claunighty008

[localcoffeeshop]

of course i remembered Fionna Friday come on now

[writefightandflightclub]

You are my sunshine (Finn x GN reader)

What is this? This is 7/10 one-shots/blurbs for my “friends to lovers” event. (More deets in pinned post). The prompt is from @phoenixhalliwell​ and is Finn with “You think something is wrong but I simply have a huge crush on you and turn to jelly whenever you’re around.” Emma, thanks so much, and I hope that you like this! <3 I don’t write Finn often so I dearly hope I did him justice!

Author’s note: Finn! He’s precious. He deserves everything! Hope you enjoy this- there’s a little bit of angst but it’s followed by fluff. Everything ends well <3

Word count: 3k. You had all better be proud of me for writing something less than 5k :P

Warnings: lil bit of angst (reader thinks Finn is mad at them). Trapped in a cockpit but no danger / not claustrophobic or anything. Slight reader insecurity. It’s pretty light tbh :o)

You watch Finn leave with a sharp pang of pain. His excuses are becoming more and more elaborate, and it’s wearing thin. 

 “Sorry, I have to go and deal with a porg infestation on the Falcon.”

“I can’t hang around, Leia’s fuming mad at Poe - he made some crude Outer Rim innuendo during the briefing and she is pissed.”

“I can’t play sabacc anyway because... because I got dust in my eyes on the mission and everything is blurry.”

“I have to run and...” and then he, in fact, ran away from you.

Alright, the first two were feasible, but that last one, especially? Pretty kriffing flimsy.

It was beginning to sting a little. Alright, a lot. You and Finn usually hung out, whenever he was around on base. You always had, ever since Finn had taken control of his fate and been welcomed by the Resistance.

Since then, you had become his first real friend, and when everything was scary and new to him, you had held his hand. Literally- Finn was always reaching for you. For comfort. For reassurance. To demonstrate his fondness of you. Just because.

Of course, he’d settled into the Resistance like he’d always been a part of it, and had quickly formed a range of new friendships, including with Poe and Rey - all the cool kids on base. Of course he had. The man is likeable, courageous, and he has sunshine in his heart - despite being raised in the shadows. The strength of his light is so powerful that it blinds you sometimes. So, he’d made other friends, but you had always been his first, and his best.

At least, until now.

Recently, Finn’s touches and warm hugs and light had begun to retreat from your sky. You miss his bright brown eyes and his beaming smile desperately. You miss your movie nights and long chats. You miss laughing until your sides hurt. You miss the way he can turn anything into an adventure. The way he really listens when you talk, and his good, brave, generous heart.

This distance? It is more than a natural drift - it is more an intentional break. Intentional on his side, at least. Most definitely not on yours.

You don’t know why. You don’t know what you’ve done wrong…

…But you are determined to find out.

And, if Finn won’t talk to you off his own back, you’ll simply have to concoct some flimsy excuse of your own.

***

That’s exactly what you do, yourself and Finn now sealed together, alone, in the cockpit of some old cargo ship.

“You’ve trapped us in here?!” the man exclaims, voice loud and ringing with a rising panic.

“No,” you sigh, defeatedly. You don’t want to panic him - you just want to talk to him; without him running away. “You’re not trapped. Obviously, I’d never actually...” you trail off as you watch Finn urgently button-bashing on the control panel by the door, clearly pretty desperate to leave. “I just thought…” you explain, raising your voice a little to be heard over his rising and increasingly vocal frustration. “It was supposed to be a chance for us to talk.”

Finn turns towards you, all this energy coiling in his body, practically bouncing on his toes in his rush to get out of there. He looks as though the prospect of talking to you fills him with dread.

Your face drops. You should have realised this was a bad idea.

“We talked this morning,” Finn defends, weakly. Yeah, for all of two seconds. “Can’t you open this thing?” he pleads, throwing his thumb towards the door.

Fine. Whatever. If he’s that desperate to flee from you, so be it. Maybe you need to accept the fact that things aren’t the same between you anymore. Maybe never will be. Your heart aches in your chest.

Your shoulders slumping, you push the Jedi-in-training and all-round Resistance hero aside, punching the unlock code into the panel.

It beeps angrily in response.

A furrow in your brow, you try again.

“Oh, kriff.”

“What is it?” Finn asks from over your shoulder.

This is fine, actually. You have a back-up. Except, you pat your belt for your communicator, remembering at the same time exactly where you left it in the hangar.

“Okay,” you turn around to face him, your face locked in an apologetic grimace, hands raised in surrender. “So, we may actually be trapped now, but I would like to emphasise this was very much not The Plan.”

Finn purses his full, brown lips together, in entirely transparent irritation, an ire brewing in his eyes.

“I’m sorry!” you say defensively, though you note that your friend, Finn, would have found this funny -made the best of it- and the Finn is front of you now is someone else entirely.

“Being stuck here with you is the last thing I need right now,” Finn says into his hands, the words muffled, and yet their meaning perfectly -and painfully- clear.

Oh. Okay. That’s how it is?

You take a step back from him, wrapping your arms around yourself and rotating quickly away to face the transparisteel window. His harshness feels so alien to you, and bitter tears sting in your eyes, which you don’t want him to see.

“Kriff. That’s not what I meant. It came out wrong,” Finn says softly from behind you, and you finally hear the familiar kindness infusing his voice. The kindness you’ve been so desperate to enjoy again these past weeks. “What I meant was... was...”

Your back to him still, you raise your arm in the air. “Save it, Big Deal. You don’t want to talk to me? Let’s not talk,” you bite, your voice low and taut.

You’ve given Finn the benefit of the doubt for long enough now. Maybe this was a problem you shouldn’t try to fix. He obviously likes things precisely as they are.

Finn, for his part, hovers beside you, clearly apologetic, but you can’t even bring yourself to look at him. Instead, you focus all of your energies on popping open the console, pulling out the wire guts, and looking for a way to open this damn door.

He may have been running away from you, but now you’re the one who wants nothing more than to get out of there.

You had wanted to talk, but all of a sudden you don’t want to hear it. You can’t take one more flimsy excuse without breaking.

***

You’d tried everything. Banging on the door, waving out of the viewports. Trying to find a hatch to escape out of. There was nothing left to do but wait for your data patch to run. You’d linked-up some wires and an old data-pad to the controls, and it was simply a matter of time before your program loaded, overriding the door panel and thus letting you out of there.

Unfortunately, the small matter of time is proving problematic. It has already been about an hour, and the screen indicates your program is only about 75 per cent through -blasted old tech- and you’re not sure how much longer you can endure this fraught, awkward silence. 

Save for your escape attempts, you and Finn still haven’t spoken, and, eventually admitting defeat, you have each sunk to the floor on opposite sides of the cockpit, your knees drawn-up to your chest and backs pressed against the walls of the cool metal chamber. Now, the increasingly cool metal chamber, as the afternoon draws on and the suns begin to sink below the horizon.

You sigh.

“Why are you avoiding me, Finn?” you finally ask, firmly, bringing your eyes to meet his. “And, I beg you. No more kriffing excuses.”

Finn’s knees are drawn-up too, and his elbows resting on top of them, fingers weaving and fiddling together somewhere in the middle as your question finds him.

He purses his lips together once more, his bright, expressive eyes brimming with trepidation, his hand coming up to self-consciously brush against the tip of his rounded nose.

Eventually, his head drops down, until you’re only looking at the top of it. He’s growing out his tightly-coiled, black hair on the top, sides closely cropped, and you idly note that the length suits him. There’s nothing else to note, as he still isn’t saying anything.

Still, when you take a step back from your anger and your boredom, you recognise all the signs of him being anxious, now that he can no longer run away from your questions.

“It’s not what you think,” he sighs, and you shake your head in continued frustration and look sharply away, up and out of the viewport.

And, in the continued absence of an answer from him, your insecurities begin to fill in the blanks. “You know, Big Deal, you don’t have to hang around me just because I’m the first person you met.” Out of the corner of your eye you see Finn’s head snap up to look at you, distress shining in his eyes. You ignore it. “If you’ve decided this friendship isn’t what you need anymore, I can take it. I just wish you’d stop bullshitting me. I deserve better than that.”

Then, you try to suppress it, but you shiver, wrapping your arms around yourself in an attempt to keep warm. You’ve felt chilly for a while now, but you have desperately been trying to conceal the fact.

Without missing a beat, Finn slips his -Poe’s- jacket off from his shoulders, shuffling closer to you, without rising from the floor. As he shrugs it off, he reveals nothing but a white, ribbed vest underneath, tight over his toned figure, and tucked into his belt at his waist. The vest sits in contrast with the deep brown of his skin, the bulge of his cultivated muscles evident in his strong, densely-packed shoulders and arms.

This? This is precisely what you’ve been trying to avoid. You feel warmer already.

Regardless, he moves to your side, kneeling next to you, and he pauses when he gets there. Hesitates. He lifts his finger, running it ever so slowly over the textured goosepimples on your forearm. “You’re cold,” he states, his voice so deep and rich, and his touch and his proximity sending a shiver through you in an entirely different way. You’d like to argue, you really would, but he weakens you, his sudden warmth melting you quickly after his long absence, and you let him guide you forward enough that he can drape his jacket around your shoulders. It is still warm from his body heat. It smells like him.

You wanted silence, but this is the kind that you don’t like; tense, albeit in a different way.

“Thank you,” you say thinly, expecting Finn to pull immediately away again. But he doesn’t.

Instead, his eyes go a little wide and afraid, even as he sets his jaw determinedly. He reaches his hand out, ghosting it slowly down the length of your arm, until he has scooped one of your hands up and flattened it in-between his own broad, warm palms.

Holding your hand.

You’ve missed that so much.

You watch Finn in gentle puzzlement, as his pink tongue nervously swipes out over his bottom-lip. And, with your eyes gently encouraging him to go on, he finally blurts it out. He finally says what he’s been keeping from you.

“I have a huge crush on you. I turn to kriffing jelly whenever you’re around me.”

Your hand suddenly becomes clammy, held in-between his. Your heart quickens.

Wait, what?

“I’m so sorry if I hurt you,” he says, his eyes soft like distant starlight. “It’s just, I panic. I know I like to pretend I’m all smooth...” he chuckles self-consciously, that laugh sounding from deep in his chest, and oh boy, you’ve missed that sound too. You’ve missed that gorgeous pearly smile, which blooms tentatively on his face.

“Smooth?! You do a terrible job of that, Finn, no-one’s buying it,” you tease, but it’s fond, your free hand settling on top of his, and your eyes crinkling with reciprocal joy as his beautiful broad smile widens, his face full of sparkle and light.

“Oh? Okay. That’s how it is?” he laughs.

You’ve missed this. Have missed him.

That’s it? That’s all it is? He has a crush?

After a few moments, the two of you apparently basking in relief -on your part that you haven’t done anything wrong, and on his, that his confession is finally through- his smile naturally falls from his lips; however, it lingers in his eyes, that gentle starlight back again.

“I’m sorry for avoiding you. I just… kept messing everything up around you. I didn’t want you to think I was the biggest dumbass on base.”

“Oh, Finn, honey-” you grin, and he completes the sentence with you, nodding, and a big chuckle falling out of him. “Poe is the biggest dumbass on base.”

