, intense love triangle. It’s just all around high quality. Grade: A- (Netflix)

20. Run On: Cute, fun, silly and pretty light. I especially loved the supporting cast. Strange storyline but it was a fun easy ride. Grade: A- (Netflix)

21. Forbidden Marriage: This is a weird show, but weird in the best way. It’s like a comedy, horror, romance, fictional-historical. I don’t know how to describe it but it’s really fun. B+(Viki)

22. Soundtrack #1: Short and beautiful. I just loved it. No one does heart eyes better than Park Hyung-Sik. Grade: B+(Disney+)

23. Weightlifting Fairy Kim Bok-Joo: A bad-ass yet vulnerable female lead. The main couple just had a lot of fun together. Refreshing. Grade: B+ (Viki)

24. Doctor Slump: This show was a really nice journey of both mental health and romance. Grade: B+ (Netflix)

25. Welcome to Samdalri: Very heartwarming and beautiful story about love, family, friendship, and going home. It has quirky townspeople and Ji Chang Wook 😍 what’s not to love? Grade: B+ (Netflix)

26. My Lovely Liar: Creative and engaging premise, intriguing mystery, and a swoon worthy romance. A very fun viewing experience. Grade: B+ (Viki)

27. King the Land: This drama pretty much has no stakes or conflict and the main couple has THE MOST chemistry I have ever seen in my entire life. So if you just want to turn your brain off and be happy, this is the drama for you. I absolutely loved it. Grade: B+ (Netflix)

28.Law Cafe: This drama has so much to love, a strong/fierce/brilliant and morally righteous female lead, lovable side characters, steamy romance. But what I loved most was how the show spotlighted important issues like consent and abuse in nuanced and progressive ways. Yes it’s a fun rom-com but it felt like the beginning of a new chapter of more egalitarian storytelling which made me really excited for the future of k-dramas. Grade: B+ (Viki)

29. Not Others: A lovely Gilmore Girls type show about the relationship between an immature mother and her very mature adult daughter. It was a pleasure seeing them grow in their relationships with each other, others, and themselves. I want more! Grade B+ (Viki)

30. Cheer Up: Sports, comedy, romance, mystery, suspense, coming of age, this show had everything. The female lead was the lovable, feisty, driven, and brave. The male lead was adorkable, considerate, and sweet. It’s all very enjoyable and wholesome. Grade: B+ (Viki)

31. I Am Not A Robot: Zany premise but it was surprisingly pretty grounded for how crazy the set up was. It’s funny, emotional, good story telling. Great character development. Grade: B+ (Viki)

32. See You in My 19th Life: The shared experience of watching this mystical mystery drama week to week made it a really enjoyable watch. Not sure if it was totally satisfying, or that any of the couples’ chemistry felt authentic, but it was a very interesting and creative storyline. Grade B (Netflix)

33. Summer Strike: This show made me cry a lot. It’s heartbreaking yet healing. I’m still not sure if I liked watching it or not but it was a beautiful story of found family. Grade B (Netflix).

34. Shopping King Louie: Adorable! So many light fluffy feels for this show but it does drag a bit in the second half. Grade B (Viki)

35, Fight For My Way: Such lovable leads. Love the fierce female lead and adorable himbo male lead. It’s like a coming of age story but for 30 year olds. Storyline was ok. Second couple was skippable. Grade: B (Viki)

36. What’s Wrong with Secretary Kim: More PSJ is always a good thing. This drama did all the tropes in ways that didn’t always feel fresh, but it was very romantic and hilarious. A true classic. Grade: B (Viki)

37. Touch Your Heart: If you can just stick it out through the first few very shaky episodes, you will enjoy this adorable, fluffy, series. Grade: B- (Netflix)

38. Doom at Your Service: It was sometimes real sad yet ultimately a heart warming mystical story. Grade: B- (Viki)

39. True Beauty: Fun, cute, teen drama however, it’s a little too “antsy teen” for me. Cha Eunwoo though💜 Grade: C+ (Viki)

40. Destined With You: The chemistry between the main couple was absolutely sizzling. Rowoon was both hilarious and next level adorable. However, the plot and the characterization of women occasionally made me very frustrated. Grade: C+ (Netflix).

41. Suspicious Partner: Great story, great characters, attractive actors, beautiful romance, interesting plot, sometimes funny, sometimes suspenseful, but with 40 episodes, the plot was dragged. Grade C+ (Viki)

42. Crash Landing On You: The first half is GREAT but the second half is way too melodramatic for my taste. It’s a very interesting storyline, the main couple has insane chemistry, and there are very lovable side characters. Grade: C+ (Netflix)

43. Secret Romantic Guesthouse: First few episodes were a fun scooby gang mystery, middle episodes were super boring, last 3 episodes were crazy fast paced and thrilling. It ended well- I’ll give it that. Grade: C (Viki)

44. Dear.M: It was inoffensive and decently entertaining. If you like school dramas, you’ll probably enjoy it. Grade: C (Viki).

45. A Good Day To Be A Dog: The storyline is bonkers but very intriguing. It started off so well but the storyline lost its way in the back half. But hey, Cha Eunwoo + dogs, it’s worth the watch. Grade: C (Viki).

46. Angel’s Last Mission: Love: This drama was very similar to Doom At Your Service but it was more a bit more redundant with all of the tragedy and crying. I LOVED the chemistry of the main couple but I found myself fast forwarding a lot. Grade: C- (Viki)

47. Marry My Husband: Episodes 1-11 were phenomenal. Such an interesting premise with shocking twists and turns. After episode 11 it seemed like there were new writers who had never seen the show. Very disappointing but top tier villains. Grade: C-

48. Our Beloved Summer: I LOVED V’s “Christmas Tree” OST however I struggled to keep watching. Boring storyline but great acting. Grade: D+ (Netflix)

49. Heavenly Idol: An absolute hot mess. It was completely convoluted and just low quality but I also weirdly liked it. I can’t bring myself to rank it higher because I know how bad it was but I actually enjoyed it better than many shows I ranked ahead of it. Grade: D+ (Viki)

50. My Secret Romance: The story of a total screw up female lead falling for a manipulative, gaslighting, hottie. It was problematic yet fun? So 🤷‍♀️ Grade: D+ (Netflix)

51. My Man Is Cupid: Pros: many cute dogs, sometimes those dogs wear human clothes, cute ending. Cons: Makes no sense, not much chemistry, murder plot takes up too much time. Grade D+ (Prime).

52. She Would Never Know: As handsome as Rowoon is, I found his character problematic at the beginning (no means no buddy) but he did get a lot better as the show went on. I just ended up skipping to watch just the scenes with the main couple, which made the show way more enjoyable. Grade D (Netflix)

53. My Love From the Star: I found myself fast forwarding a lot through all the parts that didn’t involve the main couple and most of the flashbacks. Grade D (Viki)

54. Goblin: The age gap is too disturbing for me, like call the police disturbing. However, the Grim Reaper who is one of the most adorable characters I’ve ever seen. Grade: D- (Viki)

55. Extra-Ordinary You: I have never felt so betrayed by a second half of a series as I did in this one. All of the character development that it seemed to be leading to was replaced by a pretty sickening codependent relationship. Grade: D- (Viki).

Currently Watching: Going Seventeen, Ateez Wanteez

Dramas I’m Thinking About Watching: Gaus Electronics, Bad and Crazy, Hospital Playlist, Another Miss Oh, Oh My Venus, My Roommate is Gumiho, She Was Pretty, Crash Course in Romance, Soundtrack #2

Dramas I just couldn’t Finish (I’m sorry I tried): Today’s Webtoon, Once Upon a Small Town, Love in Contract, Hotel Del Luna, Kings Affection, Record of Youth, Behind Your Touch, Sparkling Watermelon, Tale of Nine Tailed 1938, Strong Girl Nam Soon, The Story of Park’s Marriage Contract, Wedding Impossible

What are your thoughts on these shows? Do you agree or disagree with my rankings? Any k-romcom recommendations that are not on the list yet?

#k drama recommendations #my demon #castaway diva #welcome to samdalri #lovely runner #100 days my prince #bad prosecutor #romance is a bonus book #king the land #my lovely liar #the secret romantic guesthouse #because this is my first life #summer strike #soundtrack no 1 #law cafe #cheer up #she would never know #alchemy of souls #forbidden marriage #love to hate you #not others #healer kdrama #angel’s last mission: love #hometown cha cha cha #extraordinary attorney woo #business proposal #Elle watches k dramas #Elle reviews k dramas

[buldakdrama]

5 must watch kdramas if you are in search of something unique

When it comes to Kdramas, you can expect a number of varieties in the plots. Some are plain rom-com, while others focus more on crime and thriller, some are painting ever-existing social issues in front of the audiences, while others are taking them to a trip of fantasia. All in all, you can get whatever you want here. 

However, it can get quite monotonous after a while. Since there are now a lot of rom-coms based on Boss-employee relationships or fantasy dramas based on non-human leads falling in love with the human leads, nothing is hard to predict. In this scenario, you must crave to watch something that has a refreshment to offer. Something that is not so predictable and leaves you hooked on the drama for good. And if you are looking for something just like this, then you are at the right place because I am about to suggest 5 must watch kdramas if you are looking for something unique. So, let’s get into it. 

1. Reborn Rich 

Trust me when I say Reborn Rich is nothing like the dramas we are used to watching even if it has that chaebol backdrop. This Song Joong Ki starrer is based on the revenge of an employee, who gets falsely accused and killed by his employers. Just on the moment he dies, he is reborn as the youngest son of the same employers but this time he goes back in time and starts from the start. Jin Do Jun now carefully plans his revenge as he claims his inheritance over the entire conglomerate. The twists and turns of the drama are really intriguing. In a moment Jin Do Jun is winning in the rat race and the next moment he is being interrogated by his girlfriend herself. But what is even more intriguing, is the ending of the drama! That unpredictable ending will keep you in a chokehold until you can’t comprehend what you have just watched. Additionally, if you have interest in business and finance then this one is a must watch for you. 

2. Celebrity 

Do you crave to have the limelight upon you? If yes, then let me tell you it comes with a caution. You might have to sacrifice more than what you can gain and all of it is pictured perfectly in Celebrity. This drama is the story of Seo A Ri, who accidentally becomes an e-celeb and completely despises what it has to offer. But soon she discovers the brighter side of the glam life she is offered and makes the best out of it, nonetheless, soon she finds herself succumbing to the darkness once she used to hate. This drama shows the downside of having an overly luxurious life and being addicted to social media popularity, which ends up costing A Ri’s life. But there is more to unfold. Celebrity is certainly intriguing but Park Gyu Young’s praise-worthy performance and the high-voltage cameos make it even better. If you want to watch a bad-ass female lead and a lot of unpredictable cliff-hangers then this drama is certainly a must watch for you.   

3. Remarriages and Desires

From the title the drama may sound to be one of the typical kdramas dealing with melodramatic plot but no, it’s not. Remarriages and Desires have a much heavier plot than you might assume. This one again is a revenge drama, but this time more on a domestic level. The drama focuses on a matchmaking agency called Rex, which signs up some of the wealthiest personalities of South Korea in order to match them up with their better halves. Seo Hye Seung’s not-so-simple life gets even more complicated when her mother enrolls her in as one of the members of Rex. However, she takes the chance of remarriage upon her unexpected encounter with Jin Yoo Hee, played by Jung Yoo JIn, there. Jin Yoo Hee is the person with whom Hye Seung’s ex cum late husband cheated her on and opted for a divorce. There begins the petty game of revenge and things get more and more intriguing by the end of the drama. However, only 8 episodes don’t do justice to the intriguing plot that it has. Nevertheless, this is one of the best dramas you can binge watch within a span of 24 hours. 

4. W - Two Worlds 

W is one of the most underrated suspense thrillers to ever be made, you can’t convince me otherwise. The plot of this drama focuses on two parallel words that are going on side by side and integrated by a door through a web novel. While Kang Chul, played by Lee Jong Suk, thinks he is pretty much real, Oh Yeon Joo’s sudden appearance in his life reveals that he is nothing but a character of a manga written by Yeon Joo’s father. Even though the backdrop of the drama hints at a rich guy falling for a random girl trope, it has a lot to offer. Your mind will go numb with all the predictions by the end. With an unexpected ending, an unexpected villain and an unexpected story development it becomes one of the must watches when you look for something unique. 

5. Extraordinary You 

Now this might seem to be an unhinged suggestion but wait, this is different. Extraordinary You is not a typical highschool romance as it seems it be, there are more. The drama is set within a comic novel. Yes, you read it right, within a comic novel, where all the characters are highschoolers and totally unaware of the fact that they are not even real. Until one day Eun Dan Oh, played by Kim Hye Yoon, finds out the truth. She then tries to change her pre-written fate at all cost as she doesn’t want to die at an early age. Changing her fate becomes even easier when she meets Haru, played by Rowoon. But things are not at all easy as it seems. The drama has a very unique plot indeed but it also has massive cringe alerts. So, please proceed with caution if you are not into sweet talks and PDA. Nevertheless, the unpredictable ending of the drama makes it a good addition when you want to watch something unique.

So what are you waiting for, get your spicy chicken ready and start binge watching these dramas if you have not already. I will see you in another post, another day.

-- Admin Nika

#kdrama #kdramas #korean drama #kdrama review #netflix kdrama #kdramadaily #kdrama blog #kdrama recommendations #buldak drama #buldak drama: reviews #buldak drama: recommendations #reborn rich #song joong ki #celebrity kdrama #park gyu young #remarriages and desires #jung eu gene #w #lee jong suk #extraordinary you #rowoon

[odanurr87]

Alchemy of Completed 2022 Kdramas - Part 1

Last year I watched a bunch of kdramas, too many for me to properly review at the rate I write about them. As a result, I'm gonna try something different and quickly review those dramas that released in 2022 that I watched, and maybe recommend a few alternatives here and there in those cases where the show didn't live up to the task. Considering it's been a while since I watched some of these dramas, I binged a couple of them again to better inform my commentary. If you're short on time, or just want to add kdramas to your ever-increasing watchlist, you'll find a ⭐ next to the titles I wholeheartedly recommend, and a 💀 next to those I feel should best be avoided, but you do you. If you still haven't watched some of these shows, this list will hopefully give you some idea of whether you'll enjoy watching them (or not).

A brief note on my rating system before we begin. I use bins for my 1-10 scale in the following way:

Anything between 5 and 6 is considered average

Shows between 7 and 8 are considered above average

Shows in the 9 to 10 range are the cream of the crop

Anything between 1 to 4 is considered below average, with the 1-2 range reserved for the worst offenders.

Thus, I have two possible scores for the average, above average, and cream of the crop categories, what I believe makes my life a little easier when rating shows. I have occasionally given half point ratings (e.g. 7.5) to certain shows when I feel they're halfway to a better grade, but that has been the exception rather than the rule.

So without further ado, welcome to my Alchemy of Completed 2022 Kdramas - Part 1!

A Business Proposal⭐

Episode count: 12

Where to watch: Netflix

Rating: 8/10

Verdict: "You know I'm good at a lot of different things, right?"

We start with one of my favourites and the best short romcom of 2022. Based on the manhwa of the same name by Haehwa (original story) and NARAK (art), Taemu Kang (Ahn Hyeo Seop) plays the 'perfect CEO' stereotype who ain't got no time for love so, after several hilarious events, he eventually hires Hari Shin (Kim Se Jeong) to play the part of his girlfriend to fool grandpa. Unbeknownst to him though, Hari is his employee. Will their fake relationship turn into a real one? You bet your ass!

The show ticks almost all of the required tropes, subverts some -what was a pleasant surprise- and entertains throughout, making perfect use of its runtime. The second lead couple, played by Kim Min Gue and Seol In Ah, also turned several heads, not to mention the latter had great BFF chemistry with Kim Se Jeong. Week after week, I was looking forward to every episode of this show, especially considering how disappointing another romcom that aired around the same time turned out to be, and that you may or may not find in this list. You could say this show aired just in time for Samantha and Rachel to cure my FLAWless disappointment.

Again My Life⭐

Episode count: 16

Where to watch: Viki

Rating: 8/10

Verdict: Lawful Lawyer is back!

The better Lawless Lawyer of 2022. Kim Hee Woo (Lee Joon Gi) is a prosecutor who travels back in time to put the people who murdered him behind bars while the audience wonders which female lead he should date. And between Kim Ji Eun, Hong Bi Ra, and Veronica Park Kim Jae Kyung, well, he's definitely not lacking in choices. Fortunately, time travel is merely used as a trigger to tell the story (similar to 365: Repeat the Year in this respect), so we don't have to worry about kdramas' rather abysmal track record with sci-fi. The show keeps you hooked episode after episode, finding a good balance between the scheming, putting people behind bars, throwing some punches (has those trademark LJG action sequences!), all the while going after the next big fish. Last, but not least, it does an incredibly good job at managing an ensemble cast of characters, and there are a lot of them! If you're a fan of Lawless Lawyer or Lee Joon Gi, you can't go wrong with this one.

Alchemy of Souls - Part 1

Episode count: 20

Where to watch: Netflix

Rating: 6/10

Verdict: Watch a fantasy cdrama instead

Alternatives: Fights Break Sphere, Fighter of the Destiny

When I watched the character promos for this show I thought this could be Korea's answer to some of China's fantasy dramas, possibly Xuanhuan dramas, and I was all for it! I liked the male actor, Lee Jae Wook, in other dramas I'd watched with him (he was great in When the Weather is Fine and Search: WWW), and Jung So Min playing a master assassin and mentor in a fantasy drama was quite appealing. Of course, I was a bit worried when the teaser dropped, with its emphasis on some weak comedy, but I decided to give the show the benefit of the doubt. Sadly, Part 1 didn't live up to the task. It meandered a lot, definitely under-using its 20-episode order, focusing on every romantic relationship under the sun and then some, ultimately delivering an unsatisfactory hero's journey for the ML, while the antagonists played ping-pong with the alchemy of souls. At times, I was reminded of Hwarang, a show I have reviewed very poorly and that seems to have relied on the idol factor to garner popular appeal.

I've previously compared Jang Uk's journey to that of Xiao Yan from the cdrama Fights Break Sphere, in that I expected the former, from the previews, to undergo a similar rise to power as the latter, rigorously training under his master, slowly climbing his way back to power, but with the additional appeal of developing that romantic relationship between Jung So Min's character and Lee Jae Wook's, what would've made for a more rewarding journey for both the character and the audience. This is a tried-and-true formula, also used by the popular anime The Rising of the Shield Hero, to mention but one other example. Unfortunately for us, Jang Uk can hardly be bothered to train (supposedly, he "trained" with twelve masters for years and didn't learn a damn), except at the very specific, and limited, times that the script dictates, instead relying on luck and plot contrivances to "skip ahead" his way to power, what makes for far less memorable scenes. Additionally, the cdrama nails the master-student relationship thanks to the great rapport between Baron Chen's Yao Chen and Leo Wu's Xiao Yan, but there's hardly such a bond between Mu Deok and Jang Uk.

In the end, Part 1 of Alchemy of Souls should've been about Jang Uk's rise to power under the guidance of his master, and later love interest, Mu Deok, but it's too unfocused, its attention constantly diverted by comedy, love polygons, or caricaturesque villains doing dumb things under everyone's noses. Perhaps its only saving grace was the character of the Crown Prince, brilliantly played by Shin Seung Ho, who was able to nail both the comedy and the drama when called for. However, if you're looking for a good fantasy drama with a more traditional (or any) hero's journey, watch Fights Break Sphere instead, with the caveat only the first season has been released, and it's doubtful there'll be a second. I'd also recommend Fighter of the Destiny, with Lu Han. It probably doesn't have as good CGI or sets, but it has a better grip on the hero's journey than Alchemy and nails the camaraderie aspects.

Alchemy of Souls - Part 2

Episode count: 10

Where to watch: Netflix

Rating: 7/10

Verdict: Works better as a standalone watch

I should've probably left Part 2 of the show for Part 2 of my list, but I'm going in alphabetical order so that's that. This is one of the shows I decided to rewatch to refresh my memory and, to my surprise, it fared much better the second time around. Why's that? Read on to find out!

Part 2 of Alchemy of Souls starts strong, much stronger than Part 1 did, something many were doubting when the news hit that Jung So Min wouldn't return for Part 2, instead being replaced by the original Naksu actress, Go Youn Jung. Fortunately, she does an excellent job throughout, but especially in the beginning of Part 2, which comes across as more of a fairy tale (Rapunzel's), and where the show decides to embrace some of the typical marriage contact tropes, as Young Jung's character fake-marries the now uber-powerful Jang Uk in order to escape from her mother's tight grasp. Honestly, I wish the show had started with Part 2, in media res, and used the material from Part 1 for flashback storytelling, in a similar vein to how The Untamed did it. God, that would've been so good! Precisely because Jang Uk has become sort of a demigod he can boss around all of the useless supporting characters from Part 1 (I'm looking at you, Pathetic Assembly of Evil), and pretty much do whatever he wants, so it's quite commendable to see him return smarter and more measured in his decision-making.

As someone who watched Part 2 live back then, it started to lose its initial glimmer when an inevitable reveal kept being delayed episode after episode, hinting that it would obviously occur the next one. Of course, this never happened, but what made matters worse was the fact that the ML was kept oblivious while everyone around him found out and chose not to tell him because... reasons? I can understand one person keeping the secret for his own agenda, maybe a couple, but I find it astonishing that even Jang Uk's friends and family shared this same agenda, as they also kept the truth from him. Additionally, the more this delay continued the further the narrative possibilities were constrained and, thusly, certain scenarios conjured up by fans never came to pass. However, this will not be much of an issue for people coming in blind to Part 2 (or with a healthy distance from Part 1). Perhaps even the fact that the noble idiocy card is played, or that the main antagonist is obstinately preserved by the writers until the very last episode to little effect (when he shouldn't have made it past Part 1), won't present much of an issue to newcomers.

Having said this, I still feel the final battle for the fate of the world remains rather underwhelming and anticlimactic, not helped by the fact that certain characters are resurrected right before said battle. After all, if the show outright establishes death is not permanent, minutes before "the end of the world," why should I fear for any of the characters? Even Jang Uk himself, during this final battle, doesn't show an ounce of worry that maybe this time he will not make it out alive, regardless of his powers, making the fight seem entirely mechanical and perfunctory. The writers even throw in some half-baked plot device about the King's Star being powered by seven other stars, and since it had never been explained throughout the show a character has to exposition-dump it on our laps (there's quite a lot of exposition dump going around in Part 2, what helps newcomers to the show). It's a plot device prominently featured in the cdrama Fighter of the Destiny, which I previously recommended, so maybe it was inspired by it?

In the end, if you still want to get a taste of the Alchemy experience, I wholeheartedly suggest you treat Part 2 as the original show, with Part 1 being the prequel made to cash in on the show's success that, ultimately, you may not even need. Thus, as a standalone, I'm revising my original rating for Part 2 from a 6/10 to a 7/10, bumping it into my above average bin.

Extraordinary Attorney Woo

Episode count: 16

Where to watch: Netflix

Rating: 6/10

Verdict: Better luck in S2

Alternatives: Good Doctor, Again My Life

Woo to the Young to the Woo started off with a bang and had me sold after binging its first four episodes (I had a bit of an offset), making me hopeful this could be one of my favourites from 2022. Sadly, it was thereabouts that the quality of the writing slowly started going downhill for me. Woo lost me on two fronts: the weak framing and execution of the legal cases, and the underdeveloped cast of supporting characters, who were mostly neglected in favour of Park Eun Bin's Young Woo. Don't get me wrong, Park Eun Bin nailed the character, and her conversation with her mom in Episode 8 was particularly poignant and well executed, but it wouldn't have hurt to give characters like Min Woo or Jun-ho a case that resonated with them, like "The Strife of the Three Brothers," which was relevant to Young Woo's BFF Geu Ra-mi.

I'll take Min Woo as an example because, out of the whole cast of supporting characters, he showed the most promise. The show mentions in passing that Min Woo is his family's sole breadwinner, what could explain why he's so competitive and regards Young Woo as a threat rather than a boon, but the show never tries to explore this when it has the perfect medium to do so in the form of the legal cases. So why not give him a case that echoes some of his struggles trying to support his family while making headway into the competitive legal world, thus allowing us and his teammates to get to know him a little better? In essence, show us, don't just tell us. How am I then supposed to buy his sudden change-of-heart in "The Blue Night of Jeju" when you've given me nothing to support the fact he's bonded with anyone in the team? (besides Jun-ho who was already his flatmate) Perhaps not surprisingly, this particular episode throws a bunch of arcs left and right for the supporting characters to try and grab hold of, but too little too late.

As a procedural, I feel Extraordinary Attorney Woo is pretty average. It either didn't know how or never intended to handle its supporting cast of characters and successfully integrate them into the narrative, similarly to how a show like Again My Life did. To draw a curious parallel, the final episode of Again My Life gathers all of "the good guys" at the restaurant of Hee Woo's parents. There are 14 of them in total, not counting Hee Woo and his parents, and I feel like they've truly become one big extended family by show's end. Extraordinary Attorney Woo has a similar scene, gathering everyone at Min Shik's place that is meant to convey the same feeling, but they don't quite feel like a team yet, let alone a family. Maybe in Season 2?

If you're looking for a show featuring another savant autistic lead, but with a better grasp on developing an ensemble cast of characters, as well as a romantic relationship between the leads, then Good Doctor is the show for you. On the other hand, if you're looking for a kickass lawyer, well, you probably already know who I'm talking about.

Fanletter, Please⭐

Episode count: 4

Where to watch: Viki

Rating: 8/10

Verdict: A lot of heart in a small package

The first among three shows in these lists that feature Choi Soo Young and Yoon Park as either main or supporting leads. I'd only previously watched Choi Soo Young in So I Married an Anti-Fan, a show not without its share of issues, but her as the female lead wasn't one. Indeed, she was one of the highlights and I was looking forward to seeing more of her work. As such, I was looking forward to this mini-series, more so when I realised Yoon Park would play the role of a father willing to move heaven and earth for his daughter, what is not a typical setup in kdramas (in my watching experience, mind you). Off the top of my head, I can only think of Marriage Contract and Lie After Lie as similar shows, in terms of how much of a protagonist the child actor is. Both are shows I would wholeheartedly recommend.

As for Fanletter, Please, I was positively pleased by how much content and social commentary this show was able to fit into its 4-hour runtime without harming the storytelling, something that even full-length kdramas struggle to achieve. Having said that, I would've welcomed one or two more episodes to let it breathe a little bit more and, of course, to watch some cute family moments! This is definitely a case of so good you want more of it. Still, Choi Soo Young and Yoon Park make it work within the available runtime, what's a credit to them and the script. CSY was on a roll last year (as you'll find out in Part 2!) so I'll have to keep an eye out for more of her dramas, and it was very welcome to see Yoon Park play this devoted father character after the disappointing Forecasting Love & Weather (though he was pretty good in it). Give me more short dramas!

Forecasting Love and Weather

Episode count: 16

Where to watch: Viki, Netflix

Rating: 6/10

Verdict: Couldn't forecast love and I have my doubts about the weather

Alternatives: She Would Never Know, The Rational Life

I have a soft spot for Park Min Young, having watched romcoms like What's Wrong With Secretary Kim? and Her Private Life, or even melodramas like When the Weather is Fine. And who can forget Healer, where she played the part of Lois Lane to Ji Chang Wook's Clark Kent (watch it, it's a classic). I couldn't remember a drama with her that I didn't enjoy watching, so it broke my heart a little to see what a disappointing mess Forecasting Love and Weather turned out to be. I should've heeded a friend's advice to steer clear of Song Kang dramas, even though the script was clearly the worse offender by far.

The show hooked us in with the initial romcom elements, and then decided to veer into slife/melo territory, as the relationships between the different couples started to fray, with conflict being driven at an accelerated pace by the issues that arose from poor communication, or an outright absence of it, and how the different couples handled (they often didn't) the results of their miscommunication. I didn't much mind at the time because I felt they were being somewhat mature about it without overplaying their hand, and because my weekly romcom fix was being delivered by A Business Proposal, but they were treading a fine line... that got utterly ground into dust in the last six episodes. At this point in the show, the nonsensical drama was amped considerably, to the point it could've given Young Lady & Gentleman a run for their money, setting us up for the inevitable breakup. Why? Because the kdrama gods have written that a breakup must inevitably occur in Episode 14 or thereabouts, and this show is not about to subvert that trope!

