#um but also i wanted to make sure that their breeds were recognizable? i think i achieved it but i may be tooting my own horn here LOL

[samwrights]

I Found You

I have no excuses for this one except I’m a dirty dirty Overhaul fucker.

On the real though, this one was very loosely inspired from Yagami Yato’s plot lines for Dabi and Overhaul. These routes inspired the Underground and Dabi and Kai’s occupations, otherwise everything else was just me being a simp.

⤞ Pairing: tattooed!Reader x Former Villain!Chisaki Kai

⤞ Word Count: 16,850. Yes you read that right.

⤞ Warnings: language, arson, awkward questions, reader smokes, I shafted Dabi again and made him the best friend...again, slightly vivid gore, mentions of death, male masturbation, daddy kink, age difference, breeding kink (ish), dirty talk, dom!Kai, 

I’m sorry this is so long. Just kidding, no I’m not. I love writing really long fics. Honestly, I’m trying to see how much I can push the boundaries of my writing and how long I can keep one idea conhesive and consistent and how much I can flesh out. Eventually these longer oneshots will be cross-posted to my AO3, I just really need to do my paper. Also Tropium Tattoos is pronounced as Tro-Pie-Um.

The color of fire always burns in accordance to temperature as well as the material that it’s burning. Watching the local Underground clinic slash orphanage burn not only red, but an almost ethereal green from the copper couplings and details of the building felt like an early Christmas warning—like the Underground was a target and the rest of the hidden city would soon follow by the holiday. That warning was only followed by disgust at the thought of someone feeling the need to go after a free clinic and orphanage in a city built out of a hollow sewer full of exiles for whatever fucking reason. 

Your heart is an amalgam of aching and sorrow and anger as you watch the flames burst through the windows of the shoddy building from a safe distance. From where you stood outside of your tattoo parlor only two blocks down, you see a crowd beginning together. Much to your surprise, most of them were only kids with one adult herding them—a man you recognized to be the owner of the building currently meeting its demise. 

The doctor of the clinic is as calm as ever, or rather trying to be, quietly attempting to do a headcount of his children. It seemed that concentration was alluding him, given the situation, because he swears up and down that he knows he has nine kids. Yet, he seemed to be unable to count past eight. He’s trying not to panic, but one of the kids speaks his greatest fear into fruition. “Daddy, Eri’s not here!” Golden eyes widen until the sclerae are fully round, pupils constricting in fear. This ‘Eri’ was special, you realize as you observe from a short distance away. The doctor is looking back at his children who are all in some form of tears and shambles then back at the burning building like a ferocious game of ping pong. Chisaki Kai can’t just leave his kids out here—not when he is almost certain that this attack was premeditated. But his daughter, his eldest daughter at that, was still inside potentially being engulfed by flames. 

Back and forth. 

Back and forth. 

Your body moves without a second thought. 

Your body moves, ignoring the screams from other bystanders for you not to go inside the burning clinic as you burst past the dilapidated red door. Upon entering, copper decor and steel support beams had fallen from the ceiling, sparking flames that were separating you from the stairwell that led up to the orphanage. There was no way you would be able to find this Eri person through the wreckage—not alone at least. Maybe your dumb quirk was good for something. 

You didn’t even realize you had a quirk until the age of twenty when you had gotten your first tattoo. It wasn’t anything crazy—a traditional-style three-eyed wolf’s head on your arm—only to wake up the following morning with no soreness, no tenderness, and no ink on your body. The wolf laid beside you, curled up in your bed, somehow manifesting into real life. At first it was terrifying, of course, but after learning how to return the creature back to your body you realize it might not have been a total waste of money. Your quirk, something you jokingly called the Magic Pencil quirk in reference to a Spongebob Squarepants episode from your childhood, was officially registered through the government on the Surface as Life Canvas. Again, it was a pretty dumb quirk unless you knew just what to utilize. Now your body was littered with dozens of creatures, weapons, hell even a telephone just in case you might need it. But the wolf was your favorite, as it was your first, and he was just the one to call for in this situation. Activating your quirk, you pinch at the ink on your forearm until it begins to peel off before setting it down on the ground. The line work stands on its own before the ink fills out into a three-dimensional mass and a now recognizable creature. 

“There’s a child somewhere here. Help me find them,” you implored your creation, cautiously climbing around the shambles while it did the same, though much nimbler than you. Fragments of the stairs were missing, some of railings were in flames—it was hard for you to get anywhere at the moment. A scream rips through the walls, a young girl you realize. She’s probably now seeing your large and somewhat creepy three-eyed wolf. Maneuvering carefully, you find spots that have yet to burn until you see a little girl cowering away from flames in her bedroom and away from your quirk. “Take my hand!” You try to scream, but the way building was going down was deafening. Instead, you cross a patch of fire to scoop the frail child in your arms and trapping the both of you behind a brazen wall of flames. Patting the wolf on the head, as if deflating it with your magical hands, it flattens back into a two dimensional drawing and returns to your body to grant you the ability to switch out to a manifestation that would prove to be more useful in this situation. You repeat the process, this time with a Phoenix from under your bosom that emerges just outside the window closest to the two of you. “Hold on tight,” you tell her as you pull her flush against your own body before smashing through glass to land the back of the Phoenix, covering her head to make sure the shards didn’t mar her skin. With a gentle descent, you place her feet first on the concrete with her family. 

“Eri!” The doctor of the clinic calls out in relief, arms wrapping around his daughter tightly. Your lips purse in a small, tight smile before you’re off on your way again, riding off into the horizon on the back of your strange creature. And for a moment, Chisaki Kai is torn between going after you to thank you while Overhaul wants nothing more than cleanse his children and you for touching his precious daughter with a vile quirk. He settles on the former, golden eyes watching your back disappear into the dark cavern of the Underground city. 

Weeks had passed since the fire burned down the orphanage clinic. Tabloids were published trying to figure out who the mysterious hero was, though most of the articles feared that an actual Hero was among the residents of the Underground. The Underground welcomes Heroes like the human body welcomes the plague—they tried to be eradicated and killed off. Not to say that quirks themselves weren’t welcome, no. It’s just that most of the residents were quirkless and those that did have one were all registered in a public database, separate from the government mandated one up on the Surface, so that quirk wielders were no secret. 

All but you, anyway. 

One of these well-known resident holders was Chisaki Kai. Quirk: Overhaul. Local doctor and caretaker of the orphaned, quirkless kids. Though, whether their powers had yet to manifest or he had removed them himself due to his vile distaste for the genetic mutation was unknown to the public. 

Another was the leader of the Underground: Dabi. The Cremation user who was presently lounging in one of your dingy, beat up sofas of your tattoo shop. “You know, most of the people just want to know who you are,” he supplies, flipping through the most recent news article. Instantly, he knew it was you that had rescued the little girl from the burning building, knowing full well of your quirk regardless of how rarely you used it. 

“And half of them want my head because they think I’m a Hero,” you spit the last word out as you finish tidying up your workspace. Your last client of the evening had just left, leaving you to close up shop while Dabi came to bother you as you did so. Not that you complained considering he had been a close friend for a long time. “Like I would ever be a Hero.” Heroes were the reason you and many others here in the Underground existed in this hidden sewer metropolis. Whether the Heroes had destroyed their livelihoods, their families or, in your case, accidentally killed your parents while you were still a teenager and you had nowhere to go, they were at fault for the creation of this cozy, dingy city. 

“Says here that Eri wishes to personally thank you,” Dabi adds, turquoise eyes flickering in your direction as you stop at the mention of her name. “We could hold some little rally, get you a medal—“

“Dabi, no.”

“—or you could just stop by town hall with me. Overhaul and the kids have been staying there while the clinic gets rebuilt.” You mull his words over in your head while capping all your ink bottles and putting them away in their respective drawers. Dabi takes your silence as a gesture of you thinking, even more so as you aggressively sanitize your client chair. “Come on, [ name ], she’s just a kid.”

“Yeah, but I hate kids.”

“Then stop acting like one.” With that, the leader leaves your shop, bells tolling as he exits. You weren’t being childish, you internally bite, silently and stubbornly. It wasn’t your fault that you didn’t want to just announce that the lone tattoo artist of the Underground had a quirk that the public didn’t know about. It wasn’t your fault that your body moved without thinking. And it certainly wasn’t your fault that you rescued the daughter of the most notorious quirk hater in the city. 

Chisaki Kai was not quiet when it came for his distaste of quirks despite having one himself. Rumors floated all around the Underground that all of the children in his care had their quirks removed by his own hand, Eri included. What kind of monster did that? To his own child, no less. The thought made you sick to your stomach, only reaffirming your initial decision to not meet with Eri. 

But thinking of her brings great sadness to you. She was merely a child—a child who probably didn’t understand her father’s distaste. A kid who just wanted to thank the woman who saved her and nothing else. A sigh passes your lips as you head up the stairs from your shop to your attached apartment, turning off the lights to Tropium Tattoos. It’s not fair to deny her, you think. 

Maybe you’ll just sleep on it for now. 

 The following morning was quiet, as it was every morning in a city built out of a sewer. But eerily...too quiet. The sound of chirping nature and wildlife was a foreign concept now, especially years later. But there were no sound of bikes or clunky old cars passing by or arguing neighbors—if noise was present at all, it was in the form of faint crackling and crinkling of papier-mâché but somehow on a grander scale. It was new. There’s a grotesque smell in the air; a cross between a stale bonfire and rotting wood and warm smoke. 

Oh no. 

Oh fuck.

Panic fills your veins, throwing your nearly bare body out from under the covers. Ripping open your bedroom door and flying out the narrow entryway that led to the stairwell, you’re met with orange flames burning the wood of your staircase leading down to your shop. There’s no time for you to think about anything other than retreating back to your living room, to where the flames had yet to enter the threshold. Glancing out the large bay window behind your couch, you debate how steep of a drop it is from your second story down onto the cold pavement without sparing a second thought to how you could break your own fall. Contemplation wears down at your time to escape, you realize, as the fire is now entering your living space and burning brightly like a firework and catches onto the wooden console table in your entryway as well as the walls. Without another moment’s hesitation, you throw yourself through the window, bracing for impact from both the glass and the inevitable shattering of at least one bone. 

“[ name ]?!” You hear Dabi yelling over the sound of collapsing support beams from the inside of the building. All that’s on your mind is pain—throbbing pain and an ear-splitting cry as you try to cradle your probably broken arm from the back alley of your shop. Dabi calls out your name again, running over towards you while still trying to be somewhat mindful of all the shards of glass in fear of accidentally kicking more in your direction. Between rapid breaths, a few heavy coughs escape your lungs, no doubt from smoke inhalation. “I got you,” he murmurs as he picks you up gingerly. Another groan leaves your lips—your whole body hurts and were you more coherent and not in shock, you probably would have realized sooner that you’d broken more than just your arm. “Find who did this and bring them to me,” Dabi snarls at the small squadron behind him attempting to put out the fire that was destroying your livelihood as he makes his way back to town hall. 

It takes everything in Dabi’s body to not stamp his entire way back into his living quarters and the only reason he isn’t is because he’s carrying your busted body. This is the fourth fire in two weeks with no discernible pattern. All he knows is that it started with Overhaul’s clinic and now has somehow reached your quaint and quiet tattoo shop. As a leader, it makes Dabi want to tear his hair out. As a friend, he’s just pissed off. 

He’s thankful you’ve passed out just so he doesn’t have to deal with you bitching about how gruff he’s being. Though, it certainly dawned on him that you had probably fallen unconscious from the sheer agonizing pain of breaking multiple bones simultaneously. He sets you down, far from gently, in the residential living room upstairs of the Town Hall building. “Overhaul!” He bellows out, not even caring if the children heard his angry tone right now. 

