#escape artist magazine

[monkeyssalad-blog]

1955 illustration by Douglas Hills by totallymystified Via Flickr: For Escape To Happiness by Roberta Leigh. From Woman's Own.

[periodically80s]

[roadtrippinlilly]

80s Life...

Source Me laf@ilyF 😊

[spacenoirdetective]

Mort Kunstler, "For Men Only" artwork, Dec 1966

[hsmagazine254]

Enrique Iglesias: The Latin Pop Sensation Who Conquered Hearts Worldwide

Enrique Iglesias: The Latin Pop Sensation Who Conquered Hearts Worldwide Album: Essentials Genre: Latin Pop, Pop, Ballad Being the son of the legendary Julio Iglesias no doubt fuelled Enrique Iglesias’ musical muse, though the Spanish singer quickly carved out his own niche in Latin pop. He secured his first record deal on his own merits (and under a pseudonym), and his 1995 debut sold a million…

[hiiikiko]

𝖘𝖕𝖎𝖉𝖊𝖗-𝖒𝖆𝖓!𝖊𝖑𝖑𝖎𝖊 𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖈𝖆𝖓𝖔𝖓𝖘n [2]

🕷️spidey!ellie who goes through pairs of converse and glasses like they’re gum.. it’s gotten so bad that she now just wears contacts

🕷️spidey!ellie who can’t help but swing by your usual spots… but hey, it’s totally not stalking if she’s doing it for your safety and out of concern… right??

🕷️spidey!ellie who kind of hates her suit… she can’t tell if it’s because it reminds her of that horrid deadpool girl or if it’s because the colours are so unintentionally patriotic..?

🕷️spidey!ellie who’s room is filled with fan made gifts.. she can’t bear to get rid of them, her favourite gift is one that she got from a little girl that she saved from the ‘scary lizard man,’ it’s a drawing of spidey and her at the park eating ice cream.. it was the first gift that she received from a fan and she has it framed on the wall above her bed

🕷️spidey!ellie is adored by the grandmas in her neighbourhood, they think she is the perfect hero, helping them carry groceries, carrying them across the street, beating the thief’s who try to steal their purses to a blood pulp.. she is loved by many

🕷️spidey!ellie who dies a little inside whenever she sees herself on the front of a newspaper.. or a magazine cover… or the evening news… or on tshirts… or your phone…and it’s not a bad thing, she just doesn’t see why everyone thinks she’s such a ‘hotshot’ when really, she’s just a broke chem major who’s side hustle is taking pictures for a shitty newspaper

🕷️spidey!ellie who constantly reminds herself that ‘great power comes with great responsibility’ but can’t help but use her abilities for other things… like tripping abby, stealing the ball in a basketball game because those jocks were pissing her off, stealing a chair out from under Jesse, stealing the remote from tommy… and… god, there’s just so much

🕷️spidey!ellie who likes to graffiti subways when no one is looking, she may be a hero but she’s an artist first… even if that art is defacing public property and is technically a crime.. but hey! that spider on the side of the subway is pretty cool, right?

🕷️spidey!ellie who used to have longer hair but got sick of having to put her hair up in a cap every time she put on her mask, so she ends up just asking tommy to cut it which he did…. almost shaving her bald the first time until she stopped him by knocking the razor out of his hand which caused him to groan and go on about how he was in the military and if she wanted to play hero, she ended the proper haircut… a buzz cut, she’s just lucky that most of it had grown out when she met you because before it was an undercut and she wasn’t a fan.

🕷️spidey!ellie who LOVES the avengers, she has all six avengers keychains on her backpack, she collected them with joel

🕷️spidey!ellie attracts spiders and it kinda makes her mad but at the same time she never kills them like she did before, now they’re family… family that you take back outside into the cold…

🕷️spidey!ellie who’s read fan fiction about herself and she’s gotta admit, even she swooned a bit

🕷️spidey!ellie who hates hates hates public gatherings for her, like when the mayor let her cut the ribbon for the new library? she could’ve died right then and there, she didn’t like all the cameras, the girls screaming for her, the attention.. all she wanted was to leave and escape back to her room and read that new comic she picked up last week…

🕷️spidey!ellie buys you spidey merch.. even before she tells you that she’s spidey, she buys you merch just because she loves the way you look wearing her, it makes her feel a little possessive

🕷️spidey!ellie has sharper canines that most

🕷️spidey!ellie who carries her backpack around with her everywhere, even as spidey, she has stash spots all over the city, safe places to store her backpack for when she can actually study

🕷️spidey!ellie she likes to study on really tall buildings, she puts her headphones in and opens her notebook, enjoying the scenery and she also has a police scanner next to her, listening out for her cue to pack up and kick some villain butt

🕷️spidey!ellie who when she gets really stressed out.. turns back to smoking, she had quit when she decided to take on the hero gig so that her lung capacity wouldnt be fucked but she can’t help it sometimes, especially when the Daily Bugle is pushing out anti-spidey propaganda, the police chief has a warrant out for her arrest, and you not knowing who she is yet

🕷️spidey!ellie who can be so calm under pressure but the second you’re within her spidey senses perimeter, she loses all her swagger and becomes a clumsy, stutter mess who can’t even control her spidey senses or her powers

🕷️spidey!ellie who gets a little nervous going on dates with you… so her webs come out and stick to everything.. she can’t help it and it pisses her off, so for the first couple of dates she completely avoids touching you and if you bring it up, she’ll get red in the face and stutter about how she has sweaty hands… and then when you’re like “oh… uh..” and she sees you looking kinda like ‘ew’ she’ll internally kick herself and then try to explain that it’s not like excessive but you just make her nervous which makes you giggle, eliciting a blushing reaction from her

🕷️spidey!ellie who thinks you’re completely out of her league like she isn’t built, attractive, smart, funny, sweet, and a literal fucking superhero??

🕷️spidey!ellie who uses her powers to sneak back into the schools laboratory after hours to do homework… that’s it.

🕷️spidey!ellie who shivers a bit whenever she sees deadpool merch… the memories come flooding back…. (fic coming soon :P)

[a/n: if you liked this, please consider checking out my spider-man!ellie series linked here]

[josephandrewstarkey]

hiii! could you do drew starky x reader with an age gappp. and maybe reader is also famous for like singing or something so their highkey the IT couple.

tysm for your request anon, i hope you like it! xx

in the backseat

warnings: 18+ minors DNI, fingering, backseat, kind of public

words: 845

❧ drew starkey x singer!reader

Y/N was only 21, but she was already one of the biggest names in music. Everyone knew her songs—she was the kind of artist who could make you feel something with just a few lyrics. She wrote every one of them herself, and that’s why people loved her. Her music was raw, real, and so full of emotion that it left fans obsessed.

Drew, on the other hand, was 30, an established actor known for his role on Outer Banks. When they first started dating, people couldn’t stop talking about the age gap. Some fans loved them together, saying they were the perfect couple, while others weren’t so sure. But they didn’t care.

They first met after one of her concerts. Y/N had seen on Drew’s Instagram story that he was going to her show, which completely blew her mind. He was a huge celebrity himself, and yet, here he was, a fan of her music. So, she invited him backstage. When he showed up, they ended up talking for hours—about music, acting, life, everything. The connection was instant. That night, he offered to take her home, and she said yes. From that moment, they were inseparable.

A few months later, they were the couple everyone was talking about. They were on magazine covers, all over social media, and no matter the controversy, it was clear that they were in love. Drew adored her, and Y/N couldn’t imagine being with anyone else.

Tonight was huge. Y/N was performing at one of the biggest stadiums in the U.S., and, of course, Drew was there to support her. The crowd was insane, but when Y/N spotted Drew in the audience, it felt like everything stopped. He was smiling up at her, and for a second, it was just the two of them.

The concert was a blast. Y/N was at her best, hitting every note, dancing across the stage, and the crowd loved every second of it. She could feel the energy, the love from her fans, and especially from Drew, who never took his eyes off her.

❥

In the dimly lit backseat of their SUV, the world outside felt distant. Y/N leaned back into Drew’s chest, the quiet hum of the car’s engine adding to the tension in the air. They’d been on the road for a while, their driver focused on the winding streets, giving them a sense of privacy. Drew’s arm wrapped around her waist, his lips brushing against her neck in soft, teasing kisses.

“You’re driving me crazy, you know that?” he murmured against her skin, his voice low and gravelly, sending a shiver down her spine. Y/N’s breath hitched as his hand drifted lower, fingers grazing the soft fabric of her dress, teasing her inner thigh.