Like Extraordinary Attorney Woo, Forecasting Love and Weather failed at properly handling its ensemble cast of characters, trying to juggle five relationships to some very mixed results, when it would've been better off simply focusing on the main and secondary couples. As a result, by show's end I could've cared less what happened to the main couple, and was actually a bit more invested in the secondary one, played by Yoon Park and Yura, possibly because they at least tried to talk to each other and work things out. Honestly, Yoon Park's Ki Jun got the better deal out of all the characters in the show. How do you make Ki Jun, the guy who cheated on his fiancée with Si Woo's girlfriend, a more likable, or at least interesting, character than everyone else? You have him grow from an immature baby into a more or less responsible adult. You could argue that the main leads experience growth of their own, but it struck me as a bit aimless, a bit hollow. I mean, 16 episodes for Ha Kyung's boss to tell her you learn more from your mistakes than you do your successes? Seriously? Just go to r/GetMotivated for that.

Would I recommend this show? Unless you want to learn a little about what goes on behind the scenes of a weather forecast, not really, but maybe it's my fault for having high expectations due to PMY. It's not a bad show though, just average. If you want far better executed takes on this concept, check She Would Never Know on the kdrama side, and The Rational Life on the cdrama side.

Glitch💀

Episode count: 10

Where to watch: Netflix

Rating: 3/10

Verdict: Watching an episode of Ancient Aliens on the History Channel would've been more exciting and a lot shorter too

Alternatives: Circle

Can I get away simply by saying watching this show was a glitch? No? Dammit. I should've known better than to watch a Netflix-produced kdrama, even if it does star Nana, 'cause they've all been a bust for me, but Glitch was one of the privileged few shows I watched in 2022 that made me feel I had utterly wasted my time, with no redeeming qualities about it. 500 minutes to tell a story that lacks focus and is all over the place, perhaps stretched thin to meet a Netflix episode quota, with a FL that is not particularly interesting to follow, as she goes through a midlife crisis and teams up with Nana to investigate a UFO cult that may or may not have kidnapped her ex to sell his kidneys. Okay, maybe I made up that last bit about the kidneys.

The comedy doesn't land, the mystery doesn't land, the drama doesn't land, and the UFO doesn't land either. Undoubtedly, the finale is the better episode of the show, not least of why because it marked the ending, but also because the show didn't have any more time to dawdle as it had been doing for the past nine episodes, what gave it some much needed focus. To make matters worse, the surprises and twists at the end of each episode just weren't good enough to keep you hooked, nor, I'm afraid, were the leads. I was tempted at the time to give this show my first ever 1/10 for the way it wasted my time over the span of those 500 minutes, with a story that was infuriatingly inconsistent and lacked a lot of common sense, but it's probably not that bad. Still, I would only recommend watching it to my enemies, probably alongside something like Sisyphus.

Good Job

Episode count: 12

Where to watch: Viki

Rating: 7/10

Verdict: Good fun

Alternatives: Secret Royal Inspector

Another ENA network show, like Extraordinary Attorney Woo, but shorter and more entertaining, as we follow the crazy antics of Eun Soon Woo (Jung Il Woo), a chaebol CEO who doubles as a private detective (think Bruce Wayne/Batman), and Don Se Ra (Kwon Yu Ri), his newly-recruited superpowered assistant, as they aim to solve a 20-year-old cold case while uncovering other, smaller, cases, helping people and rectifying injustices along the way.

Good Job is just a fun ride overall, even if the comedy can be a little hit-or-miss sometimes, especially when it drags on for too long or tries the Marvel route of undermining certain scenes. The writing too could've benefited from another revision, as some events feel gratuitously delayed, like when a character refuses to reveal a certain name only to do so a few minutes later, while others are forced to a head, like Se Ra discovering Soon Woo's batcave. Oh, yeah, he has a batcave, of sorts, and even an Alfred, in the form of Lee Joon Hyuk's Director Hong, whom you may recall from Mystic Pop-Up Bar. He also has a talented sidekick and comedic support, Jin Mo (Eum Moon Suk), both a lawyer and a hacker, who also gets into a romantic entanglement of his own with Se Ra's best friend, Na Hee (Song Sang Eun). This is the mini-Justice League you'll see play dress-up (these scenes are so over-the-top fun!) from episode to episode, as they go undercover to solve cases and get one step closer to their goal. In this sense, this show could be compared to something like Taxi Driver, but, unlike the latter, Good Job doesn't take itself too seriously and neither should you for maximum enjoyment.

While the resolution of the final case felt a bit underwhelming, and perhaps a tad perfunctory (I did appreciate the brief redemption arc for one of the antagonists though), Good Job achieves in 12 episodes what Extraordinary Attorney Woo could not in 16, making its cast of characters grow into a team, one I would not mind accompanying in more adventures in future seasons. Will that happen? Probably not, so if you're looking for more fun adventures of the sort, and don't mind traveling to the past, I would not hesitate to recommend Secret Royal Inspector, with Kim Myung Soo and Kwon Na Ra.

Grid💀

Episode count: 10

Where to watch: Disney+

Rating: 4/10

Verdict: Another nail in the kdrama sci-fi coffin

Alternatives: 365: Repeat the Year, Reset, Circle

Sci-fi is one of my favourite genres, but kdramas have had a rather lousy track record at delivering good quality sci-fi and, sadly, Grid does nothing to change that. Our story starts in 1997, when a mysterious time traveler known as "the Ghost" laves a program for an energy grid to replace Earth's failing magnetic fields. This Grid is now managed by the Administration Bureau who intend to track down the Ghost and unlock the secrets of time travel... eventually. The show's comprised of only ten episodes, yet the pacing of the first half is slower than it has any right to be given the events depicted (hint: they aren't that exciting) and the dialogue isn't stimulating enough to sustain such a slow burner. This "season" could've been compressed into 5 or 6 episodes and it would've been stronger for it. Of course, then it would hardly qualify as a "season" (though Netflix seems to think it does).

The main plot line focuses around this serial killer and the fact that the Ghost is helping him evade capture. Why is this time traveler aiding and abetting a criminal? Honestly, this question was never interesting enough to fuel ten weeks of watching (the pain!) and it shows. Additionally, it is not answered conclusively, although there are some bread crumbs for the viewer to put the pieces together. In fact, this statement captures the show in a nutshell; it raises questions, but never provides any conclusive or satisfying answers, playing on the viewer's knowledge of other (better) time travel stories so they can come up with their own. Perhaps the worst example of this is the season finale, which is only meant to set up events for a possible S2 (in your dreams, or nightmares), thereby raising even more questions.

The writer behind this, Lee Soon Yeon, is apparently quite good, having written for Stranger and Stranger 2. I haven't watched either show so I can't comment on them, but time travel stories aren't for everyone. Having said that, the "mysteries" that are supposed to keep viewers hooked were also underwhelming. I remember reading an article that recommended Grid as a show that keeps you on the edge of your seat. I suppose it's possible to fall off your seat while asleep, right? If you want a show that uses time travel well, though in very limited fashion, merely as a trigger for the plot to unfold, watch 365: Repeat the Year. The cdrama Reset is a great exponent of using a time loop and one of my favourites from 2022. If you want kdrama's best exponent of sci-fi to date, watch Circle (review on the way).

If You Wish Upon Me⭐

Episode count: 16

Where to watch: Viki

Rating: 8/10

Verdict: The genie from Aladdin would be proud

First things first, there is a better version of this show if you take out the gangster storyline, which was entirely superfluous, and better integrate the sister storyline into the main plot. You can also drop the jealous doctor who added surprisingly little beyond being jealous at the required times (what a waste of a perfectly good character). Repackage it all into a shorter, 12-episode, season and this show could've reached 9-10 territory for me. Those are pretty much the weakest aspects of the show.

With that out of the way, it's a very good show. People have compared it to Chocolate given that it takes place in a hospice ward but, for my part, I dropped that show after 5 or 6 episodes, partly because of the ML. No such problem with Ji Chang Wook's character here, an orphan and ex-con with a heart of gold, and a cute dog he's named "Son." Despite all the abuse he's been subjected to throughout his life, he slowly starts to open up as he does community service at the hospice. Paired with Choi Soo Young's flirty Nurse Seo (love her!), these two alone make a powerful case for watching this show. Sung Dong Il also delivers a great performance and has some wonderful exchanges with Ji Chang Wook's character.

The show follows the "case of the week" formula for the most part, certainly during the first half of the drama, as Team Genie tries to fulfill the final wishes of the hospice's patients and often positively impact other people's lives in so doing. Be prepared and have tissues at hand. Beyond the gangster detour that wasted our time towards the end, and drew dangerously close to upending all the good will the show had garnered throughout its run, the final episode really brings it home, coming full circle and delivering a really satisfying conclusion to our story, one final surprise as Team Genie brings down the curtain on their show and bids us goodbye.

In short, yes, it could've been better with a tighter focus but, as it stands, it's one of the better shows to have come out in 2022, and perhaps Ji Chang Wook's best work since Healer (with the caveat that I have not yet watched Suspicious Partner nor Lovestruck in the City). And Choi Soo Young is now 2 for 2! (this girl's on 🔥🔥)

Jinxed at First💀

Episode count: 16

Where to watch: Viki

Rating: 4/10

Verdict: Oh, it's jinxed alright

Alternatives: My Girlfriend is a Gumiho, Goblin, Scripting Your Destiny

I had measured expectations for this drama. Na In Woo had previously worked with the same director in 2021's River Where the Moon Rises, a show I enjoyed a great deal, though mostly because it was the first time I delved deep into the history behind the drama, namely the tale of Princess Pyeonggang and On Dal the Fool, and the history of the Three Kingdoms' period. He was brought in late, with production underway, to replace Ji Soo; he barely slept, had to adlib a lot of his scenes, and still managed to have great chemistry with Kim So Hyun and, to my mind, had the better grasp on the character of On Dal. I'd hoped Jinxed at First would give him another opportunity to shine, but, alas, that was not the case.

The first episode alone is a hectic storytelling mess (and, incidentally, River Where the Moon Rises alumni reunion), rushing through a lot of backstory and setup for the rest of the season. We're introduced to Soo Gwang, a bright student with a promising future and powerful friends, whose life takes a turn for the worse when he meets Seul Bi (Seo Hyun), a woman imprisoned since birth by his best friend's dad because of her strange ability to see a person's future through a single touch. Cut to a year later, where we find Soo Gwang working as a fishmonger under a different name, only for Seul Bi to track him down again, determined to remain by his side.

Honestly, I'm not sure what genre this show wanted to be, but I'm pretty sure it failed at most of them. For the first 6 or 7 episodes it tried to resemble something like My Girlfriend is a Gumiho, as Seul Bi is just as innocent and naïve as Miho was (even if Miho sold it better than Seul Bi did, to my mind), and both male leads were resolved to get rid of her. This is perhaps the strongest portion of the show, as Seul Bi adapts to her new environment and neighbors, making new friends while at the same time helping Soo Gwang get rid of his (never explained) bad luck. I even enjoyed some of the comedy. However, unlike My Girlfriend is a Gumiho, there is not enough chemistry between the leads to have them fall in love with each other over the course of 6 or 7 episodes. Well, not in Soo Gwang's case at any rate, as Seul Bi has been infatuated with him for years. Upon falling in love, the trope that naturally follows is a break-up, after which point the show starts to resemble more of a makjang, turning to corporate and chaebol intrigue and infighting. This is also around the time Soo Gwang's best friend, Min Joon (played by Ki Do Hoon, from Scripting Your Destiny), decides he's in love with Seul Bi (what?), something even more out of left field, especially when he's already engaged to Lee Ho Jung's (Soljiwan!!!) charming character, Ja Kyung, who effortlessly stole every scene she was in. Min Joon, if you don't want her, I'll gladly take her off your hands!

Seemingly having exhausted the depth of its narrative well, the show dragged its feet for several episodes, eventually deciding the story was better served by turning a character into a psychopath, who also wanted Seul Bi for himself and was willing to kill anyone in the process, an eye-rolling set of circumstances eventually resolved thanks to Seul Bi's expansive (aka nonsensical) repertoire of supernatural powers. And, of course, in a show of this caliber, the amnesia trope could not be absent, a card that is dealt in the very last episode and resolved at the very last minute. What a payoff.

When I first learned of this drama I recall reading an outline that went something along the lines of, "Unlucky man meets a goddess of luck." Would it have been too much to ask for a show fitting that description, but in the vein of the excellent Goblin instead? Or maybe something like Scripting Your Destiny, which is certainly not as good as Goblin, but is still way better than this, and much shorter too. If you want to watch a show that features a romantic relationship between a god and a human, I encourage you to give those a try instead, as well as the aforementioned My Girlfriend is a Gumiho.

#kdramas #kdrama reviews #a business proposal #again my life #alchemy of souls #extraordinary attorney woo #fanletter please #forecasting love and weather #glitch #good job #grid #if you wish upon me #jinxed at first #ahn hyo seop #lee joon gi #choi soo young #kim se jeong #park min young #lee jae wook #ji chang wook #kdrama

[ebsite]

Year In Review / My Top KDramas of ’22

Little Women

To My Star 2

Extraordinary Attorney Woo

Military Prosecutor Doberman

Alchemy of Souls (1&2)

Blueming

Tomorrow

Semantic Error

Dear. M

Business Proposal

May I Help You

Honorable mentions:

Cafe Minamdong

Sh**ting Stars

Today’s Webtoon

Remarriage and Desires

LINK: Eat, Love, Kill

Under the Queens Umbrella 

Reborn Rich

Love All Play

Best web-series:

Choco Milk Shake

P.S. RIP to all the super cool looking shows I didn’t get to and wasn’t able to include on my list ( Deff feel free to drop me some recs if you don’t see your fav’s ) ♡

#year in review #Top KDrama's #little women #To My Star 2 #extraordinary attorney woo #military prosecutor doberman #alchemy of souls #Blueming #Tomorrow #Semantic Error #Dear. M #business proposal #May I help you #one hundred won butler #Cafe Minamdang #sh**ting stars #shooting stars #Today's Webtoon #Remarriage and Desires #link: eat love kill #under the queen's umbrella #Reborn Rich #love all play #choco milk shake

[kdramahunter]

extraordinary you

This was one of the first kdramas I ever watched and to this day it is still one of my favorites. The plot itself is very interesting and different from other dramas, I have never seen any other drama's whose plot even remotely resembles this one. Which makes it earn some points due to its uniqueness.

I've watched it a couple of times and I do think on the first watch the first couple of episodes may seem slow and uninteresting but they are needed in order for the story to develop (I got this on my second watch, I truly understood their purpose and did not think they were slow anymore).

Some scenes might seem over the top (in a way) but don't let them discourage you as there is 100% a reason why they are this way. The chemistry between the main characters is good and they keep the mystery throughout the show which helps keep the story afloat.

The ending was expected but I do think it was handled as it should have.

Plot: 100

Acting: 90

Ending: 90

TOTAL: 93/100

recommend? yes

links:

explore tags | about the blog | recommend kdramas

#extraordinary you #kdrama review #90s #10 #yes #kdrama #korean drama #korean tv series #korean tv show #tv series #kim hyeyoon #rowoon

[stonedregulus]

September Reads

(Yes, I am very behind. My apologies.)

I read 12 books this month and 0 fics... Apparently I was in an Original Fiction mood. Oops! These are in the order I read them.

The Infinite Noise by Lauren Shippen

Summary:

Caleb Michaels is a sixteen-year-old champion running back. Other than that his life is pretty normal. But when Caleb starts experiencing mood swings that are out of the ordinary for even a teenager, his life moves beyond “typical.” Caleb is an Atypical, an individual with enhanced abilities. Which sounds pretty cool except Caleb's ability is extreme empathy—he feels the emotions of everyone around him. Being an empath in high school would be hard enough, but Caleb's life becomes even more complicated when he keeps getting pulled into the emotional orbit of one of his classmates, Adam. Adam's feelings are big and all-consuming, but they fit together with Caleb's feelings in a way that he can't quite understand. Caleb's therapist, Dr. Bright, encourages Caleb to explore this connection by befriending Adam. As he and Adam grow closer, Caleb learns more about his ability, himself, his therapist—who seems to know a lot more than she lets on—and just how dangerous being an Atypical can be.

Page Count: 352 Genre: YA My Rating: ★★★/5 My Review:

Okay, I had to work for this one. The plot was a bit slow—I feel like it didn’t start to pick up until around Chapter 20. I am also confused by and why the author decided to introduce new characters and start adding on a deeper plot with only a third of the book left. Those loose ends were not tied up at all so I’m hoping the author wraps it all up and answers questions in the 2nd and 3rd books. I think the story line was fine, and the it was written well. I related far too deeply to Adam. I love him and I just want to protect him from the world. LGBTQ+ rep, yay! TW: self-harm, depression, anxiety, homophobia, homophobic slur

Winter’s Orbit by Everina Maxwell

Summary:

While the Iskat Empire has long dominated the system through treaties and political alliances, several planets, including Thea, have begun to chafe under Iskat's rule. When tragedy befalls Imperial Prince Taam, his Thean widower, Jainan, is rushed into an arranged marriage with Taam's cousin, the disreputable Kiem, in a bid to keep the rising hostilities between the two worlds under control. But when it comes to light that Prince Taam's death may not have been an accident, and that Jainan himself may be a suspect, the unlikely pair must overcome their misgivings and learn to trust one another as they navigate the perils of the Iskat court, try to solve a murder, and prevent an interplanetary war... all while dealing with their growing feelings for each other.

Page Count: 432 Genre: Sci-Fi, Romance, Space Opera My Rating: ★★★★/5 My Review:

Court politics, galactic treaties, murder, & slow-burn romance. Its like RWRB meets Star Wars. I’ve actually never read a space opera before but I really enjoyed this! Also hello arranged marriage trope?! Yes gimme gimme.

The Gravity of Us by Phil Stamper

Summary:

As a successful social media journalist with half a million followers, seventeen-year-old Cal is used to sharing his life online. But when his pilot father is selected for a highly publicized NASA mission to Mars, Cal and his family relocate from Brooklyn to Houston and are thrust into a media circus. Amidst the chaos, Cal meets sensitive and mysterious Leon, another “Astrokid,” and finds himself falling head over heels—fast. As the frenzy around the mission grows, so does their connection. But when secrets about the program are uncovered, Cal must find a way to reveal the truth without hurting the people who have become most important to him.

Page Count: 336 Genre: YA My Rating: ★★★/5 My Review:

This was really cute. I felt like every character was relatable at some point which was nice but I had a hard time grabbing on to one specific character to make my blorbo. Idk if that makes sense but I normally like to kind of latch onto one character and instead I felt like I was just kind of floating between a few. The MC is a bit whiney but it’s a cute story! I just felt a bit disappointed with the ending. It kind of felt like ‘idk how to end this sooooo uhm, the end?’

The Darkness Outside Us by Eliot Schrefer

Summary:

Two boys, alone in space. After the first settler on Titan trips her distress signal, neither remaining country on Earth can afford to scramble a rescue of its own, and so two sworn enemies are installed in the same spaceship.

Ambrose wakes up on the Coordinated Endeavor, with no memory of a launch. There’s more that doesn’t add up: Evidence indicates strangers have been on board, the ship’s operating system is voiced by his mother, and his handsome, brooding shipmate has barricaded himself away. But nothing will stop Ambrose from making his mission succeed—not when he’s rescuing his own sister. In order to survive the ship’s secrets, Ambrose and Kodiak will need to work together and learn to trust one another… especially once they discover what they are truly up against. Love might be the only way to survive.

Page Count: 416 Genre: YA, Sci-Fi, Dystopian My Rating: ★★★★★/5 My Review:

This… This is going to be the book that I judge all books on for the rest of my life. Holy shit. No, really, holy shit. I don’t want to over-hype this but I cannot stress enough how good this was. You have got to read this. At first I was laughing because the humor was on point and then suddenly it turned into “Oh fucking shit, what the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck?!” This book gave me an existential crisis. I just… wow. Okay? Just wow.

The Temperature of Me and You by Brian Zepka

Summary:

Sixteen-year-old Dylan Highmark thought his winter was going to be full of boring shifts at the Dairy Queen, until he finds himself in love with a boy who's literally too hot to handle. Dylan has always wanted a boyfriend, but the suburbs surrounding Philadelphia do not have a lot in the way of options. Then, in walks Jordan, a completely normal (and undeniably cute) boy who also happens to run at a cool 110 degrees Fahrenheit. When the boys start spending time together, Dylan begins feeling all kinds of ways, and when he spikes a fever for two weeks and is suddenly coughing flames, he thinks he might be suffering from something more than just a crush. Jordan forces Dylan to keep his symptoms a secret. But as the pressure mounts and Dylan becomes distant with his closest friends and family, he pushes Jordan for answers. Jordan's revelations of why he's like this, where he came from, and who's after him leaves Dylan realizing how much first love is truly out of this world. And if Earth supports life that breathes oxygen, then love can only keep Jordan and Dylan together for so long.

Page Count: 416 Genre: YA, Paranormal, Fantasy My Rating: ★★★/5 My Review:

This was good but… I dunno. It lacked a bit. Like the story line was fine but it just kind of felt like… Idk I felt like there could’ve been more. I wanted moreeeee.

Cemetery Boys by Aiden Thomas

Summary:

Yadriel has summoned a ghost, and now he can’t get rid of him. When his traditional Latinx family has problems accepting his gender, Yadriel becomes determined to prove himself a real brujo. With the help of his cousin and best friend Maritza, he performs the ritual himself, and then sets out to find the ghost of his murdered cousin and set it free. However, the ghost he summons is actually Julian Diaz, the school’s resident bad boy, and Julian is not about to go quietly into death. He’s determined to find out what happened and tie up some loose ends before he leaves. Left with no choice, Yadriel agrees to help Julian, so that they can both get what they want. But the longer Yadriel spends with Julian, the less he wants to let him leave.

Page Count: 352 Genre: YA, Paranormal, Fantasy My Rating: ★★★★★/5 My Review:

If you’re going to read only one book from this list, let it be this one. HOLY WOW. FANTASTIC TRANS REP!!! I felt so seen. I loved all of the characters and ughhhhh *feral cat noises clawing off own skin* It is SO GOOD. The story line is incredible. There’s just so much. I didn’t feel like there were any loose ends, everything made sense. I love Yadriel so much I would literally kill for him.

The Extraordinaries, Flash Fire, & Heat Wave by TJ Klune

Summary:

1) Nick Bell? Not extraordinary. But being the most popular fanfiction writer in the Extraordinaries fandom is a superpower, right? After a chance encounter with Shadow Star, Nova City’s mightiest hero (and Nick’s biggest crush), Nick sets out to make himself extraordinary. And he’ll do it with or without the reluctant help of Seth Gray, Nick's best friend (and maybe the love of his life). 2) Nick landed himself the superhero boyfriend of his dreams, but with new heroes arriving in Nova City it’s up to Nick and his friends to determine who is virtuous and who is villainous. Which is a lot to handle for a guy who just wants to finish his self-insert bakery AU fanfic. 3) Nick, Seth, Gibby, and Jazz are back in action bringing justice, protection, and disaster energy to the people of Nova City. An unexpected hero returns to Nova City and crash lands into Nick's home, upturning his life, his family, and his understanding of what it means to be a hero in the explosive finale of the thrilling and hilarious Extraordinaries trilogy by New York Times bestselling author TJ Klune. 

Page Count: 400, 384, 384 Genre: YA, Fantasy My Rating: ★★★★/5 My Review:

The relationship between Nick and his dad is just *chef's kiss*. They're fucking hilarious. I laughed so hard through all three of these. Like constant laughter. I cannot even, so fucking FUNNNNNYYY. I love that the second two books really address the sort of weird cop hero worship of the first book and talked about the BLM movement in a great way. Overall a really cute superhero series with great LGBTQ rep.

What If It’s Us, & Here’s To Us by Becky Albertalli & Adam Silvera

Summary:

1) Arthur is only in New York for the summer, but if Broadway has taught him anything, it’s that the universe can deliver a showstopping romance when you least expect it. Ben thinks the universe needs to mind its business. If the universe had his back, he wouldn’t be on his way to the post office carrying a box of his ex-boyfriend’s things. But when Arthur and Ben meet-cute at the post office, what exactly does the universe have in store for them? Maybe nothing. After all, they get separated. Maybe everything. After all, they get reunited. But what if they can’t quite nail a first date . . . or a second first date . . . or a third? What if Arthur tries too hard to make it work . . . and Ben doesn’t try hard enough? What if life really isn’t like a Broadway play? But what if it is? 2) Ben has spent his first year of college working on his fantasy manuscript with his writing partner Mario, who is a great Spanish tutor, and an even better kisser. So why can’t he stop thinking about the fact that Arthur’s back in town two years after they called it quits? Arthur is in New York for a dream internship on Broadway, with a boyfriend back at home that he couldn't be happier with. But when he comes upon Ben cuddled up with a mystery boy, he starts to wonder if his feelings for Ben ever truly went away. Even as the boys try to focus on their futures, they can't seem to help running into each other in the present. Is the universe forcing them to question if they’re actually meant to be? Possibly not. After all, things didn’t work the first time around. Possibly yes. After all, the sparks are still flying. Sometimes you just have to take a leap of faith and raise a glass. Here’s to celebrating old friends! Here’s to embracing new beginnings! Here’s to believing in second chances!

Page Count: 480, 448 Genre: YA, Romantic Comedy My Rating: ★★★/5 My Review:

These are cute rom coms. The first one had A LOT of Harry Potter and JKR mentions but it was published right before she was outed as a TERF and the second one doesn’t mention HP at all so that’s good. Over all an easy read if you need something chill.

Ace of Spades by Faridah Àbíké-Íyímídé

Summary:

An incendiary and utterly compelling thriller with a shocking twist that delves deep into the heart of institutionalized racism, from an exceptional new YA voice. Welcome to Niveus Private Academy, where money paves the hallways, and the students are never less than perfect. Until now. Because anonymous texter, Aces, is bringing two students' dark secrets to light. Talented musician Devon buries himself in rehearsals, but he can't escape the spotlight when his private photos go public. Head girl Chiamaka isn't afraid to get what she wants, but soon everyone will know the price she has paid for power. Someone is out to get them both. Someone who holds all the aces. And they're planning much more than a high-school game... 

Page Count: 432 Genre: YA, Thriller, Mystery My Rating: ★★★★/5 My Review:

This is horrifying but depressingly plausible. I’ve seen so many reviews about how heavy handed this book is and how they didn’t like the “all white people are racist” theme. Guess what? All white people are racist. We have inherent racism, it’s been built into our minds for centuries and it’s our jobs to break down our internalized racism and work on being anti racist. Being anti racist is not a destination. It’s not enough to do a few anti racist things and mark off check boxes to say “I’m not racist.” It’s a journey that we will be on for as long as we live to continue breaking down all of the racist bullshit we’ve been fed throughout our lives. Two quotes from this book really stuck with me: “Growing up, I realized quite quickly that people hate being called racist more than they hate racism itself.” “I don’t trust white people like you do. I obviously don’t think they are all murderers, but I think they are all racist... racism is a spectrum and they all participate in it in some way. They don’t all have white hoods or call us mean things; I know that. But racism isn’t just about that—it’s not about being nice or mean. Or good versus bad. It’s bigger than that.” Most of the white people who are reviewing this book and giving it a bad rating will rant about how unfair and ridiculous it is to call all white people racist. Those reviewers are racist. Full stop. They’re so incredibly mad about being called racist instead of taking the time to evaluate themselves it’s insane, and sad, and they prove the book, which they’re so adamant about being wrong, right. Alright so now that I’m done ranting about stupid people: this book was excellent. So many twists, ones I saw coming and others I didn’t. It’s like Gossip Girl meets Get Out. Some moments are truly terrifying. It kept me on the edge of my seat the whole time. There were just a few things that didn’t get answered that I really wish the author would have addressed by the end of the book because I’m left questioning what happened. I let’s set up nicely for a sequel, I assume it’s getting one, but I doubt my questions will be answered by one.

DNF:

A Marvelous Light, Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe

#book recs #book recommendations #book review #monthly reads #monthly reading wrap up #september reads #the infinite noise #winter’s orbit #the gravity of us #the darkness outside us #the temperature of me and you #cemetery boys #the extraordinaries #flash fire #heat wave #what if its us #heres to us #ace of spades

[countingnothings]

me: governance and operations are separate for some important reasons, like x and y. this is not just the case at our institution, but at any institution that has a board of governors.

students who are trying to get me to intervene in operations: it's very strange that you would say governance and operations are separate! we don't like this, and therefore you must be wrong about it.

both of these students are in the process of phds, which i think is proof that you don't need to have reading comprehension to get an advanced degree in the humanities.