Isn’t that the truth?

You simply look at each other for a moment, all this starlight swirling in the space between you.

“Come here,” you say softly, finally, unable to resist, and you shuffle on to your knees so you can lean forward and give him the biggest hug, your arms folding around his sturdy, muscled form. It feels so good to close this distance, especially after so long. Especially as no-one on base gives better hugs than Finn, you are reminded, as he holds you.

“Are we... cool?” he asks apprehensively, into your shoulder as he squeezes you tightly, and you pull back from him, your hands still resting on his shoulders and his weaving under, settled around your waist.

“We’ll always be cool, Finn. It’s going to take more than that.”

“Yeah?” he smiles happily. “Good, because I missed you so kriffing much. I have so much to tell you.”

“And I want to hear it, but first,” your mouth tips up into a smirk. “Can I kiss you now?”

Finn’s eyes widen in shock and he makes a bunch of noises – broken, flustered syllables and consonants, his eyelashes fluttering in disbelief. He’s sunk into his relief so readily, that he must have forgotten entirely to entertain the idea you might like him back.

Your hands trail all the way down his toned arms, until you slowly fold his hands into yours, giving him a reassuring squeeze. “Play it cool, Finn,” you tease, giving him a quick wink.

He schools himself, and even as you notice a hard swallow bob down his throat, and he lets out a long, slow exhale of breath through the circle of his lips, he makes use of his classic bravado. At least, for long enough to get some coherent strings of words out.

“Yes please. Y-yeah. Kiss me. You... should do that.”

Too many words.

So, you inch forward, and you press a fleeting, light, chaste kiss to his impossibly soft lips. Just enough to shut him up, before dipping your head back, giving him time to respond.

He looks at you sweetly, in shock for a moment, but, before you know it, his lips are chasing yours with a whole new confidence, and his mouth twitches-up in a smile as he meets you again. This time, the kiss is not fleeting. This time, it is drawn-out; a slow, sensual, gradually deepening thing. He hums against your mouth, the sound low and reverberating through you, and, as the kiss grows, his broad hands slowly and safely lower you down against the cockpit floor, arranging his jacket under you so that your skin needn’t touch the cold metal - only his warmth.

When you break for air, he settles himself over you, strong arms holding him up, his eyes shining with disbelief and adoration. He looks at you in a way that says – yes, you may have been his first friend, but that, maybe, you could be his first love as well.

As he gazes down at you, your hands wind up around the back of his head, skimming lovingly over his textured, raven hair, and readying to pull him back down to you, eager to drink more of him in. To feel more of his skin against yours. However; you are cruelly interrupted by a harsh sequence of beeps, indicating that the door is finally unlocked. Finn briefly twists his head over his shoulder, confirming with a look.

“Power’s back on- we can get out of here now,” you say breathily from under him. 

“Nah,” he says, with a subtle smirk and a shake of his head, apparently not wanting to move anywhere that would shift his warm body from on top of yours. “I think we should stay here a little longer, how about you?”

“Fine by me, Finn,” you agree quickly, beaming back at him, like the moon reflecting sunlight, basking in his warm glow.

His eyes narrow for a moment, searching yours, and he rolls you both on to your sides, your thigh coming to land over him, and his warm hand begins to stroke you there, as his sweet, languid kisses continue to find you in succession, his breaths coming more quickly, his need unravelling. “Is this okay?” he asks, pausing momentarily to skim his thumb over your cheek and down under your chin. “How are you feeling?”

While Finn seems relatively calm and sure right now, you are suddenly feeling like jelly. “Shaking. Nervous,” you admit, your words trembling out of you.

He nods a little, like he could tell. Maybe he could feel you tremble against him, or maybe it’s deeper than that. Maybe it’s the Force. You certainly feel like something deep and powerful is eddying between you.

“It’s okay,” Finn promises softly, his voice breath, and planting a small kiss to the tip of your nose. “If you want to keep going, I’ll be here to hold you.”

Your eyes shine with happy tears, and this time, when you drag him enthusiastically to your lips, your legs wrapping more tightly around him, you know that you need not be nervous at all. It has always felt right whenever he reached for you, ever since the beginning; and now is no exception. It is so much more than him holding you physically – you feel safe in his arms in every way you could.

You had missed him so deeply, not only because you have a huge crush on him right back, but also because he is your friend. And while he may not have been your first? He is certainly your best.

Finn is your sunshine, and you are endlessly pleased to have him back; to see him shining.

[daresplaining]

not sure if you have been asked this before but how would you rate the daredevil runs from miller to soule, and why?

    It has taken literally a thousand years to answer this, and I apologize– it’s just a huge question, even skipping all of the pre-Frank Miller runs (thank you for that, by the way– maybe I’ll rank them in a separate post, because I love a lot of the pre-Miller stuff!). Every reread brings with it new insight, and so my preferences are ever-evolving. That said, here’s how I would rank the main Daredevil runs from Miller onward (I’m not including annuals, mini-series, or novels, and I’m skipping the really tiny one-or-two-issue runs for the sake of brevity):

1. Mark Waid Daredevil volumes 3 and 4 are, for me, a perfect encapsulation of everything that makes Daredevil great. It’s all there! Smirking, swashbuckly Matt pulling off badass feats to save the day? Check! Dark, emotionally turbulent Matt trying to cope as the world falls apart around him? Check! An excellent supporting cast? Check! Fantastic hypersensory moments? Check! Great stories? Stunning art? Stilt-Man? Check! Everyone needs to read this run. It’s pretty much perfect.

2. Brian Michael Bendis I’ve learned that my Daredevil preferences tend to lean light(er…), but dang, Bendis writes a heck of a noir comic. He balances intense crime drama with striking character moments, changes the status quo over and over again (in a good way), and gives Matt some of the best zingers he’s ever had. (Seriously. Bendis’s Matt is really funny.) He also gave us Milla Donovan and Angela Del Toro, and for that I am eternally grateful. And whooo, that Alex Maleev/Matt Hollingsworth art… This is a classic, enduring run for a very good reason.  

3. Karl Kesel/Joe Kelly Okay, I’m cheating here. These are two separate runs. But they happened back-to-back, had the exact same tone, and were great for all of the same reasons, so I usually squash them together. If Karl Kesel and Joe Kelly have a problem with this, they can take it up with me (preferably in person– I have a lot of comics for them to sign.) These runs are fun. The Daredevil pendulum swings from light to dark and back again, and these guys landed on the upswing, after Matt had reconnected with his quippy, swashbuckly past. They feel old-fashioned, nostalgic in the best possible way, not afraid to be a little silly while still delivering solid, character-rooted stories. And it helps that the cast of characters is top-notch. Karen is around, trying to re-start her life while juggling humorous relationship issues with Matt. Foggy’s family drama is on full-force as Rosalind Sharpe and Candace come to town. Misty Knight stops by, as does Natasha Romanov. Kathy Malpher, one of my favorite minor DD characters ever, has lots of panel time. Deuce the Devil Dog is there. And it all ends with the breathtaking DD #375, which has got to be one of my top five favorite issues of all time. If you haven’t read these runs yet, go do that and thank me later.  

4. Frank Miller Darkness is only effective when interspersed with some light, and lightness is only effective when injected with some darkness, and Frank Miller (pre-”Born Again”) hit that perfect balance. It’s noir. It’s deep. It’s intense. It’s also some of the funniest Daredevil material ever written. Please go back and read “Guts”, or “Hunters”, or the Power Man and Iron Fist crossover. Let me say it louder, because I feel like I’m alone here: I love Frank Miller’s Daredevil because it is FREAKING HILARIOUS! And it goes without saying that “Born Again” is also stunning– definitely one of my favorite DD stories. And he gave us Stick and the peerless Elektra Natchios (three different versions of her, in fact) and the world has never been the same.

5. Denny O’Neil Denny O’Neil had the misfortune of getting sandwiched between Frank Miller’s two runs, and I feel like that’s the reason he doesn’t get the attention he deserves for some truly fantastic comics. Uh… weird comics, in a lot of cases, but heck, I like well-done weirdness. O’Neil added an international angle to the comic. He sent Matt to Japan and Italy (and even- gasp- New Jersey) and brought in Glori O’Breen, a great character even with her slightly over-the-top accent. He reconnected Matt with Natasha Romanov for a few beautiful one-shot team-ups. He killed off Heather Glenn in a horrible way, but did it with such grace and style that it didn’t feel entirely gratuitous. And he’s responsible for “The Price”– one of my favorite stand-alone issues. Plus, the fact that he was working with David Mazzucchelli didn’t hurt either.  

6. Ann Nocenti Superhero comics– superhero comics writing in particular– has been a white male-dominated profession for far too long, and there are far too few women who have written Daredevil. I hate to start a discussion of Nocenti’s run with “Look! A woman!” but it’s worth pointing out because look at this list. Seriously. (And for anyone unfamiliar with the pre-Miller runs, I assure you, it’s more of the same.) Ann Nocenti’s run is fantastic for the ways it really digs into the heart of the material. She took the post-“Born Again” landscape and ran with it. This was the period that tied Matt to Hell’s Kitchen, and Nocenti made that plot point stick by showing us the fabric of the neighborhood, bringing in characters like the Fat Boys, placing Matt and Karen within the community with the founding of Karen’s free clinic, and turning the Hell’s Kitchen of the Marvel universe into a living, breathing place. In contrast, she also took Matt out of the city, and in doing so, wrote some of my favorite Daredevil stories. She wasn’t afraid to address pressing social issues. She wasn’t afraid to tell stories that were just plain weird. And her run is utterly unique and complex as a result.

7. Ed Brubaker/D.G. Chichester Yeah, okay, this is really cheating. These are two completely different runs, but they are nevertheless tied because of the same factor: I adore some parts, and dislike other parts. “The Devil in Cell Block D” (the first arc of Brubaker’s run) is phenomenal. I re-read it a lot. So is “Last Rites” (by Chichester). Chichester wrote two of my favorite stand-alone issues: “34 Hours” (vol. 1 #304) and “Just One Good Story” (vol. 1 #380). Brubaker gifted us with the awesomeness that is Maki Matsumoto (A.K.A. Lady Bullseye), and Master Izo! Chichester gave us D.A. Kathy Malpher, one of my favorite DD characters ever (bring her back, Marvel! Where did she go?)! Also, his hypersensory writing is visceral verging on gross– which, for me, is ideal. However, Brubaker’s run went downhill a bit after the first arc. I mentioned the light/dark balance in regards to Frank Miller’s run, and Brubaker went all dark. (I consider it the darkest DD run yet.) It’s great storytelling, but not my style. And while I love his shorter arcs, Chichester’s longer work– “Fall From Grace” and “Tree of Knowledge” in particular– don’t do it for me. I find them overly convoluted and lacking substance. Also, while Scott McDaniel draws my favorite rendition of the radar sense, he’s my least favorite DD artist. D.G. Chichester + Lee Weeks 4ever.

8. David Mack I like “Vision Quest” a lot more than “Parts of a Hole”, though that’s somewhat due to the artist switch partway through the latter. “Parts of a Hole” did an excellent job of introducing Maya Lopez, and has a lot of great moments, but “Vision Quest” is practically a piece of fine art. It’s stunning, both narratively and visually. I consider it more of an Echo comic than a DD comic, but it still belongs on this list.  