She let out a quiet gasp as his fingers slid beneath the hem of her dress, moving dangerously close to her center. “Drew,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, thick with anticipation.

He chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to her ear. “You can be quiet, can’t you, baby?” His fingers finally made contact with her, slipping under her panties, and she bit her lip to stifle the moan that threatened to escape. The feeling of his fingers against her slick heat sent a wave of pleasure crashing over her, her body responding instantly to his touch.

He moved slowly at first, drawing out her anticipation, enjoying the way her body trembled against him. “So wet for me already,” Drew whispered, his lips tracing the curve of her jaw. His fingers moved deeper, finding that sweet spot inside her, and Y/N had to bite down on her hand to keep from crying out.

Her free hand gripped his thigh tightly, nails digging into the fabric of his jeans as her body arched towards his touch. Drew’s pace quickened, the pressure of his fingers intensifying as he worked her closer and closer to the edge. He knew exactly what she needed, exactly how to touch her to drive her wild.

Her breath came in short, shallow gasps, her body trembling with the effort to stay quiet. “Drew, I’m close…” she managed to whisper, her voice barely holding steady.

His lips curled into a smirk against her skin. “Then come for me, baby. I’ve got you.” His thumb brushed over her sensitive clit in perfect rhythm, and that was all it took.

Y/N’s body tensed as waves of pleasure crashed through her, her mind going blank as she rode out the high. Drew held her close, his fingers never faltering as he helped her ride through the intensity of her orgasm.

When she finally came down, breathless and flushed, Drew pulled his hand away, wrapping his arm around her waist once again, holding her close. He kissed her temple softly, whispering in her ear.

“You did so good, baby.”

She leaned into him, her body still trembling, and let out a soft, satisfied sigh. The world outside seemed far away, and in that moment, it was just the two of them, lost in their own little bubble of pleasure.

[reomikagekin]

your fics are awesome😭😭❤️ when i found out that alien stage characters canonically got photoshoots and collabs with brands etc (seen ivan doing it in the top 3 video) i couldnt help but imagine how it would be like to work together on photoshoots with certain characters, id like to see your take on it🙏🙏

Lights, Camera, Tension

You never thought working on photoshoots with Alien Stage stars would be easy, but nothing could have prepared you for this.

The room is buzzing with activity—stylists adjusting last-minute details, photographers calling for lighting changes, and assistants running around with coffee orders. And in the middle of it all, you’re standing next to some of the most well-known faces in the industry: Luka, Till, and Ivan.

It’s a lot.

---

Luka

"Keep your chin up," Luka murmurs as he stands beside you, his posture perfect as always. His princely aura is effortless, and while he looks ethereal on camera, you can feel the subtle tension in his fingers where they rest near yours.

Luka’s professionalism is unmatched. Every movement is graceful, every expression carefully calculated to perfection. He barely needs direction, shifting seamlessly between soft, longing gazes and sharp, intense stares. It should be intimidating, but somehow, it’s more unsettling than anything else.

Because even off-camera, Luka maintains that same poised demeanor. He never jokes around between takes, rarely engages in casual conversation, and if he does, it’s with a tone so measured it feels rehearsed.

Yet, in the briefest moments between shots, you catch a glimpse of something else—a flicker of unease when the photographer places a hand on your shoulder to adjust your pose, a rare break in his expression when he sees Hyuna passing by outside the studio.

"You're tense," you comment absentmindedly as the makeup artist fixes the gloss on your lips.

Luka tilts his head, offering a practiced smile. "Am I?"

You don’t push. But you do notice, later, when he reaches for your sleeve absentmindedly between takes, his fingers curling around the fabric as if grounding himself.

---

Till

Till is… well, Till.

The moment he steps onto the set, he’s stiff as a board, eyes darting around like he’s trying to find an escape route.

"You okay?" you whisper, adjusting your position beside him.

"I—Yeah. Fine." His voice is soft, barely audible over the camera clicks. He’s fidgeting, hands clasped together so tightly his knuckles are turning white.

The first few shots are awkward. Till doesn’t know where to look, how to pose, or what to do with his hands. The photographer tries to guide him, but it only makes things worse.

Then, in a moment of pure instinct, you reach for his hand.

He jolts. But when he looks at you, something shifts. His fingers twitch before hesitantly relaxing against yours. You squeeze lightly, offering a small smile, and he exhales. The tension eases just a little.

"You're doing great," you say between shots.

Till doesn’t answer. But later, when the break is called, you notice him sketching furiously in the corner of the studio, his face set in deep concentration. Peeking over his shoulder, you spot a rough outline of the two of you mid-pose.

He catches you looking and immediately slams the sketchbook shut, his ears burning red.

---

Ivan

If Luka is calculated and Till is anxious, Ivan is pure chaos.

"Let's do something fun," he suggests, completely ignoring the photographer’s directions. He throws an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into an effortless pose that somehow manages to look both candid and elegant. "Right? C’mon, don’t be boring."

He’s a natural in front of the camera, flashing a charismatic grin that makes every shot look like it belongs in a high-end magazine.

But Ivan, for all his confidence, is also a menace.

"Hold still," you mutter as you fix the collar of his jacket.

"Make me."

You roll your eyes, but Ivan just smirks, clearly entertained by your reaction. Every now and then, he sneaks in little gestures that definitely weren’t part of the concept—tilting his head close to yours, brushing his fingers against your cheek, leaning in just a little too much.

"You’re doing this on purpose," you accuse.

"Maybe," he hums, eyes gleaming with amusement. "What? The camera loves chemistry."

The photographer certainly doesn’t mind. In fact, they encourage it. "Perfect! Ivan, lean in a bit more—yes, just like that!"

You sigh. There’s no winning against Ivan.

But later, when the shoot wraps up and everyone starts packing up, you catch him in the dressing room, staring at himself in the mirror. His usual grin is absent, replaced by a quiet, contemplative look.

You don’t say anything. Just nudge his shoulder lightly as you pass by.

Ivan blinks, then chuckles. "What? Don’t tell me you’re falling for me already."

"Not a chance," you deadpan.

He laughs, but this time, it’s softer. Almost genuine.

---

By the end of the day, you’re exhausted, but the photoshoot is a success.

Luka thanks the staff politely before slipping away without a word, as if retreating back behind an invisible wall. Till lingers near the studio exit, sketchbook in hand, casting you a glance that almost seems like a silent thank you. Ivan, as expected, is the last to leave, throwing a wink over his shoulder as he disappears down the hallway.

You sigh, rubbing your temples.Working with these three is going to kill you.

But you can’t deny it.

The camera really does love chemistry.

[p0orbaby]

It’s Called Free Fall

summary: therapy makes you realise a lot of things

warnings: none

a/n: there’s not actually any alexia in this, but she is mentioned

word count: 2.7k

part 1

-

The therapist’s office feels like it’s been curated for someone far more refined than you—someone who actually takes their therapy seriously, rather than as an ironic lifestyle choice. The walls are a pale, flat grey that veers perilously close to lifeless, and there’s this overwhelming sense of emptiness, like everything here exists for display rather than use. The chairs, two narrow-backed leather things angled just slightly towards each other, appear less like furniture and more like sculptures. You imagine some recent graduate from a New York art school positioned them just so, meticulously arranging each one to make sure it induced the precise mix of discomfort and luxury.

The table between you and Dr. Vargas is another matter entirely—a sleek slab of polished mahogany, thick enough that you could lean your entire weight on it without even a squeak of protest. Its surface is bare except for a single leather-bound notebook, a fountain pen and a ceramic dish, all aligned to a degree that feels almost militaristic. There’s not a single loose thread in the rug, not a fingerprint on the glass of the one window facing out onto a garden view that’s suspiciously verdant for the middle of winter.

Even the fern, perched in the corner like it’s waiting for its close-up, seems too green, too lush. It’s ridiculous, but it’s all part of the aesthetic, this carefully curated minimalism, the kind of cultivated restraint that says, “We don’t need embellishments. We’re here for the truth.” You’re here, supposedly, for honesty and revelation. But to you, it all feels a bit too staged, like a hotel that boasts a “homely charm” but is actually cold and sterile beneath the surface. You suspect Dr. Vargas might even mist the plant herself in some sacred ritual of maintenance, a sort of last-minute grounding exercise to fill the silence between clients.

You settle back in the chair, draping one leg over the other, and make a mental note to mention it next time you’re in some magazine interview. “Austere,” you’d say, “but in a chic way. I once caught my therapist hand-polishing the leaves of a houseplant.” You let yourself savour the image for a moment, glancing at the fern, which seems to return your gaze with silent judgement.