#i spent five days crafting a gentle email explaining my position without commenting on the legitimacy of their accusations against staff #which they took less than 30 minutes to respond to in a very incoherent screed #that conflated 'when i was a student rep to the board i felt that i wasn't taken seriously' #with 'it's weird to say that student reps represent students to the board' #hilariously this guy wasn't taken seriously because he neither showed up to meetings nor had anything substantive to contribute when he did #the one thing of value he contributed was something multiple board members took up and advocated for on his behalf #my email: in reviewing policy we may adopt a multi-stakeholder approach that would include student voices #their email: we think it's horrible that no one ever thinks of student voices! you can't make policy without us! #my email: complaints against the Director of X go to me. complaints against the Principal of Y go to this other guy #their email: we want to launch a complaint against the principal of x #no such position exists but alright then #having heard about the situation in which they have appointed themselves the Voice of the Students from multiple perspectives #including student perspectives #they have no grounds for a formal complaint and in fact have been treated with extraordinary generosity by all the non-students involved #but nobody will promise to adopt the strategy these 2 students think is best #(we're in a stage of policy review for the relevant policies and these students have received multiple promises to duly consider their inpu #but unless i get my way i will continue to throw a tantrum!!! #GPOY #i have been chair of this fucking board for two months. #they are so damn lucky they are not interacting with the previous chair #who would have shut them down immediately and forgotten about it two minutes later

[bewareofunguardedtalk]

As Seen On Screen: The Lil Screen: Jan - March 2023

I’ve been dabbling in some free trials and watching a bunch of TV shows, and in full honesty some of these, ok 1, I watched at the end of 2022 but to keep things looking all nice and consistent let’s just pretend I watched them ALL between January and March… The Bear – Created by Christopher StorerWatched on Disney+ ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ Rating: 5 out of 5. I’ve watched this series twice since first watching…

View On WordPress

#2023 #abbott elementary #bbc iplayer #disney #extraordinary #film review #minx #netflix #paramount plus #search party #tele reviews #television review #the bear #tv review #tv show review #tv shows #you

[a-book-of-creatures]

I think I stumbled upon some kind of ichthyological forbidden knowledge. Opened up a book of names that were never meant to be read.

You've probably heard of "can-opener smoothdream", right? It's practically a meme by now.

But the thing is, it's a deep-sea fish. And deep-sea fish have historically not had English names because nobody drops them into the conversation over a hot cuppa. Sure, there's generic stuff like hatchetfish and barreleye, but when you want to refer to the actual fish you're probably saying such euphonious phrases as Diretmus argenteus, Sternoptyx diaphana, or maybe even Opisthoproctus soleatus.

So whence "can-opener smoothdream"? Certainly no non-ichthyologist has ever used that name. It's not even a direct translation of the scientific name Chaenophryne longiceps - that would be "long-headed gape-toad". Which to me is even cooler than "can-opener smoothdream".

But I digress. The "dream" bit comes from the anglerfish family Oneirodidae, from oneiros, "dream", because those marvelous fishes look like they came out of a dream (Pietsch, 2009).

Note that Pietsch (2009), more or less the anglerfish bible, uses English names at the genus level only. So Chaenophryne is the smoothhead dreamers genus but no mention is made of "can-opener smoothdreams". So no luck there.

Wikipedia, root cause of a lot of misinformation, has this to say.

"Longhead dreamer" is a far more accurate name. And in fact, despite Wikipedia prioritizing "can-opener smoothdream" (because it's funny?), the links listed use "longhead dreamer" and "smoothhead dreamer" as the name and "can-opener smoothdream" as an alternative.

So. Again. Where did "can-opener smoothdream" come from?

The answer, as it turns out, lies with McAllister (1990).

In the book A List of the Fishes of Canada, ichthyologist D. E. McAllister sought out to list every single fish known to Canadian waters, providing both an English and a French name.

And when there wasn't an English name, like for most deep-sea fishes, he arbitrarily gave them a name. And his names "differ in many instances from the widely accepted names" (Holm, 1998)

This had varying results. This is his name for one of the netdevil anglerfishes.

The humpback anglerfish or blackdevil anglerfish becomes a werewolf (????).

This one is just confusing.

The white-spotted lanternfish or Rafinesque's lanternfish instead becomes...

And most embarrassingly, the Mediterranean spiderfish gets saddled with something that "violates the tenet of good taste" (Holm, 1998).

This then is the original source of "can-opener smoothdream". It was invented by an ichthyologist in 1990, and has seen little to no use outside of how bizarre the name is.

Maybe McAllister's goofier names will catch on. Who knows? They certainly aren't very popular in the scientific community though.

References

Holm, E. (1998) Encyclopedia of Canadian Fishes (review). The Canadian Field-Naturalist, 112, p. 174-175.

McAllister, D. E. (1990) A List of the Fishes of Canada. National Museum of Natural Sciences, Ottawa.

Pietsch, T. W. (2009) Oceanic Anglerfishes: Extraordinary Diversity in the Deep Sea. University of California Press, Berkeley.

#marine biology #fishes #can-opener smoothdream

[woodnrust]

What's with the people on Goodreads and being obsessed with fighting in the comment sections of reviews

#jelly.txt #like i saw this one review that just said smth like 'i didn't really like this one it was kinda bad' #and it was one of the top reviews because there were thousands of people in the comments going 'wdym by that' #or even ranting about 'how dare you give this extraordinary book a loe rating and refude to elaborate' brooo it's not that serious i prommy

[majorblinks]

DOWNRIGHT ICONIC (aespa karina)

(smut, male reader, screenwriter you, stranger karina, public sex, rough sex [choking/slapping/biting/spanking/hair-pulling etc], oral, anal, facefucking, titfucking, facial, bondage, degradation, name-calling, other weird stuff, 26k words, it's been 1 million years..., BUT WE'RE SO BACK BABY <3)

Hey, turns out the critics really are onto something:

You’re going to win an Oscar for this.

You aren’t surprised when the nominations are announced. It’s all anyone’s been talking about. You’re this up-and-coming screenwriter, this newly-minted visionary, and - cue the applause - you’ve just made the movie of the year. Clips go viral everywhere; the reviews are calling it extraordinary. They all want to know how you - a relative nobody - managed to pull it off. What’s your secret? What’s your inspiration? Where’d you get this billion-dollar box office idea? 

And here’s one version of the truth:

“Well,” you’re quoted saying in every single interview: “honestly, it’s about a girl.”

Everyone eats this up, of course. It’s so fucking romantic.

You’ll tell an abridged version of this story for the rest of your life. A blip in time in early January - a certified slow-motion movie moment. You’ll say things like she was the most beautiful girl you’ve ever seen. You’ll say things like, I know it sounds lame, but that’s how it went. She took my breath away. She fascinated me. I saw her and I don’t think my life has ever been the same. 

You’ll never once say her name. 

“It’s weird, actually,” you’ll say in an interview after the news of the nominations drops. “Making this movie about her. She’ll last forever there, you know? She’ll always exist in this film, in this one moment in time. She’s in all of it, basically - every scene, every line. It’s all her.”

“You make it sound like she’s dead,” the interviewer will say, all open-mouthed melodrama.

You’ll laugh. “Oh, God, no,” you’ll say. “She’s alive and well.” As if it hasn’t been years since you last saw her face, watching you from down the corridor, looking lost and torn apart and very, very small. “She’s okay. I mean - I think - yeah, she’s okay.”

As if you’d know. 

Because here’s another version of the truth:

You’re going to win an Oscar for this. You’re going to stand up on that stage and thank your family and your friends. You’re going to stare at all those faces until they swim together into one golden, glittering blur, and then all you’ll see is her - her dark eyes, her glossy hair, her wrist in your grip, her throat between your fingers - her in your sheets, her smiling in your doorway, her shivering in your shower, her sobbing into her hands, her bleeding in your bed, her walking away. Her, her, her. Immortalized forever in this perfect thing you made, winning awards off the reconstruction of a memory. Art imitating life; reality warped into something magnificent, and beautiful, and better. 

And the only thing you’ll feel like doing is throwing up. 

Sure, you’ll bask for decades in the thrill of it: the fame, the fortune, the glory; the adoration, the worship, the attention; the eternal, endless love. You’ll be able to look back on your life when you’re decrepit on your deathbed and know that you - brilliant you, utterly superior you - were divinely blessed with earth-shattering success, and no one will ever be able to take that away from you. You made your mark. You meant something. You were the best, for fuck’s sake, and you have the accolades to prove it - you really, really were. 

So here’s the full truth - the final bottom line:

You’re going to win an Oscar for this. You’ll live the kind of life people beg God for. You’ll get everything you ever wanted. 

It won’t be worth it at all. 

-

First, though, there’s this. 

-

Disturbingly enough, you’re in the romance section of a bookstore when everything starts. 

This is really not your genre - that’s the funniest part. Historically, you’re bored to death by the cartoonish pastel covers; you don’t get your kicks from seeing the same delightfully quirky heroines fall for brooding bad boys, or whatever the fuck goes on in those books. You have your standards. You prefer your art a little gritty, a little fucked up, a little more interesting - the kind of thing that can leave you shellshocked in a movie theater, overcome with the sort of full-body, lightning-struck epiphany only truly good work can manage. It’s not a judgment call - you’re not trying to be pretentious. It’s just that you prefer something with some fucking bite.

The second funniest part is this: 

You’re pressed against the shelves, surrounded by the cutest, chastest love stories ever told-

“Are you serious?” 

-and Karina’s on her knees, about to take your cock down her throat. 

Maybe this is what your contemporaries call cinematic irony.

That’s gotta be the only phrase for it, really. The scene itself dripping with classless, crude, erotic filth - the way she ducks her chin to spit on her hand, the slow pump of her fist around you, the rough hum in her mouth at how achingly hard you are - nasty and irredeemable, too fast and too loud. The gross lack of subtlety in her sex appeal: all pale thighs and porn-star tits, the wet pink flash of tongue. Seductive in a way that screams at you. It’d be so easy to write this off as some deliberately controversial opening scene, gory shock value, horror-film suspense - starring you and the slut you’re about to ravage and ruin and potentially leave for dead. 

“Baby - are you sure?” 

It’d be so easy, if Karina didn’t look like an angel incarnate.

“I mean, you-” You’re stammering. You’ve got both hands in her hair, fingers sliding through the glossy black in petting, soothing motions - your clumsy attempt at reassurance. “You don’t have to, if you don’t - we’re in public - I’m not expecting you to - I don’t need it-” 

Karina’s fine, sculpted eyebrows twitch upwards. Her lips are a twist of scarlet, distinct and amused. She doesn’t quite smirk, doesn’t give a voice to the sarcasm, but the sentiment is the same - yeah, right. 

And then she lowers her mouth to lick. 

“Jesus fucking Christ-” 

Scratch that, then. This is the funniest part. The most inhumanly beautiful girl you’ve ever seen, debasing herself in public like some sort of desperate common whore - come on, bring in the laugh track. 

Not that anyone’s laughing now. 

You’re no poet - they’re a few sections over, Plath and Yeats and Dickinson - but Karina’s the kind of thing that makes you understand the motivation completely: only capable of being captured in metaphor, without context, painstakingly interpreted hundreds of years from now by people who will never get this right. All carved-out cheekbones, fluttering lashes; tight fuckable body clad in a little low-cut dress, feet tucked neatly behind her like she’s simulating worship. Dirty and religiously devoted in how she stretches her full glossed lips around your cock and lets your grip tangle in her hair and- 

“Karina,” you get out, but her only response is to blink sweetly up at you and suck. 

Well, who gives a shit about the poets, anyway? You doubt any of them ever got to fuck a mouth like this. 

There’s an unfamiliar caution to the rut of your hips, a wincing fascination every time she gags - and she gags loud, choking and heaving, saliva dripping slick around you and down her chin - that seems to both entertain and confuse Karina. A skeptical crease in her forehead, saying everything she can’t: you don’t wanna fuck me up? Ruin me? Cloudy spit falling in strands to her tits, seeping into the crimson fabric of her dress; she’s wearing a worn black sweatshirt that’s slipping off one shoulder, exposing the clean line of her collarbone. The hollow of her cheeks, the obscene painful sound of your cock clogging her throat - it’s subtext, explicit suggestion. A preternatural understanding. I know what this is. I know what you want from me. 

Which - she couldn’t possibly. 

“Baby.” You sound so wretched that it’s humiliating. Karina’s sharply lined eyes seem to flash with humor, smug and lazily self-satisfied. “You’re gonna make me fucking cum.” 

The thick, sloppy, choked noise she makes is the closest she’s gonna get to a laugh. 

Oh, sure, whatever, it’s not like you’re not thinking about it: digging your fingertips into her scalp and really fucking her face, relishing in the way those eyes would go wide and glassy with unshed tears; refusing to let her have control, to let her lick and lap and breathe. You’re scripting it in your head already. You’d strip her bare and make her sob. You’d wreck her throat and cum all over her face and force her to walk out like that: coated in the sticky, filthy evidence of everything you’ve made her - look at this, you’d say, look at what I have. Look at what I did - all this, all me. 

“God.” Your thumb braces against Karina’s temple, like the gentle stroke of a brush, like you’re painting her right into existence. “You’re just-” A harsh gag; a fall of dirty, drooling spit. “You’re really enjoying this, huh? Getting on your knees in public for a fucking stranger?” 

That’s why the fantasy of fucking her into brutal submission is actually so understandable. You don’t know her. You don’t owe her shit. You could destroy her and it’s not like she could do anything to fight back - not when she’s already below you, looking up. When she asked for this. 

Except-

“Karina.” You can’t stop saying her name. “You’re - fucking perfect.” 

And it’s true.

So you cum. 

Karina swallows it all with the same amount of sultry grace she seems to do everything - how she laughs and walks and talks and takes your cock like a fucking professional - languishing in the practiced bob of her throat, the preening flicker of her eyelids, her face shiny and pale. It tugs the same feeling out of you as a flawless shot in a film, a well-timed bit of dialogue: watching an expert at work, pulling out all their stops. One hand through her hair. Her nails the same rich color as her mouth and her dress. Nasty, slutty, impressive attention to detail - Christ, get this girl in front of a camera, get the moon to be her limelight - you’re breathless, you’re enthralled, you’re so fucking far gone. 

Then: the sticky retreating glide of her pouty mouth, lipstick smeared badly down her chin, stark and arresting as blood. 

“In my experience,” Karina says, finally, “being perfect’s never gotten me anywhere good.” 

She pulls the sleeve of her sweatshirt up and wipes her face with her wrist. 

“You’re unbelievable,” you say, dizzy.

“Thank you,” Karina says, sweet like she means it, and sits back on her heels. 

You can’t help yourself; you’re petting back her hair again, cupping her face softly in your hand, caught on the dark glint of her irises. Angel was an understatement. She looks more than that - looks like something holy and all-powerful, something omniscient and blindingly beautiful, something who knows exactly what you need and knows exactly how to follow through. Something worthy of mythology. Something like a god.

And any sort of rough, ruthless, fucked-up fantasy - it’s never going to happen. 

You just can’t ruin a girl like her. 

“So?” Karina’s voice is a smoky bombshell lilt, like she’s just stepped out of some film noir from the 1950s. Hands folded primly in her lap, fingers interlocked like a lady. She could be a pop culture icon, an eternal sex symbol - a Marilyn, a Bond girl, a timeless universal beauty. “What now?” 

You think your brain actually short-circuits. “Sorry?” 

Head tilted, lids dropped low. Smirk still sharp and scarlet. “Are you gonna take me home?” 

You open your mouth to respond, but then a customer walks by the aisle. 

You’re a panicked flurry of motion - zipping up your pants, turning away, frantically patting down your clothes - but Karina just stays kneeling on the floor, little chin on an incline, utterly incriminating. It doesn’t matter. The customer passes you by. The world returns to the way it should be: just the two of you.

“Karina,” you say, flabbergasted by her composure. 

Karina’s lips quirk. “What?” 

You shake your head and offer your hand to help her up, but Karina laughs instead - actually laughs. It’s peculiar, beautiful: raspy like a chronic chainsmoker, as though there’s something foreign she’s trying to dislodge. The raw, gravelly aftermath of a skinned knee, a grisly scrape over skin. 

“Wow,” she says, and stands all on her own, tugs the sleeves of her sweatshirt over her fingers. “That’s a yes to taking me home, then?” 

“What are you doing?” You’re laughing too - you can’t help it - reaching for Karina’s tiny waist to pull her in. “What are you - what do you want?” 

When Karina smiles, it seems to set her eyes aflame. Bright and dancing, lashes like a shroud of smoke. “What do you mean?” 

“You just met me.” It sounds feeble, somehow: a thin, useless excuse. Nothing against the way her body slots between your hands, a smooth effortless fit; nothing compared to how she kisses you between sentences, so quick and easy it already feels like a habit. “You don’t - you don’t know me.” 

Karina’s mouth puckers, coy. “No?” 

“No,” you shoot back, grinning, but it doesn’t sound convincing at all. “Come on, baby, seriously. What do you want?” 

There’s gotta be some motive, you’re thinking. There’s gotta be a reason. Karina is so still, so soft and pliant under your hands, all the carved porcelain perfection of a marble sculpture but with none of the cold stiffness. Spine curving under your fingertips, jaw tilting into your touch. 

A complete stranger, maybe - but every part of her body is begging to be known. 

“Don’t you get it?” Karina says. “I want whatever you want.” 

It’s so simple and earnest it takes your breath away. 

“I - Jesus.” You’re biting on the inside of your cheek, drinking her in. “What if I told you I don’t know what I want?”

Another rasp of a laugh, sound like the serrated edge of a blade. “I’d say fine, okay.” Karina’s voice is low, conspiratorial. “But I’d think you’re lying.” 

And here’s the thing you know for sure:

The very second you saw Karina you swear you saw the next hundred pages of a manuscript unfurling in front of you, lines and themes and gorgeous dark-eyed heroines, tragically beautiful endings and stunning cinematography - infinite narratives in the glossy sweep of her hair, in the seductive stretch of her legs, in the way she looked at you in a crowded room and smiled a lovely, secret smile and told you she’d follow you anywhere. She’s worth making art about. She’s worth devoting lifetimes to. The most honest thing you could say to her right now is baby, I’m writing a movie about this one day, and I think you’re really gonna like it.

Karina couldn’t possibly know any of this, but it still feels like she does - impractical knowledge in how she loops one arm around your neck and kisses you again, no hesitation. Like she actually knows you. 

“I want to fuck you,” you murmur against her mouth, because it’s the next most honest thing. “Is that enough for you?”

You’re a screenwriter. You know your horror movies. A small part of you recognizes that this is precisely how they start: fanged vampires, wicked succubi, femme fatales out for blood. Karina’s so gorgeous she can’t be human - teeth so sharp there’s no way her intentions are pure.

“Sure,” Karina says, smirk glimmering like starlight. “Then I want that, too.” 

It’s a murder plot waiting to happen. 

You take her home anyway. 

-

(Oh, and about your Oscar-winning script-

In theory, this is how it begins.

It’s classic. There’s a stranger and there’s a beautiful girl and they’re both sitting at a bar, talking for the very first time. The girl has a rose tucked behind her ear; it matches the crimson color of her lipstick perfectly. The stranger had asked her what the deal with it was, but she’d said something vague and nonsensical about it being a gift, so now they’re talking about normal, average things. Jobs, names, flirtatious pickup lines. It’s obvious because it’s meant to be, like a set-up to some predictable porn - everyone watching knows they’re going to fuck. 

She keeps getting closer to him. At one point he thinks she’s going in for a kiss.

Instead, all she does is pluck the rose from behind her ear, and hand it to him. 

It’s okay, she says. No thorns. 

He stares at the rich furled petals and the whittled-down stem. 

Thanks, he says, amused, charmed. He thinks there’s something odd about her. He likes it, though; if she were as beautiful as she is - which is very beautiful, exquisitely fucking beautiful - and she behaved like most people do, he’d find her terribly boring. 

He takes it from her. Turns over the rose in his hands absentmindedly as she keeps talking. She’s got all this hair: wild and glossy black, pouring over her thin shoulders, her ribs, her tiny waist. After a moment he feels the sharp prick of a thorn against his fingertip and releases the rose in surprise. 

You said there weren’t thorns, he tells her, laughing. Ow. 

Whoops, she says. Then: Did it get me too? 

She turns her head, pulls her hair out of the way. There’s a scarlet bead of blood trickling down the side of her perfect pale neck. He can’t quite tell where the point of entry was, where the thorn had dug in and broken skin. It’s bleeding a bit too heavily. Covering its tracks. 

She swivels, slightly. She sees the look on his face. Is it bad? she asks.

No, he says, though he can’t really tell. But - couldn’t you feel it, though? The thorn? 

The girl presses her hand to the side of her throat. It comes back bloodstained, a neat smear of red along the lifeline of her palm. 

No, she echoes, though this can’t possibly be true. Hey, you wanna get out of here or something? 

Alright, he says, smiling. They both stand. They leave the rose where it is. Let’s go. 

He cups her cheek instead of her neck when he kisses her for the first time, so he doesn’t have her blood on his hands.

It starts simple like that.) 

-

Karina’s so out of place in your apartment that it’s almost laughable - or it would be, if you were capable of thinking about anything but her mouth and her hands and her tits crushed up against your chest as you pin her to the doorframe. She keeps making these little sounds into your mouth: low and throaty, almost agonized. You swallow all her moans off her lips - oh, baby, you’re okay - and you only kiss her harder. She doesn’t belong, among your carpet worn-down from pacing and your laptop still open and idling and the mess of incoherent colorful post-it notes pasted to your fridge. She doesn’t fit here. Here kissing your mouth, here in your arms, here on fucking earth with the rest of you heathens-

“You wanna fuck me so bad,” murmurs Karina, chin on an incline, staring up at you, “then do it already.” 

She doesn’t squirm or fidget; she doesn’t get needy or start begging. She stays pinned down by your body, lips parted, and stands completely still. 

It’s like she’s telling you to make your move. Waiting for something inevitable. 

“What happened to patience?” you say, anyway. 

Karina’s mouth curls. She palms your cock through your pants. “What the fuck is that?”

You try to laugh, breathless and turned on, but all she does is kiss you again.

You’re a creative - you’re ready to attribute meaning to every movement - but there’s nothing so profound about it when you get Karina on your bed, all that thick black hair fanned out on your sheets, her hands grasping to get your shirt off - off, she murmurs, off. Even that comes out measured. She never shakes. She’s so sure. You kiss her everywhere you can reach, her face and her neck and her collarbone and her tits, drunk on the soft, humming sounds she makes when you do. You’re so fucking gorgeous, you can’t stop saying, and Karina keeps laughing that same raspy laugh, like it’s the most hilarious thing she’s ever heard. 

“You told me you already know that, right?” You’ve got her face cupped in one of your hands and your other one at the neckline of her scarlet dress. “So what’s so funny?” 

“Everything.” Her teeth glint the way fangs would, a deliberate trick of the light. She’d be villainous if she weren’t so content to be trapped underneath you. “All of it.” She presses her palm to the side of your neck. “You’re too nice.” 

“Fuck.” Your thumb accidentally digs too hard into her cheek. She doesn’t wince, but you feel it - the stomach-turning thrill, the possibility of leaving a bruise. Your hand drops low - lower, down her throat and her tits and her flat midriff - and slips between her thighs, up her dress. It feels safer, somehow. “How do you manage to make the word nice sound like an insult?” 

“It’s not,” she says, simply, and spreads her legs. 

And it must not be - because Karina’s so wet. 

She makes another low velvety sound when you first touch her, seems to melt into the stretch of your finger in her cunt - just one finger, and her back arches faintly, prettily, hips lifting to take more. “Jesus,” you mutter, but Karina’s not looking at you: her eyes are shut tight, lashes fluttering black, tits heaving in her dress with each draw of breath. You’ve fucked girls who’ve seemed unsure of themselves - embarrassed by their own wantonness, how wet they are, how bad they want it - but all Karina does is wrap her hand around your wrist and tug, once: a clear soundless plea for more.

For a second you’re actually, positively certain that you’ve lost it. 

It’s abject fantasy. It can’t be real. You in your apartment with the dream girl - the personal Aphrodite - the muse; God, if anyone was ever made to be a fucking muse, it’s her - underneath you with her ridiculous tits and her tight little pussy, face like a Hollywood dream. Ludicrous. Impossible. Bucking as she tries to fuck herself deeper on your fingers, all the way to the knuckle - slowing down only to say you wanna fuck my cunt open with your big fat cock or what? 

“I,” you try to say, strangled - her mouth’s so fucking filthy. “I was - I mean - we could take it slow-”

“How romantic,” says Karina - and this, too, sounds like a heinous insult coming from her - but she drags your wrist to her lips and sucks her own slick off your hand anyway. 

You choke on your next breath. “Karina-” 

She looks up at you, unflinching, tits half out of her dress and cunt dripping down her thighs. Lipstick worn-down, kissed-off. All over your mouth, or your throat, or your shirt. Mouth chapped from the cold and stained marvelously pink. There’s something in the way her smile forms slight and crooked every time you say her name, as if there’s some private joke you’re not in on. 

“You’re such a gentleman,” Karina purrs, all syrupy-sweet condescension. Then: “You really don’t have to be.” 

She licks the pad of your finger. She’s so completely shameless. You feel monstrous on top of her, in this sick, superior way, like she’s just too small to be so sopping wet and slutty and fuckable - too beautiful to be anything but treated just right. 

“If you want me to fuck you like a whore, baby,” you tell her, half-joking, “then just say that.” 

It’s a mistake the moment it leaves your mouth - a line crossed. Because all Karina does is cock her head, your wrist gripped delicately in her hand, her legs parted underneath you, and stares. Almost droll, bemused. Like you’re so goddamn predictable.  

“Didn’t you hear me?” That perfect face sears right through you. You’d nearly fucked that face. Not quite. Not yet. “I want whatever you want.” 

She’s even tinier than you originally thought she was. You only realize this now, tracing her stomach under your fingertips, feeling the sharp relief of each rib straining beneath her skin. You don’t know it until you touch her, but you can span the width of her thigh under one hand. It sends a strange shiver through you: mapping every jut of bone, every startling edge. She’s tiny. Breakable, practically. Men meaner than you have probably thrown her around, fucked her up against walls, used her like a toy. 

“So,” says Karina. “What do you want?” 

Your fist clenches tight in her grasp, right in front of her face, knuckles going horrifically white.

Like you - like you’re going to-

An accident. A primal sort of gesture, like you’re less than human, turned under her touch into some feral hot-blooded animal who can’t control itself: carnivorous, predatory. You stare at your own hand and then the sharp scythelike curve of her mouth and feel revolted embarrassment crawl straight up your spine. 

It’s abhorrent. 

It also doesn’t even seem to matter.

Karina doesn’t go wide-eyed and nervous; she doesn’t look at your wound fist like she’s scared of what it could do to her. She clicks her tongue, once. Like this, too, is something she already saw coming.

“I thought so,” she says, anyway. Maybe this is it, what does it for her; looking the devil full in the face and begging to be burned. “Then do it.” 

“I can’t do that to you,” you mutter, but you tug her dress up, and you fuck her anyway. 

-

She’s a stranger. This is the point of fucking strangers. To do things to them that you’d never do to anyone else - to take out your worst impulses and tell your best lies and know that none of it matters, in the end. Because they’re nobody, and because you’ll never see them again. 

But you just can’t. 

She’s too indulgent and stunning and soft, with her low moans and the addicting drenched heat of her cunt, hand gentle and careful on the nape of your neck so she can keep pulling you into a kiss. She’s made up of curves, delicate edges - those hips and those tits you can’t keep your hands off of and her lips in a dreamy smile - and you find yourself stroking her hair back from her face so you can drink it all in: the blush in her cheeks, the almost serene way she lets her eyes slip shut and her mouth drop open, slack and enticingly wet. So good, baby, you keep telling her, because she is, her entire body warm and wanting and so easily fucked open, little pussy swallowing your cock right up. She doesn’t fidget or plead. She’s so sweet, such a perfect fit, humming into your mouth as your cock eases her open; so wet you can hear it, the sloppy squelch of her cunt when you bottom out. Your voice comes out coaxing. You like that? That feel good? Taking my cock so nicely, huh?