“I told you to stop calling me that,” the doctor appears from around the corner, a clearly agitated look on his face, even beneath a simple black mask. The irony isn’t lost on Dabi despite his composure—he remembers once upon a time when Kai only went by the name of his quirk. Funny how years go by. “Her again?” Overhaul all but sneers, looking at your limp body that was covered only in a thin tee shirt and a pair of panties. Ignoring that little fact of seeing so much painted flesh, he notices the distinct smell of burnt wood and swelling under the skin where the breaks were. “What happened to her?”

“Someone set [ name ]’s tattoo shop and apartment on fire. She jumped out of a window to get out.” Dabi is absolutely seething, little sparks of blue flames leaving his nostrils as he lets out tufts of air. “Idiot had no idea how to break her fall and busted her shit. Can you help her?” 

“I suppose that would make us even.” The doctor snarks back thoughtlessly, but he can’t help but wonder why you didn’t use your little quirk to save yourself as you had with Eri. 

“Good. I’m gonna go find this fucker.” With that, Dabi storms out of the living room and out of the town hall building, leaving Kai with the woman that saved his daughter’s life. At least maybe now, Eri could say thank you like she had been asking to do. He could say thank you. 

Chisaki adjusts you on the couch so that you’re entirely flat on the cushions, mindful of the glass that’s embedded in your skin. If anything, he should probably remove those first. With gloved hands, he picks out all the shards he can see with his golden eyes while his mind wanders as he looks at the lines and colors of the tattoos that covered your body. From neck to toe, there was ink on nearly every inch—even the one dragon-snake hybrid on your face that wrapped around your temple and cheekbone. Despite your [ hair color ] locks matting your skin, Overhaul found all of your tattoos rather intriguing to look at; almost as if it weren’t flesh because the contact wasn’t causing him to break out in hives. Like your body told a story without you even needing to speak. 

After getting all the glass cleared up, Kai gently pushed on your arms and legs, checking for any signs of bones out of place from where they should be or cushioning and swelling to protect the damaged areas, outside of the very obvious ones that nearly looked like softballs. Two breaks in your femur, four in your ulna from what he could feel—nothing that Overhaul couldn’t fix. Though, he had to make sure that everything had set the way it was supposed to and that you were able to use your limbs after he did the repair. That meant he would actually have to speak to you, and he comes to the realization the two of you never actually had the chance to speak to each other before. Maybe he shouldn’t be as judgmental of the fact that you had a defect—maybe you were like him and abhorrent at the fact that you had a mutation to begin with. 

After using his own quirk, Overhaul checks for a pulse on your neck with two fingers, making sure you at least had a heartbeat before patiently waiting for you to regain consciousness. In the meantime, he continues picking out the fragments of glass that escaped his initial sweep—a task made slightly easier when the shards caught the light contrasted the dark lines embedded in your dermis. For a brief second, you stir against his touch before your eyes snap open. “Holy fuck, what happened?” You all but howl when you come to. You let out a deep gasp for breath, suddenly aware of the dull throbbing in your arm and leg as you attempt to make sense of your surroundings. 

“Can you tell me if this hurts?” The doctor to your left says evenly, emotionless even, as he holds your wrist between his thumb and middle finger, moving your arm in all sorts of ways. A sharp inhalation sucks in between your teeth as it twists in ways you weren’t sure it could before. A grimace touches his lips underneath is plain, black cloth mask—maybe he didn’t set the bones correctly? Overhaul lays your arm flat, ready to make his adjustments, but as his gloved fingers padded closer, you found yourself retreating further into the depths of the couch cushions. 

“I-I’m good,” your words come rushing out, desperate to dodge his touch. Why did you wake up with Overhaul over you? Did he take your quirk away? You’d have to investigate further when you were alone, test it out in private. Ignoring the dull hums of pain coming from your arms and legs, you manage to sit up, slumping over your knees before you realized where you were. “Town hall?”

“Yes. Do you remember anything?” You shake your head—you remember waking up to smelling the smoke in your apartment. You remember the fire creeping up the stairwell and the way orange painted your once tan walls. You remember jumping out the window, but everything else after is met with a blank slate. “You broke your arm and legs in a few places—I reset them with my quirk.”

“Oh,” is all you have to say. “Uh, thank you.”

“Speaking of thank you,” Overhaul palms his knees before pushing off of them from the wooden stool he’s sitting on, standing at his full height and smoothing out his black dress shirt and slightly creased slacks. “My daughter would like to thank you for rescuing her a few weeks back.” 

Dammit. 

It wasn’t like you could just say no to Eri’s father when it was only the two of you—that would just make you look like an asshole or worse; he could just kill you and say you died in the fire. It was even more difficult to decline considering the young, silver-haired girl was peeking her head from behind a partition, wide-eyed when her dad mentioned her. With your own eyes softening at the sudden contact, you offer an awkward smile that you pray comes off as welcoming. Overhaul beckons her to come closer, holding one hand open until the young girl is tucked underneath his hip. 

“U-Um, t-thank you for saving me,” a squeak spills past her dry lips before she runs out of the room as quickly as she came. You didn’t blame her. Even if Overhaul is her father, he gave off an intimidating air that surely would frighten any child. It made you wonder how such a man ran an orphanage. But to your surprise, Eri returned, though this time not alone. A flock of children was accompanying her, each of them with bright eyes and big smiles adorning their unique appearances. 

“Thank you for saving our sister!” They chime in unison. The sight made your heart swell and soften, even if only slightly. Eri steps forward cautiously, pushing through her own trepidation as she stands before you and throws herself at you, hugging you tightly with arms around your neck in gratitude. As if triggering a domino effect, a few of the other children felt the need to express the same sentiment. An uncomfortable laugh bubbles past your lips as you awkwardly wrap your arms around the gaggle of kids—you may not like them, but you weren’t that much of an asshole to deny them a hug. 

Kai’s typically hard, cold expression mellows at the sight. It’s heartwarming, he gave it that, but a part of him cannot stave off the tiny bubble of envy he feels seeing his children so ready to embrace you when they initially had such a hard time adjusting to life with him. He loved these kids—and it was quite clear you felt the opposite—so why hadn’t they gravitated towards him like they did you? Underneath his mask, he grimaced before internally shaking his head. They were his children, they loved Kai regardless and he knew that. “Alright kids, why don’t you go play and let [ name ] rest? It’s been a rough morning for her.” The use of your name shouldn’t have shocked you, or maybe it was fear that crawled up your spine at the doctor’s endearing tone. You weren’t aware that he knew who you were. The kids let out a collective groan before listening to their father and exiting the living room. As soon as each of their little, youthful heads is out of sight, you breathe out a sigh of relief. 

“S-sorry,” you mumble out, suddenly reminding yourself that it was probably rude of you to make a sound as such and you wanted to make sure you did nothing to insult Overhaul to his face. A huge part of you felt that one wrong word out of your mouth meant the end of your quirk or your life. 

“It’s alright, I know they can be a handful. Though, they seem to be quite taken with you.” His tone is still rather polite, you notice, and his voice is entirely different than what you’d thought it would be in a one on one interaction. You thought it would be deeper, as whispers and rumors of Chisaki Kai being an incredibly cruel, bitter man painted a different picture in your head. But the man standing before you looked every bit as broken as you felt on the inside—as if a part of him had an empty chasm residing in his chest that could not be filled by the nine children in his care. 

“I can’t imagine why,” you reply. 

“Neither can I,” he says without skipping a beat, his tone still airy and light. Before you can rebuttal with your quick wit, Dabi storms in with his eyes locked on to your now conscious body. Gesturing with his head, over exaggerating the folds of his damaged skin, he encourages you to follow him downstairs to the mayoral study. Silently, you sauntered off behind him, leaving Overhaul alone in the living room, while you could feel the internal flames burning within Dabi. Pissed didn’t even begin to describe the look on his face.

In the office, photographs of burnt down buildings, rubble, and the skeletal framework of Underground businesses were littered across the large, maple desk. All the while, the leader of the Underground was grumbling to himself repeatedly while tugging at his raven locks in frustration. Not only had someone burned down local businesses in the city, let alone a close friend’s business, but it seemed that someone was attacking his city from the inside. “I wasn’t able to save Tropium.” You offer no response, mostly because there isn’t one to have. You felt anguish over losing your home, sure, but knowing how hard Dabi worked to protect the Underground, you can’t quite imagine how he’s feeling.

Instead, you respond with, “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“I should be asking you that. Your home is gone, [ name ].” He had a valid point. Perhaps you could find a few local contractors and give them some work—it wasn’t like you didn’t have the money to spare. But that would probably take some time considering, from photo evidence, the place—all of them—was going to need to be built from the ashes. “Stay here while you figure it out. It’s the least I can do.”

“Don’t you already have Overhaul and the kids staying here?” Maybe Dabi didn’t notice the way your voice trembled as you spoke his name, even more so after having woken up to him by your side. But the thought of you, a quirk wielder that kept that little fact hidden from the public, temporarily boarding with a man who was vehemently against the abomination of quirks gave you severe anxiety. Additionally, there was the nine little children that also were a factor and the thought of one of them waking up in your temporary residence and intruding on what little privacy you would have—

“And?” Dabi asks, pulling you from your reverie. “[ name ], I know I don’t say this enough, but you’re one of my closest friends. I don’t feel right not giving you a place to sleep.” His quirk may be Cremation, but Dabi was a master manipulator when it came to pulling at your heartstrings whether or not he was aware of that. You let out a sigh of conceding, knowing you wouldn’t be able to argue your way out of this one. 

“One condition, bud,” you hold up a single index finger, the black quill feather tattooed there standing erect, “find me some contractors to help rebuild all the buildings that were burned dow.”

“That’s gonna cost ya,” Dabi hums, as if contemplating. And he was, but rather in estimated cost as opposed to the proposal itself. Physical currency was a rarity in the Underground, as the city ran on a merit and bartering system. Real Surface money was only used for certain occupations. Realistically speaking, he knew money was no object to you considering the wealth, or rather hush money, you acquired from your parents’ death, so there had to be another reason. Knowing you as well as he did, it was probably the fact that the faster your homes were rebuilt, the less time you would have to spend sharing walls with Overhaul. Very smart, the leader mused. “You got a deal, doll.”

 You lost count of the days that had gone by since you took over the project of rebuilding the structures that had gone down. While the orphanage project had already begun, you had hired two additional bodies to help the progress go faster so that Dabi could return to his duties without the addition of eleven more mouths to feed. Simultaneously, you had been at your own construction lot from metaphorical sunup to sundown, helping contribute and manage the two men that were hired for your location. 

You weren’t avoiding Overhaul, you told Dabi repeatedly when he asked where you’d been all day. 

This project was an opportunity for you to set up shop in a reimagined way—to be able to design both your studio space and your living space exactly to your tastes. It had sort of become your baby and you wanted to be as hands on as possible. 

You weren’t avoiding Overhaul, you kept telling yourself. 

Tropium’s new store front was stunning, albeit a bit ill-fitting with its new modern style in contrast to the Underground’s more rustic, steampunk look. But the charcoal grey stone walls with chunky white trim filled your heart with a sense of pride that your business would hopefully rise from the ashes much like that of the Phoenix tattooed under your bosom. 

Currently, you were upstairs with the tiny team of contractors while going over the floor plan of your currently bare apartment. Given the space of the empty building, you managed to enlarge your rooms at the cost of downsizing your entryway and living room. It still felt homey and, with the addition of a small office that served as a spare bedroom, you figured on nights that Dabi hung out and didn’t feel like going home, he had a space too. After laying out the floor plan and going over schematics with the team, you ventured back downstairs to continue sanding down the counters for your studio space. 