Dr. Vargas has her pen poised in that infuriatingly neutral way, a half-smile that somehow manages to be both welcoming and utterly unreadable. She’s mastered this look; the expression that says, I’m here for you while also suggesting she’s already a step ahead, already written your entire profile out in her head, neatly categorised into sub-headings like “Avoidant Tendencies” and “Control Issues.”

You begin with a sigh, throwing a glance at the ceiling in mock contemplation. “I’ve been thinking about another place. A chalet, maybe. Something in the mountains this time.” You pause, letting the idea sit, feigning like it’s just occurred to you. “Somewhere remote, where people can’t just… get to me”

You’re fully aware that she sees right through it. This isn’t her first rodeo; you’re sure she’s dealt with hundreds like you before, masters of diversion who fill sessions with banalities rather than facing anything real. But Dr. Vargas, in all her maddening professionalism, gives nothing away. She just tilts her head, the soft scratch of her pen against her notebook barely there as she writes something down.

“A place to escape,” she offers back to you in that maddeningly placid tone.

“Yes. Escape,” you echo, knowing full well the word holds no weight here. Escape from what, exactly? You let your leg bounce a little, as if the rhythm might lend some gravity to your words. “And there’s this new project I’m in talks with—A24, actually. They want me to do something… serious. A proper rebrand. Gritty. Artistic.” You drawl out “artistic” with the faintest of smirks, like you’re amused at the thought of it all. A lifetime of playing these games, and you’re practically a pro by now.

Dr. Vargas’s face betrays not a flicker of interest or amusement. She simply nods, that little encouraging tilt of her head again, like she’s waiting for you to get to the real point, the heart of the matter. But you’re not giving in so easily.

“It could be big, you know,” you continue, lifting your chin a fraction. “And I’ve got Alexia, of course.” The name slips out, deliberately nonchalant, though you feel its weight instantly, like it’s left a mark on the air between you.

Dr. Vargas raises her eyebrows, ever so slightly. “Alexia,” she repeats, not quite a question, not quite a statement. Just… acknowledgment, and yet it still feels as if she’s plucked something out of you without you realising. You don’t like it, the way she turns your own words against you.

“Yeah,” you say, shrugging. “She’s… brilliant. On the field, off it. You know, she’s—” You trail off, allowing a smirk to play on your lips. “Not bad to look at, either”

She gives no reaction, doesn’t even break eye contact. You imagine her poker face would rival that of any seasoned card shark. But it’s her silence that presses at you, coaxing out more than you intend to reveal. It’s a trick she’s used before, and yet here you are, willingly falling into it.

“Honestly,” you continue, almost laughing as if sharing some private joke, “you should see her after a match. There’s this… intensity, this rawness. Shirt off, sweat-drenched, eyes still blazing from the game. It’s… invigorating.” You roll the word around like a fine wine, savouring it as you go. “It’s like the universe threw me a bone, just when I was getting bored”

Dr. Vargas finally moves, a slight shift of her head, her mouth curving up in a near-smile. “And yet, you’re here”

Her words drop between you like a carefully placed stone. You scoff, rolling your eyes, but there’s something in her expression—an almost imperceptible softness that somehow feels like an accusation. “Therapy’s a hobby,” you shrug, leaning back, as if the very idea of anything deeper is laughable. “I’m always in therapy, Doc. News flash”

“Yes,” she agrees smoothly, not missing a beat, “but you don’t usually bring her up”

“Come on,” you counter, with a smirk that’s designed to look careless, “I bring her up all the time”

“Not like this”

Her voice is calm, almost gentle, but her gaze sharpens, pinning you in place. You feel a spike of irritation, or maybe it’s something else. You cast a look towards the fern, now faintly silhouetted by the afternoon sun, its shadow long and narrow across the wall, an unasked-for third party in this strange little dance. The absurdity of the whole scene hits you, but before you can fully detach, she’s speaking again.

“You’re talking about her differently. More… openly.” There’s no edge to her tone, no overt judgment, yet it feels like she’s peeled back a layer, glimpsed a part of you you hadn’t meant to reveal.

In the moments that follow, you stub out your cigarette on the pristine ceramic dish Vargas keeps on the table, the one she’s claimed is “not for smoking” but never actually moved after that one session. You’ve taken it as tacit permission, though you know damn well it irritates her—just another way to test the boundaries in a room that prides itself on having none. That’s half the point of these sessions: see how far you can stretch them. How much she’ll let you say, or not say. And you’ve mastered the art of saying absolutely nothing, all while filling the space with empty words.

Dr. Vargas doesn’t speak, doesn’t press, which is almost worse than if she did. There’s just the persistent softness in her eyes, the quiet implication that she understands more than you’d prefer. You remember Alexia’s eyes looking at you like that once, right after you’d tried to make some grand point about the nature of relationships—one of those pseudo-philosophical tangents you like to go on. She’d just looked at you, with a kind of bemused patience that felt a little too genuine, a little too close to knowing you.

You roll your shoulders, shake off the memory. But it clings.

“Alright,” you say, letting the smoke spill out as you form the words. “Maybe I don’t do ‘love’ like everyone else. I’m not here for a candlelit dinner and a mortgage. I’m not,” you add with a quick laugh, “one of those people who turn into some sap over a nice couple’s holiday in Santorini”

Dr. Vargas gives a small nod, an acknowledgement rather than agreement, her expression neutral but open, giving you room to continue.

“But, yes. Fine.” You take another drag, a deliberate pause. “Maybe I… care about her. I care about her. She’s different, alright?”

“Different how?” she asks gently, with an infuriatingly patient tone.

You groan, shifting in your seat. “Come on, don’t make me quantify it. That’s your thing, not mine.” You know you’re stalling, using your usual deflections, but there’s an itch underneath it, a part of you that feels raw just acknowledging that Alexia is, in fact, ‘different.’

You can feel her eyes on you, waiting for you to take the bait you’ve laid out for yourself.

“Fine, you want specifics?” you sigh, feigning annoyance, though you know you’re the one who’s led the conversation here. “She… laughs at my worst jokes. Like, really laughs. Not in a polite way, but genuinely, like she thinks I’m the funniest person alive, even when I’m barely trying. It’s stupid, really, but it gets me”

“And how does that make you feel?” Vargas leans forward, like she’s zeroing in on something significant.

You chuckle, low and dismissive, waving the question off with your cigarette. “How do you think it makes me feel? It’s… fine. Nice. A bit strange, maybe. I’m not used to being seen like that.” You pause, the weight of that admission lingering in the air between you.

She doesn’t react, doesn’t push; she just lets the moment settle, knowing there’s more.

You sigh, smoke curling up around you, as your mind goes back to other little things—the way she has this weird ritual of picking all the green M&Ms out of the bag and tossing them to you, claiming they’re “bad luck.” How she insists on reading the morning news out loud, in that silly, exaggerated announcer voice, just to make you laugh while you pretend to read emails. Or how she makes you tea at exactly the right temperature, handing you the mug with a grin like she’s just given you a priceless gift. These are things that, on the surface, should be forgettable, the kind of mundane moments that fade. But they don’t, do they? Not with her.

Dr. Vargas’s voice interrupts your reverie, soft but insistent. “You’re smiling”

You realise she’s right; you’re smiling without even meaning to, and it’s a small, stupid smile, the kind that feels too open. You try to erase it, but it’s too late. The vulnerability’s already there, a quiet confession written across your face.

You roll your eyes, more at yourself than at her. “Alright, so what? So she’s… alright, she’s fun. She’s got that energy, you know, that lightness. It’s kind of… refreshing”

The words slip out unbidden, and you feel a pang of something resembling regret. Refreshing. A word that implies something else by omission—that most of your life, most people you’ve known, have been exhausting. The irony isn’t lost on you: someone so completely different from your own brand of detached sarcasm, from your carefully cultivated ennui, has managed to slip under the radar and wedge herself into your carefully controlled life.

Dr. Vargas watches, her silence pressing you forward.

“Look, I don’t think about it too much,” you say, trying to inject a casual note into your tone. “I don’t need to psychoanalyse every smile, every inside joke. I’m not here to have my relationship broken down into neat little psych terms”

“Maybe you should think about it,” Vargas says gently. “Maybe that’s why you’re here”

You scoff, but there’s a softness in the sound, a hint of resignation. Because she’s right, isn’t she? You came here because, as much as you don’t want to admit it, this thing with Alexia has started to matter, in a way that’s both terrifying and strangely compelling. You’ve always prided yourself on staying a step removed, on being a spectator in your own life, observing rather than fully engaging. But with her, you’re finding it harder to keep that distance.