9. Charles Soule I haven’t had a chance to reread this run in its entirety, since it just ended, and I really need to do so because I’m having a hard time figuring out my feelings on it. There are aspects of Soule’s characterization of Matt that I disagree with. The sensory writing varied in quality, and we clearly have different perceptions of the radar sense. There was a distinct shortage of female characters– and, in fact, of side characters in general. And the mind wipe was a huge misstep, since it erased so many of Matt’s long-held friendships. In a comic that has traditionally drawn much of its power from its strong supporting casts and Matt’s dynamics with them, that decision has caused serious lasting damage. However, there’s also a lot I loved. Sam Chung, though (I feel) underused, is a great character in his own right, and he also provided the chance for us to see Matt in a long-term mentorship role– something I’ve wanted for a while now. Muse was a fascinating and terrifying antagonist. And Soule’s perspective as an actual lawyer added extra zip to many of his stories, whether it was putting Matt in the mayor’s office (finally!) or sending him to the Supreme Court in what may be my favorite law-centered DD story ever. But the real reason Soule’s name is this far up this list is because of the “Double Vision” arc (or, as I call it, “Mike Murdock Must Die 2.0″) which is sheer brilliance, and to my mind, one of the greatest Daredevil stories ever told.

10. Bob Gale “Playing to the Camera” does not get nearly as much credit as it deserves for being a genuinely hilarious superhero law-based comedy of errors, and a bright spot amid the angst-fest that is Daredevil volume 2. My major complaints are that it’s too short and I dislike the art.

11. Andy Diggle I don’t dislike “Shadowland”. I don’t love it, but it’s a cool story concept that suffered– as events often do– from storytelling spread too thin, across too many characters, in too short a timespan. (Though I need to know if he came up with the “Matt Murdock dared evil… and lost” tagline, because if so, that wordplay would rocket him right to the top of this list.) I prefer the lead-up to “Shadowland” to the event itself. But I love DD: Reborn (yes, I said I wasn’t going to cover mini-series, but it’s essentially part of the main comic because it bridges the gap between two volumes. I say it counts). I’ve always enjoyed stories that take Matt out of NYC, and Reborn is a fun adventure story that gets back to basics and serves as a great bookend for volume 2.  

12. Scott Lobdell I like “Flying Blind”. It’s quirky and unusual (which I appreciate), and Matt is written very well. I just don’t love it. It’s one of those arcs that slides right to the back of the memory and only returns to the forefront when you’re reflecting on the first time Matt ever saw Foggy, or wondering if Matt’s bad French in Brubaker’s run is left over from his SHIELD-implanted fluency. It’s a neat idea, but could have been executed in a more engaging, lasting way.

13. Gregory Wright This short run went right out of my head the instant I finished it the first time, and upon rereading it has remained fairly unmemorable. The art is hit-and-miss, and the story– while perfectly fine– isn’t anything exciting or innovative. There are some great hypersensory moments, it’s worth reading, but I don’t have much to say about it beyond that.

14. Alan Smithee “Alan Smithee” is a pseudonym used in the entertainment industry by writers who don’t want to be associated with a certain project. The commentary on manwithoutfear.com states that this run was actually written by Chichester, who used the pen name as a way of protesting his abrupt firing from the comic. I treat it as a separate run, since that’s clearly what he wanted. I always tend to group the Wright and Smithee runs together in my mind because they take place one after the other, are both very short (only 5 issues each), and are very similar in both tone and quality. I like the art in Smithee’s run more, and the writing is solid. However, the whole thing is colored for me by the horrific and unnecessary death of Glorianna O’Breen, a character I love. I’m perfectly fine with characters dying if their deaths are well-written and impactful (heck, I’ll be honest– I love a good death), but Glori’s demise just seems gratuitous, and is therefore not appealing to me.

15. J.M. DeMatteis This run is super weird, but not in an interesting way. It leans toward the religious, which is not my thing, and it relies on the dead sex worker storyline from Man Without Fear, which is really not my thing and should have stayed out of the main continuity. It’s good to read, because it’s a major shift in Matt’s life and sets up the fabulous Kesel/Kelly runs, but… eh. That said, Matt battling his different identities in a graveyard while getting heckled by Stick, and yellow suit DD running around creating mayhem, are 100% my things… so credit where’s it’s due.  

16. Kevin Smith You may have noticed that “Guardian Devil”, the first arc of Daredevil volume 2, the run that rescued the series after its cancellation and brought Matt Murdock to the forefront of the Marvel street-level universe once more…! …is rarely ever mentioned on this blog. That’s because I really don’t like it. At all. I’m grateful to Smith for bringing readers back to DD, but would be happy if he never wrote these characters again. His run is poorly paced, out-of-character, and covers themes/topics/etc. that I personally don’t enjoy. I forced myself through it because I’m a Daredevil completist, but I haven’t read it again. I probably will someday, just to make sure I remember all of the key plot points, but… not yet.  

[worryinglyinnocent]

Fic: Reconstructing Claire

Summary: Lost fic. After their escape from the island, whilst getting ready to rejoin society, Kate and Claire begin the process of putting a very broken Claire back together again. In doing so, they perhaps put Kate back together again as well.

Post-finale, canon compliant. No ships, but mentions of past Jack/Kate.

Rated:  T

=====

Reconstructing Claire

I.

The plane is in the air, and they are almost free of the island. Claire is holding Kate’s hand so tightly she’s almost cutting off the circulation, but in that moment, Kate doesn’t care. They’ve done it. They’ve all lost so much, but this is going to be the end of the losses. This is going to be a new beginning; Kate is sure of it.

As they continue to fly on, however, the first doubts begin to creep in. Where are they going to land? How are they going to explain to the authorities at whatever airport they land at where the Ajira plane has been ever since it disappeared over the middle of the Pacific a week ago? How are they going to explain Claire and James when they were both declared dead three years ago? What about Miles and Richard? What’s going to happen to Frank? Will the plane even hold together long enough to get them anywhere?

Kate is not one for panicking – she never has been. She gets scared, she gets so scared that she’s paralysed by it, but blind panic is not usually her thing. Still, Jack taught her how to get rid of her fear. She closes her eyes, returns the pressure of Claire’s hand, and counts to five.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

She exhales, calm again, movement returning to her limbs as clarity returns to her mind.

“Claire, honey?”

Claire opens her eyes and looks over at Kate. She looks just as fearful as Kate feels.

“I’m gonna see what’s going on, ok?”

Claire nods and lets go of the iron grip on her hand, and Kate unfastens her seatbelt, carefully making her way up towards the cockpit. Richard follows her.

“Frank, where are we headed?” she asks, at the same time as Richard asks: “Frank, can we make it to Guam?”

“Kate, I have no idea where we’re headed other than away from the island, and Richard, we can possibly make it to Guam as soon as I work out where the hell we actually are.”

“I can work out where we are,” Richard says, and sourcing a pencil from God only knows where in the cockpit, he begins to scribble math on the back of the plane’s electrical diagrams, still on the co-pilot’s seat from their frantic repair works. Kate can tell that it’s going to take a while, but she doesn’t want to go back to Claire without some kind of an action plan.

“Hey, Freckles.”

She turns to see James hanging over her shoulder.

“You know, watching them ain’t gonna get us there any quicker.”

“I know.” She lets James guide her back to the first row of seats to allow Richard and Frank to work in peace.

“I know you’re worried about her,” James says. Kate glances back at Claire. Her eyes are closed again but it’s clear from the deep frown line between her brows and the way her fingers are digging into the arm rests with white knuckles that she’s not asleep.

“I can’t relax until she’s back home with her mom, James. We got off the island, but how the hell are we going to get home?”

“Somehow,” James replies. There’s sheer grit and determination in his voice.

Kate feels the plane bank to one side and her eyes dart to the cockpit. Richard appears to be giving Frank directions from a map that’s hand-drawn and hardly to scale. It doesn’t inspire a lot of confidence.

Miles comes up to join them. “So, what’s happening?”

“We’re attempting to go to Guam,” James says. “I think.”

“Right. Does anyone have any idea where we’re actually headed?”

“As long as it’s not straight down, Miles, I really don’t care.” James sighs. “I think Guyliner’s got it.”

Richard comes out of the cockpit.

“We’re headed to Guam,” he says. “We have a safehouse there beside the Dharma packing plant that the supply drops come from. No need to worry about customs or security.”

“I sense a ‘but’,” James says shrewdly.

“We usually travel there by sub. It doesn’t exactly have a runway.”

Kate’s eyes widen. Three plane crashes in as many years and two in as many weeks are more than enough for anyone.

“Have we got enough fuel to get there?”  Miles asks.

“Well, if we haven’t, then we’ll be swimming there,” Frank calls from the cockpit. “Richard, get back in here! I’m flying blind!”

Richard ducks back into the cockpit and the other passengers go back to their seats. There’s nothing more that they can do.

Kate goes and sits back down next to Claire.

“Where are we going?” she asks. It’s the first time she’s spoken since she agreed to come on the plane with them.

“Guam.”

“I don’t have my passport,” Claire says.

“Neither do I.” It was fake anyway; she can’t exactly leave the country when she’s not allowed to leave the state. “Richard says that we won’t need them though. We’re heading to one of the Others’ safehouses.”

It’s the word safe that does it. Claire gives Kate a tiny, brittle smile.

“We’ll never be safe, Kate,” she says, and Kate’s heart breaks at the sadness in her voice.

“We will be,” she says firmly, although she obviously can’t know that for sure. “I’ll protect you, Claire. I said that I would get you and Aaron reunited and that’s what I’m going to do.”

Claire’s still unconvinced, but there’s nothing else that Kate can do for her yet. Not until they land. She leans back in her seat and stares out of the window. They’re free from the island but they still have so far to go.

It’s a tense journey, but then land is in sight and the plane is in sharp descent.

“Ladies and gents, it’s going to be a very bad landing,” Frank announces from the cockpit, circling and circling the little sheds and the patch of concrete that serves as a pallet and drone take-off and landing station. At least it’s next to an open expanse of field and a road that appears to be deserted.

“Hold onto your heads!” Frank yells.

Kate and Claire brace against the impact and as they touch down on the field, Kate’s teeth rattle in her skull, spots dancing in front of her eyes. She doesn’t move a muscle, waiting until they’re at a complete standstill before cautiously looking around. Claire’s still got her hands over her head between her knees, shaking uncontrollably.

“Claire, honey, we’re here. It’s ok.”

Claire uncurls herself and looks out of the window. Two men in Dharma jumpsuits are approaching cautiously, and Richard races through the plane, throwing open the door and scrambling down the makeshift ladder. Kate can’t make out what they’re saying but everyone, including Frank, is crowding around the windows in this section of the fuselage, looking for any signs of trouble. Not that any of them are in a position to do anything if things do go south, but it’s good to have warning if nothing else.

After what feels like an age, the Dharma men head back towards the buildings and Richard turns to the plane, giving them two thumbs up and beckoning to them to join him on the ground.

Claire gives a small but genuine smile, and Kate returns it. The first hurdle has been negotiated. Only who knows how many more to go.