“Mmm,” Karina breathes, in an exhilarating moan, right into your mouth, against your tongue. “Mm, mm-”

She never quite manages full sentences. Never finds it in herself to make any more obscene demands. Just gets all small and soaking underneath you, licks messily at your bottom lip, and lets you do all the talking - lets you draw a careful hand through her hair and drop your other one between her thighs, clenches tight around your cock when you rub at her clit, keens low in her throat and listens. To the good girl, to the I got you, baby, to the that’s it, there you go, this is what you wanted - I know, honey, I know, you just needed to get this cunt fucked right, you just needed to cum real bad. I know what this is. I know what you need. 

“Fuck.” She’s flushed pink to her chest, delightfully ineloquent. “Yes-” 

Well - good thing you’re decent with your words, when it counts. Let Karina blush and drool and slick up your cock with every stroke. That’ll work just fine with you.

It’s the kind of juxtaposition you’d really lean into - the kind of thing you’d write just to get so self-indulgent with, a personalized note to the director, a wink and a nudge to every audience member. Look at that. Look at her eyes like something straight out of poetry. Look at her body like a pornographic fantasy. Look at how she gets so tamed and docile and compliant when she gets her tiny pussy stuffed full, creaming all over that cock, huge tits bouncing - look, that’s art, isn’t it? What else would you call it? What else could it be?

“You gonna cum, baby?” She’s so fragile underneath you. Color staining her cheeks apple-red; lips swollen and begging to be kissed. Fictive little fairy tale. “You gonna cum for me?”

“Yeah.” It’s breathy and barely-there. Her chin trembles, jerks in a weak nod. “I’m - I - fuck-” 

See: you just can’t rough her up. It’d be blasphemous. Sacrilege. Taking one single look at the stained-glass windows of a church and tearing it all to the ground.

Still, you’re mesmerized by how utterly vulnerable she looks: the glossy shine to her irises; the way she inhales all slow and shaky, body slipping from some sort of precipice. Not just like she’s near-tears, but like she’s stunned - struck dumb from a violent blow, mouth wide open in the aftermath. And it’s just sex - and, fuck, you’ve said it, you see things the way every obsessive artist does; sex is never just sex. Every one thing means something more. A metaphor. An allegory. You get nasty and debauched and dirty because you know exactly what you can spin it into. Put the entire scene in a silent film and everyone can swoon about the things you might be saying to her, this impossibly captivating stranger in your bed with her graceful name, her dizzying moans, her shuddering frame in her orgasm. Don’t you get it? you could be telling her, hand brushing gently over her sweat-damp hairline. Don’t you feel that? You’re a stranger to me, baby, but you don’t have to be. There’s a reason we met. There’s a meant-to-be here, somewhere. I’m not a believer, sweetheart, but you could make one out of me - I swear you could, I promise-

But that’s the reason why these things are best left to the imagination, anyway. 

A million scripted sweet nothings - and none of them manage to make it out of your mouth. 

“Karina.” Your hips jerk hard. You sound half-possessed. “So pretty, cumming all over my cock like that. Such a perfect little cunt, baby - so fucking good-”

Her eyes suddenly shut tight; her body arcs into your touch, lips parted in a silent gasp. And for a second it seems like such a snapshot of innocence, like she’s brand-new to getting fucked quick and rough and dirty - though you know this can’t possibly be the truth, not with the way she flirts and whines and drips for more like she’s made for it - but she’s trembling under your fingertips, and you can dream. She’s your beautiful stranger, your pristine muse; you can pretend she’s whatever the fuck you want. 

“God,” Karina murmurs, so soft and weak it makes your head spin. 

Before you know what you’re doing - before you can even think twice about it - you’re pulling out, and cumming all over her stomach. 

You can’t help it. You shouldn’t have had that thought about innocence. Jesus. This is what you mean, about you and your own painful humanity; you’ve got all the same vile desires. When you see a pure thing - all that porcelain skin, all that thick glossy black hair, all those gleaming white teeth in her open mouth - your very first instinct is to fuck it up bad.

You’d do worse, if you were worse - you’d make a real fucking disaster out of her. 

“Baby,” you say, breathlessly. “Are you…”

And Karina, then, does something truly evil: 

Sighs luxuriously, stretches her arms above her head, eases those gorgeous eyes open, and smiles. 

As if she’s reveling in it. The scent of sex - the defiled tautness of her tummy - the way you’re not sure where her little red dress or her shoes or her panties are, how her cunt’s dripping wet onto your sheets, her hair a glorious mess. Grinning in the face of utter filth. 

“You,” you exhale, running your palm down her side. “You’re so…” 

Karina’s mouth pulls up at a corner, like she’s daring you to finish the sentence, but you never do. 

You can’t stop staring at the stretch of cum-covered skin before you. Coating her belly, pooling into her navel. You realize with a start that there’s a new bruise blooming on her chest, a vicious sort of bite mark. You can’t remember when you did that. You’d been kissing her - of course you kissed her - her mouth and her neck and her tits, but you’d been so gentle, sucking light and soothing her skin with your tongue after-

“You didn’t want to cum inside me?” Karina asks, hoarsely. 

You blink so hard your vision blurs. “What?” 

“Right.” Her eyeshadow’s smudged dark underneath her eyes, making her look deliciously used up. “You did want to cum inside me.” 

“Karina,” you warn - or, at least, you mean to make it sound like a warning - but her name comes out too faint. It’s horrific. Your hand traces her hipbone so reverently. You’re no match for her. 

Karina arches a brow in unhurried challenge, ghosts her hand across her tummy. Takes two fingers and drags them through the cum you spilled, pulls back with it clinging thickly to her skin. Drifts down, down, down. 

“Karina,” you try to say again, even more pathetic than last time. “Jesus-” 

But you saying her name holds no weight here; she’s made that more than obvious. Nothing to stop her as she smears her cum-slick fingers across her glistening pussy, gaze locked amusedly on your face, tracking your reaction. She’s still so fucking wet - she rubs your cum in circles across her clit - tossing her head back a little, chest heaving and falling, fingertips just barely dipping inside her cunt-

“I can’t.” Karina lifts her hand to pop her fingers in her mouth, sucks them clean. Pointedly flashes her too-sharp nails at you like she’s unsheathing claws. “If you want it, you’re gonna have to do it yourself.”

“You,” you say, though your hand’s already pressing hard into her ribs, “are fucking cruel, baby.” 

“And you,” replies Karina, head tilting, “just want to see my cunt all filled up and leaking your cum.” 

Oh, she hasn’t been wrong about you all night. She certainly won’t start now. 

“What?” A sly, languid smirk tugs at her lips. “Afraid you’re gonna knock me up or something?” 

Your breath halts right in your lungs.

You’d been right about her too, it seems. Succubus. Vampire. She must be; she’s bloodthirsty. Tits gleaming with sweat, the scarlet stain of that bite mark you can’t remember leaving, cunt all dripping wet and desperately empty - body like a fatal fucking blow. 

Karina’s eyes glint. I want what you want, she’d said. 

With the way she spreads her legs, she’s gotta be ready to prove it.

So you never stood a chance. You give in and scoop up cum with one finger and sink it deep inside her aching cunt, feeling as she clenches down, as she takes it so well; like a good girl, you tell her, letting me do whatever I want with this needy little cunt; that’s my good girl. Karina lifts her hips - goes so still and so obedient - and lets you repeat it over and over again, fucking into her with your fingers until the plane of her stomach is bare and sticky and her cunt’s dribbling your cum onto your sheets. It’s completely nasty. It’s hot. It’s Karina craning her neck back and shutting her eyes as you bury three fingers inside of her and fill her with your cum, every part of her in utter surrender, entirely at your mercy, breathing out hard through her nose until your thumb rubs at her clit and she’s cumming again, all over your hand. She gets this look on her face, afterwards - exhausted, every line of her face gentle and lax - staring up at you like you’re the only person still left on this planet. Adoring, almost. As if you’re something out of another world. 

It’s an expression too sweet for a scene like this - and it’s exactly what men like you make art about. 

“There,” you say, soft and mesmerized, wiping your hand across her chest. “Satisfied?” 

Karina laughs her strange, gravelly, gorgeous laugh. 

“No,” she says, shamelessly. “But that’s not your fault.” 

Your fingers curl around the curve of her jaw. “No?”

She barely looks like she belongs in your bed - she must be something divine, lit from within, god-blessedly gorgeous. She’s a fucking fever dream: stunning eyes and the bob of her throat and her tits and her curves and all that hair. Stay, you think of telling her. Let me see what I can make of you. I don’t know you yet but I could, baby, I really could. 

“Nope.” Karina smiles, and somewhere, soliloquies are writing themselves. “I always want more.”

“Okay,” you say, mouth hovering over hers. “Then stay.” 

-

So she stays.

-

(An update on your script:

The stranger and the girl are back at his place. They’re sitting on his couch. Nobody has cleaned off her neck. He’s been too busy pawing at her: at her face, between her legs, at her tits in her tight dress. I need you, he’s been murmuring to her, and it feels like he really means it: like he’ll die if he doesn’t get her desperate and whining underneath him, his cock stretching her tight little cunt wide open. He doesn’t feel too bad about it. She’s a dirty slut. She’s said as much. She’s got her own needs, too. 

What happened to your window? she asks, suddenly.

He pulls back from her chest, his spit clinging shiny to her skin. 

She isn’t looking at him. He has the sudden, unnerving feeling that she hasn’t been looking at him the whole time. Not like she’s had her eyes closed in blinding, overwhelming pleasure - but like she’s deliberately been trying to look at anything else. 

But his hand falls between her thighs, and he realizes she’s already wet. 

A bird flew into it, probably, he says. That happens, sometimes. 

They’re talking about the stain on the once-clean glass of his window. The backdrop of the night sky behind means it’s barely visible, but the suggestion of it is enough. Implicit gore. Tiny little black feathers, caked in blood from the impact, dark and dried. It’ll be scrubbed off soon enough, he knows. It’ll be all gone eventually. 

Oh, she says. She doesn’t apologize for potentially killing the mood. She hasn’t, anyway, not really. She’s still wet and small underneath him, begging for it. Poor thing. 

Yeah, he says. 

She turns back to him. Her hair’s everywhere, all over the arm of his couch, wayward strands beneath his fingers. She’s clearly expecting something - to be kissed, to be fucked hard, to be called baby and angel and good girl. It doesn’t really matter either way. Those are the only things he can give her. 

He stares at the blood on her neck. 

Let me clean that off for you, actually, he says, and goes to the kitchen to get a washcloth.)

-

Much, much later:

“I admire you,” Karina says, all tucked up in your bed, underneath your sheets, half-buried into your side. Moonlight bleeds into the room. Her eyes gleam like galaxies. “For showing some self-control.” 

“What?” 

Karina’s hair pours over your pillowcase. She takes your hand and brings it close to her face, working your fingers into a tight fist. 

“Fucking bitch,” you mutter, and then regret it immediately. It lands too harshly, too strange and serious. “Sorry. I didn’t - that came out weird. I don’t think you’re a bitch.” 

Karina’s lips brush your knuckles. “Not the meanest thing I’ve been called.” Her voice twists with humor. She shouldn’t be so comfortable curled up with a man she doesn’t know in the middle of the night. You think of kissing her hard, of scraping her neck with your teeth, of warning her about self-preservation - sweetheart, you could tell her, this is how people end up dead. “Not the meanest thing I’ll be called, either.” 

You shift. Your fist, unconsciously, goes tense in her hand. “What’s your deal?” 

Her mouth tilts. “What’s yours?” 

You huff out a laugh. “You’re unbearable,” you say softly, which feels much kinder than calling her a bitch. “What are you - what do you mean?” 

I’m not hard to figure out, you want to tell her. I’ll let you in if you ask me to. But you - you, you imagine saying, cupping Karina’s face in your hands and saying her name like you’re praying to her, drafting scenes in your head with each whispered syllable - you. Look at you. I’d fill a thousand pages trying to find a way to understand you. 

“If you want to hurt me,” Karina says, “then hurt me.” 

Your throat dries up. Your fist falls open. “What?” 

“I wouldn’t blame you.” Her voice is matter-of-fact. You see her tongue dart over her bottom lip, the slick glimmer of spit. “If that’s what you wanted.” 

You stare at her, hard. 

It’s not difficult to make out her silhouette in the dark; she’s illuminated so distinctly by the moon, like it’s her own on-set spotlight, professionally arranged - she’s got the cosmos calling her shots. You think about how careful you’d been with her: doing what she wanted and making her cum and kissing her like you have history and maybe fucking her like you love her, just a little.

You think about that bruise you left on her chest, her skin between your teeth, the feeling of biting down. 

“It’s not,” you say, and the lie tastes acrid in your mouth. “It’s - it’s not, Karina.” 

“You fucked my face in public within like an hour of meeting me. And fucked me and came on my stomach. And fingered your cum inside of me.” It’s far past midnight. She sounds more alert than she should. “You’re gonna start being polite now?”

It sends an odd knot to your gut, the way she puts it. Equating all of that to hurting her. Laughing in the face of your clenched fist - not because she thinks you won’t do it, but because she knows how bad you want it. 

Hurt me. She says it like it’s so easy. Fuck me. Let me stay the night. Hurt me; you’ve earned it. 

“I’m not polite.” The truth doesn’t taste much better. “I just have, you know, common fucking decency.” 

“Hm,” Karina says, a nonchalant little noise, and nothing else.

You brush her hair off her neck and your fingertips graze the hollow of her throat. You feel her swallow under your touch. You open your mouth, though you’re not sure what you’re about to say - Karina, like a chant, like she’s consumed you in a matter of moments, Karina - but she shuts her eyes delicately, and curls close to you, and just like that the moment is over. 

I have common decency, you’d said. I won’t hurt you. I promise. I can control myself.

So maybe you weren’t right about everything. You’re not the devil. That’d be a delusion of grandeur - the idea that you’d ever have that kind of power over a girl like her. 

Not for long, she’d replied, in the knowing tilt of her smile. Not if I can help it.

-

In the morning, it’s a picture of crime-scene proportions. It takes a little work to piece it all together.

Karina’s not in bed when you wake up, but there are traces of her everywhere - telltale, incriminating bits of evidence. Strands of her hair on the pillow. Blood-red lipstick stains on the fabric. Her crimson dress crumpled on your bedroom floor, sporting a tiny tear in the hem that you don’t remember leaving; you can still smell her perfume all over your sheets, like a calling card. If this was a TV drama - a clichéd police procedural - she’d probably be dead in your living room right now, blank-eyed and beyond saving, rigor mortis deforming her perfect body into something grotesque. 

This is also probably not a thought you should ever relay to Karina, but you do anyway.

“Sorry to disappoint,” she replies. She’s perched on your kitchen counter, dressed in one of your t-shirts, bare legs swinging. “I’m very much alive.”

“I was being dramatic,” you try to say, gesturing with your hands to set the scene - the lighting, the fake blood and the special effects, the potential pallor of her face. “I’m - I’m a screenwriter. It’s in my nature. I didn’t mean I wanted to find your fucking corpse out here-”

“It’s okay if you did.”

You choke. “What?”

“I’m right with you, babe.” Karina leans forward conspiratorially. There’s a sharpness to the dark glint in her eyes that kind of makes you think she really does understand: that she has the same tendency to jump to the worst possible conclusions. A kindred, morbid spirit. “I get it. I’m pretty devastated that I’m still breathing, too.”

She says this all in a scratchy, sultry voice, hoarse as though she’s been sleeping for years instead of hours. Lashes fluttering like she’s just told you something very adorable and sweet.

“God,” you say, desperately charmed, and laugh until you feel light-headed. “You’re sick.”

Karina’s mouth curls. “Right.”

“I’m serious.” It’s surreal: her wearing your clothes and sitting on your counter like this is an everyday occurrence, indulging every fucked-up thing you say to her. Maybe you’re still caught somewhere in a dream, just waiting to wake up. “You’re, like - not normal.” 

“Hey.” A light, careless shrug; her palm rests over the back of her neck. “No arguments here.”

You rub a hand over your eyes, smiling like an idiot, and take a breath. 

It’s late January, and cool sunlight drips into the room, over your furniture and your floors and the angel right in the middle of your kitchen. It should wash her out, blur her at the edges; it doesn’t even come close. Turns her to a freeze frame instead, carefully color-graded, every hue just a bit too intense: skin ghost-pale, lips pouty and pink, hair jet-black and tangled to her waist. Your shirt hangs off of her slender frame like it aims to swallow her up. You thought you’d been stunned by Karina before, lulled by the late night, the electric rush of touching her - you’d assumed you could blame it on the alcohol, the slutty dress and the sultry makeup and the long-held habit of artistic romanticization-

But it’s nothing compared to seeing her now. 

Karina crosses one leg over the other, and waits as though expecting a rating: to be starred out of five like a film. 

Face scrubbed clean. Bone structure a study of faultless symmetry, delicate in a way that feels both inhuman and invulnerable. She’s so classically breathtaking - a miraculous second coming of a tragic, iconic movie star, a phenomenon back from the grave; jaw and nose and mouth all clean lines, aesthetically precise art - but God, those eyes. Enormous without the thick liner, suggestive only of impossible innocence. Like some darling baby animal, some long-lashed lamb to the slaughter - something pristine and completely untouched. 

The morning after, the direct light, the exposed behind-the-scenes - she’s still beyond beautiful. 

And somehow she’s still here with you. 

“That’s insane, by the way,” you say, unable to stop yourself. “That you stayed.” 

There’s a loud cracking sound. 

You squint, disoriented. “What-” 

Karina blinks at you, wide-eyed; her jaw shifts. The sound echoes again, startling and sudden. “What?” 

“Are-” You step closer. “Are you chewing on fucking glass or something?” 

“Or something,” Karina replies, smile’s tiny and closed-off. She gestures to the cup next to her. “It’s just ice.” 

She’s so calm watching you approach her. You’re waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the freakout, for the breakdown - or, at the very least, the scrambling excuses before the walk of shame. Here’s the truth: she doesn’t know you. Here’s an even worse truth: judging by her hickey that looks like you might’ve tried to rip her throat out earlier, she’d have every right to take one look at you and run. 

Karina doesn’t do any of it. Just raises her cup to her lips and tips it back, the arc of her neck so inviting. 

“That’s so fucking bad for your enamel.” You’re laughing again. You’re in front of her now, settled between her legs. “You’re gonna break a tooth.” 

Karina sets her glass down. Wipes the corner of her mouth with her wrist, eyes locked amusedly on yours - heavy-lidded enough to seem lazy, but pupils blown enough to be a siren call, a deliberate suggestion.

“Oh, no,” she says, all smoky sarcasm. “Who’d ever want me then?” 

She parts her thighs the second you touch them; her body’s so obedient under your fingertips, like a doll’s, something to be dressed up and posed and played with. Daring you to do everything you’re already thinking about doing. 

“You’re ridiculous,” you murmur, and give in completely.

So:

Look, you know exactly how the movies would frame this. Pandering to the wide-eyed teenagers and hopeless romantics; adding the swell of strings every time your eyes or hands or lips meet, each motion accompanied with unsubtle cues - there’s the meet-cute, there’s the moment, there’s the love-at-first-sight. It’s ridiculous to drag any of that into your real life, of course. It’d be like believing in God. Giving up logic to put your faith in something silly and mythic and implausible - to follow true love like a religion, expecting it to save your soul; to pray to the one like a healing property, a benevolent higher power. 

You can’t believe in that. You can’t. 

But-

Karina pulls back the barest amount, eyelids fluttering open like a new day dawning, and smiles when she sees the look on your face. So sweet and gorgeous; so struck and adoring. So comfortable wrapped up in your arms.

“Hi,” she murmurs. 

And - as though it’s some bone-deep instinct, saturating your bloodstream - you just have to kiss her again. 

Don’t you feel that? you think of telling her again, your hand slipping to cup her cheek - the sentiment always seems to come back around. You swear you can see scenes flashing behind your eyelids, the beginnings of a creative epiphany; it must be seeping through your fingers, staining her skin with ink, every possible action depicted neatly between brackets. A laugh, a look, a touch. A version of Karina projected across the silver screen to a wild, wanting audience. Don’t you see what you could do for me? What you’re capable of becoming? 

You can’t believe in any of this, but it’s gotta be something close. 

The feeling doesn’t end when the kiss does: only intensifies, made tangible somehow. Sculpted into the spit-slick curve of her lips, the flinty gleam in her eye. Like she feels it too. Like she knows. 

“And it’s not insane that I stayed,” Karina says, belatedly. “You asked me to.” 

For a moment you just stare at her, seconds from her mouth and speechless. 

It’s the truth without difficulty. It’s a confession with no strings attached. It’s the fucking dangerous way she says it - as if whatever you want extends to a lot more than sex. 

“And you don’t-” Your throat closes over a swallow; you find your eyes darting between hers, searching for anything but honesty. “You don’t think that’s insane? Doing whatever a stranger tells you to?”

Karina only laughs her strange laugh, gritty the way good music is, demanding to be heard.

“Nope,” she says, like this is all so simple. “That’s just what I do.”

It’s unbearably filthy in its implication - and it’s exactly what you need. 

The room seems to fill with potential, fantasies pouring in from the ceiling, enough to bloat any manuscript to its breaking point. You let out a breathless laugh, loud and unabashed. You think of pushing for even more, pressing your nails in and digging deeper - why me, why this, why now - but Karina leans in close before you can and slots her mouth to yours, and you’re no fool: there’s no line of questioning worth giving that up. 

Seems like you’ll have to come up with this character motivation all on your own. 

-

“Look at us,” she murmurs against your lips - meaning this very minute, the chemistry, how every glittering star must’ve conspired to get you here. “Kinda feels like this was meant to be, huh?” 

She’s clearly kidding, because it’s too soon and too fucking crazy, but-

Well, the way you kiss her then is absolutely your version of a yes. 

-

Here’s something people should probably know about artists like you:

You’re rather enamored with the idea of a magnum opus. 

It’s a natural thing to reach for, to visualize - the concept of your one great masterpiece. Something you can pour years and years into, water into roaring reckless oceans; time transforming the things you make into something worth remembering forever. Everyone you know - your sculptors, your songwriters - has their own version of this, somewhere. When I finally create this one perfect thing I’ll be - go on, fill in the blank. Fulfilled. Gratified. Happy. When I finally do this, I’ll feel whole. 

It’s strangely fantastical. A lifelong dream a kid would have - a childlike, storybook aspiration. 

Yours - as far as you’ve figured out - looks a little like this:

“It’s not as romantic as it should be,” you admit, now. “I’m not really into that as a theme. True love, I mean. Or optimism. Or hope. I want something more…” Something rougher, you mean. Something with pain. Something with blood and bruises. “Nuanced, you know? Complicated, messy.” 

“I get it,” replies Karina. She has her hands twisted in her lap, watching you very closely. You’re obsessed with the way she looks at you - like she’s drinking every word in with those smoldering dark eyes, greedy for more. For you. “All the best art is about pain, huh?” 

You snap your fingers, pleased to be understood. “Exactly.” 

Karina smiles, small and knowing, and gestures you on. 

In your vision, your magnum opus is always about a girl. Like you said, it’s the way it goes with all the best films ever made: not about love, but the futility of it lasting. Think of all the famed examples - think of the filmmakers and their obsessions, sneaking the great loves of their lives between each line: there’s something she said, there’s a dress she wore, there’s a conversation they had in the middle of the night, tangled up in sheets and whispering against skin. Your future muse will be just like that. A reincarnation of the infamous women who haunt all the greatest artists - an amalgamation of their bodies contorted into narratives and replicated in loving, graphic detail. Someone with skin like marble, a statue you could take a sledgehammer to. Someone who looks unfathomably pretty when she cries. 

Someone like-

“Uh-huh,” says Karina. She must’ve just gotten out of the shower before you found her, because her hair’s damp enough to have left wet patches on your t-shirt. She licks her bottom lip, once. “Sure.” 

Someone to be what you’ve always wanted: a flawless girl to fall from the sky into your lap. To fulfill your promise to yourself: when I meet her, I’ll know. I’ll be able to make this movie. When I meet her, everything will slip exactly into place. 

Karina cracks another ice cube between her teeth.

“So,” she says, low with insinuation. “When you told me last night that you found me inspiring…”

She doesn’t need to finish the question. She knows exactly what you want.

“You’re…” You shake your head. “You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. I saw you and I just - I felt like I knew. I knew. I wanted you.” You shrug helplessly, smiling. “Do you think I’m nuts?” 

She should, probably. You’re a total stranger, a practical lunatic, an artist talking of your visions like you’re possessed. You don’t know her - that’s the reality of the situation. You don’t know her. 

But then there’s everything else.

The unbelievable sex, the staying the night; the way she lets you touch her, blinking slow and subservient, like you already have a claim to her body. You think muse and you think in abstract concepts, glittering stars, guiding lights; you think of skin cut up and sewn together, of creators and their finest monsters, of the implicit poetry in the undoing. You think muse and you think of the way Karina smiles at you now, full lips and frail bones, a painter’s portrait reference. Unmoving, unafraid. Too otherworldly for your day-to-day but just right when she’s in your arms, like a trial-run demonstration: this is what we’re capable of. You could make it happen. You could make me fit.

You swear you’ve been dreaming of someone like her your whole fucking life. 

You think muse, and now you can only think of her. 

It’s a sign. It must be. And this, the next one:

“No,” Karina says, easily. “I think you’re just like everyone else.” But she raises an eyebrow, so you know it’s a joke. “I think you’re all the same.” 

You laugh, delighted; Karina’s smile widens, shows her teeth. “Shut up.” 

Karina acquiesces immediately - claps a hand over her mouth like it’ll keep any other words from escaping. It’s so adorable that you can’t keep yourself from pouncing, suddenly all over her like an animal: wrenching her thin wrist down, fingers threading through her hair, tugging her lips to yours as if you’ve been starved and she’s something to devour. She’s so cold, ice still melting on her tongue; even her body feels glacial, more porcelain than real. It drives you wild - the stunning impossibility of her. The desire to see it all reworked, unwound, shattered. 

“So,” you breathe over her mouth. “I can write about you?” 

“Babe.” Karina’s dark eyes sparkle, frozen-over streets in the mid-winter sun. “You can do anything you want with me.” 

That’s the whole point of having a muse, after all. Everything they are becomes yours. 

-

“But,” you can’t help saying right after: “you don’t have to be, like - concerned. About what I said. About art and pain. I mean…” You falter. You’re standing in between her spread legs now, thumbing the sharp curve of her jaw. “It’s fiction. I’m not that kind of guy in real life - I’m not going to hurt you.” 

Karina just stares at you, sentiment clear and unspoken. 

“Not like - not seriously.” You roll your eyes, laughing it off. “Not like that.” 

“Not like that,” Karina echoes. The hickey on her neck seems to flush redder every time you look at it - a photograph in a darkroom, developing. “But in other ways.”

Your mouth opens, but whatever defense you might’ve had gets traitorously stuck in your throat.

Karina laughs hoarsely, lets you trace her bottom lip with a finger. She seems to get the picture - that you’d love to see it bitten and bloody, but only ever in the name of art. There’s a kind of sick, sadistic beauty in destruction, battles waged and lost. She leans into your touch like she’s seen all the war films and knows precisely why they’re so well-loved. 

“For the record,” she tells you, arms looped loosely around your neck: “I look very pretty when I cry.” 

“Jesus Christ.” You’re smiling. She couldn’t be more perfect if you’d dreamt her up yourself. “Then I guess I’ll have to make it happen.” 

-

It’s like fate, probably. 

-

(Up next in your script:

The girl is standing in the stranger’s bathroom. She’s turning a little glass perfume bottle over in her hands when he stops in the doorway. He’s perfectly content to watch her; she’s the kind of beautiful that deserves to be observed, like some exotic wild animal caged between four walls in an elaborate exhibit, mildly unaware of all the attention. Her hair is messy; her head is tilted down. Unseeing. 

Oh, he says. That was my-

Except he doesn’t even get the rest of the sentence out before the girl whirls around, and the bottle slips from her hand and shatters on the floor. 

Jesus. The stranger jolts back. Jumpy. He’s not too concerned about the broken bottle; it’s not his, anyway. Why the fuck did you do that? 

Sorry, the girl says. She’s leaning rather casually against the counter, observing the glass covering the ground, the sickly-sweet smell of the perfume sticking to the tile. Honeysuckle and the sharp note of alcohol, rendered unrecognizable. You scared me. 

He looks down. A crystalline stretch of tiny little shards - if she tried to move she’d slice her foot open. 