“Fine,” you mutter, leaning back, letting your head rest against the chair, staring up at the ceiling as though the answers might be written there. “Maybe she’s… special”

The words feel strange in your mouth, too vulnerable, too open. You don’t say “special” often, especially not in this context. But there it is, a reluctant admission.

“I mean, it’s not like I’m in love with her,” you continue, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. “She’s great—don’t get me wrong. She’s amazing in bed. I can’t remember the last time someone made me cum so much. And she’s got this thing about her, you know? Like this fire, this intensity. It’s like when she looks at me, she’s looking right through me. And yeah, I guess that’s… intoxicating. But that’s all it is. Right?”

Dr. Vargas nods, a small, subtle gesture. “Why does that scare you?”

You don’t answer right away. Instead, you watch the smoke dancing away from your cigarette, dissipating into the air, leaving nothing behind but a faint, lingering scent. You think about what it is you’re so afraid of—because there’s something there, something you can’t quite name, a sense that if you let this thing with Alexia continue, it might change you in ways you’re not ready for.

“Because I don’t do… attachment,” you say finally, the words coming out sharper than intended. “I’ve built a life that doesn’t depend on anyone else. And she’s… she’s a complication”

You can feel Vargas watching you, sensing the weight of what you’re not saying, the unspoken truth that this isn’t just about Alexia, that it’s about something deeper, a fear of vulnerability, of losing control. She doesn’t push, though; she just waits, letting the silence do the work for her.

After a long pause, you take a breath, letting your gaze drift to the fern by the window, its leaves glossy and perfect, so meticulously maintained it almost looks fake. You wonder if it’s ever felt the strain of trying to keep everything together, to present a flawless exterior while something more fragile lurks beneath the surface.

“You know,” you say, almost to yourself, “it’s funny. For the longest time, I thought love was just a distraction, a temporary fix for people who couldn’t handle being alone.” You take another drag from your cigarette, exhaling slowly. “But with her, it’s… it’s different. It’s like she makes everything brighter, sharper, like she’s tuned into some frequency I didn’t know existed”

Dr. Vargas doesn’t respond, just nods, letting you continue.

“And the worst part?” You chuckle, a self-deprecating sound. “The worst part is that she’s getting to me. She’s in my head, even when she’s not there. I find myself thinking about her in the middle of the day, wondering what she’s up to, if she’s thinking about me too”

There’s a fragility in the admission, a crack in the armour you’ve built around yourself. And it terrifies you, this sense of letting someone in, of letting them get close enough to matter.

You stub out your cigarette, watching the last curl of smoke dissipate into the air. It feels like a metaphor for something, though you’re not sure what.

Dr. Vargas gives you a small, knowing smile. “Maybe falling in love isn’t as bad as you think it will be,” she says gently.

You shrug, trying to play it off, but there’s a part of you that knows she’s right. Because for all your detachment, all your carefully cultivated distance, there’s something about Alexia that feels like home, like she’s a part of you you didn’t realise was missing.

“Maybe,” you say, the words soft, barely audible.

Love. The word lingers like an uninvited guest. You try to dismiss it, try to laugh it off, but it keeps creeping back in.

[monkeyssalad-blog]

1955 illustration by Douglas Hills by totallymystified Via Flickr: For the story Escape To Happiness by Roberta Leigh. From Woman's Own.

[neocitylights]

SCREENTIME — a call d short story

“It’s just weird not having you here. I didn’t think it’d feel so… empty.”

GENRE: Romance, fluff, non-idol au WORD COUNT: 2.3k

NOTES: An update on our duo graduated in downbadism for each other! It can be read as a standalone but it references a few things from the main story. Please let me know what you think! It’s gonna make my day!

Barbie 7:14PM I miss you ☹️

Haechan’s phone buzzes with your incoming text as soon as he steps into the hotel room, immediately making him grin at the screen despite his exhaustion.

After a long day of tedious networking—with people he isn’t particularly interested in beyond business—he’d managed to escape Johnny’s invitation for dinner in a fancy restaurant in the city to return to the hotel instead, planning to crash your morning with a video call to see you.

You’ve always joked that he had both impeccable and terrible timing, though today his ability seems to be serving you.

7:15PM Oh my 😀😀😀😀😀 Is my baby missing me???? You aren’t supposed to be up yet What time is it over there now?

Barbie 7:15PM It’s 5am here Are you at the hotel already?

7:16PM Just got to my room Are you okay? Why are you up so early?? Don’t you have today off?

Barbie 7:16PM I do I just woke up and couldn’t sleep anymore Can I see you please? I’ll facetime 

7:16PM My baby wants to see me??? 😀😀

The text’s marking read when a picture of you takes over the screen, a smile tugging at his mouth as Haechan accepts your call, sinking into an armchair by the window of his room. 

As your face appears, he can’t help chuckling fondly at the sight—bundled up in a blanket, your sleepy eyes immediately beam upon seeing him. The room’s still dark save from the dim light from a lampshade, his heart skipping with a few familiar details around you. 

“Hi, Barbie,” he greets animatedly, curious eyes squinting at the screen. “Are you at my apartment?”

A hint of bashfulness takes over your face as you smile back, nodding at him. “Yeah.”

“You look so cozy,” Haechan teases, smiling mischievously upon noticing the extra pillows around his bed. “Are you missing me so badly that you need to sleep at my place?”

With a huff that sounds more playful than anything, you shoot him an eye-roll. “You’re so annoying,” you answer, the quiet voice lacking the bite from your words. “Did you have a long day? You look a little tired.”

“You know I hate this kind of thing.” Haechan exhales a half-hearted laugh, running a hand through his hair. “If it wasn’t for Johnny, I’d be just around talking to the artists instead.”

You hum softly, smiling at his complaint. “Sounds like you.”

As he brings the phone closer to his face, Haechan raises a curious eyebrow at you, back to his playful self. “So… how’s everything over there? Are you taking good care of my plants?”

“They should be my plants since they’re only still alive because of me,” you argue, a smile soon following your half-hearted huff. “Alia’s still going crazy over the wedding plans, your mom asked me out for lunch earlier this week, work’s still work… same as always.”

“Oh, yeah, I saw the pictures of your date with Mrs. Lee,” he jokes, chuckling as you confusedly stare at him for a second. “She told me you were going out together, so I asked her for pictures. I’ll tell you that she did not disappoint me.”

“Oh my God, is that why she took so many pictures of me?” You frown, visibly surprised at the twist. “It felt like I was shooting for a magazine or something.”

Haechan grins, offering you a coy wink. “I made a new album in my gallery just for them.”

“You haven’t told me how’s the hotel yet,” you start, purposefully disregarding him with a hint of a smile on your face. “Is the city still the same as you remember?”

“The hotel is fine, just boring,” he complains, taking a glance around the place as if to suddenly find anything interesting. “I haven’t seen much of the city, though. My mom probably has an entire schedule planned to go as soon as she lands.”

“That’s so cute,” you reply, adjusting under the blankets with a soft laugh. “She does seem really excited about it. She couldn’t stop talking about the last time you guys visited your family at our lunch date.”

The conversation pauses for a second as Haechan lets himself watch you, holding back a smile at the little peek at your pajamas—a t-shirt that’s been missing from his closet for a good few months. Though as something suddenly moves underneath the blanket, seemingly walking right beside you, his face immediately shifts to a puzzled frown. 

Haechan shifts on his seat, eyes squinting for a second time. “Do you have something to tell me, Barbie?”

That’s all it takes for a pair of fluffy ears to slip out, followed by a rather loud protest at the screen before a white and brown-ish cat climbs over you, settling comfortably on your chest as Haechan watches in a mix of bewilderment and adoration. 

You glance at the camera for a second, biting your lip. “Surprise?”

“We have a cat?!” he asks dumbfounded, laughing in disbelief as his eyes shift between both of you. “Do we suddenly have a cat now?”

Giggling at his reaction, the cat suddenly meows on your chest, bothered by the movement. “It’s not ours, Hyuckie,” you explain, fingers carefully running through the fluff. “It’s Yangyang’s cat. His name is Coco.”

Haechan huffs playfully, shaking his head. “Well, it’s not Yangyang’s anymore.”

Moving the camera to a better angle, you snort when noticing him taking a screenshot. “He had a family emergency but his roommates aren’t in town, so he texted me asking if I could take Coco for the weekend.”

With a hum, Haechan furrows his eyebrows at the cat through the screen. “So Coco will spend the entire weekend with you at my place?” he asks, suddenly letting out a dramatic sigh at your nod. “It’s really tough seeing someone else living your dream.”