 II.

The safehouse is small, all the better to keep it safe, Kate supposes. Two bedrooms, one bathroom, a small living room and an open plan kitchen-diner which is stuffed to the rafters with Dharma shelf stable food. Kate didn’t realise just how long it was since she last ate until she sees a box of cookies and her stomach growls ominously. In that moment, everything seems secondary to food, and the five of them visiting the safehouse for the first time sit around the kitchen counter, silently sating their hunger with whatever the hell they feel like but mostly sugar. Richard is going around making sure that the water and electrics are turned on and generally being the one in charge. It’s funny, Kate had always assumed that he would have the most trouble adapting to life off the island out of all of them, having spent so long there, but then again, they’re not really off the island yet. This is a neat and safe little haven of Others’ culture in the outside world, so he doesn’t have to brave society just yet.

Claire is still nervy as she eats, her eyes darting here, there and everywhere as she scarfs down granola bars as if they’re going out of fashion. Considering there’s a literal ton of food in the warehouse next door, Kate doesn’t think that they’re likely to run out any time soon.

At least the rest of the group aren’t looking at Claire as if she’s going to pull a knife on them at any moment. She left all her knives on the island for a start, and now she’s more scared of them than they are of her. They’re all returning to a social mindset that they never left, despite being displaced from that society physically. Claire did leave it, and the return is going to be tricky at best and damn near impossible at worst, but Kate refuses to believe that it is going to be entirely impossible.

Richard wanders in and out of the kitchen, talking to about five different people at once on two different phones. Maybe he’s calling Ben’s lawyer in LA to get all the legal difficulties smoothed over.

“Looks like we might be holed up in here for a while,” James says, wiping the cookie crumbs off his shirt and standing up. “Might as well explore our new home.”

There’s not a whole hell of a lot to explore so he’s soon back in the kitchen, but he has unearthed some spare clothes for them. The garments smell old and musty, and have a distinctly nineties vibe about them. Kate wonders if anyone’s used this safehouse within the last decade.

She bags one of the bedrooms for herself and Claire, and James and Miles call the other one. Frank’s just so happy to be away from the island that he’s content with the couch and it looks like Richard is going to be on the phone all night anyway, so he’s left out of the negotiations. Then they start to draw straws as to who gets to use the shower first, and great hilarity breaks out when sharing to conserve water is suggested. It’s good to see Claire laughing again, even if it is not as loud or as hard as the others.

“I’ll go last,” she says. “I think I’m going to take the longest to get clean. My clothes can probably stand up on their own.”

Kate knows that she isn’t just talking about dirt, though. Claire’s done so much in these last three years that she’s not proud of, horrific things in the misguided hope of reuniting with Aaron because Not-Locke has been pouring poison into her ears and no-one was around to save her or help her to save herself. Kate wonders why he wanted Claire so badly, out of all of them. He wanted her maternal rage and lack of scruples when it came to protecting her child, certainly, but even after they all came back and even after Aaron’s safety was revealed, he was determined to keep her with him, warning Kate against taking her back to society. He was practically desperate for Kate not to take Claire away from him. She’s crazy now, she’s dangerous, he said, as if he hadn’t been the one responsible for getting her into that unstable state in the first place.

Kate shivers at the thought of his obsession and what it might mean, and turns her attention back to Claire. It’s over, he’s dead, and Claire is finally safe from him.

It’s late into the night by the time everyone’s taken their turn and Richard and Frank have launched a covert mission to the warehouse to source more towels, soap and shampoo, but Kate is nowhere close to sleep. Claire emerges from the steamy bathroom in an ill-fitting t-shirt and jeans that she has to keep hitching up. She’s so small and skinny. Kate had forgotten just how short she was, and now that the softness of new motherhood has given way to years of hardship, she’s just so small. Kate wants to wrap her in blankets and not let the world touch her.

It’s been a spiritual cleanse as well as a physical one for Claire. Kate heard her crying below the trickle of the shower, and her eyes are puffy and red-rimmed, but Kate doesn’t mention it. As much as she wants to hover and protect, Claire needs space as much as anyone else, perhaps moreso.

Although she’s clean now, her hair is still a messy bird’s nest, matted into one solid dreadlock at the back that water and shampoo have no hope of penetrating.

“Cutting it feels like giving up,” Claire says. “It feels like he’s won. It feels like I’m giving up that last part of who I was before.”

Kate thinks about Claire and her golden hair, always so long and lovely. Hair of gold, heart of gold.

She shakes her head. “Think of it as cutting off this part of your life,” she suggests. “Think of it more like a fresh start. It’ll grow again, and then you’ll be back to the person that you were before.”

“Yeah.” Claire pauses. “I’d like to keep as much of it as I can, though.”

Kate laughs. “Ok. Let’s see what we can do. Do you trust me? Near your neck with scissors and a comb?”

Claire nods. “Yes.” To give her credit, ever since that attack back in the forest and their making up after, Claire has not shown any sign of not trusting Kate.

The matted ponytail has to go, there’s no salvaging it. But an hour’s patient work with a comb straightens out the bird’s nest until it’s a dry, brittle, but tangle-free cloud curling around her ears. Claire gives Kate a half-hearted smile in the mirror.

“Thank you.”

“No worries.”

They continue to sit in the dimly lit room in silence, one at either end of the bed, both too keyed up from the day’s events to sleep.

“Mayo,” Claire says suddenly.

“Pardon?”

“Mayonnaise.” A soft smile creeps over her face and for a moment she looks like the Claire that Kate first met on the beach, proclaiming her to be a Gemini. “It’s supposed to be a really good conditioning treatment for your hair.”

Kate laughs, not at the notion of mayonnaise as a conditioner, she’s heard similar claims before, but at the thought that Claire is still in there under all the fear and hardship. Now that she no longer has to watch her back all the time, a bit of that is bleeding through.

“All right,” she says. “Let’s find some mayo.”

Of course there’s mayo. The house is next to a Dharma packing plant, they have vats of the stuff. Claire smears it over what remains of her hair and deftly wraps her head in clingfilm and a towel.

“What?” she asks on seeing Kate looking at her.

“Nothing. It’s just you. Being girly like the old Claire.”

“Yeah.” Her smile fades. “I have to cling to whatever shades of that I can get now.”

“You’ll be ok,” Kate says. “You’ll come through this, I promise.”

There’s a knock on their door.

“Who is it?”

“Me.” It’s James’ voice. “I know you’re awake, I heard you talking.”

Kate and Claire look at each other and Claire nods; Kate goes over to let him in.

“You don’t mind me butting in on your girl talk? Miles is snoring so loud I can’t hear myself think.” He wrinkles his nose. “Why does it smell like mayo in here?”

“Claire’s trying to rescue her hair,” Kate says. James just stares at her in disbelief, because is that supposed to explain everything?

“With mayo?” he asks incredulously, and shakes his head. “I will never understand women.”

Kate snorts. “There are many things that I could say to that, James, but I won’t.”

They talk quietly for a little while, mainly expressing relief at being off the island.  Claire goes to wash her hair again and the smell of mayo gradually fades. Maybe James is worried that Claire’s going to kill Kate in her sleep but as Kate finally feels exhaustion overtake her and she can’t help curling up and closing her eyes, she hears him say his goodnights and leave the room.

Claire’s weight on the bed doesn’t shift, and she’s still sitting wide awake when Kate stirs an hour or so later.

 III.

When Kate wakes up the next morning – or perhaps afternoon, she’s got no idea how long she slept and she doesn’t know what time zone she’s in and she’s not entirely sure she’s in 2007 – Claire is gone from their room. It’s light outside, bright and sunny and so ill-reflecting of their loss. Tiptoeing out of the room, she sees who else is up and about, but it seems like it’s only Richard, outside on the phone again. How many calls does he need to make? Surely the Others have some kind of phone tree network they can activate when things go bad. Like, Jacob dying and his insane brother nearly wreaking destruction upon the earth bad.

Suddenly there’s a high-pitched scream and Kate reacts in an instant, rushing downstairs with James and Miles. It’s only halfway down that she realises that scream wasn’t Claire’s at all, but male.

“We’re ok!” Frank exclaims as they all bundle into the living room. Claire is peering over the back of the sofa and Frank has his hand on his heart. “We’re ok, we just gave each other a fright, that’s all.”

Kate doesn’t question why Claire is behind the sofa.

“Well, I guess we’re all awake now,” Miles says after a long, screamingly uncomfortable silence. “I’ll see if there are any Dharma powdered eggs for breakfast. You know, when we got off the island I thought that we were finally going to see the back of Dharma food. Man, I can’t wait to get out of this place…” He’s still complaining as he heads into the kitchen. Frank, recovered from his scare, just rolls his eyes and follows him.

“Miles, you should be grateful that there is Dharma food and that we’re not all in the middle of an underground government facility being experimented on.”

Left with just Kate and James, Claire extricates herself from behind the sofa and sits down on it. Her eyes are hard and challenging and daring them to chastise her. James accepts the challenge.

“What the hell are you doing?” he hisses. “You damn near gave all of us a heart attack!”

“James.”

Kate’s touch on his arm calms him and he takes a step back, running a hand through his hair with a sigh.

“I’m sorry, Claire,” he says. “I know you’ve been through hell and I can’t hope to understand what it was like.”

“I’m used to hiding,” Claire mumbles. “When I was in the jungle, when they were hunting me, I had to hide. All the time. I don’t feel safe if I’m not hidden.” She pauses. “There wasn’t enough room under the bed.”

Kate crosses the room and sits on the sofa beside Claire, putting an arm around her as she stares down into her lap.

“I’m never going to be normal again, am I?” she asks quietly. “He took my mind and now he’s dead and he can’t give it back. What’s Aaron going to think of a mother who hides behind the sofa every night? What if…?”

“Stop,” Kate soothes her. “No more what ifs. You will get better, Claire. We will all help you. I’m here, I’ll help. Your mom’s out there, she’ll help.”

“My mum? That’s impossible, she’s in a coma, has been for years.”

“No. She’s awake, and she’s made an amazing recovery. She’s looking after Aaron right now.”

Claire just stares at her in disbelief for a long time, but then she crumples in Kate’s arms, loud, wailing, racking sobs that make her entire body shake.

“All the things I never thought I’d get the chance to say,” she manages to get out between sobs and hiccups. “All those years and I can finally say sorry…”

Kate rubs her back. “You will get better, and you will see your mom again,” she says firmly. “And you will be able to say all of those things to her in person.”

Claire nods.

“Don’t let him win, Claire,” James says. Kate had forgotten that he was still in the room with them. He’s finally come to the realisation that Claire isn’t acting this way for no reason, and that she’s been motivated by blind fear for so long that it’s a hard mindset to get out of. “You can’t let your past control your future. Believe me, I know all about that and you’ve got a few more years’ future than I have so make the most of it.”

Claire nods again, managing the tiniest of weak little laughs.

“I need a minute,” she says.

Kate lets go of her and follows James out of the room.

“Thank you,” she says, closing the door after them and giving Claire some privacy.

“Yeah, well, all this time I’ve been worrying about everyone else and not worrying about her because having seen her in action with a knife and a rifle I figured she could take care of herself and we’d all need protection from her. I guess I never stopped to think about how she was feeling. All those years on her own, and we didn’t try to help her.”