“So, this is where you’ve been spending your time?” Oxygen freezes in your throat as you’re met with Overhaul’s golden eyes and black mask. Albeit he wasn’t in his normal dress shirt and tie for once, but rather sporting an oversized hoodie and tight denim jeans. 

“W-what are you doing here?” Is all you can say back. You aren’t sure if you’re moving or even breathing at this point. The pressure you feel from a man whose face is half-covered is terrifying—liquid gold was dull in comparison to the intimidating eyes of Chisaki Kai. 

“Dabi told me about your little deal,” his voice rolls like honey straight from the dripper as he makes small flits toward you that subconsciously leave you retreating back up the stairs one step at time. A deep groan rumbles in his chest when he sees your reaction—not that he blames you in the slightest. Overhaul is more than aware of his notorious reputation both in the real world and in the Underground and is accepting of strangers’ reluctance to be around him. He knows he’s partially to blame for not trying to quell the stigma around him by formally introducing himself prior. maybe not being such a condescending jackass when he first officially met you would have helped as well. 

But he can’t squash the little bouts of jealousy that filled him seeing his children flock to you like dragonflies in search of water that almost make him bask in your trepidation. 

“Take a walk with me,” Overhaul adds, torn between offering you a gloved hand as a metaphorical olive branch or simply turning around to see if you follow. He opts for the latter merely for the fact that you’re covered in dust and paint from your days’ work. Bounding after him, you stuff your hands into the pockets of your loose overalls as you try to catch up while bearing in mind to keep a short distance between the two of you. The two-block walk is brief and silent as you end up at the construction site of the clinic. Perhaps your memory of the building you never visited beforehand was skewed, but it you were certain it was much larger now. “Feel free to look around. After all, you’re paying for this.” There’s a twinge of malice that paints his invitation that isn’t lost on you, but you decide to forego the welcoming regardless. 

Passing through the threshold cautiously, you’re greeted with what looks to be a regular, two story home. The skeletal structure foreshadowed a kitchen, dining room, living space, and a hallway leading to two rooms. One staircase that lead to a basement, one that lead upstairs—it was strange to see the clinic become more of a home than anything else. “Where are you putting the clinic?” You ask meekly, careful not to touch. Just because Overhaul invited you to check out the specs, doesn’t mean he wanted your lingering fingerprints ingrained in his space. 

“Basement. I figured it would be better for the children to have majority of the space.” A pregnant pause takes over the conversation once again, leaving you to roam around the new space in appreciation. A part of you was pleased with the work the contractors did for this family, a large part even, but there was a small nagging voice in your head that was still telling you to retreat back to your own project. “Why did you do it?” 

“Do what?” A brief chuckle that is muffled by his mask dances on his lips. He’s not sure which of his theories he wants to start unraveling first. So he starts with the one he believes to be most ludicrous—the conspiracy that you or somebody you worked for was trying to take this children away, or Eri at the very least. If people on the Surface knew about her and her quirk, Kai doesn’t doubt a bounty would be on her head. But truth be told, he knew this seemed unlikely. You had never bothered to even engage with him or anyone else in his family until recently, despite having come to the Underground shortly after its establishment. 

“Rescue my daughter, for starters.” Of course he starts with the question you don’t have an answer for. To which you can only respond with the truth—your body moved on your own when you saw the panic in his eyes. Also knowing he had to watch his eight other children and ensure their safety prompted your body to act automatically. “You used your quirk to save Eri, but not yourself. Why?” Your eyes narrow slightly in both suspicion and out of confusion. It was strange that Overhaul kept demanding answers and logic and reason for things you did as a knee jerk reaction. Considering you’d only discovered your quirk just before going to the Underground, it wasn’t exactly what you would call a natural reaction. Plus, weaving through danger for someone else wasn’t as simple as just running in and out of the building as it was to jump out your bay window. Judging by his silence, it seemed he accepted that answer.  “And the contractors?”

“I just want all of our lives to go back to normal, including Dabi.” It wasn’t exactly a lie—rather just a short omission of the truth—and it wasn’t like you could tell him that you couldn’t stand living in such close proximity with him due to fear. But Overhaul had a knack for pinpointing a fib like a honeybee in search of something sweet. 

“You’re lying,” he bites. You shake your head almost violently, as if the movement will deter your mouth from telling him the truth in its entirety. There was no way you could admit the fear he instilled in your bones or the anxiety you felt standing close enough for him to touch you. Sure, you may have felt that your quirk was less than impressive but that didn’t mean you wanted him to take it away or worse, your life. Knowing that he knew about it too, while the public didn’t which was a requirement for living in the Underground, only reaffirmed your worries. “Do you fear me?” Overhaul asks, making note of the way your fingers were trembling and way your eyes constantly averted his. 

“Yes,” your voice comes out as a mere whisper, barely rising above the hammering and drilling of the construction workers. A part of you wished that your admission made you feel better—like it felt like a weight lifting off of your shoulder rather than making it feel like you were denying some greater truth—a part of you just wanted to run and hide and pretend this interaction wasn’t happening. 

It shouldn’t have hurt Kai as much as it did to hear you say it out loud, considering you were nothing but a stranger. But you were a stranger that his children were so utterly enamored with and all he wanted was to understand. Yet, the feeling of disappointment is a dull thrum in his chest, long forgotten with a wide array of other emotions and coming only second to his envy. “I’m sorry,” he says finally, though the monotone voice almost sounds insincere. 

Perhaps, his jealousy is misplaced, he thinks. His children may be drawn to you, but at least they didn’t tremble or wrack their bones with trepidation the way you do when you see him. If anything, his jealousy is replaced with empathy. Despite your clear distaste for youth, you got along swimmingly with his kids and they clearly wanted to be present with you. It must have been difficult for you to be near them, even more so considering you trembled in their father’s presence. The two of you stand in silence with you looking away pretending to soak in your surroundings of the plastered walls. Overhaul is observing your nervous ticks—the way your twitching fingers are exaggerated by the ink in your skin or the way your knee bounces impatiently along the hardwood. 

“Daddy, daddy, daddy, come look at my roo—oh! [ name ] is here too!” Bounding down the unfinished staircase was one of the orphans in Overhaul’s care; Shura, if you remembered correctly. 

���Just stopped by to see how the place was coming,” you offer in addition to a sheepish wave. Before you know it, Shura is grasping one of your hands with both of his while guiding you up the stairs. 

“Come see our rooms, [ name ]!” Overhaul watches with curious eyes at the way one of his sons is so overzealous to include you in their little world. The appeal makes no sense to him—you were just a stranger with skin like a Monet painting that had made little to no effort for these children outside of rescuing Eri and allowing them to shower you in their affection. 

Why did acknowledging that their enthusiasm to include you hurt Kai even more so, knowing you were afraid of him?

Trudging behind, Overhaul peers through the open doors upstairs to see each of his kids decorating their freshly painted walls. In Shura’s room, you were sitting on the floor with your arms wrapped around your knees while the little boy explained to you that he wanted his room to be decorated with narwhals. The excitement he had, and the knowledge of even knowing such a creature existed, was quite charming. “[ name ], are you gonna join us for dinner this time? Dabi says you’re always working, but daddy always makes you a plate just in case!” Your eyes glance over to Overhaul and his leisurely pose as he rests one arm on the door jamb. For a moment, your mouth open and closes repeatedly as you try to stutter out some semblance of an answer. 

“Just in case,” the doctor adds, as if to add more pressure to his son’s convenient question. The golden orbs you normally deterred from swirled with an intensity that, much to your surprise, didn’t wrack your nerves like they normally did. It was as if they were filled with remorse rather their typical bitterness, maybe sympathy even, imploring you to consider Shura’s inquiry. 

“I should go finish my work for today then so I can be home for dinner,” pushing yourself off of the freshly carpeted floor to stand. At some point while Shura was giving you the grand tour of his room, your legs had fallen asleep, causing your first step to hobble and throw you off balance and trip. 

“Careful,” Overhaul chimes, bemused at the way you flail to recover from your stumble. To your surprise, he’s pushed himself off the door jamb, crossed through the threshold of Shura’s room, and has his arms locked underneath yours to keep you steady. “Drink some water before going back to work.”  

“R-right,” you stutter out, hyper aware that his hands are touching you. He feels the way your tendons bunch together in your arms at the contact, even more so when your pupils lock into his. It untangles one more thread in his theories, one he figures he’ll push on later because it’s a theory just as farfetched as his last one. “I’ll, um, see you at dinner,” the last syllable rises in intonation as you squeak, flitting away and ignoring your numbed legs and blood burned cheeks. Meanwhile, Overhaul chuckles as he watches you scurry away, the blush painting your cheeks burning into his mind just as well. The way you moved was reminiscent of when he had reset your bones and the way you recoiled thereafter. But through thorough observation, he knew that reaction wasn’t fear this time around, no. Fear made you quiet, not nervous or jittery or force your pupils to dilate. 

This was something else entirely.

Something else entirely to the point where Chisaki Kai is unsure if he even wants to entertain the possible theory that maybe, maybe, you’re the slightest bit infatuated with him. 

“How nice of you to join us,” Dabi sneers teasingly when you set foot into the private entryway of town hall’s attached home. The makeshift family of ten is already seated at the extended dining table, an empty seat awaiting you on Dabi’s left with Overhaul on his right. Each of the children that you had come to be familiar with over the last few weeks had lit up like your presence was a treat—a strange feeling, considering you’d done the most to avoid being in the temporary residence. 

“Go wash up, we’ll wait for you,” you had never seen Chisaki Kai without his mask, let alone heard his voice so clear. The angelic lilt rivaled expert fingers rimming crystal glasses, hypnotizing you to do as he said without so much as a fight. Entering your room, you immediately discard your dirty work clothes and shower hastily, scrubbing off flecks of dried paint and dust. In seven minutes and nineteen seconds, you’re out of your en suite bathroom and shucking on leggings and a long sleeve tee before joining everyone else at the dinner table. 

To your surprise it felt quite...normal. Was this how families had dinner together? You were unsure, considering your parents had never been one to have the three of you gather together for a meal—they were always too busy working until the day they were killed nearly a decade ago. 

It surprised you how natural the flow of conversation was, even with nine children ranging from ages four to seven. Even more to your shock, Dabi was more than willing to indulge the kids in their stories. But the creme de la creme was seeing maskless Overhaul smiling and laughing and attempting to get his kids to eat their vegetables. Was this the real Overhaul? Had his notoriety preceded him so greatly that you feared him for no reason at all? Your intuition tells you no and, perhaps, to some degree it’s right. There was still a dangerous air that encapsulated Chisaki Kai, but it wasn’t one that made you instantly retreat like touching a cake pan you’d recently pulled from the oven with a bare hand. If anything, it was alluring as opposed to intimidating. 

The kids were so happy you finally joined them all at dinner. Rapid fire questions from any one or even two of them made you hesitate to answer but you did your best to keep your face even and amused. Children may not have been your favorite, but however the heck Overhaul was raising these ones, especially all nine of them, was truly wonderful. Throughout conversation, Shura and even shy little Eri had scrambled into your lap with each one of them taking a leg while the three of you ate. Initially, Kai had scolded them both, saying they were being rude to which you only shook your head and allowed them to stay, much to his surprise. 