“Stop,” you counter, holding back a laugh at his antics. “Have you eaten dinner yet?”

“No.” He shakes his head, looking around for the hotel’s menu. “I’ll order some if you stay with me.”

As both of you exchange idle chit-chat about the trip, Haechan orders his dinner with yours and Coco’s company, soon moving to the table with the phone propped in front of him. With the food’s aroma spreading through the room, a happy groan escapes from his mouth, almost making him forget the attentive audience of two on the other side of the screen. 

Amused at the delight on his face, you can’t help chuckling. “Did I make a good choice?”

“You make the greatest choices always, baby,” he says, already between a mouthful when Coco meows again. “Yeah, yeah, you too.”

The silence stretches for a second too long as Haechan finishes the meal, the lively mood of your little comments fading into a quiet, sudden pause. Though neither of you are usually bothered by these moments, something in the way you’re watching him makes Haechan pause. 

“Uh-oh, it looks like you’re thinking too much,” he starts, smiling softly despite the tip of worry lacing his voice. “What’s wrong, Barbie?”

You hesitate for a moment, sighing quietly before speaking. “It’s just weird not having you here. I didn’t think it’d feel so… empty.”

As he clutches his chest theatrically, Haechan slumps into the chair with a groan. “Is my baby really missing me?” he taunts, the attempt to draw a laugh out of you succeeding upon your giggle. “You could’ve come with me, I told you I’d sneak you into our meetings.”

More playful than anything, you give him an incredulous glance. “I told you I have a job.”

“That’s just details, Barbie.” He shrugs, rolling his eyes exaggeratedly. “You know Mrs. Lee wouldn’t mind giving you a few days, right?”

“Well, she did ask me why I didn’t go with you…” you confess, the tone of your voice subtly changing to a teasing one. “You probably wouldn’t get any work done with me around, so it’s probably for the best.”

As he stops a protest short at your glare, Haechan nods solemnly instead, feigning defeat. “Ok, fine, maybe you’re right,” he admits, suddenly grinning as realization clicks in his eyes. “Oh, I got some stuff for you, by the way!”

You let out a half-hearted groan, watching fondly as he disappears into the hotel room. “What did I say, Hyuckie?”

“To not get you anything,” Haechan calls aloud, an edge of playful offense laced to his voice. “That’s the lamest thing you’ve ever asked me, baby. I’m not going home to you empty-handed.”

It only takes a moment for him to return to the screen again, leaving you visibly stunned while he juggles a ridiculous number of shopping bags into the frame. The rustling sound makes you laugh, bothering Coco enough that he meows grudgingly, moving to nestle himself against a pillow instead.

“Hyuck, what the hell?” you exclaim, bringing the phone closer as if to get a better look. “How is all of that fitting in your luggage, baby?”

“I haven’t gotten that far yet,” he answers casually, a grin instantly growing on his face upon spotting a specific bag, one of the biggest ones around him. “Oh, you’re gonna love this one—close your eyes for me, hm?”

Raising a suspicious eyebrow, you resist a smile by biting your lips. “Why should I?”

Giving the camera a knowing look, Haechan huffs mischievously, shaking his head at you through the screen. “You’re usually really good at obeying my orders.”

You scoff indignantly, visibly flustered at his words despite the annoyance. “You are with mine too!”

“I’m a good boy,” he agrees nonchalantly, your astonishment earning a smirk out of him. “Come on, Barbie, close them.”

With a small sigh, you oblige, squeezing your eyes shut. “Donghyuck, if you’re playing a prank on me—” 

“Shhh, no talking,” Haechan interrupts, eagerly pulling the gifts from the bag before holding them closer to the phone. “Okay, open now!”

A hand immediately flies to your mouth as you gasp, taking in the sight of the two cute bears taking over the screen of your phone—behind Rilakkuma and Korilakkuma, Haechan can’t help laughing at your reaction. 

“Oh my God, Hyuckie!” you start, eyes alight as a wide smile grows on your face. “They’re so cute! How’d you know I wanted them?”

He shrugs, though his grin gives away a hint of satisfaction. “I actually listen to my girlfriend like a good boyfriend should do.”

“You are the best,” you mumble, voice softening as a pout forms on your lips. “I love you.”

“You do, don’t you?” Haechan teases instead, ignoring the warmth spreading over his neck by shuffling through the shopping bags again. “You’re gonna love me even more with this one.”

As he holds it out, your jaw immediately drops at the designer name on the bright, startlingly pink bag in his hands. “You got me a Barbie bag?!”

“Obviously,” he says, mockingly serious as he nods solemnly. “I’ll receive my gratifications in the form of kisses and cuddles.”

You giggle, fondly shaking your head at his words. “I’ll kiss you for as long as you want,” you promise, holding the phone closer to your face as Haechan sets the plushies next to him. “They look a little bit like us.”

“They do, don’t they?” Haechan agrees, snorting a laugh with a look at the pair. “Mark said the same thing. He said I should’ve picked out matching outfits for them too.”

“Oh my God, we are absolutely doing that,” you beam, giving him a mock look of determination. “Rilakkuma and Korilakkuma need proper clothes as representatives of our relationship.”

He nods through the screen, visibly amused by your excitement. “Anything for you, baby.”

You chuckle sheepishly at the words, the sound warm and easy despite a subtle mood change as the moment draws for a second too long. There’s a pause as both of you just look at each other through the screen, charged with unspoken feelings. 

“So… what’s your plans for tomorrow?” you ask, breaking the quiet with a lighter tone. “More boring meetings?”

“You should’ve come with me,” Haechan grumbles again, wrinkling his nose before leaning closer to the screen, as if to tell you a secret. “There’s still time, baby. Just say the word and I’ll book a flight right now.”

“You’re insane.” You shake your head, laughing for the nth time at how serious he sounds. “As much I’d love to, one of us needs to be the normal person in this relationship.”

Noting the hints of sunlight already slipping through the curtains at his place, Haechan watches you stretch under the blankets, a yawn escaping from your mouth just as he glimpses at the clock on the wall of his hotel room. 

“You should take a nap,” he murmurs, smiling as the cat beside you mimics your motion on his pillow. “Coco seems to be filling my spot well, huh?”

“I have a feeling that he’d hate you,” you joke, playfully narrowing your eyes at Coco. “It took a few hours for him to warm up to me after Yangyang left.”

Haechan chuckles, his eyes softening the longer he watches the screen. “Hey, I miss you too, alright?” he says, gently taunting you. “How many more days until I’m back?”

“Ten,” you reply instantly, timidly avoiding his gaze for a second. “Not that I’m counting or anything.”

He grins, tilting his head with a click of his tongue. “Sure you’re not, Barbie.”

“I should let you go,” you sigh, coming off a little reluctant despite your firm nod. “It’s getting late for you and I have to set up Coco’s breakfast soon.”

With a hum, Haechan leans towards the camera with a hand over his ear. “How many more days?”

Despite a half-hearted eye-roll, you sound nothing but sweet as your voice drops to a whisper. “Ten, Hyuckie.”

“That’s right,” he says, his smile softening into something warmer, almost with a reverent touch. “I love you, hm?”

A smile spreads across your face, nodding through the screen one last time. “I love you too.” 

9:54PM [attachment] Here’s your tickets baby 😘 You fly out Monday morning Barbie 9:54PM DONGHYUCK WHAT???

MASTERLIST

[fujoshimenacecw]

A conversation between Moto Hagio, Hideaki Anno, and Shimako Sato

In our first ever translation work we share a riveting conversation between Moto Hagio, Hideaki Anno, and Shimako Sato! Read on our wordpress or keep reading on tumblr under the readmore

For the 189th issue of the Magazine House publication Hato yo! published January 1st 2000, movie director and screenwriter Shimako Sato leads a three way conversation between herself and her acquaintances, the anime and live action movie director Hideaki Anno, and manga artist Moto Hagio. Together they discuss their respective admiration for each other’s work, Anno’s past statements on otaku, their takes on parent-child relations, how to escape puberty, and why Anno finds it scary to be around children. 

To Me, There is 5 Ways To End a Story

Hagio: I got really into Neon Genesis Evangelion after it finished airing (laughter). I had been told by an acquaintance that Eva was a work that had “fans who were looking forward to watching the series so enraged by the developments in the final episode that they broke their TVs” (laughter). I wondered what could a work that evokes such strong emotions be like? I was really interested, so I borrowed the VHS tapes from a friend of Shimako-san’s, then I started watching.