“You didn’t know. She just vanished.”

“Yeah, but she left Aaron behind and she’d never do that if she was in her right mind. Then with what happened with Sayid… I just didn’t connect the dots that that’s what happened with Claire too. She must’ve died in the strike on New Otherton. Just for a minute or so, but long enough for him to get her. If I could understand what was going on with Sayid, vaguely, then I ought to be able to understand what’s going on with her.”

Kate leans back against the wall, going over it all in her mind.

“It was different with Sayid though,” she says. “He said he stopped feeling emotion. Claire can definitely still feel.”

“Yeah, maybe too much at once sometimes.”

Kate gives a snort of laughter.

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s because she wasn’t dead as long. I guess we’ll never know.”

“Well, thank you, anyway.”

They go into the kitchen where Miles is serving what could almost be described as breakfast, to Frank’s disgust.

“We have Dharma powdered eggs and Dharma dehydrated bacon flavour slices,” he says, shovelling some onto plates for Kate and James. Kate’s not entirely sure that the concoction is edible.

“Miles, no offence, but you’re a lousy cook,” Frank says, prodding the solid lump of egg with his fork.

“I’d like to see you do better, Miles retorts. “I don’t see anyone else around here making breakfast.”

The banter continues back and for the as they brave the eggs, and Kate almost doesn’t notice when Claire slips into the kitchen and takes a seat at the table. Frank gives her a friendly smile to indicate no hard feelings, and Miles eagerly gives her food, and soon she’s laughing and joking with the rest of them. Maybe soon she’ll feel safe amongst them, and won’t resort to hiding behind the sofa.

 IV.

Richard announces that their new identities will be ready in a couple of days; he’s just waiting for the courier. Somehow, Kate doesn’t think he’s talking about UPS. It’s the first indication that they’ve had of any prospective departure date from the Guam safehouse, and the sense of a definite future in the air makes Kate feel more confident that such a future will eventually materialise. With that in mind, it’s time to start making plans. Since there’s more likelihood that Claire will reunite with her mother, she should probably let her mother know that her trip back to the island was successful and forewarn her of Claire’s mental state, which is going to take some getting used to considering what Claire was like when Carole last knew her, an angry teenager raging against the world and everything in it.

She tracks Richard down in the kitchen.

“Hey, can I borrow one of your many phones, please?” she asks. “I need to call Claire’s mom and let her know we’re ok. She already knows about the island – well, sort of – so it’s not some giant security risk. And I think it would do Claire good to talk to her.”

Richard nods and hands over one of the phones, a cheap burner but practical enough.

Kate’s pleased she’s got a head for numbers, and dials Carole Littleton’s cell.

Carole picks up after two rings.

“Hello?”

“Hello Ms Littleton, it’s Kate Austen.”

“Kate? Did you… Did you find Claire?”

“Yes, I did. I’ve got her. We’re in Guam. Where are you? Are you still in Los Angeles or did you take Aaron back to Australia?”

“We’re back in Sydney, I didn’t know how long you were going to be and I didn’t want to be living out of the motel indefinitely… Is Claire there? Is she ok? Can I speak to her?”

Kate grimaces.

“Physically, she’s ok. Mentally… She went through hell on that island. She survived there alone for three years. She’s not exactly the same Claire that she was before.”

“Oh, my poor baby…”

“I’ll see if she wants to speak to you.” Kate moves through the house to where Claire is sitting on the sofa, fidgeting with her hands, feeling uncomfortable without a weapon in them.

“Claire? Honey, I have your mom on the phone.”

“Claire? Claire, can you hear me?”

Claire doesn’t respond, and Kate just holds out the phone to her ear.

“Claire? Baby, are you there?”

Claire’s expression melts and she takes the phone.

“Mum?”

She sounds so small and so young. Kate forgets she’s only twenty-five; she’s so world-weary and so old beyond her years as a result of her experiences.

“Mum, I can’t believe you’re ok, you’re awake… I never thought I’d hear your voice again. Oh God, I’ve missed you so much…”

Kate can’t hear the other half of the conversation and she feels uncomfortable eavesdropping, so she steps outside. The others are out there, playing some kind of game with empty Dharma beer cans. Kate tries to follow it but it’s clear that Miles is making up the rules as he goes along and nothing makes the slightest bit of sense, but the hilarity is enough to make up for it. To think that this time yesterday they were just landing here, unsure of what the future was going to hold for them, unsure how they were going to get off Guam and not quite believing that they’d managed to get here in one piece in the first place. Now they’re laughing and joking like nothing happened.

Except, they know what happened. They all do. They don’t want to talk about it because it is too fresh and raw, but that’s not to say that they are ignoring it completely. Kate’s noticed it in the way that they all fall silent sometimes, and no-one tries to get the conversation going again. They’ve all left a piece of themselves behind on that island, maybe some more than others, and they’re all glad to be leaving it behind, although perhaps they are yearning for the days that came before, when they were whole.

This is a fresh start for all of them. New lives, new identities, a clean slate in which to do the right thing and live the best life. Kate’s had so many new starts over the last couple of years that this feels almost familiar. The sense of relief but also the sense of loss, knowing how many people they’ve left behind, how few they managed to save.

She glances over at the living room window. Claire is still on the phone, although it seems to be a different phone now. Maybe she ran out of battery life on the other one. They’ve been talking for over an hour and poor Richard’s phone bill must be through the roof, but he doesn’t seem too concerned. Who knows who he’s been calling in all his many phone calls trying to arrange new identities for them all.

Eventually, Claire joins them outside, but she only has eyes for Kate, coming over and throwing her arms around her.

“Thank you,” she says, choked. “Thank you so much.”

It’s clear just how much she needed that talk with her mother, and it’s clear how much it has affected her from her puffy eyes and the tear stains on her cheeks, but Kate says nothing and just holds her.

When she pulls away, there’s something different about Claire’s bearing. She’s standing a little straighter, and there’s a little more determination in her face. Perhaps it was the conversation with her mother than gave her the impetus she needed to really take back control where it was wrested from her by Not-Locke so long ago.

“I’m going to see my mum again,” she says, and it’s a statement, a fact, nothing of disbelief in it. “I never thought I would, but I’m going to. She says that Aaron’s doing well and he’s been an angel for his grandma. I think she’s a bit in love with him already.”

“Well, no-one can meet Aaron and not instantly fall in love with him.”

Claire smiles. “I know I did.” She sighs. “I guess it’s the same as it always was before. I thought I’d be a terrible mother, I really didn’t think that I was going to be able to handle it, but I did, and in those couple of months that I was with Aaron, I couldn’t imagine a life without him, a life where I’d given him up. But then I did give him up, somehow, somewhere, although I don’t remember how, and it got to the stage where I could barely remember what life was like with him. History’s repeating itself. He’s coming back into my life, and I’m certain that I’m going to be a terrible mum, I mean, look at me. But I’ve done it once before. Maybe I can do it again?”

She’s so unsure and questioning, but at least she’s entertaining the possibility, which she wasn’t doing before.

Kate smiles. “You will.”

 V.

That night, Claire approaches her predicament with her new-found determination, and stands staring at the bed in her and Kate’s room for a long time, as if she’s trying to work out the best strategy to defeat it. Finally, she leaves the room, and for a moment Kate thinks that she’s going to retreat behind the sofa again, although that would mean that the living room would get rather crowded as Richard is sleeping in there too tonight.

“I’m not diving behind the sofa again,” she calls over her shoulder as she leaves, as if she can read Kate’s mind.

She returns with a kitchen chair and spare blankets, and sets about constructing herself a makeshift tent in the corner of the room. Once she’s shoved pillows and sheets in there, it actually looks rather nice and cosy, and she crawls into her little blanket fort, curling up ready to sleep. Her hair falls over her face where it’s too short to tie back properly, and for a moment it looks a little bit like a halo.

She pushes it aside and looks up at Kate.

“This is better,” she says. “A compromise to start with.”

Kate nods and gets into bed, and the two of them continue to talk quietly for a little while. It feels a bit like a teenage sleepover, both of them tired but neither of them really wanting to go to sleep just yet for fear of what nightmares might come over them. Kate can’t stop thinking about all the things that have happened, and she really doesn’t want to relive them in her dreams. They talk about silly little random things, like Dharma food and what the guys in the packing plant next door must think about the strange little motley crew of travellers who just descended into their workplace.

Eventually though, Claire falls asleep in her tent, and Kate watches her for a moment before succumbing herself. It’s nice to see her at peace for once.

The next morning, Kate is on edge when someone lets themselves into the safehouse with a key. It’s a middle-aged woman with a duffel bag over one shoulder and the weary expression of someone who’s spent a long time travelling. She doesn’t seem at all surprised to see the castaways there, she just shouts to Richard that she’s there. He appears from around the side of the house in the direction of the warehouse where he’s been smoothing things over with the Dharma packers.

“Eloise sent me,” the woman says to Kate by way of explanation.

Richard shows her into the living room and although they leave the door open, no-one goes in. Curiosity gets the better of Kate however, and she listens in at the doorway when it seems like their conversation is coming to a close.

“Richard, I know that you would only ever leave the island on a permanent basis if something terrible happened,” the woman is saying.

Richard nods and lets out a long breath, as if he has to prepare himself mentally for what comes next.

“Jacob’s dead,” he says eventually.

“I see.” The woman is silent for a long time. Kate wonders how many other Others there are out here in the real world – strange adjective to use, she knows, since the island was as real as any other part of this world – who don’t know about what happened a week ago and don’t know that their beloved leader and demi-god is dead.

“Richard, when you and Jacob sent me on this mission seven years ago, I was honoured to do it, but I miss the island,” the woman continues. “If Jacob is dead and there’s a new order to things like you say, does that mean I can go home? Is that even possible?”

Richard shakes his head and spreads his hands in defeat.

“I don’t know,” he says. None of them know. When they were leaving, everything was still so up in the air. Were Jack and Hurley successful in replacing the heart of the island and setting everything to rights? “Now that I’ve left, I don’t know where it is any more. But if it’s possible to get back, then Eloise will tell you how to get there.”

“Can I go home, Richard? Or will I still be needed out here?”

“I think that you can go home, Cam. There’s a new man in charge now, and if the island’s still there, then I don’t think he’ll be running things in the same way that Jacob always used to. You’ll be welcome. You’ve done very valuable work for us, and you deserve to go home.”

If Hurley is in charge of the island, as Kate thinks he probably is by now, then everyone will be welcome.

“Thank you, Richard.”

“Who was that?” Kate asks, after the woman leaves.

“That was Camilla. Someone needs to stay off the island to liaise with Eloise and make sure that our cover identities are straight for when we have to leave the island for whatever reason. That’s always been Cam’s job, but I don’t think that her services are going to be required anymore. Speaking of which, though.”

He holds up a huge stack of passports and identity documents. “That’s the reason she came. Dropping off our new lives.”

The paperwork gets divided into individual stacks on the kitchen table and everyone looks through their own. Eloise, Camilla and Dan Norton have been busy, Kate thinks, and she’s impressed by how in depth their new cover identities have been made in just a couple of days.