After dinner, the children cleared the table. Those that were able of the younger ones brought stacks of dishes to Eri and Shura whom were in the kitchen washing plates and silverware—their duties as the eldest of the nine. Dabi has pardoned himself after thanking the family for the meal to hole himself up in his office. According to the leader of the Underground, the investigative team was still working around the clock to unearth who was responsible for the fires. You had found yourself in the garden of Town Hall, tablet and digital pen in one hand with a cigarette in the other. Drawing was the only leisurely activity you indulged in when not working on rebuilding Tropium. 

Typically, Dabi would join on you on these evenings with stacks of papers and a cigar between his lips as he bounced ideas off of you to figure out potential perpetrators. Needless to say, it surprised you when Overhaul enters the makeshift garden that was really just a manmade pond with lily pads and rose bushes aligning the sinkhole. “Hi,” you offer meekly, averting his gaze by keeping your own glued to your tablet screen. 

“Hi,” he returns, twisting up a shapely brow at the cigarette between your index and middle finger. For a moment, he’s torn between asking what you’re working on or if you had any ideas to who burned down both of your homes or even how the rebuilding of Tropium was coming along. But he can tell by the way the filter of the cigarette squeezes between your fingers that you’re tense, that you can sense there’s a reason for his presence and decides to forego small talk. “I don’t want you to be afraid of me,” his voice is small and unsure and drastically different from the Overhaul you were used to. Nonetheless, his statement catches your attention and pulls it away from the screen of your tablet. 

“I’m more afraid of what you can do,” you admit quietly, “I don’t want people knowing about my quirk. Dabi was the only one who knew and now your entire family knows and—“ you pause for second, hesitating on whether or not you should continue. But Overhaul was brave enough to tell you had what been bothering him, even if only a minuscule issue, you figure you owe him the same. “And I don’t want you to take it away.” The broken syllables leave your lips bare above a whisper, reaffirming at least one of the theories the doctor had about you. Of all the conspiracies, it made sense that this one was the most likely to explain your reactions to his presence, no matter how much he had hoped it to be some strange, magnetic attraction. 

You had bought into the whispers of the Underground that said Chisaki Kai’s life mission was to overhaul the population and remove quirks. 

Dejection fills his chest as he lets out a sigh. Maybe this was being too honest, his inner voice argues as it debates on his next words cautiously, but he feels the need to burn clean. “[ name ], what do you know about me?” 

“That you were a Yakuza leader and you think quirks are a plague that need to be eradicated.” Overhaul closes his eyes languidly, peeling them back open at a snail’s pace while the warm, golden orbs stare off into the never-ending tunnels of the Underground. 

“I became the leader of the Shie Hassaikai when I married my wife at twenty-three and took over for her ill father. It was a quirk marriage, but a happy one, nonetheless. At twenty five, my wife had Eri and while most children’s genetic code didn’t activate the gene for a quirk until a few years later, Eri was born with her quirk activated,” you listen deeply, soaking in every word leaving Overhaul’s maskless lips. His eyes drop down to stare at his gloved hands before burying his face in them for a moment to swallow his guilt quietly. “Eri can rewind time on living things and the first person she used it on—“

“—was her mother,” your voice barely vibrated past your lips as you made the connection. Bile rose in your throat, threatening to spill the contents of your gut not out of disgust, but rather an overwhelming surge of sorrow. 

“I lost my wife when I was twenty-five. The rate that she was being rewound at was too much for her body to handle and I had to overhaul my own daughter at birth just to get her quirk to deactivate so she didn’t destroy everyone she touched,” had Chisaki Kai not come to terms with the truth a long time ago, he would have shed at least a single tear recounting these memories he had buried. Either that, or almost hurled recalling the way his wife’s body had imploded until chunks of skin and muscle tissue and blood ended up spewing all over his chest and face. There was a reason he constantly wore gloves and a mask—the smell of cooking carcass and burning meat never left him and the exaggerated mask stuffed with lavender was the only scent that eased him. “I was angry at the world for a long time.”

“I am so sorry, Over—“

“Kai,” he interrupts, “or Chisaki, at the very least. I don’t go by that name anymore.” After a bout of silence, Chisaki continues further. Eri never grew up with a mother or siblings and after things had gone south on the surface, he wanted to raise Eri in a place where people didn’t know the truth about her or the mother she never had the opportunity to meet. So he fled to the Underground with Dabi; he started helping tend to the ill and taking in quirkless children who had lost their parents on the Surface to Heroes. 

In a moment of vulnerability, you felt the need to offer the olive branch and share your own story with this man after he bared his soul to you. And so, you tell him about the accident. How, while in pursuit of a villain, the small mom and pop diner that your parents frequented on Friday afternoons was accidentally set on fire by Endeavor and trapped and killed of the patrons inside. You were in your first year of high school at the time—fourteen and preparing for university until you realized you would need to work full time in order to continue paying the bills until the settlement from Endeavor came. University was down the drain. It took years for the dividends to be decided and the lawyer managed to get you a considerably high amount thanks to emotional damages, but riches and wealth would never quell the resentment you held towards the then number two pro Hero for being so reckless. That was nine years ago. Somewhere along the way, you’d met Dabi and he granted you a home and space to continue to hone the craft of tattoo artistry that you had picked up from working part time in a parlor, as recompense for his father killing yours. Though, you’d left that last little tidbit out, unsure if Kai knew of Dabi’s lineage. “I’ve been in the Underground for the last three years, give or take.”

You had always been rather indifferent to the concept of heroism until that day. Even more so when you had met Dabi—a man who was wanted and was supposed to be a villain. Yet he extended warmth and welcoming to you, offering you refuge in a new city he had created for the exiled and wandering. 

The grey areas only widen with this conversation with Chisaki Kai. A notorious man, an infamous man, known for causing utter chaos on the Surface both as the leader of the Shie Hassaikai and as a super villain, was sitting across from you and sharing the most intimate moments of his life. 

Maybe the concept of heroism was skewed to begin with, you think to yourself as you put out the cigarette in the ashtray in front of you. Maybe Dabi and Overhaul weren’t the real villains—only designed that way because of the way some omniscient creature in the stars that you couldn’t see. 

“I remember when you first opened Tropium,” Chisaki hums bemusedly, “the children said you looked like a coloring book.” The only fitting response you have is laughter. Neither of you thought laughter would be something the two of you would indulge in together. But the way your cheeks cinch together at the corner of your eyes or the tufts of air leaving your nostrils in a short snort and the somehow smooth staccato of your chuckle sounds like holiday bells after the first snowfall. It was a peace that Chisaki Kai hadn’t known for some time now. It was a peace he didn’t know he needed, and it makes him wish that his magnetic attraction theory had some truth to it. “Your secret is safe with me,” he says finally after the laughter had died off. 

“Thank you, Chisaki,” 

 You started coming home for dinner every night, figuring the two contractors didn’t need you there to micromanage them, until you stopped dropping into the worksite all together. With a full house, Dabi was out more frequently, preferring to be in the field to investigate the fires as much as he could. This left you with Chisaki and the kids more often than not. On occasion, you would run to the local market with Eri and Shura or had even done arts and crafts with some of the younger ones. As a sort of inside joke, you had bought each of the nine coloring books. 

Currently, the kids were playing volleyball in the makeshift garden while you and Chisaki supervised. It was no longer tense between the two of you, a sort of bond forming since that one night. You should have seen the inevitable question coming. Though you more so imagined it would come from Dabi in the form of some snide comment with sexual implications regarding how close you and Overhaul had become. Never did you anticipate his oldest son asking, “[ name ], are you going to be adopting us? Are you going to be our new mom?” 

“I-I—“ you were a deer in headlights and the question was a freight truck gunning in at ninety. Looking over at Chisaki for help, who seemed almost unwilling or at the very least unsure on how to, you shake your head before staring back at Shura’s big blue eyes. These children had begun carving a special place in your heart due to how they came to be in Chisaki’s care, sure, but you still had your reservations about kids in general. Not that the doctor blamed you—maternal instincts didn’t necessarily apply to every female. “I-I don’t wanna take you away from daddy, he works so hard to take care of you all and he does such a good job,” for a second, Shura’s expression becomes crestfallen. 

“But we all like having you around, [ name ],”

“I’m not going anywhere, buddy, I promise,” the seven-year-old boy promptly wraps his arms around your neck, squeezing tightly as if you were going to dissipate into the air in front of his very eyes. Without hesitation, you hug back briefly before telling him his siblings were waiting for him to start the next set of volleyball. “Was that okay?” You ask quietly, looking over to the doctor. From underneath his mask, you can see the twists of pain coloring the dusty gold hues of his irises and the way his jaw tenses. When he remains quiet, you anxiously reach for an e-cigarette—a fruity one that wouldn’t alert the kids or burn Chisaki’s nostrils from the scent—and pull the tip to your lips. Maybe you shouldn’t have said that to Shura, you think as you exhale a large cloud of smoke. 

But Overhaul’s stomach is twisting and churning, and he crosses his legs over the knee to squeeze his legs together tightly. He’s thankful for the black cloth mask that covers majority of his facial features as he bites his lip and his nostrils flair while he tries to control his breathing. Think of anything else, his mind snarls. Think of the days in the Shie Hassaikai, think of the children, think of literally anything but the way you called him “daddy” and how the blood rushed from his brain and straight to his dick at an alarming rate. It was so innocent—there was no reason Kai should even be thinking of it in any other way—but primal instincts were taking over, twisting into a delusion in his brain into hearing you repeatedly call him daddy while he fucked you from behind. 

“Can you watch the kids?” Chisaki chokes out, standing up abruptly and fleeing inside the temporary home. He doesn’t even have the chance to hear you ask if he’s alright as he’s rushing upstairs to his en suite bathroom. Entering his room, he rips off every shred of fabric covering his body before turning on the shower to the coldest temperature he could tolerate. But there wasn’t enough cold water in the Underground or gruesome thoughts of his wife’s sudden death that could stave off the erection he was currently sporting. “Fuck!” He snarls out viciously, mind running rampant with salacious daydreams. Out of sheer need, Overhaul wraps one hand around his cock, the other bracing himself on the shower wall while the cold water runs down his spine. 

Chisaki Kai is livid—raging over the fact that he is reduced to such actions over a simple word that he hears multiple times on a daily basis. It wasn’t that he was abhorrent at the thought of masturbation in the slightest—he was a human with natural human needs, after all—but this desperation that filled his gut and fueled his hard on was less than desirable. But he can’t stop the aching he feels to hold onto that blip of memory of you calling him daddy. He savors it like the first bite of a meal and indulges it in the same way he’s trying to coerce his own orgasm. 

Throaty groans and grumbles wrack in Overhaul’s throat as he fists his angry, weeping cock, twisting and turning it as he prays for reprieve. It’s not enough; it’s not your mouth or any other oriface he would rather be shoving into, but the friction rubbing against his veins would have to be enough. He’s far from gracious at this point. Cupping and massaging his balls with one hand while thrusting into his enclosed other at ferocious speeds was all in the name of merely getting off. “Fuck,” he hisses out once again as he feels the very start of his orgasm. As much as his natural instinct is just telling him to sit back and enjoy the ride, his common sense tells him otherwise, tells him that he’s filthy for doing this and he doesn’t deserve to indulge in these thoughts. 

But he needs that extra push to satiate his natural instinct. 

Succumbing to his deeper, carnal desires, his imagination wanders back to you. With golden eyes screwed shut, he pretends it’s you he thrusting into, that it’s you stringing together languid profanities between your lips; that it’s you begging for daddy to fuck you harder. 

That it’s you begging daddy to fill you up and make you into a mother. 