Anno: I’m a big fan of Hagio-san’s manga, so when Shimako-san first said she could introduce us and arrange this meeting I was truly happy. The fact that you took an interest in Eva is an honor but… When I first heard “to me, there are five ways to end a story” I thought “as expected; amazing!” So after several twists and turns I finally reached a conclusion

Sato: Anno-san, when did you first encounter Hagio-san’s work?

Anno: The first one I read was They Were 11! during its serialization. In elementary school I read it at the Ear-Nose-Throat Doctor. I generally read manga at the waiting room there or at the barbers, since I didn’t really get any manga to read at home. When I read They Were 11! back then I was blown away. After that I read Hyaku Oku no Hiru to Senoku no Yoru [trans: Ten Billion Days and One Hundred Billion Nights, original story by Ryu Mitsuse]. My favorite work is Half-god [Hanshin]. The fact that such a meaningful story could be told in only 16 pages is amazing. I think Hagio-san is a genius storyteller, but her art is amazing as well. In middle school I thought that if I copied Hagio-san’s art I’d become better at drawing.

Sato: If you had also imitated her storytelling would that perhaps have changed Eva’s final episode? (laughter)

Saving the world, love and hatred

Anno: You know, I don’t have much interest in concluding a story.

Sato: Do you hate wrapping a furoshiki? [trans note: a traditional wrapping cloth]

Anno: No, it’s that I think you can do more with a furoshiki than tie it up pretty. Like break it or tear it to shreds, all kinds of things.

Sato: If we include all that, isn’t that still doing the act of wrapping?

Hagio: In your case Anno-san, I find your way of grasping the world unique.

Sato: For both Anno-san and Hagio-san, even with the differences between manga and anime you’re making a serialized work, right. When you make a long-form work, is the ending something that is already decided? Or is it something that changes?

Anno: For me it’s something like a live performance, and ends up gradually changing as I create the work.

Hagio: I’m a bit too careful, so I can’t draw if I haven’t thought of the ending. An exception is when I made Star Red. Otherworld Barbara which I made later also ended up becoming an exception 

Anno: Star Red’s ending was magnificent. I was also influenced by Star Red. Actually, I’ve written some dialogue similar to the one in Star Red’s ending 

Sato: Which of the characters do you like?

Anno: Well, the protagonist.

Sato: I like Elg. At first I thought he was a rather unreliable person, but he gradually came to play an active role. By the end he revived a dead planet through love.

Hagio: I also like characters like that!

Sato: When I watch Anno’s works like Eva I feel like you are more the kind of person who saves the world through hatred, what do you think?

Anno: I don’t know 

Hagio: That feeling of uncertainty becomes the foundation of your storytelling doesn’t it? I come to think that that feeling is something so overflowing you can’t tie it all together. 

Sato: It seems you have some differences when it comes to making a story, but I think one thing your stories have in common is perhaps parent-child relations?

Anno: That is true, Hagio-san. Your relationship with your mother appears in your work…

Hagio: When I was a child, my older sister was my mother’s favorite, I was always compared to her. It seemed my mother thought that compared to my sister I was unreliable so she always worried about me, even when I was into my thirties she’d tell me to quit making manga.

Sato: And that was during The Poe Clan’s heyday wasn’t it?

Hagio: (laughter) When I was watching Eva, something that really caught my attention was Shinji-kun worrying about whether or not he was useful to his father. Yet there was a distance between them. During that time I was very interested in, to put it into words, “broken relations.” 

Otaku Are Generally Uncool

Sato: Anno-san, in your work I think father-son relations is something that makes an appearance. Are there any real experiences behind that?

Anno: My family was normal. If I have a complex it would be that we were a poor family rather than a just normal one, and my father has only one leg. Regardless, I think stories about parents are the simplest to make, it’s easy. 

Sato: So since Eva is a parent-child story it ended up like that?

Anno: What makes it easy is that we have some preconceived assumptions about [parent-child relations], “have you argued with your parents?” and such.

Sato: What appears in your work isn’t those things, but your own internalized problems don’t you think.

Anno: That appears to be it. As for my family we truly were the archetypical lower middle class household. My father was a good person. A sensible man. When you’re under circumstances like my father was you have to live sensibly or else you’re excluded.

Sato: So in opposition to that, you became an otaku.

Anno: That might be it. Your most important model for what normalcy is is your family. But I have a younger sister and she is exceedingly normal. She doesn’t read manga, there is nothing twisted about her at all.

Sato: And by twisted you mean?

Anno: That she’s not an otaku.

Sato: Anno-san, you’ve said that you hate otaku, haven’t you.

Anno: It’s not hate. It’s just that I think otaku are uncool. To otherwise not notice that you’re uncool or purposefully suppressing that fact makes me feel disgusted.

Sato: What about The Matrix? Isn’t that a cool otaku movie?

Anno: That one is also uncool.

Hagio: Even though Keanu Reeves is cool.

Anno: Keanu is cool. Because he is not an otaku. The otaku are the Wachowskis. They can’t get out of the confinements of their otaku-ism. So for example, even if they make something cool, part of it will for certain be otaku-like Even though I say this I don’t hate it. If I truly did I’d quit being an otaku.

Sato: Hagio-san, would you say your family was normal or was it perhaps affluent?

Joh (Hagio’s manager): Hagio-san and her mother actually have a similar biorhythm. It was perhaps due to that fact that Hagio rebelled by pursuing the path of becoming a manga artist. 

Hagio: I might have been running away by drawing. But, if I had rebelled by becoming a delinquent I think it perhaps might’ve been more enriching to me as a person.

Anno: To become a creator is not something I think is a happy path to go down. In order to not be unhappy you have to work for dear life. At the very least create works as if you’re going back to zero [from the negatives].

Hagio: Is it a negative? Because you are an otaku?

Anno: Being an otaku is a huge negative. You make up for it either by relying on others or by producing creative works. With that said, I think my generation has it easier than yours, Hagio-san. This is an era where even old men read manga. My parents even now have no issues with my line of work. I appear in Asahi Shimbun, I appear on NHK, they have nothing to worry about. That is also why I will try not to ever refuse any coverage from my hometown newspapers.

Hagio: But don’t you think parents don’t truly understand? Even if I become famous, my parents will say; can’t you quit drawing manga? And just appear in the newspaper? (laughter)

Sato: But if you quit drawing manga you won’t appear in the newspaper. (laughter)

Hagio: In that context, a part of me still expects too much affirmation from my parents. Not externally but internally. Even if I appear in Asahi Shimbun I still end up thinking it’s not good enough.

Sato: The fact that you still worry so much about what your parents think at your age Hagio-san, it’s so strange.

Hagio: Yes, I think so too

Anno: Could it be that you have to become a parent to change that part of you that worries so much about what your parents think?

Sato: I don’t worry at all about what my parents think.

Anno: I also don’t care even a little bit. As far as I’m concerned, I’m bored if I get my parents’ approval. When I did Nadia: The Secret Of Blue Water for NHK I felt that feeling.

Sato: Do you have a replacement parent figure?

Anno: Well, a man without imaginary enemies is no good. For me right now, I think I want to make works that have Hayao Miyazaki beat.

Sato: Hagio-san, your worries might also be what gives birth to your works.

Hagio: That might be the case.

Sato: Anno-san, earlier, you said “you have to become a parent to change.” I personally don’t think if you don’t have children you can’t become an adult. I think that being an adult is being independent in everything you do. That’s why I think marriage or having children doesn’t change anything.

Anno: You can become a parent without being an adult. At 17 or 18 you could become a parent. To become a parent without even being an adult, that is the problem I think. 

Sato: Do you consider yourself to be an adult, Anno-san?

Anno: I guess I’m a child. 

Sato: I don’t consider my parents to be adults.

Hagio: I’m very discontent with the fact that my parents aren’t adults.

Anno: I’m not discontent.

Sato: For me realizing that my parents aren’t absolute adults was a relief during my middle school years. Until then I had played the role of an exemplary student, but when I realized that fact I stopped playing that role. 

Hagio: So you’re a child who didn’t fit into your parents’ expectations. I was also a child who didn’t fit into my parents’ expectations, but the fact that they didn’t shrug their shoulders and say “that’s fine,” filled me with anxiety. I thought that if I become an adult I’d lose that anxiety. But I want recognition from people. I continue to request affirmation. 

Sato: Anno-san, in Eva you portrayed children like this, but are you like this yourself?

Anno: The affirmation? Hmmm. That kind of thing changes with the project.

Hagio & Sato: ?

Anno: I don’t believe in the supremacy of the director of a work, but rather the work itself. What would be best for the work, I only base my judgment on the total. Although I won’t hand over the executive decisions.