Victoria Katherine Hope, hers reads. Claire is Alexandra Claire Carter. She doesn’t get a good enough look at the others; presumably they’ll all come to light in good time.

She’s holding a new life in the palm of her hand, like she has done so many times, every time she’s changed her identity over the past few years. This time it feels more real. It’s less a pseudonym and more an entirely different person. All her identities were different people with different backgrounds, different ways to make in the world, but this one feels different because it’s not one of her own making; it’s something that someone’s given to her like a gift. Another chance.

The only thing that jars Kate is the fact that her new passport photograph looks uncomfortably like her mug shot, but if everything else checks out then she’s sure – well, she’s hopeful – that her passport won’t arouse suspicion.

“It’s strange,” Claire says, looking at the new passport, the only Australian one among the bunch. (Apparently Richard was asked if he wanted his to be Spanish to reflect his birthplace but he declined and now Richard Alpert was born in New York in 1965, not the Canaries a century and a half ago.)

“What’s strange?”

“It’s like I’m a whole different person,” she muses. “Someone who’s not me. I can pretend to be someone else now. Someone who’s normal.”

It twists something inside Kate to hear her speak like that.

“You’re still Claire,” she says. Maybe that’s the entire reason why they let them keep their real names in there somewhere. “You’ll always be Claire, no matter what the papers say.”

No matter how hard she tried to run away from it, she was always Kate. Now, though, that doesn’t seem like so bad a person to be.

 VI.

Claire’s little blanket fort in the corner of the bedroom seems to be working, and she’s still sleeping in there quite happily when Kate wakes up the next morning. The feeling of being enclosed is obviously just the protection she needs to feel hidden and safe. Idly, Kate thinks of mosquito netting and drapes around four poster beds, or the little princess drapes that were available when she was redecorating Aaron’s room back in LA. Maybe one of those would be enough to keep Claire calm when they get back to civilisation. Just something as an extra layer between her and the outside world whilst she’s asleep and vulnerable.

There’s just one more night here and then they’ll be leaving this halfway house in a strange limbo, and will be returning to the real world. Kate will reunite with Aaron, Claire will reunite with her mother. They can truly begin a healing process that they can’t really get started with here in the safehouse in Guam. They need time and they need interaction with other people, and whilst they have all the time in the world here, they don’t have other people, and soon, with so many personalities in such a small space, tempers are going to fray.

Kate is infinitely grateful for the phone call between Claire and her mother. Kate can give her as much encouragement that she can and tell Claire over and over again that she’s going to be ok, and that Kate will help her through this as will everyone else in the house, but hearing it from her mother is different. It’s what’s given Claire the will to move on and the drive to get better, rather than thinking that it would be impossible. She knows it will be difficult, but she’s damned if she’s going to give up. She knows she needs help, but that’s not going to stop her trying to help herself as much as she can. She wants to get back to Aaron, she wants to get back to her mother, and she knows that she can’t in her current state.

It’s a long road ahead of them, but Kate can walk it with her. There’s nothing tying her down anywhere, there never has been. Her life has always been transient, until Aaron came into it. Aaron had grounded her in LA, but now Aaron is no longer in LA. Aaron is in Sydney with his grandmother, and so that’s where Kate will go too. She will go wherever Claire and Aaron will take her, and once Claire is ready to be Aaron’s mom again, then Kate will decide what comes next. There’s nothing holding her down, but at the same time, there’s nothing to keep her moving either. With a new identity, she also has a new life. There’s no need to run.

It’s strange, Kate thinks. Aaron had been the one to keep her in one place when she had been in LA, and even with the restrictions on her movement, she had never once felt the desire to move or run away with him - well, until Dan Norton had turned up on the doorstep of course, and that was constructed anyway. Now it is Claire who has given her a reason to stay in one place.

It’s family, Kate realises, and all the old quotes about home being people and not a place seem to ring true now.

It’s early days, of course. There are still several hurdles to be got over, but now all the logistics have been sorted out and their return to society will be as seamless as possible, there are fewer large external influences to worry about and she and Claire can turn their attentions to the task at hand - getting Claire better.

Kate wanders down to the kitchen where the others are already up. Frank is making breakfast - Miles has been categorically banned from cooking after his efforts on that first morning. Looking through the cupboards in search of cereal, Kate sees an unopened jar of peanut butter on the shelf and smiles. She’s surprised it’s still there. Maybe Claire just hasn’t seen it. She gets herself some cereal and takes the peanut butter, heading back up to her and Claire’s room and setting the jar down beside her little fort, ready for when she wakes up.

She doesn’t have all that long to wait. Claire screws her face up and opens her eyes, and she doesn’t startle or jump up to defend herself. She looks around, still wary, and Kate thinks that she’ll be still wary for a long time to come. But she can see that she’s safe, and then she sees the peanut butter and her face breaks into a wide smile, grabbing the jar and immediately digging into it.

“You remembered,” she said, and the noise she makes as she sucks that first scoop of creamy peanut butter off her finger is almost obscene.

“Yeah. You know, you once said that you were the only Australian in the world that liked peanut butter.”

Claire nods with a laugh, no doubt remembering a long ago conversation in which that came out.

“Well, I can tell you that’s categorically not true,” Kate says. Claire just raises an eyebrow, challenging her. “Aaron loves it,” she added.

Claire grins, and Kate realises that it’s the first time they’ve really spoken about Aaron since they were reunited on the island. Apart from establishing that he’s well and he’s being looked after by safe hands whilst Kate is here on the island, they haven’t spoken about him in himself and how he’s been doing for these past three years. Obviously at first they had too much else on their minds to occupy themselves with small talk as well, and then Claire didn’t want to think about Aaron because she didn’t want to think about what she had become. But now, it seems that talking about him doesn’t bring her pain.

“That’s going to be interesting for Mum looking after him,” Claire says. “She can’t stand the stuff. She could never understand how I could eat it all the time. Now she’s got Aaron eating it as well.”

“Yeah, he’s definitely his mother’s son in that regard.”

“What else does he like?” Claire gets out of her blanket fort and sits on the bed with Kate, peanut butter still in hand, and she leans in, wanting to know everything.

“Well, he’s a chocolate fiend as well, but I think that you can blame me for that one,” Kate says. “He likes dinosaurs and robots and spacemen and he can’t decide which is his favourite, it changes every day.”

Claire is rapt, and so Kate continues.

“His favourite story is Alice in Wonderland. Jack used to read it to him…”

The thought of Jack brings her up short, and a lump in her throat stops her from going on. It’s the first brutal reminder that Jack is not there anymore, and Jack is never going to be there again, and the pain runs deep. She squeezes her eyes shut against the tears that threaten to fall.

Claire licks her fingers clean and closes the peanut butter jar, wiping her hands on her too-large jeans and holding out her arms for Kate as she gives into her grief and crumples against Claire. Something in the back of her mind keeps telling her that it’s the wrong way round, that she should be the one staying strong for Claire, whereas a voice that sounds remarkably like Claire’s own is telling her that she can’t do this alone and that she can’t stay strong all the time; she has the right to cry and grieve just as everyone else does.

“It’ll be ok,” Claire soothes. “You keep telling me that everything’s going to be ok, so I think the same applies to you. Everything will be all right in the end.”

Another part of Kate wonders how everything can be, after everything that they’ve lost, but she doesn’t let that part speak, squashing it down beneath her misery and letting herself cry.

When she finally quietens, she feels better than she has done ever since she left the island.

Claire looks the most like the old Claire, too.

 VII.

It’s time to head out into the big wide world again. The time spent in the safehouse has been useful, allowing them to regroup and begin to make the changes and the first steps towards healing, but they need to get out of it now and rejoin that world, putting those first steps into tangible practice. They can’t make progress here, they can only make the first steps and then stagnate.

Everyone is going to different places and everyone’s flights leave at different times. Kate and Claire are the first to go to catch their plane to Sydney, and there’s a sombre and heartfelt leave taking outside the house. Everyone holds onto each other so long and so hard it’s like they never want to let go. They’ve all been through so much together and although they all promise to keep in touch, Kate knows how easy it is to lose touch with people. She hopes that everything they’ve been through will cement that bond and make their desire to remain in touch even stronger. After all, these six people are the only people in the world who know what happened on that island, and since they’re the only people they can talk to about it and try to make sense of it, then that has to count for something.

Richard has borrowed the packing plant’s Dharma van and is ferrying people to the airport. Kate wonders what he’s going to do now, since the island that has been his home for so long. He’s going to LA with Miles and James, and maybe he’ll get to see life afresh with eyes that can appreciate it.

Although Claire looks calm, she’s fidgeting with her hands again in that way that she never used to do before. Perhaps it’s the idea of getting on a plane for a long-haul flight again considering what happened on her last one. Maybe it’s the thought of meeting her mother again after so long. That conversation they had has cleared a lot of the air but there is so much still left unsaid between them, and of course, Carole has no real idea of the extent of things that Claire has gone through over the last three years.

She had said that she didn’t want Aaron to see her like this. That probably extends to her mother as well. She no longer looks as feral as she did on the island, but even then the aura of the island still hangs around her, in her ill-fitting clothes and nervous posture. But Carole will understand, Kate thinks. She might never hope to understand exactly what has happened to Claire and Kate doubts that Claire will ever reveal the full details, but she will understand that Claire’s mental state is not what it was when she left Australia, that she doesn’t see things in the way she used to, in the way that a person who has not been affected as she has will. That’s something that Aaron won’t understand.

Getting out of the van outside Guam airport, their few belongings packed in a single bag between them, with new ID at the ready and a cover story firmly in place should anyone question it, Kate and Claire say their final goodbyes to Richard and promise to contact him and the others once they are back on their feet. It feels like coming back to civilisation after a week in a quiet limbo, and even Kate is unnerved by the noise and bustle of the airport after the peace of the safehouse. Still, they get through to departures without any fuss and as they sit waiting for their plane in companionable silence, Claire’s hands are finally still.

“Are you looking forward to going back home?” Kate asks.

She nods, and a little smile creeps over her face.

“I didn’t realise how much I missed it until we were driving up the road towards the airport. Now I can’t wait to get back, even though I know what’s waiting for me there.”

A long and painful uphill struggle. Kate doesn’t need to ask. Still, it’s an improvement on where she was a week ago when she almost didn’t leave the island, believing that she didn’t deserve a fresh start at a life on the outside.

The plane ride is tense; with Claire grabbing Kate’s hand every time they go over the slightest bit of turbulence, but they finally land in Sydney airport without incident. Kate can’t quite believe it. They’re here. They’re ok. They’re truly back in the real world and now the rest of their lives can begin.

Customs and passport control take forever, although they have no luggage, which helps matters along. Maybe it’s the fact that they have no luggage which makes passport control take so much longer. Kate is used to the worry that comes when using a new fake document in an official capacity for the first time, so she knows how to tamp down her fear and appear non-plussed. Claire’s only ever used fake ID for buying alcohol underage, not trying to get into the country of her birth.

Finally, just at the moment when Kate thinks they’re going to get pulled off to one side and interrogated, they’re let through, and they find themselves in the arrivals hall.

Claire looks around nervously. There are a hell of a lot of people, more people than she’s been around for a long time. She’s curled in on herself, trying to make herself as small as possible, and she hides herself behind Kate as they move through the crowds of people.