“Oh, shit,” Chisaki is gasping for breath as he cums on the shower walls—the last thought to flood his mind serving to break the dam. He licks his lips and swallows hard, his skin becoming dry despite standing in the cold shower. After his ragged, uneven breathing returns to some semblance of normal, he peels his heavy lids open and stares at the fluid coating the shower wall. For a moment, shame washes over him because he feels pathetic and small. But the moment is brief before it was replaced with a dull burn of hunger that may never be quelled. 

Pathetic, Kai thinks again as he scrubs his body clean, before exiting the arctic shower. Never before had he been in such a state, even at the ripe age of thirty-two, to masturbate to the mere thought of another person. Perhaps he was that touch-starved, all things considered. 

He can’t bring himself to gaze at his reflection as he gets dressed. Adorning grey joggers and a red zip up hoodie, in addition to his usual mask and gloves, he maneuvers his way back to the makeshift garden where the children are still playing with together. But rather than you sitting alone at the patio table as you were, Dabi had joined you in the seat directly across from you. 

Both of you were sporting matching cigarettes in your respective hands with matching distressed looks on your faces. 

“We’ve been waiting for you,” you say in an almost indifferent tone, a departure from the way Kai had heard you in his mind seconds ago. It was a sentence typically accompanied with some sass, but your eyes were devoid of emotion at the moment. Cautiously, Chisaki took a seat beside you at the patio table, propping an elbow on the armrest closest to you before resting his temple on the same closed fist he had just used to beat himself off. You pay it no mind, how close he is to you, but rather put out your cigarette on the ashtray on the table as a courtesy to him. “Dabi,” your tone is thoughtful as you say your best friend’s name, making a hand gesture that signifies him to speak. 

The leader of the Underground opens the manilla folder that was harboring the photos of both of your burnt down homes as well as the two other destroyed businesses. “It’s been a challenging investigation, but after eyewitness accounts and working with local law enforcement from the Surface, I’m pretty sure my bastard brother was behind this shit,” Dabi grits out. 

“Brother?” Kai asks, confirming your suspicions of him being unaware of Dabi’s genealogy and family tree. To this, the leader pulls out a mug shot of Todoroki Shouto. The face wasn’t entirely familiar to Kai, save for the small resemblances to Dabi. Same jaw shape, same blue eye with the same dead look. 

“Why us?” You ask, flipping the photo over. While it had been awhile since you had resided let alone visited the Surface, you knew that there was some rumors in the air about the start of a war, but what possible reason did Todoroki have for going after the Underground when everyone kept to themselves? For Chisaki, who ran a free clinic, and his children? What about you—why go after you?

Outside of Dabi, hadn’t the Todoroki family tortured you enough?

The city leader takes a deep breath, exhaling smoke as he extinguishes the dead cigarette on the ashtray. According to the patchwork man, Todoroki had confessed that he was selected for a covert mission from the Hero Association. The primary goal was to eradicate any and all quirk wielders within the Underground so they didn’t procreate further, so no overpowered quirks would mutate in the next generation of Underground born children. Overhaul lets out a scoff at the explanation—leave it to the Heroes to act so recklessly and selfishly. 

If quirk mutation was the concern, only him and Eri would have been targeted, maybe Dabi as well. Probably Dabi as well. But they burned down Tropium Tattoos, the home of you whom had the legally registered quirk Life Canvas up on the Surface. They burned down a farm whose owner had a quirk that could manipulate light and sunshine—whose farm fed the patrons of the Underground. They burned down the house of the guy who had a weird magnet quirk. It sounds more useless than he actually is—Dabi ended up capitalizing on his manipulation of magnets to create magnetic elevators up to the surface for supply runs and other necessities. 

This was about population control. 

It was a form of genocide that Overhaul himself was all too familiar with. 

“Well that’s fucked,” you sneer, reaching for one more cigarette, “the fuck is wrong with your family, dude, and why are they all trying to kill me and my family?” Chisaki turns his head in curiosity, no longer resting on his knuckles. The only time you had brought up your family, around him at least, was when Endeavor killed your parents—

Oh. 

He pretends he doesn’t feel disappointment when he realizes you weren’t implying he and the children were your family. 

“Why the hell do you think I left, [ name ]?” Chisaki almost feels as if he shouldn’t be present for this conversation; like it was meant to be private between the two of you. But he can’t bring himself to leave your side, not with the way anger is crinkling in the form of crow’s feet at the corner of your eyes. Dabi excuses himself after a long bout of silence, leaving you to stew in your bitterness while Overhaul directs the kids to wash up for dinner. You don’t realize all nine of them had left the garden until the doctor is standing over you, despite the small wisps of smoke billowing from your cigarette with a hand extended towards you to pull you from the patio chair. You’re sure to extinguish the stick, knowing how the smell often offended him before taking it. 

“Why don’t you go rest inside for a minute and wash up while I make dinner?” He offers quietly as he pulls you to your feet. The entire time, Chisaki maintains eye contact, his golden orbs unwilling to break their trance with your form. But thanks to the distress and the rapid pace that your brain is moving, you aren’t even aware of your surroundings or the way Chisaki is just standing in front of you until you’re running into his broad chest. Instinctually, you recoil away from him. Not out of disgust or fear like before, but rather respect, knowing how he is about touch and physical contact. 

“Sorry—“ his arms are nestling at your waist to keep you in close proximity and you’re suddenly reminded of the time your legs fell asleep at the orphanage and you had stumbled trying to walk. Chisaki had been there then too, holding you steady much like he was now. There was something drastically different to the scenario now compared to back then. The doctor didn’t shy away from the contact anymore, didn’t draw his hands back like he touched a freshly stoked lump of coal or break out into itchy hives. If anything, his gloved hands lingered just a little bit longer—too long even for Chisaki—before gingerly patting your head and retreating inside the home. 

And maybe if you weren’t trying to process the fact that the Surface was attempting to start a war with the Underground, you would have dwelled more on the warmth and security coming from Kai. The poise he held coupled with the fire and desire in his eye would have been enough to reassure that everything was going to be alright.

Dabi never came back that night. Rather than leaving his head seat at the dining table empty, Chisaki sat to your left with his daughter filling his space temporarily. You sat directly across from Eri, the girl who was once too timid to thank you now smiled brightly every time you looked at her. Other than your best friend’s absence, dinner was relatively average. Conversation went on as normal, sharing laughter and smiles between all of you—it was a nice delusion that for a moment, you were all a complete family and you weren’t so enrapt with the heartbreak of knowing these ten humans were targets to the surface. 

The children cleared the table as they always did, but rather than having the two oldest do the dishes, you offered to clean up instead. “Why don’t you kids gather up in the living room and have daddy put on a movie for you?” Clearly excited from the reprieve of duty, the orphans all head off, touting something along the lines of Frozen versus Tangled. But your back is already turned away from the family, getting started on putting away leftovers and scraping away scraps on plates and entirely missing the way Kai’s eyes drain from gold to a murky mustard. It misses the way his jaw clenches tightly as he settles the debate for his children, turning on Tangled—the clearly more superior film—before he returns to the kitchen. 

The sleeves of your ragline tee are pushed above your elbows as you hum an unknown hymn, unaware of Kai stepping cautiously toward you. Despite having just eaten, the doctor is filled with a renewed hunger entirely as his grip finds limp purchase on your hips much like they had before dinner. “You know, I think we need to have a talk about you calling me ‘daddy’ in front of the children,” he murmurs hotly against the shell of your ear, causing the hair on the back of your neck to stand up. Your blood is torn between running cold from the predatory drawl in his words and boiling from the sudden close contact. 

“I-I’m sorry, should I stop?” Kai licks his lips before running his teeth behind your ear and down your neck, suckling on the flesh as he mumbles a response. 

“Do you want to?” You contemplate his question in full, though it proves to be a challenge with the way he’s pressing warm, open mouth kisses to your neck and shoulder and the way his hands are kneading at your hips. “Are you afraid of me, sweetheart?” He asks again, his voice a low grumble yet somehow is louder than thunder as it isn’t hidden behind a mask. Had this been months ago when he had asked you an identical question when you were perusing the reconstruction of the orphanage, you would have said yes again. But this wasn’t fear—fear wasn’t a word you associated with Chisaki Kai anymore. 

Warmth. Strength. Dedication. Resolve. 

Love. 

Those were the words you associated with him now. 

“No,” you finally respond, shutting off the water before turning to face him. It was a rare, momentous occasion when you got to gaze upon his bare face outside of having meals together. His golden eyes swirl with elation, even more so as your painted fingers brush stray locks that fallen just over his brows. Despite a rather simple appearance, especially in comparison to yours, there’s something elegantly charming about Chisaki Kai that had never gotten the full appreciation he deserved. 

Tentatively, you nudge him closer to you from the back of his neck until your lips are pressed against his. For you, it’s an experiment just to feel him in such a manner. For Kai, it’s torture in every sense of the word because it’s a tease after all of the salacious thoughts that have marred his imagination. Taking a leap of faith, his arms tighten around your waist, pulling your body flush against his because right now there isn’t enough contact in the world that would satisfy him. 

The once delicate, experimental kiss becomes hungrier at his hand as he’s exploring your mouth with tongue, groaning as he does so. The scent of smoke and fresh cotton wafts into his nostrils between his sharp intakes of breath as he refuses to break contact. It’s as if he’s trying to commit the moment to memory, to burn it into his brain. 

As if this was never going to happen ever again. 

“Kai,” you whimper out his name, his true name, between pants of breathlessness for the first time. Just as gingerly as before, your fingers are cradling the man before you by the temples. You’re gazing at him fully, unabashedly, as you run a thumb just below his distinct lower lashes. Chisaki’s head dips a bit further into your brief touch before you skip away from him. 

“Wait, where do you think you’re going?”

“Come on, let’s go watch the movie with the kids,” you chime, holding a hand out to him as if he didn’t just have you all but pinned to the kitchen sink. 

“I was serious when I said we needed to have a talk.” Despite his verbal protest, he takes your hand in his, trailing behind as you saunter off towards the living room where the children are fully invested in the film. Plopping down on an empty space on the couch, you bring Kai with you until he’s nearly resting on top of you. For a moment, he releases your hand, opting to wrap an arm around you to pull you closer. “Back to avoiding me, angel?” The doctor grumbles into your ear, low enough so as not to alert the little ones. 

“Figured it would be better to not risk being interrupted,” you whisper back, smirk twisting your lips. Chisaki’s licks his own dry plains, tugging you even closer so that you’re sitting on one of his thighs instead. That predatory miasma that surrounds him on a day to day basis is seeping out of him tenfold, but intimidation when it came to Kai was now a foreign concept to you. It brought back that same seductively dangerous feeling you’d felt the first time you had dinner with the family or, thinking back further, to when you went to scope out the renovations. A part of you wonders if that fear you once had was displaced as soon as you knew he was going to keep your quirk a secret. Displaced with an attraction to him that was easily confused with fear. 

A part of you wonders if you ever really did fear him at all. 

Maybe you didn’t. 

Your mindless thoughts wander to anything other than the screen, casually leaning back so that your head settled on Kai’s clavicle. The doctor looks down at you with a curiosity that is replaced with a warmth that temporarily quelled his lust. As much as he had been fighting his day dreams of fucking you, having you in his arms surrounded by his kids stoked a different fire inside him. 

He didn’t want this domestic moment to end. 

He hopes that desire translates into the simple gesture of his lips pressing into your hair. 

Chisaki Kai was finally caving into his wants and being honest with himself. He doesn’t want this makeshift family to go back to normal when you finally returned to Tropium or when his family returns to the Underground clinic. There isn’t a single cell in his body that believes having you in his lap and curled into his chest feels anything other than right. He’s overwhelmed with the idea, the fantasy, of you moving in and being with the family. Your family—in the collective sense—with Kai by your side with your nine orphans. 