Hagio: Manga is a one-man job, but with a movie there’s the director, the scriptwriter, the actors, etc. Each of them sees themselves as a leading part. Furthermore as living beings the things we do will sometimes diverge from the plan we made in our heads. The fun of living is discovering what those differences will be.

Is Eva The Rite of Passage That Will Get Us Through Puberty?

Sato: The movie Love & Pop that you directed Anno-san, the original creator Ryuu Murakami-san and yourself are both men, yet the story is about high school girls. I found that interesting.

Hagio: I thought that both of you wanted to be very similar to an archetypical girl. You said you wanted to see a part of puberty, and girlhood that you couldn’t control. After all, men aren’t just made up of boys. I believe that femininity and masculinity is something we have combined within us. Sort of androgynous.

Sato: The boys you create not having that vivid true-to-life quality to them I think is a representation of that. Anno-san, as a man, what do you think of the boys in Hagio-san’s manga? 

Anno: I could see myself in them. I think what I like the most is that all the characters are smart. Because they have such a high intelligence it feels good to read.

Hagio: Like a washing machine right at the peak of its cycle, I want to leave my characters on the verge of that kind of critical point [of merger]. To be honest, the idea that once you’re past 30 you’ve become an old lady, that sense is something we’ve left behind.

Sato: I’ve found that when men become old they lose their ability to be nihilistic in their work, is it the same as that?

Anno: In the case of men, as you age, the world view [of your fiction] rather than your characters come to reflect your nihilism. You don’t aspire to be nihilistic, you yourself are becoming nihilistic. Your world view is what gradually utilizes nihilism. Isao Takahata, for example, is a nihilistic person. Nothing is born from being nihilistic. As nihilism is Plus-Minus-Zero, eventually your heart can’t be moved.

Hagio: A world that doesn’t change, isn’t that comfortable? 

Sato: Even though in order to grow you have to fight. By asking like this, Anno-san, did you not experience puberty?

Anno: That might be it.

Hagio: I thought you were right in the middle of puberty.

Anno: I thought I’m losing it, but it might be puberty. Generally speaking, otaku don’t go through puberty.

Hagio: I thought otaku went through a prolonged chronic puberty.

Anno: It’s not what society ordinarily calls puberty.

Hagio: A never ending puberty, in this age, could it perhaps be because there are no more rites of passage? 

Anno: Sure enough, you have to bungee jump. (laughter)

Hagio: A ritual to let your childhood die and then replay it, such a thing doesn’t exist now. Taking entrance exams may be the closest to [a rite of passage].

Sato: Don’t you feel like lately that around age 30 is when the coming of age ceremony actually happens?

Hagio: For that part, that’s when the stories takes on that role I think.

Sato: As a ritual?

Hagio: It’s not a ritual, but perhaps more intuitive? A trial run on a mock life. By that definition, I noticed Eva is just like that. I had an acquaintance who is a teacher from the Kyoto Steiner school. They saw the Eva movie in theaters. At that time they found the reactions of the people watching to be more interesting than the story. They had thought, isn’t it like we’ve all come to see the rite of passage which we all failed? I thought so as well “that’s right, that is interesting.” The rite of passage to become an adult after entering puberty, be it Gundam or Eva those stories put people in a position where they are observing the world, observing themselves, experiencing war and such.

Sato: Anno-san, were you considering all this…

Anno: I didn’t make it like that. But when I was making the movie I was thinking of this a little. 

Hagio: When I watched Eva it ended up overlapping with the book Childhood [by Jan Myrdal]. It’s a book about a mother who can’t love her child. She thinks “I have to take care of this child”, but even so she can’t love him. I wonder what happens to children raised like this. Children learn from their parents. In truth there will be consequences for the parent, but the question on my mind was children who can’t find their place with the parent, where can they find their place instead? Although I thought you were such a person when you were making Eva, Anno-san. (laughter) 

Sato: Speaking of, the other day you were on a TV show teaching grade schoolers about anime, Anno-san. What do you think of children?

Anno: I was scared of being in contact with children. I don’t understand the appropriate distance to take. I believe even the most casual thing an adult says mustn’t traumatize them, I end up becoming oversensitive. In grade school during still drawing class, I’d draw roof tiles and other detailed things, but humans moved around and I found it annoying, so I never drew people. Because of that my teacher said “this isn’t a child’s drawing,” which deeply hurt me. In the end, from that experience I think it was a part of the reason why I decided on working with drawing. Even though I opposed standardized education, I really felt the difficulty of dealing with not having a basic manual.

By the way, how much longer until Zankoku na Kami ga Shihai Suru [trans: A Cruel God Reigns] ends? I made a mistake. I wanted to read it all at once, right, so I refrained from buying it but… when volume 6 came out I ended up buying all of them. 

Hagio: Oh yes, right. July next year I think. 

Anno: Understood. Then the final collected volume will be out in the fall of next year. Hmm well that means I can enjoy it for another year. Understood. 

Sato: Isn’t that great.

------------------------------

Translated by mod Juli, with assistance from two financially compensated native speakers.

Since the initial upload of this translation minor edits have been done to correct grammar and spelling mistakes. On March 1st 2025 an edit has been made on the following line:  Anno: I think they have empathy. I think what I like the most is that all the characters are smart. Because they have such a high intelligence it feels good to read. It now says: Anno: I could see myself in them. I think what I like the most is that all the characters are smart. Because they have such a high intelligence it feels good to read.

A scan of the full interview raws has now been added to the wordpress version!

[k20spock]

Gecko’s list of free video games you should play right now

Hi I’m gecko I like video games and I like not paying 60 dollars for them so here’s a list of some free games I’ve unearthed and liked. Enjoy

(most of these are small, more obscure games made by a few people or even just one person, so support the creators if you can!! Some of these do have a pay what you want model)

Hikeback (Itch.io) 

You see a hitchhiker flagging you down during a long, lonely drive through the countryside. No matter how you choose to handle the situation, you end up back on that road. And then again. And again. And again, until you find a way to escape a loop of violence and self-sabotage. Hikeback is a visual novel inspired by the fable of the frog and the scorpion, and it takes about an hour to reach the ending. It’s available on Windows, Mac, Linux, and browser, and there’s a detailed list of content warnings on the game’s itch.io page. One of my strongest recommendations, Hikeback is an incredible experience, and it was made in only ten days!!

Purrgatory (Itch.io) (Steam)

Find ways to pass the time in an inexplicably cat-themed but otherwise pretty dull afterlife, and befriend its other inhabitants. Purrgatory can hit hard when it wants to, but it’s mostly a relaxed point and click game that takes about a few hours if you want the true ending (which you do). And also I really don’t like recommending things going “it’s rep!!” and not elaborating on what the thing is actually about, but Purrgatory does have a mostly explicitly LGBT+ cast and Korean characters by a Korean artist. It’s been a few years since I played Purrgatory, but I remember it was an incredible experience, and since then, even more people can play it because it’s been fully translated into Spanish and Simplified Chinese! It’s available on Windows and browser.

How Fish is Made (Itch.io) (Steam)

How Fish is Made includes incredible retro-style graphics, a sardine flopping around in a machine with a choice to make, a singing, cane-wielding, tophat-wearing, tongue-eating parasitic isopod, and a free expansion/trailer for the studio’s next game that’s like if Katamari Damacy was evil and also had fish in it. That’s the best I can do for a summary. How Fish is Made is available on Windows and takes about 30-45 minutes, but will itch your brain for much longer.

Stop Burying Me Alive, Beautiful (Itch.io)

A visual novel in which you are stuck between trying to convince your girlfriend you are not dead and she should stop burying you alive, and playing rat-themed card games with a woman you find living underground. The game doesn’t always do a great job walking the line between comedy and horror, but there’s some strong writing depicting a failing relationship and very strong artwork that makes this an easy recommendation. Stop Burying Me Alive, Beautiful is on Windows, Mac, Linux, and browser, and takes about half an hour. 

Caper in the Castro (Internet Archive)

Ok this one is pretty different, but fuck it, it was originally released for free in 1989 (with a recommendation to make a donation to charity instead) and is still free so I’m including it. Not enough people are aware that you can play the first known video game by and about gay people on your computer right now for free and it has that classic adventure game bullshit sometimes but it’s extremely playable and also funny as shit. Like it’s not just cool history it’s actually fun (sorry Gayblade). You play as a lesbian private detective named Tracker McDyke looking for your missing drag queen friend and you can get most of the doors in the game open by shooting them. People have made full walkthroughs for this game and how to get it working if you have trouble so there’s no excuse. Play Caper in the Castro.