No worries, he says. Hold on. 

He ducks into the kitchen to get a broom and when he comes back he stops in his tracks. There’s something slightly off about the picture in front of him. She’s small against the background counter, frozen, barely blinking. Everything about her looks suddenly frail, fair skin ghostly underneath shitty bathroom lighting, cheekbones gaunt and sunken-in, hair pouring ink-black in endless waves. A vengeful spirit. An incorporeal haunting. 

Did you…? he starts to say, thrown. 

She blinks, finally. Did I what? 

He pauses, reassesses. She’s gorgeous. She’s art. She’s vibrantly alive. 

Never mind, he says. 

It seems kind of like she’d moved, but he can’t tell. He forgets about it. She’s still beautiful and she seems okay and so he steps forward and clears the worst of the glass out of the way. 

It’s silly, she says, watching him. I used to know someone who wore that perfume. 

It was my ex-girlfriend’s, he says. She left it here a while back. I think it’s a common brand or whatever. Hey, let me help you. 

He’s very chivalrous about it, sweeping her off her feet, cradling her bridal-style across the possible remnants of glass. She laughs all the while, playing into it - a princess out of a fairy tale, being carried to safety by some gallant knight. But then he sets her down and cups her ass and says, You gonna pay me back for the property damage or what? and she laughs harder, because there’s nothing funnier than that: sweet moments turned filthy, a startling hairpin turn in intention. 

Or - conversely - a revelation of the absolute truth. Because what else could he ever want from her?

So she says, Yeah, sure, take everything, and leans in to kiss him.

It’s a normal kiss, mostly. It’s just that it begins pointedly erotic but seems to turn strange after a second, like he might be gripping her hair too hard, like she might be corpse-limp in his arms, like at any moment he could unhinge his jaw and sprout fangs and swallow her whole, cannibalistic, viperous. There’s too much spit and sound. There’s too much teeth and selfishness. It stretches on too long and lingers where it shouldn’t and overstays its welcome terribly - the score seems to fall off-beat, the lighting seems to shift dark and discolored-

But then the kiss breaks, and it’s over. 

When he pulls off of her she looks like the perfect picture of flushed contentment. Eyes half-lidded and lashes fluttering, her pouty lips swollen and rosy. Smiling like she wants more, like she wants it so, so bad. 

It didn’t get you? he asks finally, looking at her neck, thinking of thorns and pinprick pain and the rivulet of crimson that’d decorated her throat. The glass? 

No, she says. Don’t you wanna fuck me now? 

Oh, God, he says, grinning, and every other thought melts away into nothing. He likes how she doesn’t play coy. He likes how she’s smaller and has to tilt her chin up to look at him. He wants to fuck her, so he does. 

It’s excellent sex. The blood on the tile doesn’t really matter.)

-

Before you really start writing, there’s just one singular problem: you don’t know anything about her. 

“That’s not true,” Karina replies, right away. 

You open your mouth, then close it, because - okay, she’s not completely wrong. 

For about an hour now you just haven’t been able to stop talking to her. About anything, everything: your start into screenwriting, your favorite novels, your greatest inspirations, your neverending passion for eerie, erotic art. You can’t seem to shut up. And it would be bad - would be making you feel self-conscious right now, if it were anyone else - but it’s just not. Because it’s, well-

It’s you, you told her, thoughtfully, watching as the sun climbed higher into the sky, golden light grazing each scalpel-sharp edge of Karina’s body. You’re easy to talk to. Has anyone ever told you that?

Karina blinked at you. Tucked a strand of silky hair behind her ear and looked away, considering it. 

She has this way about her: this serene openness to her big eyes, her body language. Leaning back on her hands, humming and nodding and saying I get it, I feel that way too, I understand with such sweet sincerity that you can’t help but believe her. Like a Catholic confessional, a pristinely blank page - something you could pour hours and hours of words into that would never, ever complain. 

Yeah, Karina said, finally. She pulled one leg up to her chest; you could see the lacy black of her panties. I get that all the time. 

Just one of those people, huh? Her character was taking shape already. A vault for everyone else’s thoughts and ideas, cradling them between her fingers like something infinitely precious. A listener. Such a lovely trait; a perfect protagonist characteristic. An observer. 

Yeah. Her cheek rested gently against a knobby knee. Exactly. 

It’s something of an art study. You’ve been filing away these details about Karina since the moment you met her, unraveling her bit by bit.

She always seems to think deeply before she speaks, a sort of charming self-scripting, like she wants to make sure she gets every sentence just right. She makes silence seem like the most natural thing in the world. She doesn’t laugh nervously or blush or get embarrassed, ever. She’d mentioned offhand during one of your tangents about your most beloved movies that she tends to like films about gorgeous, dangerous, scarily self-possessed girls: Thirteen and Black Swan and Girl, Interrupted. She seems both intensely present and consistently lost in thought, there one moment and gone the next, her long-lashed gaze falling in and out of focus like a camera lens. A contradiction, you think to yourself. An enigma, even. Profoundly complicated. Not just a girl but something more. 

Art in and of itself, displayed deliberately on your kitchen counter, waiting to be understood. 

“No, you’re right.” Your fingers have strayed to your open laptop; you’re seconds from typing Karina’s name like a title, something you’ve created all on your own. “I know…”

You’re trying to think of something nonchalant to say and failing. I know you - the first instinct, somehow. I know you’re something brilliant and remarkable and new. I know I’ve never felt this way before about anyone. I know there’s something here, I know what I feel, I know what I want - you, you, you. 

Karina stares at the ice melting in her glass. 

Then she says, mouth tripping up at a corner: “You know I’m a world-class fuck.” 

“Jesus.” You laugh out loud, surprised. “Okay, yeah. That.” A pause. “And, obviously-” 

“Obviously,” Karina echoes, like she knows where this is going. 

“I know that you’re, like - outrageously fucking beautiful.” 

Karina hums once, letting the compliment wash over her, and turns to look out the window. 

You bite down on your lip - bite back all the other too-soon things you could say about her, threatening to claw their way out of your mouth - and go in on your script instead. 

It’s shockingly easy to write with her in the room. The details seem to stitch themselves together on-page, the restorative aftermath of an autopsy: sealing the slit chest cavity back up, prepping a corpse for an open casket, making something disconnected whole and beautiful again. You’d pulled these specifics from her like pulsing, throbbing organs - her tits, her tone, her tiny waist - and now all you’re doing is repurposing them. You know her body now. You turn stretches of pale, bruised-pink skin into prose, the curl of her little fingers around her thigh into dialogue. You imagine taking that perfect frame and picking it apart again, bit by bit; not just undressing her but peeling back layers of flesh, familiarizing yourself with the stark scarlet of her bloodstream. Until there’s nothing to hide and you can finally say it - I know you - and it’ll feel earned, and real, and honest. 

All very melodramatic, of course. It’s just the process: the natural consequence of being a writer. 

Your eyes trace the jutting protrusion of muscle in Karina’s throat, and you think about fucking her again. 

“Also,” you say, as though your earlier conversation isn’t long over. “I want to know-”

Karina makes a huffy, half-impatient noise.

You grin, gaze flicking back to her face. “What?” 

“You want to know more?” Her brows furrow in exaggerated confusion; her smile is absurdly self-deprecating. As if there’s anything she could possibly be insecure about. “You already got the two most interesting things about me, babe.” 

“Stop.” Your mouth twitches. “No way.” 

Karina’s smile stills in place, expectant. “No?”

“Come on.” Your hand slips from the keyboard to trace her knee. “I’m sure there’s all kinds of interesting things about you I haven’t learned yet.” 

The laugh she lets out is quiet and nearly secretive, legs parting to let you touch her. You’re already half in some faraway daydream, wondering if you can bottle the color of her eyes and turn it loose on the page.

“Okay,” Karina says, easily. She nudges your laptop away, scoots closer to you, her sharp chin pointed down at you. “Come and learn them, then.” 

“God.” As if that’s what you’re doing. Memorizing her body as some private education; taking her apart in a classroom dissection. “Can I - I’m trying to write, Karina. I’m being productive. I…” You’re shaking your head as though you’re not already giving in, fingers slipping up her thighs - she’s smirking at you like she knows it. “You’re fucking insatiable, you know that?”

“Then satiate me.” Karina’s head tilts, lids heavy. “Fuck me. Use me.” She leans down like she’s telling you a filthy, sordid secret. “Cum in me like I know you want to.” 

There’s something surreal about how certain she is: never tripping over her words or waffling over intentions, the most practiced actress you’ve ever seen. Every move - her tongue wetting her bottom lip, her hand sliding gracefully through her hair, her mouth forming a sweet little pout - all clean, choreographed precision. 

I know you, she says - like it’s earned, real, honest. Inexplicable, but there anyway. I know you want to. 

“Karina.” Her name comes out embarrassingly strangled. You’re pulling her thighs further apart, toying with the edge of her underwear. “You’re such a fucking - you’re so needy.” 

Her smirk sharpens even as you tug her panties roughly to the side. “I’m what?” 

“Needy.” 

“No.” She’s so wet - she’s probably seconds from dissolving into a whimpering breathless thing, begging to be underneath you, begging for more. That damn smirk is probably seconds from shattering completely. “What were you going to call me?” 

“Nothing.” You drag a finger down the slick drenched heat of her cunt.

“A slut.” Her voice is a purr, gravelly and sensual. “You think I’m just this fucking slut who needs your cock all the time, huh?” 

But it’s the kind of question that you already both know the answer to. Karina takes your finger-fucking so well, hips raised and rutting, hair cutting across her cheekbones - seems to give herself over to desire so fucking easily, with her whole body, back arching and neck craned and hot little cunt a sloppy mess. Never puts up a fight, never demures or acts shy; never says wait or don’t or stop. Only spreads her legs, and drips down your hand, and waits to be fucked good and hard.

And - hey, there’s one dirty word for a girl like that. 

“Well.” You raise your eyebrows at her: a challenge. “Are you?”

It’s dangerous. This is all dangerous. Stumbling down a treacherous path, asking a stranger something like this. Are you what I think you are? Do I know you? Do I really? 

Karina makes a low, luxurious noise at the stretch of your fingers in her cunt, buried to the knuckle. 

“Sure,” she says - and the gleam in her eye tells you she knows exactly what she’s getting herself into. “I’m whatever you want me to be.” 

-

So, it’s possible this is really the most interesting thing about her: she’s the kind of girl who never says no. 

-

That scene goes down how all scenes should:

“Fuck, fuck, fuck-” 

Karina’s choking out curses like she can’t recall any other words, head lolling back to expose the pretty bob of her throat. You thrust deep right then and she lets out a sound like an aching gasp, like you’ve doubled down with a fist to her gut, like you’re knocking the the air right out of her; you might as well be - oh, she moans, like she could be in shock or awe or pain - with the way you’ve got one of her thighs pulled up so you can fuck deep into her tight dripping cunt. It’s not nice, not really. Her back keeps hitting your counter. You keep staring at her neck and her hair and her face: the faint flush of her cheeks, the flawless construction of her bones underneath - there’s so much unmarked skin - God, she’s so clean, it’s like she’s never been fucking touched-

“You gonna cum for me?” you murmur, voice coming out thick and half-animalistic. 

She has one hand curled around the back of your neck. She’s got those ridiculous clawed nails on her but she never presses down. Her pussy can’t stop clenching around your cock but she takes it so well, lets you make room inside her little cunt, shuts her eyes and trips over her own breath as you force her spine hard against your counter over and over again. 

“Karina.” 

“Yeah,” she exhales, raspy and strained, as your cock stretches her out. “Fuck, yeah-” 

“Cum for me, honey. Cum all over my cock - oh, there you go, good girl-” 

It’s hypnotic. The tiny bitten-off sounds spilling from her ice-cold mouth - that small pristine face and all that hair tangled to her waist, just available to be knotted and tugged and fucked all the way up - Karina clings to you when she cums, and you feel so much bigger than her when she does, like you’ve got her sloppy and open around your cock and you could do anything to her, that’s what she told you, and even if she hadn’t, it’s not like she could stop you - she’s gorgeous but she doesn’t have it in her - she’s just too fucking delicate-

It happens too fast to process. 

One minute you’re buried inside her pussy and the next Karina’s on her knees, on the ground, and you’re jerking your cock until you’re cumming all over her. 

It’s obscene. It’s fucking inevitable. Thick ropes of creamy cum coating her forehead, her cheekbone, her nose and mouth and getting all in that hair-

Her hair. You don’t realize how hard you’re gripping her hair with one hand - balled in a brutal fist at the back of her head - until you disentangle your fingers from it and Karina sinks to the floor like she’s just been cut loose from marionette strings, breathing fast and hard. She doesn’t even say anything: doesn’t comment on the fact that you’d just shoved her straight to the ground or complain when the head of your cock smears cum across her jaw. Doesn’t even flinch when your cock slaps heavy across her cheek, at the indecent sound of the impact. 

You’re staring at her, open-mouthed. At her gorgeous, breathtaking, defiled face. 

Karina’s not looking at you. Instead, she’s preening in the most lewd, pornographic way possible: swiping her thumb through the cum streaking across her forehead, popping it into her mouth to suck. Halfway through she seems to remember you’re still in the room - seems to recall the value of a performance - and she redirects her gaze up at you, lids heavy, and smirks. 

“Did I…” you start, without knowing how the sentence will end. “Did I - was I-”

Karina lifts a cum-covered eyebrow. Her mouth’s an arresting pink, puckering around her thumb like it puckered around the cubes of ice, how her lips formed a ring around your cock back in the bookstore yesterday. She lets it slip free, shiny with spit. 

“No,” she says. “You’re good.” 

You can’t stop looking at the cum caught in her hairline. She’d been so fucking clean. 

You glance down and realize there are strands of black hair broken off in your clenched fist. 

Karina’s looking at her hair in your hand too, now, but with a sort of amused detachment. She stands shakily, using the counter for support. There’s cum all over her. Her knees are red from how hard she’d been pushed down.

“You’re so cute,” she tells you, grazing the side of your neck with her fingertips. “There’s no shame in being rough with me, babe.” 

“Right.” There’s an unnamed pressure coiling in your chest. “But - but you-” 

“Hey.” The word comes out in a rasp, and then Karina laughs, pushing the low hoarse lilt of her voice to its limits. She steps closer, angles her little cum-stained chin up at you. “Are you really gonna tell me you don’t like seeing me covered in your cum?” She’s tonguing the corner of her mouth. “Turning me into a-” her smirk pulls wicked; your next breath hitches so badly- “messy fucking whore for your cock?” 

“God,” you get out, because she’s winding an arm around your neck, and her pretty face is still sticky with your cum. “I-” 

“It’s what you wanted.” Karina blinks, in a show of such doe-eyed naïveté that saliva begins pooling hot in your mouth - like you’re feral, like you’re rabid. “Isn’t it?” 

You’re looking down again. Her knees are going to bruise. Black and blue, as if someone’s bullied her in the schoolyard, pulled her pigtails and knocked her to the asphalt. An echo of something teachers could’ve told her years ago: oh, look, he’s mean to you because he’s got a crush. It’s okay, really - he only hurts you because he likes you.  

“You like me like this,” Karina murmurs, dangerously low. “All sloppy and slutty for you.” Her gaze is trained on your mouth. “Marking me up.” Her hair slips from your hand. “Owning me.” 

Her name clogs your throat, cloying and candy-sweet. “Karina-”

Karina’s head tilts. “Yes or no?” 

She’s too close to you. She’s so filthily beautiful she seems somewhat alien, some kind of foreign invention. Her jaw is smeared with your cum and her flawless teeth shine like jewels and she’s like every creative vision you’ve ever had cut in clips and playing back in a movie theater, made to be scrutinized. 

“Yes,” you tell her, winded. “You’re fucking - you’re unreal, you know that?”

You’re smiling like it’s flattery, like it’s an exaggeration. Like she’s not living, breathing, visionary art. 

She smiles back, like she knows just how much you really mean it.

“So I’ve been told,” Karina says, and taps your neck, lightly. “Go make breakfast.” She shakes her hair out; some of it gets stuck to the cum on her cheekbone. “I’m taking another shower.” 

“Right.” You bite into your bottom lip, hand skimming down her side. “Go get clean.” 

“Clean?” She steps back and flashes a disbelieving grin, gestures pointedly at herself - her creamy thighs, her porn star tits in your t-shirt, her body like sex itself. Dirty by design. “Never happening.”

Some cynical part of you keeps waiting for a slip-up, some mistake in a masterfully crafted script - no one can be that gorgeous and still be here with you. But Karina moves and your eyes are hopelessly drawn to the disheveled curtain of her hair spiraling down her back, the sharp distinct lines of her calves, the flex of muscle in her thighs. Her hands, balled into little fists. She’s alluring as if manufactured that way: engineered to be perfectly bruisable, ruinable. It defies logic. It’s movie magic.

“Well.” You snort with laughter, swat at Karina’s ass as she turns to go. “At least you can try.”

You don’t even think she can help it - that’s the thing. It’s just what she was made for. 

-

“What would you have done if I said no, though?” you ask after a moment, as she wavers in the doorway. “Like - what if I told you I didn’t like you like this?” 

Karina shrugs.

“I would’ve been something else,” she says, and closes the bathroom door behind her. 

-

(Next:

The stranger and the girl fuck and afterwards he promises her breakfast and then he realizes his cabinets are bare, his fridge painfully unstocked. Sorry, he says, as she pokes around his kitchen. I don’t know how that happened. I usually have something to eat here, I swear. 

I don’t mind, she says. Her fingertips sweep his shelves. She seems fascinated by the emptiness, admiring the vacancy. Oh, wait, look. 

She finds a half-eaten jar of honey that she ends up scooping up crudely with her fingers, dripping sticky amber down her hand. He’d tell her that’s disgusting but she makes it - as she seems to make everything - into a pointed seduction, her tongue pink and wetly visible, her skin gleaming as she licks it off. It’s funny. He’d never thought it possible to turn eating into some sort of sexual performance but she manages it anyway: meets his eyes, sucks loud and lewd, smacks her lips and wipes her mouth with her thumb, ill-mannered and stunning. 

I can’t imagine that’s very filling, he says, delighted by her commitment. 

Yeah, well, she says. It’s a good thing I hate feeling full. 

But it seems like a moment of hilarious irony when ten minutes later he’s got her bent over his kitchen counter, tits pressed punishingly to the flat surface, honey stuck to her neck and collarbone as she’s fucked hard again and again, stuffed with his cock, his fingers everywhere, like her own body barely even belongs to her - all mine, he keeps saying, and means it; you’re all mine. All filled up. Overfed. Bursting. 

Sex is a manner of consuming, it seems. He might as well be eating her alive.)

-

“Do you do this a lot?”

Eventually, it turns into one of those lazy Saturdays. An afternoon of sitcom plot points. 

It’s just so easy to fill the time, the space, the page - you tell Karina some inane story from your college years and she reacts in all the right places like your own built-in studio audience; she says something off-handed and enticingly vague and suddenly you have a new thread of dialogue to explore. You’re both sprawled out over your couch, Karina’s got her thighs tucked over your legs, wearing another one of your t-shirts, a fresh hickey bruising over her throat. There’s something delightfully domestic about it - like you’ve been doing it for a lot longer than you have, or like you could do it eternally if given the chance, holding all the silken comfort of an old routine. When you’d mentioned it - I kind of feel like I could do this forever - she’d laughed her scratchy laugh and said forever’s nowhere near as long as you think it is, babe. A perfectly cinematic line. You stared at her, leaned over, and added it immediately to your draft. 

“This whole…” You’re trying to elaborate now, staring at the blinking cursor on your laptop screen. Your knuckles skim her bare, bony knees. “You know.” 

“Eloquent.” 

“Shut up.” 

“I thought you were a writer.” 

“Karina.” You’re charmed by the drawl of her voice, the raspy roll of sarcasm. “I’m just wondering.”

Karina shifts in your lap. You’ve got one hand sneaking up the hem of her shirt - your shirt - skating up her tummy, her ribs. You’re probably about five minutes from snapping your laptop shut and pulling her on top of you and saying something crass about her tits and passing it off as a character study. 

“What do you mean?” She’s as close to clean as she can be. You made sure of it - licked the hollow of her collarbone earlier after she got out of the shower, tasted nothing but soap and skin. “Do I have a lot of sex with strangers? Or do I stay the night a lot after I have sex with strangers?”

“Both.” You think of taking her hair down, sifting your hand through it, wrapping the strands around your fingers. “All of the above.” 

Karina shoots you a look, fluttered lashes, suggestive understanding. You hear it without her having to say it. You want me to tell you that you’re special. 

“I’ve kind of been going through a phase,” she says instead, nonchalantly. 

Your eyebrows fly up. “A phase?” 

“I’ve been, you know.” She gives an airy sigh. “Trying to find myself in the big city. Running wild. Terrified of monogamy but being very brave and quirky about it. Sordid past with love and romance and general human connection. Doing the whole manic pixie dream girl thing.” Her eyes flick to your open laptop, abruptly too wide and innocent. “That sound about right?” 

“Fuck off.” It’s a complete non-answer. You run a hand past her stomach, laughing. “You’re fucking with me.”

“What?” Karina inches closer. “Isn’t that what you wanted? Your textbook rom-com love interest?”

You make a rather disparaging sound in the back of your throat. “Ugh.” 

“Oh, my bad.” Her mouth curls, contradictory. There’s nothing apologetic about her. “I forgot. You don’t believe in art about love. You wanna see broken people and broken people only.” 

“See?” You’re obsessed with her tone; all flirtation, some distorted version of come-hither charm. Talking of suffering like it’s a seduction tactic. “You get it.” 

Karina rakes a hand through her hair; her fingers fall to the back of her neck and linger there. She pulls herself out of your lap and turns, hooks one bare long leg over you until she’s straddling you. Your hands find her hips. You’re disarmed by her strange weightlessness, like she’s seconds from either shattering or taking flight.  

Then she asks, “Is that what you’re doing with me?”

It’s gotta be a very roundabout request to fuck her stupid, because she follows it up torturously: ducks her chin, parts her lips, rocks her hips down until you groan. You watch her throat, the way muscle works over bone, picturing unspeakable things: taking her by that pretty neck and pinning her to the wall, ripping your shirt right off of her with your fingertips leaving bruises - bending her over to fuck her fast and cruel until her cunt’s raw and aching and leaking your cum - until she’s begging pathetically, saying please, God, please - and you’re triumphant, victorious. Telling her you asked for this, didn’t you? You said anything. You said anything I want. 

“Depends,” you reply, when you can breathe again. “Are you a broken person?” 

Karina stops, moments from your mouth. 

“Depends,” she echoes. “Is that what you want from me?”

It actually takes a beat for the question to sink in. Then two, then-

“No,” you say, loudly. “Obviously not, Karina, Jesus. Why would I…”

You falter. 

Karina only looks back at you, patient, tolerant. Like if right now you said that’s exactly it: I want you broken, I want you ruined, I want you decaying and dead and buried, she’d smile and say do your worst. Flashing those white, white teeth, perfect like pearls, ready to be knocked right out and strung together. 

You blink the bloody vision away. “Why would I ever want that?”

Karina studies you for a second longer, expression indecipherable. 

“Okay,” she agrees, breezily. “Then I’m not broken. I’m just going through a phase, like I said. I don’t like being tied down.” Her shirt rides tantalizingly high up her thighs; her hand slips down to palm your cock. There’s a twist to her lips, a dirty sort of smirk. “You understand that, right?”

You stare at her.

“Right?” Karina prods, again, low and sultry. 

“Right,” you say, unable to fight your sudden smile. 

The pout of her mouth’s an inevitability; her little body in your lap’s a seductive form of foreshadowing. You dig your fingers into her protruding ribs, playful, and you don’t quite get the squeal of laughter you were expecting - all Karina does is curl closer, expecting more, expecting harder. She knows what you’re capable of. You’re both just biding your time until you cross the same line you’ve been crossing and you fall back into bed again.

“A phase,” you add, considering. It intrigues you, anyway - the casualness, the connotation. “So - I’m not special, then. That’s the moral of this story.” 

Karina’s fingers sift gently through your hair. “You wanna be special?”

“I mean, yeah.” Your palm falls to her neck, presses down. She doesn’t seem to mind. “Doesn’t everyone?” 

Her eyebrows rise in vague, unconvinced amusement. It makes sense: she’s the most special of all, a cosmic glitch, an angelic fluke. Someone like Karina wouldn’t understand the aching, clawing, consuming desire to be extraordinary. She’s already there. 

Your hand on her throat looks even bigger now, tendons straining from underneath skin.

“I think we all want to feel important,” you mumble, thumb grazing gently across her jaw. “Don’t you?” 

You’re pretty sure the wry, glittering smile that sits at Karina’s mouth is an answer in itself. 

-

Alright, forget your television metaphors - you’re not sure there’s any sitcom out there that goes quite like this.

“By the way,” you say, grinning against her hair as you pull her to the bedroom. “Did you say you don’t like being tied down?” 

Karina turns in your arms and doesn’t even flinch when you force her too hard against the doorframe and its edge smacks into her shoulder blade, digging in hard. You should apologize but you don’t; the possibility of her in pain seems laughable, a distant fantasy. This is how it goes, fucking a girl who looks like a god - your brain is convinced she’s wholly immune to hurt. The universe wouldn’t actually let someone so pretty bleed. 

“Oh, sorry,” she says, voice raspy with insinuation. “Let me rephrase.” 

“Karina,” you say, not really like a warning - more like you’ve got something to prove. This is real. You’re really here. You’re really this perfect, gorgeous, greedy thing. You’re really made for me. 

Karina only lets her lips tilt in a smirk, devilish and knowing.

“I meant that I don’t like commitment,” she says. “I love being tied down.”

She’s still smiling when you shove her through the doorway, across the threshold - across that same old fucking line.

-

Not that it makes a difference now, but one of the reasons you and your most recent ex-girlfriend broke up was because of what you’d both referred to as sexual incompatibility. Actually, there were about fourteen other things, too - she was a trainwreck and a textbook attention whore; you spent all your time writing and she took offense to the fact that you found your scripts more interesting than her - but the crux of the sex problem between the two of you was that she thought you wanted too much power over her. She seemed to assume that was the point of potentially tying her up and shit like that: to exert power. To put you and only you in control. To make her into this helpless little toy - and I hate that, she’d said, working herself into a fit, I hate feeling helpless. 

You hadn’t pushed her. You’d also tried to justify it in a number of ways. It isn’t about that. It’s not about control. I’m not trying to make you feel bad. But it hadn’t made a difference and she hadn’t believed you and you’d come to the reluctant, inevitable conclusion that that particular dream would never actually get fulfilled. 

Until-

“Look at you, baby.” 

Until now, when you’ve got Karina stripped bare and tied to your bed, thighs parted as you kneel over her, pretty little cunt glistening wet and tits heaving with every breath as she waits, and waits, and waits. 

Eyes half-lidded. Utterly fuckable. A curated collection of every salacious desire you’ve ever had. 

“You’ve been looking at me forever,” murmurs Karina, her tone still humorous, like the reason her voice is run so ragged is because she’s holding back a fit of giggles. “You gonna fuck me anytime soon?” 

To Karina’s credit, the idea of tying her up didn’t seem to bother her one bit. She’d let you knot her wrists to your bedframe and only grinned sharply when you asked her if it was too much. She didn’t seem to care about feeling helpless or feeling bad. Actually - judging from the wetness that collects on your fingers as you rub two of them over her cunt - it all seemed to turn her on either way. 

“You’re so fucking mouthy.” You lift your hand only to ghost it over her stomach, leaving a lewd shiny streak across her skin. “It’s like you want to be punished.” 

“Well, you put in all this work.” Karina yanks at the ropes tethering her wrists to the bedframe until they bite so severely into her skin that it turns white. “I’d hate to see it go to waste.” 

“Not a waste.” 

“No?” She’s got that seductive little smirk on, legs spread shamelessly, head back and throat bared. 

“Nope.” Your eyes rove down her body. “It’s a great view, actually.”

You’re shocked by the sound Karina makes, then: harsh and derisive, scratchy and painful, like she’s choking badly around some injury in her throat. You’re half-expecting her to turn her face and spit blood onto your sheets - all murder-scene evidence, horrifically vibrant gore. Coughing up her own vocal chords. 

It’s so awful it actually takes you a minute to realize that she’s laughing. 

“Karina?” you say, perturbed.

“Oh, please.” Karina hacks out one more horrid laugh. “Cut the shit.” 