During the lantern scene of the film, he presses another kiss where the roots of your hair meet your forehead, lips lingering a little longer than normal. In response, you look up at him curiously to find his muted golden eyes staring right at you. There was a plethora of different things that Chisaki wanted to say to you, especially with the way you look so heavenly in his arms. But he settles with the murmur of, “I don’t want things to go back to normal.” 

“Neither do I,” you whisper, gracefully accepting the way Kai’s lips mould over yours almost lovingly. In a sense, it’s your way of finally admitting to yourself the feelings that worked and wriggled their way into your chest. The thought of returning to your lonely little two-bedroom apartment by yourself just seemed daunting now, despite the initial rush to get to work on the remodel. No more waking up to bright eyes at the table for breakfast or coloring with the kids; no more having Kai cook a delectable meal or having him accompany you in the garden for a smoke. It broke your heart just thinking about all you would be missing out on when life returned to somewhat normal, war aside. 

The doctor sucks gingerly on your lower lip, nipping slightly with his canines as his tongue wholeheartedly dances with yours. The kiss is full of longing and desire and it made his brain go fuzzy with strange thoughts. A part of him can’t remember ever feeling this recurring surge of wanton lust and infatuation when Kai would kiss his wife and, in regular circumstances, he would have felt guilt over it. But this warm, wet entanglement of your tongues is more loving than he was accustomed to and it excited him. Than you were even accustomed to. 

“So stay with me, sweetheart,” the nickname he’s given you sounds almost patronizing. But the admiration that seems to be laced in with it sends a shiver down your spine and leaves the hairs on your arms standing at full attention as the film comes to an end. “Time for bed, children. We’ll be by in a little bit to check on you,” Chisaki calls out to his protesting kids, though making no motion to move from his planted position on the sofa. When he’s certain that all nine of them are out of earshot, he adjusts you in his lap so that both of your legs are draped over his thighs. You call out his name, pulling him from his thoughts that take him far away from the present. 

“You said you wanted to talk,” you remind him. A part of you is afraid to start conversation because you aren’t sure what direction he wants to take this. Chisaki could have an entirely different meaning of returning to normal than you, but for you...

You didn’t want to wake up every morning without him being nearby. In the rawest form, that was the only way you could piece it together into a coherent thought. But even more than that, you felt as if there was so much more you wanted to see from Chisaki Kai. He was becoming more open with touch, no longer breaking out into hives when he touched others and even going so far as to hold you, albeit very languidly as he was now. Another part of you wanted to know if he would be beside you when it came to the impending war with the Surface. 

Mostly, you just wanted to know if he wanted to be by your side too, even if logic wanted to tell you this was a bad idea. 

“Will you stay? With me?” Kai implores quietly. His eyes are locked with yours, the gold shining brighter than ever. 

“You say this after I renovate our homes?” A short, lighthearted scoff leaves his lung in lieu of laughter at your attempt of a joke. Because, despite him echoing your own deeper, innermost thoughts, a part of you refused to believe this was reality. As if reality was actually playing a prank on you. 

Of course he had thought of that little fact. It was the longing desire he felt in his bones to have your presence that he hadn’t taken into account, but that need burning at the pit of his stomach had outweighed any semblance of logic that urged him to keep his thoughts to himself.

“The kids will grow up eventually and need their own space away from the orphanage. We could always save it for them.”

Answers you were expecting from Chisaki Kai: not that. 

Had he invested that much into the idea? To the point where he planned on you still being a part of the orphan’s lives until they were adults?

“‘We’?” You ask. “And what if “we” don’t work, have you considered that?”

“No,” Kai’s voice is clear and calm as ever, exuding the very confidence that once made you tremble, “I want you in every sense of the word. I’ve already said my vows and had my shot at forever. I want that sort of permanence with you and I know that some part of you wants me too.” At a loss for words, you opt to brush the backs of your nails along his cheeks endearingly, trailing them down until your hands find purchase around his neck to bring him close enough that you can feel his lashes tickle your cheekbones. The silence between the two of you was deafening and damning, yet welcoming as it’s broken with him pressing his lips fully against yours. 

For a moment, it feels as if the hunger stirring within his gut is satiated—satisfied with the even the tender, loving gesture of pulling you closer still until you’re straddling his lap. As if you were trying to fuse your bodies together because there was no such thing as too much physical contact right now. Kai encircles your waist with his arms, hoisting you up as he motions to stand and causing you to wrap your legs around his midsection. You don’t ask where you’re going; partially because your tongue is too busy just indulging in a private dance with his, partially because it doesn’t matter where he takes you. You’d go with him anywhere, no questions asked. 

It’s a challenge and a half maneuvering up the stairs with you anchored around him so tightly—even more so that with every step he took ended up grinding your pelvis along his ever-growing erection. Kai felt liberated this time around, shamelessly rubbing against you this time rather than scurrying off for a cold shower and a five-minute session with his hand. Your eyes open as he unceremoniously tosses you onto the plush blanket of your borrowed bed. Immediately, you’re greeted with the sight of Chisaki Kai hastily shredding off his tee shirt and lounge pants, leaving the doctor in strained boxer briefs. 

Briefly, you’re blown away by the sheer beauty of him—like a statue of Adonis come to fruition before your eyes. Even with the uncomfortable twinge in his golden orbs from your unnerving gaze. It was different, to say the least, to have you gawking at him with such adoration when he felt he was the only one doing so. “C’mere,” your voice comes out as a near broken whimper, a call to which Kai heeds graciously. The bed dips as he kneels at the edge, crawling closer until he’s hovering above you. Gingerly, your fingers trace over the smooth skin of his cheeks, tracing down his lips and neck until they ghost over his collarbones. 

“Sweetheart,” Kai groans out, snatching your hand in his as it continues to trail further down his bare skin. “As much as I want to bask in the romance of all of this, you called me ‘daddy’ earlier, and I think it’s time you suffer the consequences.”

“Yeah?” You sneer sardonically, pushing into your elbows until you’re both touching nose to nose. “Like it when I call you that?” His breath is hot as it fans over your features, the wanton lust tangled within the golden hues of his irises becoming overwhelmed with feral desire. Kai’s hand that isn’t supporting him over you grips tightly at your baggy tee, pulling harshly to tear at the fabric keeping your bare body from him. For a moment, his breath becomes caged in his chest upon seeing your semi-nude form for the first time. But the moment is flitting as he’s reminded of his aching, hard cock twitching underneath his undergarments. 

“Hands and knees, baby,” the slow, torturous movement you give in reply grates at Kai’s nerves, prompting a resounding smack to the ass of your joggers the moment your bottom is visible to him. “Daddy’s already impatient, dear,”

“And what’s Daddy going to do about that?” 

Similar to the treatment he gave your shirt earlier, Kai dug his fingers into the waistband of your joggers. Though he did not have nearly as much luck tearing off the thicker material, the gruff motion is enough to expose you, leaving your bare, pulsing core in plain sight while the cloth gathered at your knees. His chest presses against your back, his skin searing hotter than hellfire, as he places languid kisses along your shoulder. “I promise, I’ll spoil you with attention later. But right now, I need you,” his voice is something reminiscent of begging, only amplified by his suddenly bare cock dancing along your slit and smearing pre-cum along it before cautiously slipping the head in. 

Throaty groans leave both of your lungs simultaneously. Kai swears up and down that this was heaven manifested into reality. Part of him thinks this is all a dream, the way your walls are squeezing him to tightly as he pushes in centimeter by centimeter. “K-Kai,” you whimper. The calling of his name awakens something gutturally primal within him. 

“Uh uh,” the doctor tuts, ceasing his movements. “What’s my name, baby?” In lieu of a response, only pants of shortened breath escape your slackened jaw. There was no way Chisaki Kai was human, you decided. Not with the way his words sent every cell in your body into overdrive or the way his fat girth stretched you so deliciously without even entirely plunging his engorged cock. Not with how, despite his notoriety once proceeding him, he was often blatantly honest with you and certainly not with how utterly enamored he was with you and vice versa. “Say my name, baby, and I’ll give you a reward,”

“D-daddy, please,” you whisper in between breaths. Abiding by his word, Kai works his thick length into you, albeit still slowly, until your bones presses into his pubis and his whole cock carefully bottoms out inside you. His right hand trails up your tummy and dances along the skin of your sternum until his fingers encase your throat gingerly. Keeping still within you, the doctor tugs at your throat until you’re only resting on your spread knees as his lips ghost along the outer shell of your ear while he gives slow, deep, steady thrusts.  

“You like having daddy’s fat fucking cock in you, angel? Feel so fucking good around me, yes you do,”

A real poet, Kai was. 

Turning your head to face him, your fingers lace themselves in his messy locks and pull his lips to yours in a kiss that is entirely devoid of lust. He can bring the heat all he wants—it was your mission to make sure he understood that you wanted him in more than just sex. Even if the slow torturous withdrawing of his cock was absolutely divine. 

And he felt it too. Even with his hand delicately cupping your throat or the way his pelvis greets your plump ass with every thrust or the way your wet walls clench on him as if trying to expel his cock from inside of you. Kai can feel it in the way your nails are digging into the flesh of his arms or in the tufts of breath that leaves your nostrils because he leaves you absolutely breathless. He feels the love, and he wants to bask in it. 

Now that he’d quelled his hunger slightly, Chisaki pulls away from your endearing lip lock while simultaneously withdrawing his length from you. A small whimper leaves your lips at the loss before Kai turns you over, pressing your back against the mattress and sliding home once again. The passion and intimacy he feels is overwhelming, boiling his skin through every pore as he bears weight on one arm while the other caresses your cheek. “I meant it, you know,” the murmur dances like air along your own lips, warm breath inviting. “I want you in every possible way. I want to wake up next to you in the morning, experience every season that doesn’t pass for us in the Underground with you.” 

“Kai...” in return, you seal you mouth along his, wrapping your arms around him to pull him closer and coaxing him to move. Slow and steady, he withdraws himself from within you before snapping his hips once again until he’s fully sheathed. Each thrust feels like thunder. “M-more,” you choke out, breaking apart your kiss momentarily to beg. His focus shifts down to where you’re connected—where each vein of his throbbing erection greets and becomes acclimated for every crevice within your cavern. Angling his hips along with your own with the assistance of his hand, he manages to welcome that spongy weakness that makes your knees buckle and regurgitate a scream in response. 

“Right there, princess?”

“P-please!” The hand under the small of your back moves to hook around your knee, it’s twin mimicking the gesture and leaving you entirely at the mercy of Overhaul whose mission at the moment is to rearrange your insides in an entirely different sense. Pinning your knees to the bed, Kai is at the perfect angle to ram into your g-spot over and over at a rapid, even pace until you’re clenching around him deliciously, silently coercing his orgasm. “Oh my fucking god,”

“Mm, you’re so tight, baby. Ya gonna cum? Gonna cum nice and hard for me? Cum for daddy,” his words are almost enough—almost. And it was as if he knew the filthy, slopping sound of his cock reaming you wasn’t enough. Though whether enough for you or him remained a mystery, his thrusts are becoming erratic as he’s panting and grunting an unabashedly as he chases his release and oxygen. “I love you,” Kai’s voice is broken, “love you so much, just wanna fill you up over and over until your body only knows the taste of me.” And you aren’t sure if it’s his nasty, vile words or the way he is utterly knocking away at your g-spot that is causing you to convulse around him—that brings you over the final hurdle and over the dam. Screams rip past your lungs as your back arches as much as it can from it’s confines while your fingers twitch out of necessity to grip something—anything. 