Finally Kate spots the person they’re looking for and grabs Claire’s hand, guiding her through the melee towards where Carole is waiting at the back of the arrivals area. She looks as nervous as they feel, but she breaks into a smile when she sees Kate. She probably hasn’t seen Claire yet, and she looks around, peering around Kate to try and see her daughter.

Claire hangs back, all the old fears stopping her in her tracks as Kate approaches Carole.

“Hi,” she says. “Thanks for coming to meet us.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Aaron’s with a babysitter, I didn’t think it would be a good idea to bring him along.”

She’s still looking over Kate’s shoulder, and Kate can forgive her that. She steps out of the sight line and mother and daughter set eyes on each other for the first time in far too long.

“Mum…”

In the midst of the busy airport with so many heartfelt reunions going on, no-one really pays any attention to Claire and Carole both crying their eyes out as they cling to each other like limpets.

“Thank you,” Carole says to Kate over Claire’s shoulder, her voice choked with emotion. “Thank you so much.”

 VIII.

The next couple of weeks are strange.

Claire is not ready to see Aaron again, she says so herself as they drive back towards Carole’s house from the airport.

“I’m not ready. I need to get used to normal life for myself before I can think about taking care of Aaron again.” Kate can see just how badly she wants to get back to Aaron, but the fact that she’s aware of her own mental state is probably a good sign.

So things are in a little limbo for a while. Kate rents a little place just around the corner from Carole and lives there with Aaron, as he needs a mom in his life and since Kate is around, it would be strange for him to see her and recognise her and yet not have her acting as his mom. Claire moves back in with Carole, but Kate spends a lot of time there, and Carole spends a lot of time with Aaron, because ultimately, Kate knows what Claire went through and can understand some of her mindset better than Carole can ever hope to.

Aaron doesn’t seem to mind all the going back and forth between his grandmother and the woman he’s always known as his mother. He’s seen Claire in passing, in Carole’s house, but they’ve never been formally reintroduced.

But after two weeks, the three of them think that the time is right, and it needs to be sooner rather than later. Claire is still retreating to blanket forts in the night, and still doesn’t sleep well, but she and Carole and Kate are building up coping mechanisms for her now, and bending their lifestyles a little to accommodate her habits. The scariest parts are when she zones out, fidgeting with her hands and staring into the middle distance, and it can take several attempts to get her back in the room with them. But it’s a start. She’s moving in the right direction, however slowly, and being reintroduced to Aaron will hopefully help her progress and give her something to keep fighting for.

Carole and Claire come round to Kate’s place, and Kate sits Aaron down in the living room.

“Aaron, there’s someone really important who you need to meet, ok? So I want you to listen to me very carefully.”

Aaron looks at her soberly and Kate begins.

“You know I’ve been your mommy for a long time, Aaron. Well, when you were very little, when you were still a baby, before I was your mommy, you had another mommy, your first mommy, and she loved you very much.”

“Why isn’t she my mommy now?” Aaron asked.

“Well, a long time ago, when you were still a baby, a bad man took your first mommy away and he made her very sick. So, I became your mommy, because you needed someone to look after you and your first mommy couldn’t. But now, your first mommy is back.”

“What about the bad man?”

“He’s gone, sweetie. He can’t hurt you or me or your mommy again.”

“Is my other mommy still sick?”

Kate sighs, because Claire’s still got a long way to go before she’ll be close to normal again, but the sooner she gets reintroduced to Aaron and can start to become a part of his life again, the sooner she will recover - both Carole and Kate are sure of it. The longer they wait for her to become stable again before the reintroduction is made, then the longer she’ll take to become stable.

“She’s getting better,” Kate says. “She’ll be well again soon, and she’s going to come and live with us whilst she gets better. But you see, Aaron, she hasn’t seen you since you were a baby and she really wants to see you again. Will you come with me and say hello?”

Aaron nods and Kate takes his little hand, leading him through to the kitchen where Carole and Claire are waiting. Claire’s hands are shaking with nerves and she hides them under the table when she sees Aaron.

“Hey Aaron! You’ve got so big! You were a teeny tiny little thing when I last saw you. Oh baby, I missed you so much. I’m so sorry I left you, and I promise I’ll never leave you again.”

“You’re my first mommy?” Aaron asks.

“Yes.” Claire’s voice is wobbly and there are tears in her eyes. “I’m your first mummy. My name’s Claire.”

“Claire. Are you the Claire grandma talks about?”

Claire nods. “Yes. That’s me.” There’s a long pause, no-one quite sure what to do next other than let the encounter run its course. Finally Claire speaks again. “Can I… Can I hug you? Please?”

Aaron nods amiably and Kate’s never seen Claire move so quickly. She’s down on the floor with her arms around her son in a matter of seconds.

“Why are you crying, Mommy Claire?” Aaron asks.

“Because I’m just so happy to see you, Aaron.”

And that’s how it begins, the rest of their lives. Aaron still calls Kate Mommy, but Claire doesn’t seem to care as long as he calls her Mommy too. Kate is still the one he runs to first if he gets hurt, if he’s happy about something and wants to share, but Claire is the one he goes to if he wakes with nightmares, because she’s more likely to be awake.

Claire is the one he goes to when he’s scared, because she’s scared too, and they can make each other braver.

It began after Aaron met Claire on the landing once, on one of the occasions when she was unable to sleep and so was wandering around the house to double check that they were all safe, and investigating the disturbance, Kate found them curled up together in Claire’s blanket fort.

“Why do you sleep in a tent sometimes, Mommy Claire?”

“It makes me feel safe.”

“Can I come in and be safe too?”

“Of course. There’s room for one more.”

Kate watches them unseen through the crack between the door and its frame, and she smiles. Piece by little piece, they are putting Claire back together again, and in doing so, Kate feels, she is putting herself back together as well.

[nipponnomad]

TRANSLATION TAKE 2: One-sensei’s interview with Young Sunday (excerpts in detail)

Thanks to the lovely and talented @isasm, we’ve been blessed with a Japanese transcript recording excerpts from One’s interview with Young Sunday. Even though I already summarized the interview, I thought you all might be interested in reading some passages in greater detail (plus whoever put the excerpts together focused on different parts than I did, so it’s like looking at the interview from another angle). I hope you all enjoy it. Especially everyone over at @one-blog!

(P.S. I’m so exhausted I did this all at work today I’m gonna get fired someone help me aaaaahhh :P)

EDIT: Here’s a link to the summary, which I’ve tweaked to fix a couple mistakes I made before I had access to the transcript. :)

Submitting to Weekly Shonen Jump, the magazine everyone longs to be part of

YAMADA: Hey, you know the student council president from Mob Psycho 100? That page is really intense, where the whole page is that scene with the monologue about the pressure he gets from his parents? And it was like, suddenly it's gone all Yoshiharu Tsuge (TN: A famous Japanese cartoonist and essayist).

OKKUN: Tsuge and Kazuo Umezu (TN: Horror manga author).

YAMADA: That guy's style is totally Garo (TN: Avant-garde manga anthology magazine).

OKKUN: For real! It's so Goya (TN: The painter I guess? Or the Spanish film awards? I'm not sure; the literal translation is "So it's Goya," which is so vague I give up aaaah).

YAMADA: (while pointing at Okkun) We better watch it! We'll get drawn into the darkness of artistic criticism. We've gotta handle this like they do on Sawako no Asa (TN: A Japanese talk show).

OKKUN: (to ONE) So you were painstakingly drawing in secret, you created a homepage, did you ever submit your work?

ONE: I submitted something in my first year of college, it was a 19-page gag manga I drew and took over to Weekly Shonen Jump, which of course is the venue everyone aspires to.

YAMADA: So you did submit something!

ONE: It was just the one time.

YAMADA: So how did it go?

ONE: The thing I submitted was really dull. Even as I drew it I was like, "The moment I show this to the editor, I'll be laughed at." Anyway, the guy I showed it to went through it at a crazy speed, totally passing over the parts that were meant to be funny.

YAMADA: Yes, exactly! That's how it goes even now!

ONE: The editor went through 5 or 6 jokes I'd put in, and I immediately broke out in a cold sweat. I was like, "I'm a complete joke, I wanna go home." After that experience, I'd made an elaborate homepage with a blog I updated incessantly, and my updates only accelerated.

YAMADA: Ah, I see.

ONE: That felt a lot safer than submitting anything again.

Posting Manga on Garake

(TN: This seems to be a type of SoftBank cell phone)

YAMADA: So after that disappointment you returned to what was safe, intending to redouble your efforts. I see. Like you decided, "Let's forget about submitting, make my own homepage, and post manga for everyone to read for free"?

ONE: Basically, yes. I had already made the homepage by the time I submitted, and all these other aspiring mangaka I had met through the homepage were winning awards.

YAMADA: So it was like, "That guy too?"

ONE: I was thinking, "Him too?" At that point I was working under the pen name "ONE," and one of the acquaintances who had won an award was like, "Maybe ONE-san will be next?" That was pretty much why I made the mistake of submitting.

YAMADA: So that's how it was. Like, "What have I done?"

OKKUN: So what did you do then?

ONE: Before I tried submitting, I had bought myself a cell phone (TN: Garake) with a camera on it, and I would take tiny little pictures of the manga I was drawing, getting really up close so the pictures wouldn't come out shaky, and upload them to my homepage. Because there was this cell phone service that let anyone create a homepage.

YAMADA: You're part of that generation.

ONE: That was how I released my super ugly manga on my homepage. At that time, you couldn't view an entire page at a time on your cell phone. When you opened a manga, you couldn't see more than two panels or one word bubble at a time.

YAMADA: So hard to read!

ONE: To get through one scene, you'd have to read through about 15 pages that way. At that time, acquaintances of mine started drawing pasokon manga.

The first serialization of One Punch Man on the web

ONE: I didn't know anything about the culture at the time, but I started drawing pasokon manga and uploading it to a website. As I learned more about creating a series, I looked through that site. It was called Niitosha. (TN: "NEET Society," though the characters used for "NEET" spell out "new capital.")

YAMADA: That's an awesome name! Niitosha is an amazing name!

ONE: The name was meant to be something like a place where NEETs gather, though the actual users were mostly students and members of society. When I saw the site, I thought it was really awesome. All the users were beginners or semipros publishing their own works. People had been publishing there for however many years, and there were more than 5000 registered works.

When I looked at the work my friend was publishing on there, I saw a column called "Send Impressions" or something like that. When you clicked it, you could see the feedback other Niitosha authors had left all lined up. And you could also give your own impressions of the work. This site had been made as a place where beginners could receive feedback.

"I've stumbled across a really good place," I thought. "I wanna draw pasokon manga!" I was bubbling over with motivation. So I got myself a notebook computer and a drawing tablet and started drawing in a program called Comic Studio. The manga I drew became One Punch Man.

YAMADA: What!? For real!?

ONE: Yes.

OKKUN: Your very first work was One Punch Man.

YAMADA: Isn't that just the Japanese dream! Amazing! That's the dream we have in this country! At that time, did you ever think it would be broadcast as an anime?

ONE: I never would have believed it.