You draw your hand back uncertainly. “What are you-”

“Come on, man.” There’s a glint to Karina’s gaze as she looks up at you: bored, mocking, infuriating. Irises flashing like the darkest corners of haunted houses, set-ups for a summoning; lashes like cobwebs, self-spun and delicate. “Fuck me or leave me alone.”

For a second you just stare at her, unmoving, something caustic and furious threading up your spine. 

And then-

Look, none of this next part is on you. You can’t blame yourself. It’s her - her tiny hands in tight clenched fists, tummy so flat it seems caved-in, hollowed-out; her own glimmer of slick smeared on her belly, physical proof of how desperately slutty she really is. The bruise on her chest; the one on her throat. Her goddamn eyes. Her lazy, lilting drawl, the exact matter-of-fact casualness she’d had last night when she’d told you to hurt her - fuck me or leave me alone. 

It’s so obvious what she’s trying to do - provoke a reaction out of you. It’s gotta be the only reason she’s talking to you like that. Like, what else are we here for? Like, what else could I possibly want from you? 

So - no, God, it’s not your fault. 

But-

It’s over before you can even think about it. Before you’ve even rationalized doing it, before you recognize the sound ricocheting through the room as the perfect violent land of a blow, the hot whiplash of skin on skin, your palm connecting with its target. Before you blink, and recalibrate, and you take in the rapid reddening of her cheek, and her angled jaw, and her hair falling starkly past her chin - it’s too late. It’s already done. 

Because you’ve just slapped Karina clean across the face - hard. 

“Oh.” You’re babbling as if on autopilot, all your nerves on shutdown. “Oh. Oh, God. Karina-” 

Karina licks the corner of her lip, like she can taste the impact. 

“Jesus Christ,” you’re saying, panicking; you can’t shut up. You don’t know what to do with your hands; you find yourself kneeling carefully in front of her, cupping her face, stroking her temples with your thumbs like it’ll soothe the sting. You can’t believe you hit her. All the things you could do to a girl like that, and you - “I’m sorry. I didn’t - fuck, baby. I’m sorry.”

Karina blinks up at you, expression placid and blank, porcelain-doll cool. 

“For what?” she asks. 

You freeze, her face still between your palms. “For-”

But the serene tilt of her mouth makes the words die in your throat. 

“Seriously.” Karina’s voice is softer now, a kind twist of mirth. “Isn’t that what you wanted to do with me this whole time?” 

Her features seem to fall out of alignment, occurring to you in cut, edited fragments - the baby-animal eyes, the bone-white glint of teeth, the pretty blooming flush of her cheek, blood rising underneath skin but never breaking through. No evidence of a limit breached; she doesn’t wince or wail or cry. She wears the hit so well. She’s smiling. A you-don’t-need-to-be-sorry smile, a you’re-forgiven smile: I’m strong, I’m good, I can take it. Whatever you need. Whatever you have to give. 

You blink and Karina reassembles, stitched up at the seams, beautiful and uninjured and intact.

“You want this,” you exhale, a wondrous revelation.

“Of course.” Karina’s shoulders rise as much as they can with her arms so tightly tied back. “You do, don’t you?” 

The panic recedes, and something else - something electric and brutal, visceral, intoxicating - takes its place instead. 

It’s the way she says it: rhetorical, all-knowing. As if she’s seen exactly what’s in your mind - what repulsive daydreams have settled right behind your ribcage, clawing to be set free - and she’s offering her own body in sacrifice. Saying here, put them here. 

So you do. 

She doesn’t even look surprised when you slap her again. 

“See?” Karina’s chin tips upwards in delicious, submissive invitation: eyes darkly pleased, pale skin a burning wildfire, curled mouth a beckoning. Like it’s been what she’s waiting for, all along. “There you are.” 

And when you’re finally able to catch your breath:

Oh, you think, in some exhilarating epiphany. Here I am. 

Every single reservation falls out the window. Karina’s smirk slants viciously and then you’ve got your hands all over her, on her shoulders and her tits and her hips and her throat and her face, thumb digging hard into her cheekbone. Any sort of gentle caution is gone when you’re getting on top of her and burying your cock deep inside the suffocating vice of her aching little cunt, half-drunk on the high mewling moans you’re forcing out of her, head swimming at the drenched audible sound of her pussy every time you fuck into her - at how tight she clenches down around your cock. Fuck it all, then, it’s not like it means anything - hurt me, she’d said, running through your head on loop; I want it so bad, I need it, hurt me - and so you do, wrapping a hand around her delicate neck and pressing down, slapping hard against her heaving tits, salivating over the marks that you leave. She doesn’t even struggle. Takes it like a good girl, an obedient girl: something meant to be hit and torn up and pulled apart. A hands-on art piece. A disassembling, made purely for audience consumption; a sign hung around her neck that says leave your mark, that’s the point. You’d been so naïve, thinking of being careful with her - like she’d ever even fucking want that-

“You like it like this.” Your voice sounds raw, almost unrecognizable; your fingers press into the base of her throat. “This is all you needed, huh? You just needed to be roughed up real hard.” Your hand trails up to grip a fistful of her hair, merciless. Karina shuts her eyes. “Like you’re just a slutty fucktoy-” 

Karina chokes out a small, wet gasp.

“Oh, baby.” You yank harder at her hair. “It’s okay to admit it.”

But in a way, she already is. Doesn’t fight against the restraints tying her wrists, doesn’t flinch at how rough you’re fucking her, doesn’t whine or blink back tears at the harsh graze of your thumbnail against her nipple. Like she’s a plaything, here in your bed for your pleasure alone. Like-

“Like you were just fucking made for this, yeah?” She comes undone so easily: cunt a wet sticky mess when you reach down to rub her clit, teeth pearly-white where they’re caught on her bottom lip - though nothing can hold back the anguished noise Karina lets out at your pace, the thick stretch of your cock, your palm smacking at her tits over and over. “Look at you. That face, these tits, this little fucking cunt-”

Like it’s her one and only purpose - to have all her fair skin turned searing red and bruised under someone else’s hands. Her cunt just begging to be split open and stuffed full, railed so hard she could break. It’s gotta be what she was created for. She’s more than mortal, so above the concept of imperfection; a nasty little fuckdoll of a girl, meant to be used hard and licked clean. She looks too irresistible all fucked-out and ruined. It has to be in her nature. Made for this, you keep telling her: to be fucked until she can’t walk. To be treated forever how you’re treating her now. 

Your ex-girlfriend couldn’t have been more wrong. It’s not about power or control at all.

“You’d really just let me do anything to you, huh?” you murmur, awed, but you’re holding her throat too hard for her to reply. 

You fuck her, and fuck her, and fuck her. Rub at her clit until she clamps down and cums around you, until you can really get on top of her, force her to hold those huge tits together so you can fuck them. You can’t handle how tiny she is underneath you, her face and her mouth slack with lust, eyes glazed over entirely. She squeezes her tits around your cock. She’s hardly even human. It’s the best thing about her. 

“That’s how I know you’re a fucking whore.” Your grin feels wide and manic on your face. You’re gonna cum all over her - again. “None of this even matters.” 

And it’s only after - after you’ve painted her collarbone and chest creamy white and let up on her throat so she can fight for air; after you’ve groped her tits and grabbed her face after just to see your cum glistening all over her perfect slap-marred cheeks; after you’ve rolled off of her and you finally leave her alone - that Karina gives you a response. 

“No,” she says, hoarsely, staring up at the ceiling. “It really, really doesn’t.” 

-

Power just isn’t the right word for it. It’s something much more beautiful than that. 

Desire. You’re dozing off, halfway in a sleepy fantasy. You imagine rolling the word around in your mouth, using it in speeches, citing it as an obvious central theme. It’s about desire, you’d say, in interviews, at film festivals, patiently explaining your motivations to the masses. That irrational animal instinct. That innate human greediness. You’ll maybe even throw in some fun anecdote about how people in past relationships never agreed with you. It’s never been about power, though, you’d explain: how foolish, how crude. It’s about the ache of truly wanting something. Isn’t that so much more romantic?

So you’ll make a movie about this one day. So you tied Karina to the bed and slapped her hard and fucked her senseless. Actually, you picture yourself explaining, foggy and on verge of falling asleep: actually, it’s about hunger. Irrepressible, all-consuming hunger. That’s why I did this. That’s why I’ll keep doing it. You’re all like me; you get it. That makes sense, doesn’t it? 

And it will, to raucous, riotous applause.

Good. You’ll laugh so hard. You’re dreaming, now; you can’t tell if you’re talking about the sex or the hypothetical future movie. I’m glad you understand. Anyone would’ve done what I did. 

Because - honestly - what’s the point of starving yourself of something that’s right in front of you?

-

(Let’s pull back from your script for a second. Here’s a real story:

A few months back you were visiting a museum with one of your friends when you got into this conversation about performance art. He’d told you about a woman back in the seventies who walked into a gallery and laid out various objects and let the audience do whatever they wanted to her for six whole hours. Her as the artist, in title only; herself as the art. A free, untethered canvas. 

And what happened? you asked, morbidly curious. 

Your friend grimaced. What do you think happened? 

It was a rhetorical question. The performance had been a test of what the general public was capable of - a reflection of their moral compass, of what they’d do if left unchecked. The setup spoke for itself. You didn’t have to get all the gory details in order to understand. 

Seriously, though, your friend said, about the artist: I don’t know what’d compel someone to do something like that to themselves. He’d shaken his head, baffled. Like - I think it takes a deeply fucked up person to just give up their body like that. Like it doesn’t even matter to them. 

It’s strange. It’s an almost universally accepted fact that, at least on some level, artists are inclined to put pieces of themselves into the things they create. A memory; a feeling. Condensing twenty different emotions into a single acrylic painting, or a lyrical reenactment of heartbreak into a song - something personal and unique and lovely. Often inspired, sure, but yours. 

I think that’s what’s funny about it, you told your friend, before you realized that funny was a fucked up word to use here. There’s nothing personal about that. It’s so detached. It’s about the rest of the world, whatever they might make of her - it’s not about her at all. 

You were both quiet, thinking. Visualizing what it might’ve been like. To be there, one of many in the audience, watching this woman who had thrown herself to the wolves and asked to be ripped apart. 

She’s just - material for them to use, I guess, you said, after a moment. A blank page. 

Removing her own identity; becoming nothing, no one. A ghost. An empty vessel. A slab of clay, taking on the impression of everyone who’s ever touched her: the ridges of fingerprints, the half-moon cuts of nails, molding her into something new. Even if it took some force. Even if it hurt. 

Still, it’s what she’d asked for. 

You can’t imagine she’d ever expected anything else.)

-

There’s this fascinating complaint people have about films these days, you’ve found. It’s actually quite the phenomenon. You talk to your colleagues and scroll through social media and read comments on movie trailers trying to get a grasp on it all: market research. This isn’t realistic, people gripe. It’d never sound like that. She’d never look like that. This would never, ever happen - God, are you kidding? Who are they trying to fool? As if they’ve somehow missed the point of fiction - of a sweet, escapist fantasy. As if they’ve convinced themselves that the real world is better. 

Which is moronic, obviously. 

“So what’s the solution?” Karina asks.

Well, you’re no expert; it’s been a while since you’d finished your last movie.

“But you have an idea,” Karina interpets. She’s perched on the edge of your coffee table, nursing a new glass of ice. She’s watching you with her head at an angle, eyes shrewd. “Otherwise you wouldn’t be telling me this.” 

As with most of her guesses about you, she’s right. 

“It’s all about the details,” you say, after a moment. “It humanizes a person. Having little bits and pieces about who they are - it makes them alive. Their likes, their dislikes. Embarrassing stories. Things that make them laugh. Diary entries, favorite foods - first loves, first heartbreaks. So on and so forth.” You’ve got one of Karina’s ankles between your hands; your thumb brushes against the bulbous protrusion of bone. “It’s what makes people real.” 

Karina’s mouth twists, sharp and strange; it takes a second for you to realize that she’s grinning. 

“Oh, right,” she says. “You want me to spill my guts to you.” She pushes her ankle further into your grip. Her legs are just like the rest of her: thin and pale, waifish. Like a nineties catwalk model. “That’s how you’re gonna make me real. In your movie.” 

You pull a face, letting her ankle slip from your hands. Spill her guts; what an ugly figure of speech. As if you’re doing something much more invasive and violent than just writing about her. 

“Basically,” you agree, anyway. “I mean, it helps that you’re already, you know - a real, whole, living person.” 

“Ugh,” says Karina, dry and amused. “Barely.” 

You wonder if she’s also thinking about this morning; you, stunned and staring at her cum-streaked hair, calling her unreal.

She’s got a point, in a way. There’s something slightly uncanny about her sitting in front of you, as if she’s been taken straight out of some wildly different scene - some spotlit stage, some movie set, some glossy high-budget existence - and haphazardly edited into your life. You reach out and press two fingers to the side of her neck, like they do on television if they think someone’s bleeding out. 

Karina tips her head to allow you access. Her pulse throbs hotly under your touch. 

“I don’t know,” you say, smiling at the swanlike line of her throat. “You seem pretty alive to me.” 

“Sure.” Her hair tickles your wrist. “But you want more.”

She says it like it’s this given - as if she’s always faced with people wanting more from her. You wouldn’t doubt it, little tease she is. You can picture her in motion so easily. Always running. Letting people pine and plead for more. 

“Yeah,” you say. It seems pointless to lie to her. “I want more.” 

Karina leans in closer. She reaches up and touches one of your knuckles with the pad of her thumb. Without makeup, you can see the shadows of dark circles underneath her eyes, but even those look painted-on, pre-planned; a study on the aesthetic allure of bruises. She lets her gaze drop to your mouth, then bites down on her bottom lip. Impish.

“Karina,” you say, grinning wider now. 

It’s one of those unspoken things: the translation of body language, the transcription of the tilt of her mouth. Then have me, she’s saying, almost certainly - like a swooning melodramatic heroine, throwing herself into your lap, wanting to be saved. You want more? You want me? I’m right here. I’m yours.

“Fine,” Karina purrs, and kisses you again, like sealing a contract. “Take it all.” 

-

You don’t fuck her again - not at first. There’s more than one way to take someone apart. 

Karina says she’s got a story for you and then she pulls out her phone. 

“This was back in high school,” she explains, scrolling back through her photo gallery. There don’t seem to be a lot of recent additions to it; you’d expected selfies, pictures of her with friends. There are more photos of food than anything: plates of pasta and donuts and burgers and pastries piled with whipped cream. It’s cute. It makes you laugh. “When I won prom queen.” 

You splutter. “When you what?” 

“What?” Karina gives you a bemused, sideways look. “Does that surprise you?” 

It floors you, actually. At first you can’t quite put your finger on why, but then you look at Karina again - at her intense dark eyes and pouty fuckdoll lips and the exaggerated pinup proportions of her body - and you realize you’re making that mistake writers often do: buying into archetypes. It just makes sense that she’d be some kind of brooding bad girl. Mysterious, promiscuous; in your creative vision she’s probably cutting classes and chainsmoking in the girls’ bathroom. A favorite of the rumor mill. A pretty little delinquent.

“Wow.” Karina makes a funny noise in the back of her throat when you tell her this. “No. I was - I did fine in school. Perfect attendance, almost. And I can’t stand the smell of cigarettes.” But she doesn’t look offended, either; you imagine people make these assumptions about her all the time. “The prom queen thing - it wasn’t my idea, though. My best friend did all the campaigning for me.” 

“That’s sweet.” You watch as she reaches the year she’s looking for. Flashes of her in a sparkly dress with her arms thrown around another girl - a tiny doe-eyed brunette - slide by. In one of them, Karina’s got her head tipped back, clearly mid-laugh; in another, she and the girl have their heads bent close together as if they’re trading secrets, unaware that they’re being photographed. “Well - I think it’s sweet.” 

Karina’s fingers stall. “Why wouldn’t it be?” 

“I’m just saying-” You shrug. “It’s a nice gesture if it’s something you wanted, I guess. Seems like a lot of attention, otherwise.” 

“Oh.” There’s a pause. “Yeah. It was - I didn’t get to go to junior prom, so it was kind of - this was - senior year. Senior prom.” Another pause. “Yeah. She did it to make me happy.”

“And did it?” She passes by pictures that fill up with more people: friends with big grins who stick close to her side, wrapping her up in an embrace. “Make you happy?” 

“Of course.” Karina’s thumb pauses on a video, the preview dark and unfocused. She says it like she doesn’t even have to think about it. “She was my best friend. She always knew what I wanted. Hey, look at this.” 

The video’s of her in the back of someone’s car, prom queen tiara askew on her head, satiny sash falling off one shoulder. She’s yelling, laughing; the sound isn’t on, but her mouth’s wide open and her dark eyes are crinkled to half-moons, creased underneath heavy false lashes and glittery makeup that’s begun to smudge and fade. It makes her whole face look very soft. Young, too - cheeks full and flushed pink with excitement, hair blown-out and everywhere, glossed black. As if she’s having the time of her life. 

“How old were you here?” you ask, in awe. 

“Eighteen. Just turned, I think.” 

“You look-” Like a baby, you almost want to say. It’s true, though. Big brown eyes, scrunched little nose - grinning like the rest of the world hasn’t quite dug its claws into her yet. Skin unmarred and infant-smooth. “You look pretty.” 

Karina doesn’t look at you, but you can see the slight, entertained upturn of her lips. All the nasty things you’ve called her - all the irredeemable ways you’ve touched her - and now, inexplicably, you’re going for pretty. 

“Thanks,” she says, and clicks the volume up.

“Shut the fuck up,” baby Karina is saying, delightedly. Her voice sounds high, childish and carefree. “You’re so dumb. It wasn’t - it wasn’t even like that, I swear!” She flaps one hand in the air, her nails all short and painted the same rich deep maroon as her dress. “No - you’re just saying that because you’re jealous, you idiot, I know you - you just-”

The person behind the camera says something that you can’t quite make out. 

Baby Karina presses one hand to her sternum, pearl-clutching, and gasps. 

“I would never,” she admonishes - over-the-top like an actress from a movie - before she throws her head back and laughs. 

It’s a startling, wonderful laugh. A little-kid laugh. A mess of wild, unabashed giggles, hiccupy and sweet, so loud and infectious you can hear the other people in the car start cracking up with her; out of frame, someone reaches out to interlace their fingers with Karina’s, waving their joined hands until they smack against the car window and Karina only laughs harder. With her whole body, shoulders shaking and all. Streetlights flashing across her face, making her look sort of blurry and surreal, like something out of a painting. 

“Your laugh,” you find yourself saying, stunned. 

Karina’s touching the back of her neck, completely engrossed in the video. “My what?” 

You don’t laugh like that anymore. That’s what you mean to say. That scratchy, almost painful laugh that she’s been gracing you with since the moment you met her - there’s no trace of that in how baby Karina wriggles with laughter in the backseat of the car until her happy, breathless blush spreads to her neck and her chest. Head tipping back against the seat, like she’s all tuckered out. 

“Um,” you say, voice caught in your throat. 

On the screen, her eyes fall shut, lashes fluttering so delicately. 

You can’t do anything but stare. Brilliant, past-life, prom-queen Karina - grinning at nothing, and sleepy from a perfect night, and laughing as if she’ll exist as this version of herself forever. As if she just doesn’t know any better, yet. 

“You,” you start to say, again-

Karina shuts her phone off, and turns.

And you’re about to say something - something about the gnawing, uncertain feeling you get when you watch this former self of hers. It’s on the tip of your tongue. You don’t laugh like that. Something happened to you. For a moment the whole image just seems off - like the way people make posthumous holograms of pop stars, superimpose faces of long-dead actors on stunt doubles. A kind of intense wrongness. A murmured, uncomfortable: that’s not really you, is it? It can’t be. I barely recognize her. 

“What?” Karina asks. Her smile reveals her teeth. “Why are you looking at me like that?” 

Then reality hits you, all at once. 

“Sorry.” Your hand finds her thigh. You laugh because you’re being ridiculous - how would you know who she really is, anyway? “I was just thinking - I don’t know. Never mind.”

She seems to take that at face value. You like that about her. How she seems to trust so easily - going home with you, winding up in your bed, staying when you ask her to stay. Giving you whatever you want: her body, her story.

“So,” you say, eventually. “I can put in my movie that you totally peaked in high school, huh?” 

Karina snorts. “Yeah,” she says, playing along, and taps her dark phone screen with a clawed nail. “Say it was the last time I was happy.” She pulls a face, like the thought of it is just unspeakably pathetic. “That’s a tragedy if I’ve ever heard one.” 

“Shakespearean,” you agree, and let her clamber into your lap. “It’s perfect.” 

But you know she’s kidding. You’d like to think that you understand girls like her. They live in a different world than the rest of you - the kind of world where every person on earth looks at them and falls to their feet, falls madly in love. You’ll write about it one day; you’ll feel out the narrative for her, a curious exploration. That rose-tinted life she must flourish in, closed-off and flawless like a snow globe, her spinning and protected in the glass.

“Perfect,” echoes Karina, and kisses you - like she’s proving she really means it. 

That’s the reality, here. That’s it. This is all there is. 

-

Well, almost.

-

Karina lets you scroll through the rest of her photo gallery, front to back. You take the opportunity, because you’re greedy for as much as you can get. 

There’s a lot of photos that are just her, funnily enough - selfies posed in front of the same full-length mirror, over and over again, clad in unholy outfits. Swimsuits, sports bras and little running shorts, lingerie: shit that makes your mouth water, eyes lingering, groaning out loud as she laughs at you. But it’s also her in faded old t-shirts, holding the hem up to expose her stomach. Body angled to the side in girlish sundresses. Hair pulled up, showing off her neck, her gorgeously sharp collarbone - in makeup or out of it, stare intensely focused and sultry. 

“That’s hot,” you comment. “Self-obsessed as fuck, but hot.” 

Karina smiles - her tiny private-joke smile - and doesn’t say anything at all. 

There’s one video in particular that catches your eye. It’s recent, relatively - the date reads late December, last year. Less than a month ago. Christmastime. You click on it, curious. 

Karina’s immediately recognizable in it, black hair winding past her shoulders, drowning in a large black sweatshirt. She’s smiling, but it looks sort of tense and tired - bags under her eyes, like she hasn’t slept in a while. She’s got both hands balled up into fists, held close and protective to her chest; her sharp chin rests on her pale knuckles. There’s a tiny smear of red across her mouth, lower lip bitten bloody. 

“You just got here,” she says. She’s looking at something behind the camera. “The first thing you wanna do is hear me sing?” She laughs once, scratchy and hoarse. “Why are you even filming this?” 

The answering strum of guitar strings, a pretty, perfect chord. An invitation, or a demand.

“You’re kidding.” Karina’s voice is flat.

Another chord - evidently not. 

“Wow,” says Karina. Her smile, out of nowhere, goes very soft at the edges. “You just do this because you know I can’t say no to you.”

“What?” you ask Karina now, laughing. “Is this - what is this? Do you - are you really going to sing?” 

And then - crazily enough - she does. 

“Oh,” you say out loud, adoring, and Karina turns her face into your shoulder. 

Her voice in the video is breathy, sweet. Shyly unpracticed, raspy from disuse, completely and utterly gorgeous; lids slipping shut and open again, laugh leaking into her melody line in lyrics about black eyes and kisses and wanting someone who’s just so, so bad for you. But what surprises you more than anything is the look that dawns on her blurry on-screen face - irises sparkling and smile bashful, hiding her mouth behind the sleeve of her sweatshirt, curled up with her knees to her chest. You see now that she’s wearing pajama pants, fuzzy and patterned with snowflakes. 

She looks radiantly pretty. She looks vulnerable. And not even in a sweaty, satiated, filthy post-fuck kind of way - actually, genuinely vulnerable. Soft and wide-eyed and tender.

Suddenly, you just can’t tear your gaze away. 

“Stop.” 

The song’s over. On-screen Karina’s fully grinning now. Porcelain-fragile, but undeniably happy, too. 

“I hate you,” she says. “Baby, I really do.” 

“You love me,” says the person behind the camera. “You’ll love me for the rest of your life and you know it.” 

And in the video - in vivid, fluid motion - Karina laughs. 

Whole-hearted, lovely. Familiar. For a moment, you swear she’s still that girl sitting in the backseat of a car with her prom queen tiara on, giggling free and uninhibited, unhurt, untouched. A month ago - less than that, even - looking like she’s coming back to life. 

That’s where the clip ends. 

It doesn’t change anything, if you actually think about it. It’s just another version of reality. A Karina from a whole other universe, laughing like a child, and so, so far away from whoever she is now. 

-

(Back between the lines of your script-

The stranger and the girl drink to get drunk and that’s about it. She reads the label of his wine; he makes fun of her for being a snob. She doesn’t really drink, she says at first, but he laughs like this is a challenge, and pours her a glass anyway. She flushes pink and fidgets around. She seems to shed hair like a cat and he thinks this is the most hilarious thing he’s ever seen, picking up thin black strands off of the arm of his couch, teasing her about girls and how they really like to leave their mark, huh?

Leave their mark, she repeats. There’s some trick of the lens here, some sort of strategic camera work - he’s in the forefront and she’s in the background, and she looks so much smaller than him. Why do you say that? 

He still had his ex-girlfriend’s perfume in his cabinet. He probably still has some of her clothes in his closet. Not out of any particular emotional attachment, but sometimes this is just the way things are: when you spend years intertwining your whole existence with someone else’s, it’s hard to rid yourself of that connection. You’ve grown into each other’s spaces, tangling limbs and heart lines, putting down roots. It’s gonna take a little force to get them out. 

They’re just so much, he says, gesticulating with his hands. And they affect everything in your life, like a fucking infection. And then it doesn’t work out, and you - he makes a wide, sweeping motion here, attempting to encompass the wreckage. You have to fix everything they broke. Purge them from your system and all that. It’s so fucked up. 

It’s like this, he means to say - you love someone and then they leave you behind and you’re left staring at the blown-up decimated crater that used to be your life together. You love someone and they don’t love you back and all you have now is the debris.

They’re both drunk. There should be music here and there isn’t. It’s only eerie, too-still silence, suffocating the both of them with every passing second. 

Well, she says, laughing, and takes another sip. You and I can agree on that, at least.)

-

It happens like this:

There’s a monologue you want to write. 

You tell Karina this after you’re finally fucking her again, when she’s balanced on the edge of your glass coffee table with her legs spread and your mouth slick with her cum. Well - not after, technically. She’s between orgasms and you have your thumb on her clit, tracking the expression on her face, the split-second moment where she comes apart. It’s then when you realize so badly that you want to write some great speech for your heroine - something about the sweat beading on Karina’s midriff and her tits that you can’t stop touching and the jerky movements of her hips, trying to get your tongue back on her clit, panting and delightfully desperate. Something about desire. 

“Desire,” repeats Karina, voice halfway into a raspy, worked-up moan. 

“Yeah.” You’ve replaced your mouth with your fingers, fucking up into the obscene tight heat of her cunt. She’s trembling, dripping everywhere; she’s the very picture of what it means to want, probably. “But I just can’t figure it out.” 

Karina laughs roughly, and then she cums. 

“Is that funny?” you ask her, after, when you’re wiping your wet mouth with your wrist and she’s sucking on your glistening fingers, licking the taste of her own cunt off your skin. Her eyes big, lips all full and pink - slutty angel on her pedestal, perched above you. “Me writing about desire?” 

Karina lets your fingers free with a loud pop. She’s still clutching your hand close to her mouth, thumb dragging through the sticky gleam of her spit. “No,” she says, eyes distant. “It just reminded me of something. There’s this Anne Carson quote, about men and desire…” She shakes her head. Presses her lips once to your fingertips in a small, startlingly sweet kiss. “It doesn’t matter. Tell me more.” 

There isn’t much to tell, truthfully. Except that you’ve got this love for movie lines that are just so utterly quotable - things that make their way into the pop culture consciousness. That’s the kind of work you want to be doing: creating something that has an impact, something that’ll exist long after you’re gone. Everlasting. If you had to pull for an example, you’d say-

“You ever seen Closer?” 

“Yeah.” Karina drops your elbow into her lap. “Oh, I get it. He tastes like you but sweeter. Lying’s the most fun a girl can have without taking her clothes off - et cetera.” She hums the melody line. “So you want an early 2000s pop-punk band to make a song about your movie? Ambitious.” 

“More or less,” you say as she shimmies her shirt back down, hem falling back over her midriff. “But like I said, I’m kind of stuck.”