You’re granted no reprieve in that regard, but it matters not with the way Kai is still smacking his hips into yours, dragging out your orgasm even longer while in pursuit for his own. There is no amount of physical contact in this moment that is enough for him, even as he slats his lips over yours and slides his tongue inside your mouth to greet yours. Hips beginning to stutter, Kai is fighting every fiber in his soul—torn between the dichotomy of wanting to cum and stave off his orgasm because he wants to feel the welcoming, convulsing walls of your pussy forever. And though you’d already came at least once, the pressure was building again rapidly from the stimulation of the uneven rhythm of Kai’s hips. Part of you is thankful his tongue is hungrily dancing with yours to keep your screams muted so as not to wake the children down the hall. But the rumbling in his chest from his own throaty groans become overwhelming, forcing him to break away to and let his grunts and slew of curses fly from his mouth freely. 

“I love you, Kai,” the moans are just as bad coming from you, but those four words coming from your lips are what do the aforementioned man in. And he can tell there is no lie dripping from a silver tongue here—you mean every ounce of these four little words. For everything that is Chisaki Kai—the former Yakuza leader, the former villain, the doctor, the father—you loved the man before you. 

“Fuck! Fuckfuckfuckfuck, ‘m gonna cum,” he wails, the rhythm of his cock head tamping against your womb matching the pacing of his broken speech, “daddy’s gonna cum so fucking deep in you, gonna make you mine forever, angel.” Another hissed out string of profanities pass through as his dick twitches almost violently, shooting out ropes of seed and painting your walls white. You can tell he meant what he said, even in his lustful spew, by the way he leaves his softening erection inside of your spasming cunt and sealing his emission inside until he was almost certain his claim held permanence. 

“I meant it too,” you mumble into Kai’s sweaty neck as he collapses on top of you. Though he’s boneless at the moment, having spent all of his energy, you feel the breath of his questioning grunt beside your ear before his face is attempting to look at you while half buried in your pillow. Gingerly, he removes his now flaccid member from you, adjusting himself so that his form molds around you and wraps his arm securely around your stomach. 

“You know,” Kai starts off slowly. The rich timber of his voice is thick with exhaust but is warm and welcoming all the same. “I was jealous before.”

“Jealous? Of what?” 

“My children love you—a woman who was nothing but a stranger who doesn’t even like kids. They warmed up to you so easily, much easier than they did with me,” there’s a brief pause between his statements, causing you to adjust under his grasp until you’re touching nose to nose with the doctor. His eyes are closed for a moment, his long and feathery lashes greeting the tops of his delicate cheekbones. “So I tried to understand. Tried to figure just why they gravitated towards you.”

“And what did you find?” Peeling back his eyelids, Kai’s rich amber eyes bore into your own. Irises swirling with admiration before the view is flooded with a sudden closeness and the press of his plush lips against yours in the most loving fashion.

Truth be told, he wasn’t sure how to answer. 

He had found determination and independence, qualities of a strong woman that his daughters looked up to. Free and proud and brave, he thinks, are the reasons his sons admired you. But there’s something more. There’s a love and warmth that you bring to the family, yet a sternness that doesn’t allow them to run rampant (not that they would under Overhaul’s upbringings) that spoke so motherly to each of his nine children. And somewhere along the way for the last six months that the Clinic had been under remodel, Kai found himself gravitating to all of those exact qualities in you, the envy transforming into an admiration of his own. It was an error in his initial magnetic attraction conspiracy theory; he thought that your fear had changed to attraction when it was his all along. 

But Kai’s not always the greatest with words, and the thought of spilling his deepest thoughts of you seems a daunting task that he’d rather replace with kissing you instead. Considering you asked a question, however, he did feel the need to respond with something—anything. 

“I found you.”

 “Honey, I can still help, you know,” you whine for the umpteenth time, folding your arms over your chest as you stand in the mayoral office of Dabi with your partner. It’s been a year since Todoroki Shouto had burned down Tropium Tattoos and the Underground Clinic and tonight was finally the night that the Underground had planned on mobilizing their forces. It had taken a full year of investigating, planning, building alliances with those on the Surface, and patience for the citizens to finally strike back. 

Enough was enough. 

All of you had been exiled at one point or another, but now the Surface was trying to exterminate all of you. 

“Angel, no,” Kai chides sternly, igniting the twitch on the leader’s face. Granted it had been six months since you and Kai had first declared this little relationship of yours and, as your best friend, Dabi was still slightly hesitant on the idea. Not that his opinion had much weight considering—

“Kai, I am only three months along. I can still fight!”

“Hell no,”

“Absolutely not,” both men snark simultaneously. Best friend or not, personal opinion aside, there was no way in the ninth circle of hell that Dabi was going to let you go to war while you were pregnant. And with Kai being the father, the chances of you getting your way in this moment with him were even slimmer. The doctor pinches the bridge of his nose underneath his black cloth mask with his thumb and middle finger before letting out an annoyed rift of air. “Dabi, I’m gonna take [ name ] home before we go over invasion plans. Do you mind?” 

“Nah,” the leader waves his purple and nude hands in dismissal, “besides, we should wait for Hawks to get here before we start all that.” With that, Kai grabs your wrist with his gloved hand and drags you away from the office. He knows you want to fight, and he knows you want to protect your family—all eleven with himself and the embryo included. But as a father with another—biological—one on the way, Chisaki Kai just can’t bring himself to allow you to put yourself in harm’s way. 

“Sweetheart,” he calls out, stopping just outside of the currently closed Tropium. The grey and white building looked crisp and clean and everything you wanted it to be but you often found yourself closing up shop early and coming in late to spend more time with your nine children at home. At the very least, you were grateful that your parlor was only a block or two away from the clinic. “I need you here where you can keep our children safe in case anyone slips through the cracks.” Even with his mask on, you can tell that Kai is trembling ever so slightly. The thought of someone making their way into his home and hurting his kids, hurting you, was enough to unleash the beast within. 

“I know,” you respond quietly. Using his grip on you to your advantage, you pull the doctor towards you until he’s towering over you and looking down directly into your eyes. “But you know me, always ready to jump headfirst into the fire,” his amber eyes soften, thinking back to a year ago when you had saved Eri from the burning clinic. To think that a year later, you would be living with him and carrying his child and occupying nearly every cell in his brain. 

“It’s your turn to watch the kids,” he jokes pulling down his mask below his chin to slat his lips over yours lovingly. It’s only half a joke—he knows better than anyone you would do anything to protect them. He’s known that since day one. 

“You better come back to us,” your demand is quiet and breathless and laced more with concern than it is with threat. The thought of Kai dying while on the Surface has plagued you for the last six months, even more so when you found out you were pregnant. He knew it too, knew how much worry and panic had disturbed your sleep when the realization that war was an option had settled in. Despite the knowledge that he carried about different afflictions and ailments; Kai had been at a loss for how to quell your anxiety. He hopes that circumstances aside, him reaching into the right-side pocket of his heavy, army green coat and pulling out the small black velvet box is the correct move. Gingerly holding up said box until it’s in your line of sight, he takes a step back before peeling back the lid to showcase a single, solitaire diamond set in a simple gold band. 

“I promise you I will come back. And when this is all over, we can finally enjoy our life in peace, so long as you’ll have me.”

[rhiannon-a-christy]

Western AU Prompt :) Darcy/Steve Darcy's family owns a horse breeding ranch. Steve moves into the neighboring ranch & decides to buy a Friesian horse from Darcy. Darcy & the horse cared deeply for each other so the horse kept running back to Darcy until Steve finally decides to ask Darcy out :D

When Cupid Has Hooves

   The sky was darkening as Darcy finished upwith her daily chores at the ranch. Winter was just around the corner, whichmeant that the air already held that bone-chilling nip. All she could thinkabout was locking up, dressing down, and slipping into a hot bath. The sound oftrotting and an excited huff behind her promptly nixed that idea. She sighedand turned around.

 Bear, otherwise known as the most annoyinghorse in the world, trotted up to her. He reached down, placing his nose firmlyinto her hair, knocking her hat off. She had trained Bear herself. He was thefinest Friesian their ranch had ever bred, and she had known that he wouldfetch a pretty penny. Which was why, even though she loved the stupid horse,she had sold him when the offer came.

 Of course Darcy never would have simply lethim go to just anyone. So many of the people who came out her way were richbitches looking to fulfill their childhood dream of owning a pony. To them thehorses were nothing more than an accessory to stuff in their Barbie DreamRanch. They didn’t understand that horses were a commitment, even more so thandogs. They weren’t pets, they were companions. Bear’s owner though understoodthis, being an honest to God cowboy from up in Wyoming.

 He had waltzed onto her ranch, took one lookat Bear and knew he had found his horse. Too bad Bear didn’t see it that way.Rogers lived on the neighboring ranch and had moved Bear there after thepurchase, not that he stayed there. Bear had been with Rogers for three months,but every night it seemed that Darcy had to trot that stupid beast right backto his new barn.

 With a shake of her head she took off towardsRogers’, safe in the knowledge that Bear would follow after her like a puppy.

—————————————————

Steve was just sittingdown to his meal when he noticed movement from out of the window. He shook hishead when he noticed the petite woman being followed by the overgrown puppythat was his horse. He couldn’t help the small laugh when Bear gave a “gentle”nudge to her back, tripping the woman slightly.

 When Steve had bought this old ranch, thiswas not what he had been expecting. He had grown up on a ranch in Wyoming.After his parents had died, leaving him with no relation to care for him, theBarnes, family friends, and taken him in. He had only been seven at the time.He had lived with them, learning how to be a cattle rancher, until he waseighteen and joined the army.

 He had signed up with his best friend andbrother Bucky, only Steve was the only one to return. After everything, Stevedidn’t feel as though he could continue to live with the Barnes. Too manymemories, too much guilt. But he was a cowboy at heart, and it seemed you justcouldn’t take that out of him. When he had found this old ranch in Colorado, hedecided that maybe it was time for him to start out on his own.

 The first thing he did was purchase himself ahorse. He had a truck back in Wyoming he planned on driving down someday, butwhat he really needed was a horse. He had spoken to the people in town, all ofthem directing him to the ranch beside his, Silver Lightening Cutting and DraftHorse Ranch. He had expected it to take a while, but the moment he set eyes onBear he knew he could never own another horse. The problem was Bear didn’t seemto like him very much.

 Steve walked out onto the porch, leaningagainst the post as his neighbor stomped up in front of him. Miss Darcy Lewiswas a couple of years younger than him, and more than a head shorter. Not thatany of that mattered, the woman was a force to be reckoned with. And boy, if hedidn’t want her. She was feisty, smart, and beautiful as all get out. He hadalmost asked her out the moment he purchased Bear. The lack of date hadn’t beenhis nerves, but the tall, dark British man that had slunk his way into heroffice.

 Loki or something, had been a professor ofShakespearian literature on loan to Colorado State from Cambridge. He also sohappened to be Miss Darcy’s boyfriend. At least he had been. Last he heard theman had returned to England.

 “Got a present for ya.” Darcy pointed herthumb behind her. She had no need to look, she could feel the stupid animal’sbreath on her neck. Instead she looked up at the man on the porch. If thereever was a man where you could see God’s work, it was him. He stood leaningagainst a post, legs encased in denim, and his flannel shirt untucked andunbuttoned almost halfway down his chest. Darcy didn’t normally like beardedmen, but Rogers somehow made it work.

 “Gee, thanks.” Steve laughed and hopped downoff the porch. He took up the reigns and gave a gentle tug. “Come on you dumbbeast.”

 Darcy laughed when Bear stood his ground,tugging in return. Steve just shook his head before straightening out his hat.