YAMADA: That manga could have been a Marvel movie! It could come right after Ant Man! "Iron Man," "Ant Man," "Whatever-Else-Man," and then comes "Anpanman" and then "One Punch Man!"

OKKUN: You put Yanase-san in there too. (Laughs) (TN: Takeshi Yanase, creator of Anpanman.) "One Punch Man" follows the Marvel pattern, right?

YAMADA: They'd definitely have to accept One Punch Man over there! (TN: Overseas). On the other hand, Anpanman would totally have the wrong feel. People over there would be like, "I wanna eat him," it'd be like, "No, you can't do that!"

We've got a self-sacrificial type of spirit in Asia, that's why Anpanman is popular. (TN: Anpanman heals others by giving them pieces of his head to eat.) But outside of Asia they'd be like, "Eh? You guys are eating yourselves!?" And it would never become popular.

Surpassing ONE PIECE abroad

(TN: This was my biggest mistake in my first translation because I missed that they were talking about One Punch Man's popularity outside of Japan. One Punch Man does indeed surpass One Piece in sales in the U.S., though not in Japan.)

OKKUN: Looking at viewer comments, it looks like One Punch Man outsells One Piece abroad. I don't know if that's true, but that's what the comment says.

YAMADA: Believe it, everyone!

ONE: I think One Punch Man is number one depending on the day or week, but I don't know all the details.

YAMADA: See! What did I tell you!

OKKUN: What? What did you know that I didn't?

YAMADA: We're sitting next to the guy who's taken over all of America! That time has finally come! (Laughs)

OKKUN: (Looking at viewer comments) It outsells the Bible!?

YAMADA: Whooooa! Wait a second, wait a second! Is that a Beatles reference?

OKKUN: That was Jesus!

YAMADA: Saying, "We're more famous than Jesus"?

OKKUN: Because there's a Paul in Christianity!

YAMADA: All right, that's enough! We're getting way off track!

ONE: Murata-sensei is so amazingly talented.

YAMADA: But it's really incredible. I think of Kinnikuman, and that's drawn like kids' doodles, two people were just casually chatting and they created this character all by themselves.

OKKUN: Are you evangelizing about Yudetamago? (TN: The duo responsible for Kinnikuman)

YAMADA: I'm not talking about Murata-sensei, but rather I'm segueing into talking about ONE-kun's characters. They've (TN: The characters in Kinnikuman) got such a total One Punch Man feel.

ONE: I guess they do.

The hero who solves everything with one punch

YAMADA: What kind of feeling were you going for with that character? (TN: Saitama)

ONE: There's no point trying to cover it up, I liked all the normal manga aimed at elementary schoolers and I read a lot. But by contrast, I thought it would be funny if the character started with the sort of strength you usually see in the final chapter, and I noticed that after drawing the first chapter.

In that first chapter, I wrote "One Punch Man" because he's a guy who takes out enemies in one punch and goes, "Damn it, I did it in one punch again!" That's all I'd come up with.

OKKUN: So it's like you cut out all the boring stuff.

ONE: Yeah, exactly. From there, it started spreading, and it spread far more than I'd predicted.

YAMADA: Was that difficult?

ONE: No, not at all. On the contrary, I suppose you could say it felt easy.

YAMADA: Most people wouldn't think of starting from the end like that, would they? In that sense, the fact that it feels like the character immediately comes out like "HYAAAH!" and makes you go "Whoa, whoa," is probably why it spread like that. Did all that come out naturally?

ONE: Yeah.

OKKUN: There you have it, he's a genius. We've got a genius here. (Laughs)

ONE: There were various difficulties and dilemmas, but at times when things got tricky, it was like the hero trying to use knowledge and personal experience to push his way through...

Reiji-sensei (TN: Yamada Reiji, the host and a fellow mangaka), you've met and spoken with a lot of different people and absorbed a lot of things in a lot of different situations, so I think you can write all different types of characters. I don't think I can do that. So I just solve everything with one punch. (Laughs)

Of course there are also times when things can't be solved through punching. Within the world of One Punch Man, Saitama can adapt his strength in a flexible way. If he has a problem, it's with regular people or with running out of money.

OKKUN: Or hitting up a special sale at the super market.

YAMADA: That's the issue this week. (TN: The literal translation is "That's this week's guy," I'm not sure what he's referring to)

OKKUN: That kind of everyday stuff. Plus he's just become too strong.

ONE: That's true. As the author, I started by creating a character who's really tough and reliable, Saitama's always there no matter what other troublesome character shows up.

OKKUN: I see. That's what makes it so fun to look at.

YAMADA: A real Mito Komon type of guy. (TN: The hero of an old Japanese period drama)

OKKUN: There will always be justice in the end.

The surprising popularity of One Punch Man

YAMADA: Mob Psycho is the same way. He stays quiet, until whatever percentage comes out, and after it comes out it's kind of refreshing. He's the kind of guy that shows up in a manga like "The shocking answer will be revealed just seconds from now!"

OKKUN: Isn't Mob Psycho drawn as the flip side [to One Punch Man]?

YAMADA: We're moving on to Mob Psycho now.

OKKUN: This program's been all about One Punch Man, it seems like.

YAMADA: I actually think we've showed off One Punch Man considerably well. He's a true human being, that guy. That's become all too rare, I think. Thank you very much. Have I got it all correct?

OKKUN: So you were getting responses from others, but when you posted on Niitosha, did One Punch Man become popular immediately?

ONE: It was pretty quick. I was shocked. I drew and uploaded the first chapter thinking I'd be happy if I got one or two comments like other manga, but then I was sitting their watching the comment column after each update and the number was increasing more and more. There were people who said they were looking forward to the second chapter, so I worked hard and released the second chapter, and within three or four chapters, it seemed like the people on Niitosha decided I was an author who was going to update properly, so I got even more views.

There are a lot of web manga that just stop right in the middle, or chapter one gets posted and the next chapter gets posted 3 years later. (TN: Ain't that the truth!)

YAMADA: That's why we update every week. Every week on Wednesday, everyone can rest assured that the next update is coming.

OKKUN: Saitama's a hero for fun, isn't he? Then he enters the association and gradually rises through the ranks, like he's just flowing right through them. Like he's just going at his own pace. Then he gets this disciple, right? A cyborg.

YAMADA: I need to butt in here, this show has been crammed full, it's time to snag your favorite food and prepare for the second half.

OKKUN: For real!?

YAMADA: It's already been 40 minutes.

OKKUN: You're right. Crap.

One's three themes

YAMADA: When I look at Mob Psycho, and One Punch Man is the same way, I feel like it conveys three themes.

YAMADA: Basically, the three themes ONE has embraced are: "What is power?" "What do we do with power?" And moreover, "What is our true power?" How do people who have power live their lives in relation to that?

So in the end this leads to a theory of life or a theory of happiness, really the mechanism underlying everything, I think that's amazing.

Basically that thing with wanting more power never changes, and it leads to the same problem at the start of both works that you see in common with works by other authors. The character's default is overwhelming power. It's the same in both works.

Looking at it objectively, the people who always win are naturally going to be viewed as protagonists. This is what we always want to show. But first, I want to show some great pictures you've done. Your pictures are the best. This is the scene where the protagonist shows up in chapter 2. This picture, at the very beginning.

YAMADA: Was this the picture you started with on the homepage? What kind of picture did you start with?

ONE: It hasn't really changed. (TN: Between the online and the print versions) But this is much better, because the homepage I used in college was so bad.

YAMADA: When you were taking pictures with your phone?

ONE: Right. I was just drawing these tiny pictures because I was restricted by the camera. You can't just draw tiny pictures, right? So I was drawing pictures and making what looked like reduced versions of them.

OKKUN: Everyone, this viewer comment says: "ONE has gotten so skillful."

YAMADA: He has. He's become so good since the beginning, but these pictures at the beginning are really interesting. This is a picture from the beginning. Reigen is showing up like "BAM," this is chapter 1.

YAMADA: I think this is so awesome.

YAMADA: And this, it looks like Ebisu Yoshikazu. (TN: A Japanese actor—our Tome-chan is way prettier than him, btw!)

(Laughter in the studio)

No assistants or anything

YAMADA: It's like this awesome magazine from the 80's, Garo. Was that an influence at all?

ONE: I actually haven't read it.

YAMADA: Where did a picture like this come from? You just did it and it turned out like this?

ONE: I probably didn't use a reference.

YAMADA: It definitely feels like you didn't copy anyone else's work.

OKKUN: Do you have any experience with assistants?

ONE: None. (TN: I know he has assistants now, though...maybe they’re just talking about when Mob Psycho first started up?)

OKKUN: Ah, that explains it!

YAMADA: If you'd had assistants a lot of things would have been fixed up. (TN: His verb form here implies that would be a bad thing, like ONE's art would lose its originality)

OKKUN: No assistants, and I've been told no editor either.

YAMADA: Like these lines that draw focus to Reigen here, the points hit right here and it just pops like "BAM."

YAMADA: Normally it has that effect. This was done without white out?

ONE: It's a sticker.

YAMADA: Oh, so it’s just put over top! (Laughs)

ONE: Yeah, it's just a sticker from Comic Studio.

YAMADA: So you can do this because you're using Comic Studio, this is awesome.

The Sid Vicious of the manga world

YAMADA: As I think you can see from this program, I take an oblique view of what's skillful in terms of artwork. A picture can be unskilled but still interesting, some pictures have more expressive power and I respect that. That's one way of saying it. Higashimura Akiko's like that too. (TN: The mangaka who did Princess Jellyfish, among other things)

It's a doctrine of expressiveness. A doctrine of anything being good as long as it conveys. I like people saying, "I want to convey this, so let's do it this way." It's so punk. It's avant-garde.

This is especially interesting, Reigen's hand when he's talking on the phone. This is the best.

YAMADA: Everyone has trouble drawing a hand holding a telephone.

(Laughter in the studio)

YAMADA: It's hard to draw. But I don't think you should start with trying to do it properly. All things considered, anything goes. This is punk. This is early hip hop.

YAMADA: Looking at a guy who goes with his gut, I feel like, "This is super unskilled but super interesting, maybe I can do this too." It's like Mashi's guitar playing in The Blue Hearts. (TN: A Japanese punk band) It's Sid Vicious. It's destruction and creation at the same time.

OKKUN: (to Yamada) There's only one person in your class, and he's the one who drew it.

YAMADA: Moreover, the contents seems like it gives rise to some delusion that, "Anyone could draw that!" But in your case, you draw totally differently from anyone else, you give us real human beings.

YAMADA: All fluffy or intense like "BOOM" (Imitates a Dragonball Kamehameha pose) That's how everyone draws. Speaking of which, what is "BOOM"? Nobody ever seems to think "It just went BOOM, but what's actually BOOMing?" There's just this BANG when someone's like, "At last I've achieved power, the world belongs to me!"

 Because you're giving us real human beings, we feel like, "No, it really is like that," or "I can totally understand that, but let's not act like that around people."

 When it comes to true human beings, those who have power are the ones who must carry it, and there's a sense of security in that. It times of political instability or whatever, those with political power are the ones who have to worry about it. Everything rides on those with power deciding they want to join forces. Which is really interesting. This is the most important part of these drawings.