Karina rolls her neck. Her hair is everywhere, sweet-smelling; snapped-off strands decorate your table, looking like cracks in the glass. 

“Any suggestions?” you ask, thumb skimming along the pale bruised inside of her thigh. 

She smiles, mischievous. “Maybe.” 

That’s how you both end up curled on your couch together with your laptop in front of you, Karina’s eyes glued to the movie playing on the screen, watching as the four main characters fuck and flirt and cheat on each other and scream at the top of their lungs. Melodramatic dialogue. How do you feel about him using your life? You’re lying; I’ve been you. This will hurt, which Karina laughs at - as if announcing the pain will make it better, playacting at exoneration. 

It’s also - predictably - how you end up fucking again. You barely make it an hour in, and then-

“Hey.” Karina’s breath tickles your ear. She’s already seconds from climbing in your lap already; her thigh is hooked over yours, bare and inviting. “Are you inspired?” 

You’re swallowing back a grin. “Sure.” 

“Oh. Great.” She’s no actress herself, clearly. She couldn’t be subtle if she tried. “Do you wanna be more inspired?” 

And - whatever. It’s a movie about sex. If anything, at least you’re sticking to the theme. 

The dialogue plays in the background as Karina rocks her hips down on your lap - you can feel how wet she is again, like she never stops wanting to be fucked. You’re telling her something about how she’s the most insatiable girl you’ve ever met; the sound of the film saturates the room, setting the tone like it knows its purpose. How? How does it work? How do you do this to someone? This big, infidelity-ridden confrontation. Did you phone her? Beg her to come back? Asking him why he falls for another girl, getting this ridiculous answer - it’s because she doesn’t need me.

“Huh.” You smile into the curve of Karina’s neck, already palming her ass. “That one’s funny.”

“Is it funny?” Karina’s sharp jaw brushes against your cheekbone. Her eyes are so dark, shadowed by her long lashes. “I think it’s pretty realistic. People don’t like needy girls. It’s a burden to be loved so hard.” Her tongue darts across her teeth; her smile’s somewhat caustic. “Too much to handle, I guess.” 

“What are you talking about?” This strikes you as fairly fucking ridiculous, too. “What men have you met who don’t like needy girls?” 

Karina just laughs and leans in for another kiss. 

It’s easy to let the rest of the film float away in the background, the lines coming disjointed, unconnected. A spoken-word soundtrack, tone perfuming the air: the angst and pain and eroticism seeping into your clothing. Once in a while you’ll pull back from kissing Karina’s neck or tits or mouth and see a thoughtful little quirk to her mouth. Like she’s genuinely listening, even as you’re taking off her shirt, slipping a hand back between her legs. Where will you go? Disappear. I can’t still see you - if I see you, I’ll never leave you. I amuse you, but I bore you. 

“I bet you’ve never felt that,” you say, half into the silk of her hair. 

Karina pauses. Her shirt’s on the floor; she’s gloriously naked on top of you. “Felt what?” 

“I amuse you, but I bore you,” you recite. You already sound sort of fuck-drunk, far gone. “You’re the farthest thing from boring.”

Back in the movie, the female lead sobs into her fists. Karina studies you, fingertips grazing the nape of your neck. You try to imagine it - her as one of those heartsick heroines, crying herself to pieces, begging a man not to leave her - but you draw an utter blank. Some people just aren’t breakable in that way. 

“You’d be surprised,” Karina says, after a moment. “People get bored of me all the time.”

“Oh, please.” Even when she’s the one top of you, you can’t help feeling so completely in control. It’s gotta be the look in her eyes, dying to be obedient. “I bet you have lots of ways of keeping guys interested in you.” You smack her ass hard just to make a mark. “I bet you let them fuck you however they want.” 

“Exactly,” Karina agrees, without missing a beat. She moves in close until your noses bump together. Lets her voice go all smoky and suggestive. “Wherever they want, too.” 

You open your mouth - probably about to say something very rude about what a dirty whore she is and how you should’ve realized it the second you saw her; I knew it, I know you - but then your hands slip lower and Karina presses her lips to yours and licks into your mouth, over your teeth, making you swallow your words. Filling you up until there’s nothing but her and the movie, playing on.

I think I’ll be happier with her. 

You won’t. You’ll miss me. No one will ever love you as much as I do. Why isn’t love enough? 

“Romantic, right?” murmurs Karina, sweet against your tongue. 

“Shut up,” you say, and grab her by the hair, tugging her off your lap as you stand. “Bedroom. Now.” 

Later, you’ll take the time to consider the different ways filmmakers illustrate a power dynamic - it’s playing on your laptop screen right now. The heroine’s sitting on the arm of the couch, clutching desperately at the hero’s jacket. Gorgeously emotional and pleading for another chance, her tiny chin tilted up, eyes so large and watery. Made fragile and fearful by everyone: the protagonist, the narrative, the director, the audience beyond. By herself, even. It’s a stylistic choice - she wants to look that pathetic.

And you-

Well, you’ve got Karina’s long hair wrapped up in your fist, tits bouncing as she stumbles to her feet, ankle knocking hard and horribly loud against the leg of your table. Cute little ass all red from your hand. Thighs shimmering from how drenched she is, cunt dripping from how you’ve treated her. She hasn’t managed to work her mouth into a trademark smirk fast enough: when she looks at you over her shoulder, her eyes are abyss-dark and bottomless, crease between her brows, lips parted in pained surprise. 

The definition of pathetic, too - but that’s exactly the point. She’s just so much more fuckable like that. 

“Ouch,” you say, touching her hurt ankle with the side of your foot. 

“It’s fine.” Karina’s skin feels clammy and cold. Her smirk’s intact now, camera-ready. “I’ve been through worse.” 

Her ankle throbs under the pressure of your touch; you still haven’t let up on her hair. You’ll go through worse, too, you think of telling her: a sly comment about how rough you’re about to fuck her, what vicious marks you’re about to leave. How you’re gonna hurt her exactly like she asked you to. 

You don’t say a thing.

She must already know all of that, anyway.

-

So, Karina’s not breakable like the helpless, weepy, soft-hearted girls in the movies - but that’s alright. She’s breakable in much more enticing ways.

Case in point:

“Oh, get real, baby. Don’t pretend you don’t love it.”

Well, breaking someone down doesn’t really get better than this.

It’s all a scene of your own making, a perfect pre-arrangement. You on your bed, Karina limp and bent belly-down over your lap - you in control and Karina as the most impressive toy you’ve ever gotten your hands on, creamy ass and needy cunt and skin that turns bruises to artwork. You’re goading her and failing - trying to get her to just admit to what she is, what a filthy slut, what a nasty eager fuckdoll - but it’s hard to get a response when even breathing seems to be a chore for her right now. Every noise out of her mouth is nothing but a gasping, choked-out whimper. Her face is buried in her forearm, hidden. And through the shine of lube dribbling down your hand and her ass and into the sticky wetness of her cunt, you’ve got two fingers stretching out her little asshole - and you’re just getting started.

“I know you fucking need this.” Your other hand slides up her back, slips to tangle in her hair. “You’re just too good at it.” You pull hard, wrenching her head from the crook of her elbow. “Too good at being an obedient fucking whore for me, huh?”

Karina’s whole body stiffens when you fuck your fingers deeper, as if tugged taut on a string: the flex of her feet in the air, shoulder blades straining, neck craned back almost painfully. You pull harder. It’s a buzz at the base of your skull, live-wire thrilling: the knowledge that you can yank her into whatever position you want - fuck her anywhere, work her ass open with your cock, fill her up with cum - and she’s just going to have to take it. Like she’s this pliant, powerless thing. Like she’s yours. 

Your self-satisfaction seeps right into your voice. “Answer me.” 

You hear Karina gulp down a breath. “I,” Karina mumbles, but she can’t do anything but babble. “I - fuck-” All teeth-clenching nonsense; she shoots a baleful glance over her shoulder, desperation clawing its way into every word. “Please-”

Your fingers pause. “You want more?” 

Her cheeks are splotchy and pink; you swear there are tears wobbling in those big dark eyes. The heavy arousal in your stomach turns to violent hunger, as though your mouth could start watering at any second. You can’t help it. The thought of seeing her cry is fucking exhilirating. “You - oh-” 

“Answer me. You want my cock?” You’re waiting for the breaking point. “You want me to really fuck your ass?” 

“Fuck-” 

But that’s not a proper reply and Karina knows it, so she doesn’t protest when you pull your glistening fingers out of her and smack your palm hard across her ass. Once, then twice, and then you just don’t stop. She yelps like a hurt animal - trembles uncontrollably, her thighs and her shoulders and her quivering bottom lip - and makes a sound in the back of her throat that might be a sob, but she still lets you hit her: gives into the harsh crack of skin on skin, over and over again. Listens as you tell her that she deserves this, that she wanted this, that you’re making her into a good girl and this is what good girls get when they’re too cock-hungry to follow orders or answer a fucking question, you know that - you know I’m this rough for a reason. It should hurt. It’s so much more fun that way.  

“I’ve been too fucking nice to you,” you mutter, teeth gritted in an effort to hide your grin - as if you even need to. It’s obvious how much you enjoy this. It’s the point. “That’s the problem with girls like you - you never learned your fucking place, huh? Never really been punished for anything?”

Karina mumbles out something unintelligible, slurring from her drooling mouth to the sheets.

“Yeah.” Your hand comes down again - she flinches just before her body goes slack. “That’s what I thought.” 

And after you’ve spanked her so hard that her fair skin is ravaged and raised with goosebumps along the slope of her back - her whole body in revolt - you finally, finally stop. 

Karina doesn’t budge except to breathe, and even that releases shallow, unsteady. You read it all in the shaky lift and fall of her thin shoulders, her hands in white-knuckled fists, her face pressed to your sheets and hidden - her hair coats everything, all ink, all words written but left unsaid. She shivers beneath your fingers. Her cunt’s dripping all over your lap. She’s a masterpiece. She’s a wreck. 

You’re filled up with thick, swollen pride. “Karina.” 

Karina. Your own personal creation, transformed under your touch. Might as well have your name carved into her, too. A brand right across her back, slicing through tissue, scarring to seal her fate - this is who you fucking belong to. 

“Poor baby.” You follow the sharp ridges of her spine, tracking notches, keeping a tally: counting how many times you’ll hit her, how many days she’ll stay in your bed. How many movies she’ll let you make out of her, being your brilliant muse for decades. “It’s painful when you don’t listen to me, huh?”

But then - inexplicably - you think of her bruising ankle. Her twist of a smirk, detached and humorless. I’ve been through worse. 

You’re abruptly glad you can’t see the look on her face. 

“Come on, sweet girl.” You dig the heel of your palm into her lower back, half a warning. “Pull it together.” 

Between the strands of glossy hair tumbling over Karina’s skin and your sheets, you spot a reddish mark on the back of her neck. Like the impression of a thumbprint, small and round. Blurry enough in the dim light that your brain starts conjuring up strange theories; an old wound, maybe. A birthmark or a burn, a childhood injury.

You graze her shoulder blades with your fingertips, exploratory. She feels so small draped over you like this, a tiny wet wisp of a girl. A doll. 

She still hasn’t moved.

“Karina.”

Nothing.

“Karina,” you say again, suddenly uneasy. Your hand stops. “Are you-”

For a few terrible seconds, you can’t even hear her breathing. 

But then Karina shifts. Slow, sensual, deliberate. Pushing herself up off your lap, arching her back, the slick pucker of her asshole obscene from where you fucked it open with your fingers. Her bruised knees dig into your mattress as she straightens up, and her gorgeous pale face seems to glow in the midday light - heavy dark eyes, bitten-pink mouth, black hair curtaining her cheeks like a frame to a portrait.

“You,” you start to say, feeling suddenly like you’re looking at her for the first time. 

“I’m really sorry,” Karina murmurs.

She doesn’t look close to tears at all. She’s so unfazed, as if having her ass spanked punishingly raw is something that happens to a girl like her on the daily. A run-of-the-mill occurrence - a consequence of having a body like that, made to be brutalized. She’s already reaching towards the nightstand for the lube. 

“I just wanted it so bad I couldn’t think straight,” Karina tells you, with erotic-film certainty - reciting all the lines that’ll make her seem the most insatiably slutty. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Her lips form a pout; she leans down to press them to the tip of your cock, all sweet and demure, like she thinks she needs to convince you. Eyes flicking up at you through her thick lashes, molten-hot. “I should’ve listened.” It’s only a breath, warm and torturous. “I deserved that, I know.” 

Your hand winds tight in her hair. You want to force your cock down her pretty throat, make her gag and choke over her simpering apologies, spitting up your cum until it trickles down her chin, her tits, her tummy. Both a game and a power play: prove how sorry you are. 

Karina pulls back before you can, and holds up the lube. 

“Babe,” she says, the term of endearment almost a singsong - a lilting reminder. “I thought you wanted to really fuck me now.” 

“Uh-huh.” Her tits heave as she moves, crawling closer, offering herself up. “And I always get what I want, right?” 

You feel drunk with power. You forget that this isn’t supposed to be about power. You watch as Karina coats her palm with lube and pumps your cock, her fingers slick and hot, her veins starkly blue at her delicate wrists. Expression delighted at how hard you are, pink little tongue poking out between her teeth - seduction down to an art form, meticulously calculated. 

“With me?” Her smile burns. “Obviously.” 

You pull her in by the neck to kiss the smirk off her mouth. 

It’s interesting. There’s this other thing regular critics and moviegoers have been saying about films these days: sex scenes need to have a purpose. Some sort of coherent motivation. Strip your lead actress down to nothing and get her keening and moaning and you’ve got to explain it away somehow. It forwards the plot, you could insist, pitching it to producers and directors. It does something for the character dynamics. It’ll draw in just the right audience, the ones dying to see their favorite celebrity debauched and getting dirty on-screen - they’ll see it over and over just to get a taste. Isn’t that enough? To satisfy the masses? Isn’t that why we’re all here?

Because otherwise all people are staring at is a play at pornography: useless half-convincing make-believe. The heroine can writhe and whine and arch her back all she wants. Everyone knows she doesn’t feel anything. 

“Tell me the truth.” 

Oh, if you two were a movie - you don’t know how anyone could justify a sex scene quite like this. 

It doesn’t matter what artsy angle you take. It all comes down to the same unforgivable details: Karina face-down ass-up on your bed, the perfect bowed curve of her spine, the depraved wide stretch of her asshole around your cock - the sweat shining along her shoulder blades, the hard smack of your palm against the red raw skin of her ass, your other hand at the crown of her skull with your fingers wrapped entirely in her tangled hair - her cunt fucking ruining your sheets, wet all the way down her thighs, each brutal shift of your hips sending her little body into full-blown shudders-

“Tell me that you fucking love it.” Your hand slips lower until you’ve got her pinned down by the back of the neck, fingers pushing down: a grip she couldn’t escape even if she wanted to. “Whoring out your slutty little ass like this for a stranger. Getting on your hands and knees for me just because you’re so fucking needy for cock, baby - don’t even try to deny it, you’re so wet, nasty fucking girl-”

You just can’t stop yourself. It’s so easy. She really is so fucking pathetic. Too fragile to get free - too easily manipulated and manhandled. Trembling and drenched and giving way as you make room inside her, forcing space. She’s just so tight - it’s godless, how you make your cock fit in her lube-slicked asshole, how she moans like a bona fide bitch in heat over it: needing faster, needing harder, needing more. Cheek pink and pressed hard to your mattress, sharp nails digging into the sheets rough enough to tear through the fabric. Giving herself up to be fucked cruelly and stupid and senseless. 

Like she’s a real-

“Natural fucking cockslut, huh?” 

Look, seriously - you can’t be held accountable for the things you say to her here. 

Because when you say shit like you’d just let me do anything - like you’d let me fucking tie you up and keep you here forever, be an eager fucking cumdump for me whenever I want you, I know it, I know you - that’s just the moment talking. The circumstances. The pretty arch of her back and the drooling wetness of her cunt and the indecent tightness of her ass, conspiring to make you lose your mind mid-fuck - that’s the whole reason you even tell her any of it. You think you’re good for anything else? Right at her ear, your body covering hers, your cock buried deep. You’re not. Just made to get this slutty ass fucked open, and your mouth, and your cunt - this is all anyone’s ever gonna want from you and you know it - better get used to it now, baby. This is all you got. This is all you are. 

It’s Karina’s fault, really. She just takes it - all of it. She doesn’t even try to fight it. 

“But that’s okay,” you murmur, as she gasps and squirms and cries out like you’re killing her. “I’m still gonna make you cum.” 

And with your cock filling her ass and your hand between her legs, slapping hard at her sopping cunt until she can’t do anything but collapse - shaking, shattered - her whimpers fucked-out and drool-soaked and bleeding into one big nonsensical mess, everything about her used and ruined-

“You’re mine,” you tell her, laughing as she falls apart. “You get that? You’re mine.” 

-then, you do.

When it’s all over, Karina rolls over to face the wall, breathing hard. She’s slick everywhere, sweat and saliva and lube, your creamy cum dripping out of her well-fucked asshole and trickling down her thigh. You trace her lower back and grin at the way her skin seems to give into you, turning pink with a press of your fingertips. You’ve come to realize you adore her like this, the fugue state after you fuck her: utterly dead to the world. 

Like she could become a permanent fixture in your bed. Too tired to move. Too tired to ever leave. 

“Mine,” you say again, softer.

Karina doesn’t argue. 

It’s basically all the confirmation you need. 

-

So, really, if you two were a movie-

It goes like this: life can imitate art, too. It happens all the time. The line between fiction and reality blurs together until it’s indistinguishable - until you can’t tell where the fantasy ends, or if it ever did at all. 

-

(It goes like this: the heroine smiles sleepily and tells the hero he’s the best she’s ever had. You’ve seen this film before. The movie stars with their fake on-screen fucks might not feel a damn thing, but at least it’s still fun to pretend.)

-

Also, the mark you saw on the back of her neck isn’t actually what you thought it was. 

“It’s a tattoo,” you realize out loud, drowsily awed, brushing her hair away so you can get a better look. You’re both tuckered out, an inevitability when you fuck like you do; you’re seconds from dozing off. Karina’s looking away from you, on her side to escape the soreness of her ass, sheets loose across her chest. She lets you touch her wherever. “I can’t believe I didn’t notice that before.” 

“You don’t know me,” mumbles Karina, half into your pillow. “It’s not your job to notice anything about me.” 

The tattoo’s crimson-red, all delicate linework. It really does look like it hurts: like someone painstakingly cut the shape into her skin. It’s of a heart, rendered in anatomical detail - valves and ventricles and arteries. It’s beautiful, you realize belatedly. Bright instead of faded, and obviously cared for. Lovely. 

The only permanent stain on her perfect body. You press your thumb against the ink, fascinated. 

“What does it mean?” you ask, but Karina’s already fallen asleep. 

-

(In your script, the girl and the stranger watch some gory crime show, except they don’t pay very close attention and he tugs her into his lap and makes her ride his thigh. The episode they’ve got on is about a serial killer who murders so-called sinners - liars, adulterers, the like. Slaughters them like sacrifices, cutting their throats with vicious efficiency. Fake blood drenches the screen with every crime scene: a form of fucked-up baptism, a psuedo-religious cleansing. 

The girl’s putting on an equally decent show on top of the stranger: head thrown back, eyelids fluttering, high-pitched little moans. He sinks his teeth into her shoulder and keeps watching the TV.

Hey, he says, a murmur against her skin, a close-up on his mouth. You’re a sinner, right?

She’s got her hands on his shoulders, hips rolling. Sure am. 

How do you think this guy would kill you? 

He thinks this’ll shock her, but she doesn’t even pause. Like he kills all the rest, she says. Like an animal.

I think he’d be more careful with you, the stranger muses. You’re too gorgeous. He’d have to use, like - a scalpel, or something. Something cleaner. Something that’d keep you intact. 

It’s no use. Nothing he says seems to scare her. Her eyes are far-off, almost glazed in recollection. Like she’s thought about it too - her own untimely end. Her own vivisection, skin flayed and organs visible, viscera and bone. There, hold the shot: now the audience can consider it with her, ponder all the ways she could be torn apart, all the repulsive things they could do with her desiccated body. All the ways flesh can warp under a human touch: the blue-black yellow-green purpling of bruises, a whole palette on one tiny girl. There’s value in that, isn’t there? There’s something intimately, incomparably beautiful in suffering. There’s art. 

Isn’t that why everyone’s watching? 

I get it, the girl says, still soaking his thigh, smiling as if it’s an inside joke between them. You want me dead. That’s been obvious since the moment you met me. 

I don’t want you dead, he says, and grabs her by the jaw. I just want to fuck you. 

Okay, she says, uncaring, like there’s barely a difference. Fine. Whatever you want. 

They don’t turn the TV off. They let the characters scream and bleed out in the background; he fucks her like she’s got a death wish. It’s funny - he expects her to get louder the harder he fucks her, ruthlessly working over the tight clench of her cunt - but she keeps getting less and less responsive, as if he’s pushing her little body into some sort of trance: expression vacant and blank, body limp and lifeless, mouth open and speechless. It makes him angry. Give me something, he’s saying, frustrated, clawing at her hair: baby, it’s not fair, it’s no fun like this. The on-screen shrieks aren’t enough - he wants it from her. Actually, he keeps saying he needs it - as if fulfilling desire is on the same level as food or air, as if he’ll drop dead in seconds if he doesn’t get her sobbing. He gets his overlarge hands on her face and starts contorting it, pushing her mouth open, her eyes wider, his fingers down her throat until she spits and gags and chokes. Oh, the audience will love this one: it’s reminiscent of those filthy exploitation films with their cult followings, so cleverly referential. Look at her pathetic and pinned down. Look at her helpless and struggling. Think of your favorite on-screen murder scenes, and then think of this.

Anything I want, the stranger reminds her, yanking back her hair as she drools down his wrist. You asked for this, didn’t you? You said anything I want. 

Except now the girl can’t say anything at all. 

This moment will start rumors, invite horrified scandal the same way some purposefully marketed horror movies are passed off as snuff films - that really went down, they really died like that. This scene’ll get a similar response. Did he actually fuck her? Did he actually hurt her? Did everyone - the writer, the director, the crew, the captive audience - actually just stand by and let that happen? 

Sure. Or she might just be a really, really good actress.

There. The stranger’s murmuring to her now, watching her manufactured expression, watching the tears fill her eyes. There you go. There’s my girl. And she is his, she really is - transformed into something all beautiful and new under his clumsy fingertips, molded right into art. The camera will zoom in close on her gorgeous, cadaverous face, a perverse little gift for the audience: here, have this, take a look. She’s all yours now. 

There’s something to be said here about the manmade link between sex and violence - inescapable, brutal, primeval; bodies in all shades of red - but he forgets it the second he touches her, and she’s being fucked too hard to remember.

Maybe they’ll get to it next time.) 

-

AND WE'RE BACK!!!!!!!!!!! <33333

all my luv ever to @capslocked @worldsover @passingnotions @braaan for beta reading my dumbass shenanigans and also for being the best ever I LOVE U!!!!!! AND ANYONE WHO IS READING THIS I LOVE YALL TOO.................. PART 2 COMING SOON!!!!!!!!!!!

#kpop smut #kpop fanfiction #kpop fanfic #idol x reader #idol x male reader #reader insert #karina smut #karina fanfic #aespa karina smut

[digitalbrand01]

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[irisbleufic]

REVIEW

Gatsby: An American Myth (Welch, Chavkin, Bartlett, Majok, & Tayeh; American Repertory Theater)

Something that most adaptations of Gatsby get wrong, whether film or stage, is the treatment of characters as archetypes rather than individuals. Symbolism drowns out most genuine attempts at capturing emotional connections and conflicts of personality. They forget that this story is not only a failure of the so-called American Dream; first and foremost, it’s a tragedy of failed roles and relationships. Almost every one of the players is attempting to be someone they are not, and even as they reach for what they believe they should want, they reveal with increasing fervor what they actually want. This is the heart of what makes Welch’s new adaptation so devastatingly, disarmingly unique, so true to its source.

The set design is literal wreckage. Crushed and warped automobile chassis scaffold the moving staircases, and concealed trap doors. The backdrop shows no clear incorporation of the infamous Eckleburg billboard; rather, it is made up of a dotted grid resembling headlights. These play out effects ranging from a downpour to camera flashes to, briefly and only once, a pair of eyes that make no effort to hide behind the owlish frames of glasses. The only thing infusing this jagged framework with meaning is the people who move through it.

The lighting design works with the set’s incongruences, deepening or excavating shadows as needed. The brightness, when it flares, is blinding. Jewel tones either enhance or diminish a costuming scheme that is composed of either very pale or very dark shades, no in between. And whether it’s the post-apocalyptic black and gray cabaret garb of the ensemble or the wealthy protagonists’ pale suits or the gunmetal and gray denizens of the wasteland, everyone’s trouser and skirt hems are conspicuously rimed with reddish dust. The visual effects are nearly impossible to describe without sounding like I had some kind of desperate fever dream.

So far, I realize that these descriptions of the set and lighting design sound like this production is about to fall into the trap of overplaying symbolism, but please bear with me. With all of that established, I can focus on what’s truly extraordinary here, what’s meant to and does shine unhindered. The acting, musicianship and vocals are all so precise that it was hard for me to believe this show is still in previews. It feels Broadway ready, West End ready, major international tours ready. If I was the production crew, I’d turn this loose on a massive scale from the get-go without a second thought.

Much like with Hadestown, the musicians are not down in an orchestra pit. They’re characters in their own right, present on the stage from start to finish on tiered risers that run up from the center on each side from one of the catwalks. I’m sure Chavkin’s involvement as director has everything to do with why this show feels so much like, moves so much like Hadestown. The company is on an equally small scale, about 23 - 25 people including the principals.

Costuming among the ensemble is delightfully gender agnostic. I mention a cabaret aesthetic earlier in this review, and I’m not kidding. If you had shown me the ensemble costume designs without showing me the principals’ designs, I would have assumed I was looking at a Cabaret revival. They’re the most talented dancers I’ve seen occupy one stage in more than a decade. The choreography relies on movements in eerie unison for a significant portion of the show, but not without allowance for individual flair within those constraints. The guy sitting next to me, when I spoke to him at the intermission, said he works as a choreographer in regional theater, and he’d never seen anything like this. I couldn’t agree more; the dancing is singular, and as impressive as the musicianship is, the dancing and unusual body movement are maybe the greatest achievements of this show on the living, breathing end of things. I could have watched the dancers for those three hours without any dialogue or vocal intervention and still understood the story. That takes so much fucking doing.

As for the principal cast, they’re constantly among the ensemble; when I say these are all triple threats in the purest sense of that terminology, I really mean it. You always expect a few of the principals to be less dance and movement focused, more polished on the acting and singing side, but this show gives you terrifying proficiency from every angle. Even the guy playing Meyer Wolfsheim is at the center of what I think is the most memorable dance number in the piece. I’ve just never seen such versatile principals all in one production. What’s even more extraordinary is that I had never heard of or previously seen any of them, and that takes some doing given how much live theater I’ve consumed in several decades of life.

Ironically, the musical composition is the one aspect of this production on which I’ll be spending the least time. I need not tell you why Welch and Bartlett were perfect for this job. They understood the assignment, and then some. There’s not a single weak number among the track listings, and I desperately hope they release a recording soon. The standout numbers all have something in common: they showcase Soleia Pfeiffer as Myrtle Wilson. You can tell that’s the role where Welch sank most of the sound that’s considered her signature style. I don’t even need to describe it; you already know what I’m talking about. What’s impressive otherwise is the restraint, the lack of over-reliance on that signature style.

The principals are fucking perfect. I’ve kept this review tautly professional without meaning to thus far, but from here on out is where I start bleeding feels all over the post. If you don’t already know who my blorbos are due to my writing history with a Gatsby-related novel (The Pursued and the Pursuing, 2021), you’re going to know by the time you’re done reading this. You’re going to know exactly who I love and why, who I hate and why, who I ship and why. But you’ll also know that I approach all three of those elements from a place of enjoying every moment of those characters, even the ones I hate. Nobody’s performance put me off or struck the wrong tone when taken in context of the novel and how the tragedy of how their relationships play out.