Under a Star Called Sun (Itch.io) (Liminal Magazine)

A browser game made in Bitsy that’s extremely simple and only a few minutes long, but that’s all it needs to create a succinct, gut-wrenching depiction of grief. 

Hotel Infinity (Itch.io)

If you need more short Bitsy games you can play in your browser that are about death, you’re out of luck after this because I’ve only got the two. Hotel Infinity is more lighthearted, tasking you with checking in on your ghostly hotel guests, and helping one check out. It’s simple, but sweet and affecting. 

Water Womb World (Itch.io)

Back to marine life-themed horror. Water Womb World is about a man’s obsessive search for the Garden of Eden leading him to the bottom of the ocean. There’s a few brief moments of annoyance in the gameplay, but the atmosphere and visuals are fantastic. Fantastic enough I bought the shirt, because I like cool shirts. It's available for Mac and Windows, and takes about 15 minutes. 

Hyperhell (Itch.io) (Steam)

A rogue-like bullet hell with a hyperpop soundtrack. It’s a mess, but in a good way. A run can (allegedly, I am not very good at bullet hells and I wasn’t able to get all the way to the end) be under ten minutes, but the game is very replayable with its different characters, weapons, bosses, and DDR and fishing minigames. You might have heard of this one already because maia has a cameo in it, but it really is a fun, if slightly painful for your eyes, time. It’s available on Windows.

Magicafe HD (Itch.io)

Under a technicality, I haven’t played this one yet, but that’s because I played the original text-based version of this game and I didn’t know the dev had converted it to a full visual novel until right now when I went to recommend the original. I’m certain this version is even better! It’s a cute, simple visual novel about a girl trying to get to her job at a magical girl themed cafe, while dealing with the struggles of secretly also being an actual magical girl. Available on Windows, and lasts about half an hour. The original is available on browser here if you’re interested. 

Dedz0ne (Itch.io)

Ok, wrapping up on a weird one since this isn’t really a universal recommendation. Dedz0ne is a Yume Nikki/Splatoon fangame inspired by Dedf1sh’s backstory and the atmosphere of Octo Expansion in general. It came out before Side Order so it’s not accurate to it, but it’s a really neat game with great visuals and atmosphere. It’s available on Windows

And that’s it for now. There will probably be a sequel someday because I am unable to stop digging through free games. Or maybe a collection of not free but extremely cheap games (like under five bucks) I like. Who knows! I hope you found something that catches your eye here!

[slut4megantheestallion]

⋆ ☆"Through my Lens"

Parings: Max Caulfield x fem reader

Warnings ⚠️: smut, pussy eating, shy! max, mentions of photography, soft!dom max, breast play, modeling.

Max had always noticed you.

It started as a simple admiration. She saw you in photography class, sitting a few rows ahead of her, completely immersed in your work. You always looked so effortlessly put together, your style unique yet casual, a confidence radiating from you that Max could never quite grasp for herself. Then she saw you outside of class, hands out with your friends, laughing freely, always seeming like you belonged in the spotlight. And, of course, at the Two Whales Diner, where you'd sip your coffee by the window, lost in thought, bathed in the soft neon glow of the signs outside.

Max had been drawn to you in a way she couldn't explain - at least not out loud. Her camera had become an excuse to admire you, to capture fleeting moments when you weren't looking. She told herself it was artistic inspiration, that she was merely practicing her craft, but deep down, she knew better. She was obsessed.

She had a collection of photos that would never see the light of day. Shots of you laughing, glancing out a window, absentimindedly playing with your jewelry. Each one was beautiful in a way that made Max’s heart ache. And yet, she never dared to approach you, convinced that someone as radiant as you would never even notice someone like her.

Until one day, you did.

Max had been walking across campus, adjusting her camera strap, when she saw you heading her way. Her heart stuttered in her chest, her mind screaming at her to play it cool, but before she could even think about escaping, you caught her gaze and smiled.

"Hey, Max!"

Max almost tripped over her own two feet. "Uh- h- hey!"

You stopped in front of her, playful glint in your eyes. "You're a photographer, right?"

Max swallowed hard, her palms suddenly clammy. "Uh, yeah, I am. Why?"

You smirked. "I was wondering if you’d take some pictures of me? You know, for my portfolio. I want to get into modeling, and I think your photography style would really capture what I need."

Max brain short-circuited. You. Posing for her. Looking right into her lens with that piercing captivating gaze.

She barely managed to nod. "Y-Yeah, of course! I’d love to."

"Awesome. My dorm, 8:00 sharp," you said teasingly before walking away. Max stood there, frozen, her face burning as she watched you disaster.

The moment she got back her dorm, panic set in. She scrambled to prepare, adjusting her lenses, setting up different lighting options, pacing as she rehearsed how not to embarrass herself. By the time 8:00 rolled around, she felt like she was going to combust.

The knock on your door felt like an eternity to her. When you opened it, greeting her with a smile before pulling her into a quick hug, Max nearly blacked out.

"Come in, make yourself comfortable," you said, closing the door behind her.

Your dorm room was warm, intimate - magazine cutouts, fairy lights, and polaroids tacked to the walls. Max adjusted her camera nervously.

"Alright, how do you want me?" You teased, striking a casual pose on the bed.

Max fumbled with her settings. "Uh- just, um however you feel comfortable."

You started with classic poses - legs crossed, chin lifted, a smoldering gaze. Max clicked away, completely mesmerizing. Every slight movement, every flick of your hair, the way you looked at her through the lens - it was driving her insane.

"You're amazing at this," Max breathed, lowering the camera for a moment.

You smirked. "I have a good photographer."

Then, you leaned back, fingers teasing at the hem of your shirt. "Wanna make these photos more interesting?"

Max breath hitched. "W-What do you mean?"

You slowly pulled the top over head, revealing smooth skin beneath the dim light. "I mean... modeling is about confidence, right? Maybe we should push some boundaries."

Max's mouth went dry. "A-Are you sure?"

"You don't want to?"

Max raised her camera with slightly trembling hands. "I... yeah, I do."

You posed again, this time bolder - fingers trailing over your skin, a sultry gaze locking onto hers. She could barely keep it together.

Then, as if testing her, you reached behind and unhooked your bra, letting it fall on the ground. Max let out a shaky breath, her eyes tracing every inch of your newly exposed skin.

"Max," you whispered, tiling your head. "Do you wanna touch me?"

Max swallowed hard. "Y-Yeah."

She set the camera down carefully before climbing onto the bed beside you. Her hands hesitated, hovering just above your skin before you them, guiding them to your waist.

You leaned in, pressing your lips to hers. The kiss started soft, hesitant, but quickly grew more heated. Max melted into it, her hands running up your side's, fingertips ghosting over your rubs before cupping your breasts. You moaned into her mouth, pressing closer, and Max let out a shaky exhale against your lips.

Her kisses trailed lower- your jaw, your neck, down to your collarbone. When she finally took one of your nipples into her mouth, you gasped, arching into her touch. She was slow, deliberate, lavishing each sensitive peak with soft licks and teasing nips before moving lower.

When she reached the waistband of your panties, she glanced up, her cheeks flushed. "Can I?"

"Please, Max." You whined desperately for sole friction.

She peeled them down your thighs, spreading your legs gently as she settled between them. The first press of her lips against your heat had you trembling, your fingers immediately tangling in her hair. Max moaned against you, the vibration sending a wave of pleasure up your spine as she licked, slow and deep.

"Fuck- Max-" You whimpered, tugging st her hair as she sucked gently on your clit. Her hands gripping your thighs, holding you open as she lapped at you eagerly, lost in the taste of you.

She took her time, her tongue teasing, flicking, pressing into you in ways that had your hips bucking against her face. "You taste so good," she murmured, voice muffled against your wetness before diving back in.

Your breathing became ragged, every flick of her tongue bringing you closer. "Max- I'm gonna -"

She moaned against you, sucking harder as your body tensed, pleasure coiling tight before finally snapping. You came with a sharp cry, thighs trembling as you gushed against her tongue.

Max didn’t stop until you were whimpering from the overstimulation, only then pulling away, her lips and chin glistening from your cum. She climbed back up, kissing you deeply, letting you taste yourself on her tongue.

When she finally pulled back, her eyes searched yours. "Was that... okay?"

You smiled, still breathless, cupping her face. "Max, are you kidding? That was amazing."

Max let out a relieved laugh, resting her forehead against yours. "Good, because I really, really like you."

You kissed her again, softer this time, before whispering, "Then you better stay the night."