For a long time, I’ve been saying that there are certain support roles, certain sidekicks, that make or break the higher-profile person to whose side they’re stuck, ride or die, until the bitter end. Horatio is a great example that I’ve ranted about before; if your Hamlet production has a lackluster Horatio, then it doesn’t matter how good the Hamlet is. You have nothing if you don’t have the binary star system at the heart of that harrowing universe. I’ve seen other adaptations of Gatsby consistently fall apart because Nick Carraway is treated like the kind of voyeur who doesn’t matter, the kind of voyeur who serves as the audience’s eyes and ears, and nothing else. Anyway, this is all to say: Ben Levi Ross as Nick might be the most compelling argument I can make for the fact that the creative team behind this show understood the assignment. He’s awkward, warm, sincere, and reactive in all of the ways you need Nick to be. He’s not a passive observer; he’s in the middle of everything, and he knows it. There’s a self-deprecating response he makes when one character, Jordan if I’m not mistaken, quips that maybe he’s the reason for Gatsby’s parties for all he knows. “Maybe I am,” he says, and the tongue-in-cheekness belies a gutting meta-sincerity. We believe Daisy is the point, Gatsby believes Daisy is the point, but what’s borne out every breathtaking moment of this production is that Nick is the point. He always was. He’s also given his due as a gay man in context of the story for the first time ever. I might make some folks mad when I say Nick has always been gay; I’m going to point you to Myrtle’s apartment party and the hookup with Mr. McKee as textual evidence in the novel. The kiss with McKee, the hookup with McKee, is unapologetically here. His lack of belonging everywhere else he’s ever been, because he is gay, is unapologetically here. One of the most memorable numbers in the show hinges on the hope feels at being able to be himself in New York. Queer fans of Gatsby have been waiting a long time for this. Anyone who’s read the text closely and understood him has been waiting a long time for this. I’ve been waiting several decades as a reader, and I would’ve waited forever to have Nick so fully, lovingly realized.

One of the other things that Gatsby adaptations have persistently gotten wrong is the titular character himself. The invention of Jay Gatsby hides the underlying James Gatz, makes it feel as if that old self is truly subsumed, as if it never mattered. But Isaac Powell gives us a Jay who’s exactly as he should be, who can’t hide beneath his own attempt at artifice and reinvention worth a goddamn. He’s young (as young as Nick; they’re 32 and 30 respectively both in the novel and here), painfully earnest, and just barely keeping a handle on the criminal shit he’s had to do in order to get where he is. When he says old sport to Nick, it’s not an affectation; when he says it to Tom, it becomes a biting insult. This is a Jay who knows where and why he’s vulnerable; he latches onto Nick like a not because he sees a man close to Daisy that he can exploit, but because he sees another young man who’s equally vulnerable, equally an outsider, equally haunted by the things they had to do in the war. From the moment they meet, they are almost always touching—a hand on the shoulder, on the back, getting in social harm’s way for each other, eyes seeking each other without cease in the most crowded of settings. When Jay takes Nick to lunch to meet Wolfsheim (who has in this production taken on the function of Dan Cody as well), it’s not to have somebody else vouch for the artifice of who Jay Gatsby is. It’s taking Nick to meet his fucking father-figure, and all of the messy, sincere “if you hurt my boy, I’ll kill you” sentiment that Wolfsheim aims at Nick was the moment I knew just how much the Nick’s loss by the end was going to hurt. Jay’s love for Daisy is a ghost of itself, even if as painfully earnest as everything else about him. Meanwhile, his attachment to Nick is so disarmingly genuine from the start that you understand the true tragedy you’re about to watch untold: these men who need each other, maybe even were made for each other, each prove unable to step outside their parallel distractions from what they truly are to each other. Jay’s interactions with Daisy and Nick’s interactions with several male and/or gender ambiguous members of the ensemble have something in common, which is a shocking level of physicality. This show had an intimacy coordinator; that’s the level of no holds barred we’re talking about. When you look at Tom and Myrtle, you can see why that was merited, too.

Speaking of Tom (Cory Jeacoma), the treatment of him here is every bit as scary as it should be. There’s no attempt to make him palatable, unlike what I’ve seen done with him in other adaptations. He towers over everyone else in the cast, I mean everyone, to a physical degree that’s uncomfortable. The way his wife, lover, and friends all flinch when he gets too close to them speaks volumes to the fact that he’s an abuser in every sense of the term. Even Nick, the prodigal college friend from Yale, is on eggshells around him (which, by the hotel blowup at the end of the show, becomes a sneering, reckless contempt, one of the driving forces that drives Nick to put himself between Jay and Tom whenever real harm is on the table). At the same time, this is a Tom who sincerely loves his wife and was only ever using Myrtle as a fling. You can tell he never meant any of the promises he made Myrtle. When Daisy tells him she didn’t stop the car on purpose, it’s as if his wife’s unapologetic act of manslaughter (“It was her or me!”) is the thing that wins him back. They aren’t careless people; they are people who consciously choose, day in and day out, to use others until they’re bored or done with them. The ruthlessness of Tom and Daisy as a couple is impressive, played up to a level that I feel more adaptations should do without fear of exaggerating the text.

As mentioned above, Daisy (Charlotte MacInnes) is no delicate, nervous creature who can’t help her actions under duress. She knows what she’s doing every bit as much as Tom knows what he’s doing. They use people, hurt people because they get bored and restless and enjoy it. I respect a Daisy who’s in control of her actions every step of the way even if I don’t like her; it’s better than trying to depict her as weak and at the mercy of the men around her. She’s a pragmatist and a survivor. So many of her songs are about choices and being conscious of those choices. She is a person you should fear every bit as much as you fear her husband, and even Jordan knows she’s not safe in Daisy’s orbit.

As Jordan, Eleri Ward is one of the neatest personalities on stage. Like Tom, she’s noticeably taller than most, which gives her a commanding physical presence. She has no romantic interest in anyone; I fucking love that this production show her and Nick bonding on the basis of being queer and tired of everyone else’s shit. This is a more likable, relatable Jordan than I’ve seen in the past. This is a Jordan whose relationship to Gatsby is much more familiar and warm, much more akin to the friendship she forms with Nick. In fact, the queer-and-tired vibes that roll off several of the principals in this production are palpable.

Myrtle and Wilson (Matthew Amira) aren’t always played as effective foils for Daisy and Tom, but here? They unquestionably are. They do actually love each other in spite of the things they’ve done to hurt each other, and it’s a constant dance of daring each other, challenging each other. The most memorable duet in the entire show is between them, during Act II. The confrontation is positively electric. These are two people with deep, complicated history. Of all the couples in the show, they feel the most real, the most alive. It makes the loss of Myrtle so much more wrenching; she’s not just a plot device emblematic of the bad choices they’ve all been making. She’s not shallow or frivolous or anything like that. She’s a shrewd woman with complex motivations, and for the first time ever I find myself loving her and caring what happens to her. She’s thrust even further into the action in that one of her part time gigs is working as a maid at Gatsby’s parties, a conceit that works shockingly well and hastens the devastating consequences of her affair with Tom.

I’ve made mention of Meyer Wolfsheim’s (Adam Grupper) uniquely enhanced role previously, so I’d be remiss if I didn’t comment on him again. This is a man who does, in fact, seem to give a shit about Jay above and beyond using him as a tool in his criminal empire. It’s not necessarily a healthy father-son dynamic, but Wolfsheim is usually played as ruthless, opportunistic, inhumanly calculating. Here, he’s a charming, but unquestionably dangerous man moved by a young soldier’s plight. He seems conflicted between his love for Jay and his need to have Jay continue to hold the party line within their business relationship. Wolfsheim is deeply conflicted about Jay in a way that I haven’t seen any Wolfsheim be played previously. And, as I mentioned earlier, the actor has a showstopper of a song and dance number. That may be the #1 “I wasn’t expecting that, but I’ll take it!” moment for me in this show. And I say “may be” only because the moment that truly stopped my heart, will stay with me until everything else fades from memory, is perhaps only understandable in the context of my engagement with the text of Gatsby as a writer of transformative works.

Daisy’s and Tom’s daughter, Pam Buchanan doesn’t always appear in adaptations because she’s a toddler. Even in the novel, she a throwaway mention plus a single scene near the end where the nanny brings her out to meet Jay and Nick. She’s most often left as a throwaway mention without even grave of the scene where she appears. The scene in the novel, however brief, is memorable—and has been captured in all its fragile beauty for the first time in this adaptation. Jay and Nick both pay bewildered, wondering attention to this kid when she’s brought out. Jay drops to his knees and takes her hand when she greets him while Nick looks on in a moment of singular focus on both of them. The child who plays Pam here has a spark, an expressiveness that made me choke up even though she’s only on stage for a few minutes, if that. The tableau is one in which you can feel the shock of reality, however brief, touch on these men—Daisy’s and Tom’s reckless actions may yet do harm to someone who’s barely even begun to live her life, but who is just conscious enough to be a participant in it. They recognize that they, like this child, are probably in for a word of ruin—and that they have let it go on for so long that there’s now nothing they can do about it. For me, the deepest tragedy was watching Nick and Jay throw off that moment of heartbroken, horrified recognition prompted by Pam and return to the parts they’d decided to play out until the moment one of their hearts stopped.

Speaking of grief, of Nick’s grief since he’s the one who loses so much: there is only one person who loses more, and that’s Mr. Gatz, Jay’s father. They preserve his arrival at the house when Nick is the only person who stays around to carry out Jay’s funeral and burial. And when he arrives, the visceral shock of seeing his dark skin, braids, and beaded elements of Native regalia in juxtaposition with his otherwise period-typical Western garb underscore the tragedy of what young Jay was running away from, of what he never quite succeeded in erasing from himself. The burial scene shows Nick reverently bringing several of Jay’s folded shirts from the house and handing them down into the grave to Mr. Gatz, who places them reverently as possessions to accompany his son into thereafter. The cultural ramifications are all at once understated and devastating. Nick has moments with each of Jay’s father figures that are among the most complex and moving in the show. The program does not make clear the name of the ensemble member who takes on this most memorable of all Mr. Gatz appearances, and this erasure in and of itself is both unfortunate and telling. This is a world that never belonged to the majority of those who inhabit it, and Nick realizes it with heartbroken clarity after having this final interaction. Even though he’s an outsider, he’s part of a world that has erased and betrayed the man he loved so much at every turn.

The closing number, “We Beat On,” felt like it needed something more, but it utilized the final line of the novel to a deeply moving effect. The lights go down suddenly as the last word is sung; it feels like the song is half finished. When the lights came up, Nick and Jay were center stage in each other’s embrace, just withdrawing from each other as the entire company transitioned into final bows. That’s how I’ll remember them, always: touching even when they’ve already lost each other, borne ceaselessly back into each other’s arms. If Nick is Orpheus, then I have no doubt that he, too, will tell this story again and again until someday, somewhere, something gives.

#the great gatsby #gatsby musical #florence welch #gatsby #natsby

[jaemlonfz]

can you do something about svt members wearing suits and holding their baby in the carrier infront and going for some event and the reader thinking "is it too soon to be wanting baby #2" 🫢 thank you <333

ps: i took over a MONTH to write this and i still think its not that good, i did not review it and english isnt my first language so im sorry if theres grammar errors, i hope yall like it wc: 3,1 K tw: there's the explanation and then pure filth, overall its basically all sorts of positions, crempie, praise kink in most of them, lmk if i forgot something so i was doing everyone in suits and wanting baby #2 but I started to think it was a bit silly because they all looked the same, so I changed the story for most of them. anyways i hope you still liked it, i made it with a lot of love and i apologize for taking so long

Seungcheol

You and Scoups were a public couple, fans distrusted you for years, you were always openly saying how much you loved seventeen's songs and still always singing Seungcheol's excerpts, and he openly talking about the films you star in without the slightest shame. So when you guys finally came out as a couple, your fanbase wasn't shocked at all.

A few years later as a married couple, after a one-year hiatus, you were seen in public with scoups carrying two little girls, that's how they found out that you had become parents of twin girls.

Years later, now with your daughters a bit older, you were getting ready for an awards ceremony, your burgundy dress matching with scoups tie, your girls' dresses in light pink. You were looking for your earring in every corner of your room when you went down to the living room to ask if your husband was with him, but when you arrived in the living room you saw the most adorable scene ever, Seungcheol trying to fix one of the girls' hairstyle while the another was stuck to his back kissing his cheek.

You can tell you felt your stomach turn at the Scoups' serious look as he tried not to ruin his daughter's hair, while the other looked at her father as if he were the most precious thing in the world.

Scoups was such a wonderful, caring and kind father.

You guys hadn't really brought up the subject of having kids anymore considering all the work you'd put in with both of them at once, but now it's a topic you'll actually talk about after seeing your husband being an extraordinary father.

It was only when you arrived at the awards ceremony that you realized you only had one earring in your ear.

-

“How beautiful my dear wife, you already want to have another baby”

Seungcheol said pushing his length into you, as he wiped your tears and brushed the hair stuck to your forehead.

“Will you let me fill you up so you can get pregnant again? Do you want to have a big belly carrying my son again?

Jeonghan

You knew you wanted to have another child with Jeonghan as soon as you saw him carrying your newborn son in the hospital, but that's something that absolutely every mother feels so you honestly didn't pay much attention to the feeling. But now, on the exact same date, a year later, you felt the same thing but with an animalistic intensity.

It was your son's first birthday and you decided to have a party with just the child's grandparents. With a maximum of ten balloons scattered around the large room, the grandparents amused by the baby's toothless smile, you decided to grab a candle and a lighter so you could sing personalized congratulations.

returning to the room with a candle and the lighter in your hand it was completely involuntary to rub your legs with emotion after seeing Jeonghan with your son in his arms. They were both wearing matching clothes, they both had the same smile, the same eyes and the same nose, they were like clones. the baby's thin hair was the same tone as yours but he was still a miniature Jeonghan, and seeing him smile so sincerely with his son in his arms made your eyes water a little.

-

“Jeonghan I want another baby." You admitted once the baby was sleeping in the crib.

“Do you really want another child or do you just want me to fill you?” He said smiling, and after your response in the blink of an eye your situation was completely different.

Your back arched as your ass was in the air and you cried and screamed with your face in the pillow.

“You asked for it, now you handle it.” Jeonghan said kissing your back.

Joshua

Joshua has always been a very giving person, every sunday going to church to pray for the well-being of others, and at least once a month going to orphanages to care for sick or orphaned children. And it was on one of these trips to the orphanage that you met.

Now years later Joshua continues with the same cherished habit of providing for others, and that's how you discovered that necessarily marrying him and carrying his child in your womb

Joshua was in bed when they called from the orphanage saying that a new child had arrived, as always Joshua shouted from the bed and ran asking if you would go with him to meet the new family member, you obviously said yes, quickly getting ready with him.

When you arrived in place, you ran to the bathroom because you were holding on too tightly to make a good impression on the child. returning to the giant garden looking for an unknown face, who you thought was around 4 or 5 years old, you saw Joshua's back and his arms as if he was waiting for something. Joshua quickly noticed your presence and turned to see you.

The child was definitely no older than 6 months old, Joshua held her with so much care, looked at her with so much care and love that you felt your blood pressure dropping.

Joshua was born to be a father, and you were the only one who hadn't realized that yet.

-

Now you had your legs as close together as possible, squeezing yourself constantly trying to hold in the liquid that would give you a child without letting a drop leak out.

As soon as you got home you admitted your dirty thoughts towards Joshua, who quickly took off your clothes, turned you around and filled you up.

“If you really want my son, don’t let a drop leak.” Joshua said from the kitchen, making you a sandwich while you smiled with completely red cheeks.

Junhui

It was the first time you had been away from your son for more than 10 hours, and Junhui was a wreck. Both had already cried because you missed your baby while he slept peacefully next to you, and now the day of true farewell had arrived.

You were going to a wedding a few hours away, so in case it was to late on the way back, you had already booked a hotel room just in case.

At the moment you were adjusting your heels sitting on the bed, while you saw Hunhui on the baby monitor talking to the adorable baby. you managed to hear a few words like “i’m going to miss you.” or “don’t cry too much in your grandmother’s ear.” Junhui was already ready with his suit and you, now late, ran to your son’s room to say goodbye too. but when you arrived at the door, when you saw Junhui's look at the child, you didn't know how to describe whether your heart was tender or swollen.

As expected, it was very late when the wedding ended and you had to sleep at the hotel, you could feel Junhui awake and restless by the way he moved in bed, and it left you with a wonderfull idea.

-

“You're such a good father." You said, panting on top of Junhui, riding his dick. “So worried about your son." Now you lay down in the perfect position to whisper in his ear

“Let’s give him a brother so he won’t be so alone, let’s have another child to worry about." You said and I could feel your cock twitching inside your tight, damaged interior

Soonyoung

it was yours daughter's first halloween, and quite obviously, soonyoung dressed her up as a tiger.

Yall had absolutely no party to go to, and honestly you thought the idea of ​​going door to door with a baby in costume was a bit strange, so you only dressed up for some photos and to have a fun memory about your first halloween as a family.

Soonyoung obviously begs you for the whole family to be tigers, so while you were looking for a shirt of his with a tiger print or some other style of clothing, when you returned to the living room you saw the most heart-warming scene in the world.

Soonyoung was holding the small hands of the child, who was trying to stand, while they were both smiling widely, you couldn't help it and took a photo of the moment, certainly thinking about how beautiful it would look framed on the wall.

Now that your daughter was already asleep, you went to talk to soonyoung about the scene you saw and you were obviously teased about it.

“Since you liked me so much seeing our daughter, let’s have another one”

-

“Younggg…” You mumbled trying not to make noise so as not to wake the beloved child in the next room

“i also love seeing you with our baby, let’s do one more” He pushed his length into you, who groaned at the invasion without warning.

“Ohh… ​​please soon, let’s have another one”

Wonwoo

In fact, wonwoo took the initiative to have another child with you.

Wonwoo has a younger brother and he can definitely say that it is a wonderful thing to have someone to look after and be able to talk to, so after a year of your baby being born wonwoo called you to talk about it.

The conversation was absolutely very short, he simply admitted that he wanted another child and you opened the robe you were wearing and let it fall to the floor

-

“Such a willing mother.” He kissed your chin and quickly moved down to your neck. “Such a willing wife”

“How can you be so willing to make me happy." He smiled ramming his cock into you, who twitched beneath him

“Are you so wet just thinking about me bearing another child? Do you like to imagine me filling your brim?”

You managed to hear a chuckle from him as you hurriedly shook your head answering the question. “You will look so beautiful swollen with my son”

Jihoon

Honestly there wasn't a specific moment that you knew you wanted to have another child with Jihoon, because you always knew that once you saw this man as a father, you would never stop, but I really think the penny dropped when your son asked for a sister.

You were having a movie night when suddenly your three year old son asked for a little sister. your face automatically turned to Jihoon, who as already looking at you.

You talked to your son and said you were going to talk to his father about it, and when you saw your son's reaction, you swore to yourself that you would give this child a giant family to love

“You can rest assured that you’re going to have a little sister." You heard Jihoon whispering in your son’s ear while he was still looking at you

-

“Jihoon…” you whimpered underneath him, your legs spread, your arms up being held by your husband’s strong hand

“We have to fulfill our firstborn’s wish, and now is the perfect time”

Jihoon was referring to the weekend he was spending with his grandparents, you were definitely going to be pregnant by the end of this sunday.

dokyeom -

Today was your cousin's wedding and you were desperately late. putting on your heels as you jumped up to your one-year-old daughter who was in her crib still in her pajamas, after all you left her there to get ready first and dress her up later, but distracted by the happiness of putting on makeup for a big event again you completely lost track of what time .

Mentally cursing yourself for messing around so much while doing your makeup, you entered the room imagining the little girl with her hair all tangled up, a dirty diaper stinking of poop and her tantruming with hunger, but when you opened your eye, preparing for the worst you saw dokyeom a hand without a lap.

He was holding her in his arms, trying to keep her awake so she could rest later. Dokyeom was divine with those formal clothes and kinda wet hair, you were led to think about your husband making you feel good thinking about having another child

She was already dressed beautifully, her suitcase was already packed, her hair was in a beautiful hairstyle and with a beautiful bow that matched her dress. Dokyeom had done all of this knowing you would be late.

-

“do you want to see me be a father again? did you like me seeing our daughter today?” dokyeom said as he kissed your sweaty neck.

“are you going to let me fill you up again? will you let me breed you?" he laughed at your scrunched up face with no coherent thoughts in your brain.

Mingyu

That Mingyu is a famous model that everyone knows, and that you, his makeup artist, had great chemistry with him, everyone knows, that's how you met. Now married with two daughters, brands caught your opportunity to do a commercial featuring Mingyu as his girls' father, so you did him in makeup for the shoot.

It was a casual commercial, something like them at a picnic, an outdoor field. With a brush you touch up the makeup on Mingyu's tanned skin while others arranging the scene.

In the scenes, Mingyu had one on his shoulders and the other was running hand in hand with her father or with the two playing together while he smiled admiringly. Seeing this scene was something that super swelled your heart with love and warmed your insides with emotion at seeing your husband and daughters.

When you got home at the end of the day, you were both exhausted and fell into your crib like rocks.

-

“Mingyu, give me another child” He wasted no time in pushing you onto the bed and holding your legs in the air and starting to push his length into your wet core.

“You were certainly excited about me seeing it in the commercial today, right? Do you want to have another child after you saw me looking so hot taking care of the girls” He talked to you while your eyes rolled constantly.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to only let you sleep tonight after you have an baby in your womb.”

Minghao

You and Minghao always had in mind that you wanted someone to love and call family, technical children would only come as a bonus if your partner also liked the idea of ​​procreating.

Minghao was a little piece of heaven, being everything good you could imagine, so when he thought about his thoughts about just wanting one person to call family without the obligatory need to involve a baby you were left in doubt.

Your first child was an accident and you discovered the pregnancy at 4 months, welcoming the pregnancy you saw the brightness in Minghao's eyes increasing even more, especially after your son was born.

Now, a few years later with an older child and already demonstrating some personality traits, you will see that any chance to bring lives with the same principles as Minghao you will definitely seize this opportunity.

So yes, practically you would get pregnant countless times if it meant several mini Minghao’s around the world.

“Let’s have another baby now Hao” You said as soon as Minghao sat on the bed getting ready to sleep, but now a night’s sleep is no longer guaranteed.

-

You were on your sides, lying on the bed, your pajamas were askew and your panties dragged to the side as Minghao pushed into you calmly.

“How beautiful asking me to get you pregnant, looking at me with such long eyes, your red cheeks and your sweaty hands.” He whispered in your ear slowly

“You were so nervous, did you think I would deny your request?” He kissed your neck moving his index finger to your sensitive spot “I will never deny you that”

Seungkwan

Seungkwan has always been romantic, and even after his first child was born he continued with this characteristic. Always bringing you flowers when he came home from work, bringing you your favorite chocolate or even asking for your favorite food to be delivered to your door while he was traveling.

So in his head, even though he knew that any basic conversation about having another child would probably end with you agreeing with him and you making the second child, but Seungkwan wanted to win over the second child, he wanted to win over you.

Suddenly Seungkwan would come home with clothes that were smaller than what your son was wearing because he had gotten "confused", sometimes he would take the foods you craved during pregnancy and ask you if it reminded you of anything or even buy a shirt written "big brother" for his son after all he hadn't even seen the print. So when you thought about it, you realized that Seungkwan was already way ahead of you, giving you clues about having another child from the beginning.

-

"Kwannie, if you wanted another baby you just had to tell me" You said on top of him, he had covered your face in shame the moment you discovered his plan and climbed on his dick.

"I didn't want to pressure you" He spoke shakily, you guys fit together so well. You were so magnificent on top of him.

"You deserve another child, and I will never feel pressured by something you do."

Vernon

Vernon has a good relationship with his sister. According to him, he and his sister were always friends and always counted on themselves in situations that their parents were unable to help. You have a good relationship with your brother, and you definitely agree with Vernon's wise words.

Gaining a sibling for both of us was like winning the lottery, receiving the best gift in the world, having a friend of your own blood. So you've definitely come to the conclusion that you're either going to have a couple of children or none at all, and as you're now going out with a five-year-old child, it's time to give the gift that you both managed to receive for the anxious firstborn.

-

“I forgot how addictive you are” Vernon mumbled as you moved on top of him.

“I think I’m going to try to get you pregnant every day from now on.”

Chan

Chan is a chaming person, and he actually its very good at making people do what he wanted, without them even knowing that. So when he saw you as a actual mother, holding your lilttle girl in your arms, Chan knew that all he wanted to do for the rest of his life was making you more and more of a mother and seeing you enjoying your motherhood.

Of course he would help around the house, he wanted to be a good husband/father so you could see his effort and give him a reward (a new baby)

Obviously Chan knew that your first pregnancy was very great and you did not suffer at all coparing to others mothers experience, and he knew if someday you started acting like that, it would be the end of the story. But he couldnt help himself when he saw you all curved up for him, with your tearing eyes begging for another baby

-

"Of couse i will give you another baby." He kissed your forehead as you mumbled below his muscular body

"How can i say no after you look at my so beautiful like that?" He whines in your ear seeing you tremble all up again.

"Such a beautiful mother." And yet again, Chan always get what he wants.

#seungcheol smut #jeonghan smut #joshua smut #junhui smut #hoshi smut #wonwoo smut #woozi smut #dokyeom smut #mingyu smut #minghao smut #seungkwan smut #vernon smut #lee chan smut #seventeen smut #seventeen

[ezekiel-krishna]

Pick a CARD 🎴

The Best Quality of Your Future SPOUSE

Within you, I discover a heart brimming with kindness, a soul that exudes tranquility, and a mind that dazzles with its brilliance. Your love serves as a radiant beacon, illuminating my world and revealing the very best that life has to offer. I consider myself incredibly fortunate to have found all these extraordinary attributes in you.

- Unknown

Please remember that this reading is not personalized, so only take which resonates with you.

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🔷 Card 1

✲ The Eight of Pentacles represents dedication, hard work, and a strong commitment to improving oneself. Your future partner's most admirable trait is the unwavering dedication to their craft or personal development. A partner who exemplifies diligence, focus, and a relentless pursuit of greatness.

✲ Someone who is wholeheartedly devoted to continuous learning and self-improvement, always striving to broaden their knowledge and to enhance their skills. This card indicates that your perfect match will bring a strong work ethic and a clear sense of purpose to the partnership. Trustworthy and committed, consistently investing effort into the relationship and cherishing its growth and progress.

✲ Picture a future where loyalty, honesty, and dedication blend seamlessly, creating a captivating tapestry. Your perfect match will exemplify these traits, demonstrating it in their life. These unique qualities of your Future Spouse establishes a sturdy foundation for a profound and rewarding partnership, one rooted in trust and shared values.

🔷 Card 2

✲ The Empress brings forth a radiant and nurturing energy, unveiling the remarkable qualities your future spouse possess. Symbolizing abundance, fertility, and a profound connection to nature, The Empress hints that your beloved will be a caring and nurturing soul, overflowing with genuine love and firm support for you.

✲ Moreover, Your Future Spouse will radiates an aura of happiness and a zest for life. A carefree and playful person which perfectly complements your longing for a partner with a delightful sense of humor. Your partner has the potential to infuse your life with laughter and bring immense joy, creating a relationship that is not only loving but also incredibly fun.

✲ The Card reveals a glimpse of a forthcoming spouse who not only embraces these characteristics I mentioned, but embodies them fully. Your Future Spouse will shower you with love and attention, nurturing and cherishing your partnership, while also bringing a sense of warmth, hilarity, and playfulness to your journey together.

🔷 Card 3

✲ The Four of Swords symbolizes the importance of taking a break and reflecting on oneself. It implies that your Future Spouse might have a knack for finding solace and tranquility in moments of solitude and deep thought. This card also highlights the significance of self-care and carving out time for personal growth, which can lead to a stronger sense of independence within a relationship. Your future significant other values personal space and cherishes maintaining their individuality while being part in the relationship.

✲ As I tap into the powerful energy of this card, I can sense a magnificent harmony unfolding with you future Spouse. Your future spouse is bound to be someone who deeply values romance, treasuring those special moments of profound connection and intimacy. Furthermore, your future spouse will also understand the importance of nurturing their own individuality, fostering a sense of independence that perfectly complements your own desire for personal freedom.

✲ The incredible potential that lies within this union, where the perfect balance between togetherness and individuality can flourish, creating a partnership that is both enriching and fulfilling. As you encounter your future spouse, it is essential to fully embrace and honor these qualities, providing the space needed for introspection and respecting your spouse independence, all while nurturing the romantic bonds that tie you together. Trust in the journey, for the path is unfolding before you, guiding you towards a profound and harmonious connection with your future spouse.

May these insights empower you as you continue your quest for love!

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