 “Sorry again for him. I’ve even added extralocks on the barn, but he still figures his way out.” Steve pushed behind himwhen Bear nudged his shoulder.

 “Guess I should have mentioned he was anescape artist before you bought him. He used to do this all the time. Used towake me up in the middle of the night whining beneath my window.” If thecreature had been human, Darcy would have called him lovesick. Something thatshe was sure could be used to describe herself when it came to the man beforeher.

 “Makes one wonder why you parted with him.”Steve nudged back when Bear once again pressed against his shoulder.

 “I knew he would be in good hands.” Very nicehands, big hands… hands that were currently on her trying to keep himself upafter Bear had pushed him too hard.

 “Shit, I’m sorry…” Steve sprang up and movedback, his face growing hot as he realized just where his hands had been.

 Darcy straightened her shirt, her own blushrising on her cheeks. “That’s alright.”

 For a moment the two of them just stood there,neither looking at each other or knowing what to say. Bear shook his head,stomped his foot, and once again nudged Steve in the shoulder. Though with lessviolence this time.

 After pushing the horse back, Steve clearedhis throat. “Hey, there’s supposed to be a dance over at the community buildingthis Saturday. I was wondering, well only if you wanted to, that is, would youlike to accompany me?” He could have kicked himself, he sounded like some wetbehind the ears little boy.

 “Um, yeah, I would love to.” Darcy beamed upat him. “I would like that at lot.”

 “Good, good.” Bear huffed behind him,bringing his attention away from Darcy. “Uh, I should probably get this idiotback to the barn.”

 “Probably. Night, Steve.” Darcy waved as sheheaded back home.

Steve stood watching her until he could nolonger make her out. Bear, behind him, huffed again. And had anyone beenlooking they would have sworn that the horse had rolled his eyes in fondexasperation.

——————————————————–

 Author’s Note: Wow, I’m so sorry. I didn’trealize that this was still hanging out unfinished. Sorry that this took sofreaking long to finish. Hope you still enjoyed it, even if it was late.

     Disclaimer:All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of theirrespective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author.The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers ofany media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.  

[notjustagirltattoopodcast]

Not Just A Girl: Sex and Sneaky Feminism

You can listen to the sixth episode with Onnie O'Leary here. Or you can find this interview on YouTube with English subtitles/closed captions here, there is no footage for this episode so you'll find a slideshow of Onnie's work instead.

NOT JUST A GIRL: Tattoo Podcast

EPISODE TRANSCRIPT

Season 1, Episode 6: Sex and Sneaky Feminism

Eddy: Hello friends. Welcome to Not Just A Girl, your favorite feminist tattoo podcast. I'm Eddy and I'm back to share with you the experiences and wisdom of tattoo artists I admire. On the sixth episode, we will be chatting about visual communication, pornographic tattoos, and body positivity.

Before we begin, I would like to acknowledge the Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people who are the traditional custodians of this land that was stolen and never ceded. I am honored and grateful to be on the ancestral land of the Awabakal people. And I pay my respects to the Elders past and present. And extend my recognition to their descendants.

I'm super excited this morning to be joined by the fabulous Onnie O'Leary, Onnie works at TLD tattoo in Sydney and their bright and graphic designs inspired by erotic comics are instantly recognizable the world over. I'm actually very lucky to have not one but two tattoos by Onnie and they are definitely some of my favorites in my collection. Thank you so much for taking the time to chat to me today. I've been really looking forward to hearing your stories and about what you've been up to.

Onnie: Oh, thank you. Um, that makes me, makes me feel really bad now. Cause I don't have any tattoos from you yet, even though we've worked together so many times and hung out at conventions and stuff. I'm really sorry, I saw Greg's tattoo. That came up the other day. That was, I think four years ago now.

Eddy: Was it really?

Onnie: It must be. Yeah. Cause that was, he was here for my 30th birthday and I just turned 34. So

Eddy: Oh my god. For our listeners, Greg is taco monster on Instagram and he's so amazing. And you need to check him out.

Onnie: He's really great. Um, he might be a really good person to speak to because he has experience in both tattooing, but also in the medical side of

Eddy: [00:02:17] Yes.

Onnie: Um, what's happening. So he's right in the middle of that at the moment.

Eddy: That's perfect.

Onnie: Yeah. And he's, he's a great person to speak to generally, I'm lucky to have quite a few tattoos from him too. Um, But yeah, actually, so sadly I guess, because Greg has been so busy during this whole pandemic, um, I haven't been speaking to him as much as I would normally. And, um, I guess I've been really lucky to be talking to a whole bunch of artists, mainly in the US some of my friends are over in Europe, so I've been hearing from them a lot. And, uh, but especially sort of in the US and Canada, Um, and speaking to different people from around the country, sort of other tattooers.

Eddy: That must be really helping you get through this whole lockdown situation.

Onnie: Yeah, it is. It is. It's really nice to, um, I guess be able to communicate with people who are in the same situation, even so far away.

And it's definitely unique in that um, it's so universal. I mean, it's people everywhere in the same situation, whether you're in Australia or in the US or anywhere, we're all just kind of staying inside and working on our own things and all, not tattooing at the same time, and as much as I do miss tattooing. And I'm really, really looking forward to getting back to the shop and seeing the guys again, um, I'm also so relieved to actually have a break and not struggle through the FOMO because everyone else is on a break too. And that does, I guess, that like still brings its own set of sort of comparisons and anxieties because everyone sort of seems like has picked up a project for the quarantine period. And so everyone's doing their own amazing things at home. Even if they're not tattooing, you can never really fully get away from it. I think

Eddy: No, creatives are a whole different breed of people and I don't think we ever really stop. Like, it could be something as simple as doodling on a piece of scrap paper or doing a full blown, um, I dunno, art show or whatever, but yeah, there's always something.

Onnie: Starting a whole new podcast.

Eddy: That was, that was silly.

Onnie: I don't know. I don't think it was silly at all. I think um ambitious, certainly, uh, to try your hand at something totally new, but this is such a good time to do it. And I think when you're really driven by wanting to produce something in response to what's happening. There's a real immediacy to, to it that helps you like learn new skills really quickly. Cause you're like, Okay. I just have to get this thing out there and get it done.

Eddy: That's it. I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing. I'm learning on the job, but it's awesome. And the bonus is I get to talk to so many amazing people like you

Onnie: Right? Well, it's just, I guess, in a sense of just sort of a vehicle in that way for you to be able to have these kinds of conversations uh, with people and I've been, I've been thinking a lot in lockdown about the purpose of art in my life and what I don't want to get to morbid, but I'm in like, what do I want out of life? Like, what do I want at the end of this, where's my career going to go after here what's going to happen. And I think that's also a product of speaking to a lot of tattoos who are at different stages of their career, um, and who were sort of opening up their tattooing practice to sort of other art avenues

Eddy: Yeah.

Onnie: As well.

Eddy: Well, it's a smart thing to do moving forward.

Onnie: Yeah. Yeah, it is. Um, and especially when you sort of realize that, uh, it is possible for tattooing to essentially go down overnight.

Eddy: Yeah.

Onnie: Um, and of course, you know, it's never going to stop completely, but suddenly this sort of very regular and reliable stream of income, uh, has been cut off and yeah. As an artist, you can't I don't think you can stop practicing art. Everything that you do is art. Whether it's making a sandwich or a painting or doing your laundry

Eddy: Taking a selfie

Onnie: Taking a selfie yes. It's all about, um, the way that you do things and the attention and care that you've put into doing them. Yeah. So thats, uh, I I've been trying to, uh, try and really focus on that.

Eddy: Yeah. I think it's like really natural for an artist as well to consider what their work means as as their message for what they leave behind in their life. Like, you know, a lot of people don't get the opportunity to actually make an imprint on the world the way that artists do. Like we have the opportunity to create a visual language. If visual arts is our thing and then communicate our ideas and beliefs to the world. And I know that that's important to you.

Onnie: Yeah, very much so. And I was saying that the older and older, I get the harder and harder ease to try and like, I guess, disguise, um, my own sort of personal beliefs and what what I do want to project, it's almost like impossible to try and sever that for some sort of alternative purpose. Um, so I definitely, I mean, the more that I practice, the more sort of, uh, I guess specialization I'd like to have in my work in terms of being able to sort of control the um, the content of what I'm doing and being able to sort of dictate a lot of the content of the tattoos. Um, I think just because these are going to be the projects, these are going to be the only projects I feel like I'll be able to work on really honestly and passionately.

Eddy: Yeah, absolutely.

Onnie: And exactly what that looks like at this point. I'm not sure I'm, uh, I'm one of those tattooers who spent a really long time at art school. And I, there's a, there's a sense there that you sort of have to come up with a concept initially, and then you mold the work to facilitate that concept. And that's something that I've found really difficult. And I really struggled with for a long time, because often I feel like once the concept is formed, the art is kind of superfluous anyway.

Eddy: Yeah.

Onnie: So I've been trying to, I guess, sort of let emotion or just interest I think when I feel passionately interested in something to let that guide the work in a way, I want it to be a lot more fun then trying to wrangle that visual language into a poem. Yeah. Yeah. Uh, that can be sort of easily and clearly read by anyone as much as I want people to be able to read and understand my work. Umm. I kind of have to step back and have a little bit less control over exactly what it says and how it says just to let it come out.

Eddy: Yeah. Yeah, absolutely. I I've. I found like I didn't approach tattooing with like, an idea of what I wanted to do. I just kind of like learnt the techniques. And then from there was like, who am I? Where do I go from here? What do I like? And then it's just been this like ongoing journey of like discovering what I like and then learning to apply apply that to my tattoo. It's so interesting how we all have such a different journey of finding our way to authenticity in our work and to finding our own like visual language that feels comfortable.

Onnie: Yeah. And it's often such a surprise. That's been one of the things that's been really beneficial to having all of these discussions with different artists is often they will see things in your work that are there, that you have no idea. Um, And one of, one of my friends said to me, he's like, Oh Onnie, it's all about control. It's just all about control with you. I was like, Oh my God, I feel like this is maybe the linchpin of like my whole practice is this sense of control. Um, in terms of, uh, power exchanges. I mean, all of the kind of bondage girls that I do that sort of very literal. But I think even at the time, a lot of, uh, a lot of the time they were metaphors, I guess, for things that I was struggling with in my life, but there's still a very strong sense of trying to explore control and retain it, even in my own role as an artist, even in the greatest sense of being a tattooer where you sort of welcome someone into your studio and you have this like enclosed environment where you have a certain role to play, they give up a certain amount of control to you. There's a huge amount of trust there because you're going to physically hurt people. And. Um, I'm kind of like, Oh my God, this, maybe this is just what attracted me to tattooing in the first place.

Eddy:] Yeah.

Onnie: So I'm really, I'm really learning a lot, not just about, um, my art, but I think that about me as well.

Eddy: Yeah. Thats one of the things that that I find. So, um, enticing about your work, that the characters you depict have power. They have so much power, especially these women. I see so many erotic art subjects kind of, uh, giving up their power. Like they look sad or they look hurt, but yours are like I'm loving this. It's so good. And you know, you just, you just get this real sense of strength in them and you know, so, you know, you can tell that that's what, where you're coming from and that's what you're searching for.

Onnie: Good. I'm really, I'm really glad that, um, you, you said that that's a hundred percent how I want the work to be read. And its been a long process of, um, I'm really glad that you were talking about visual languages because that's what it is. There's certain things that you can do within your art or how you depict someone or how you draw something, whether it's the angles that your, um, the audience is looking from. And that's something I really consider the colors that you use. Uh, the, the techniques, the way that you paint or draw something, they all contribute to how the audience reads an artwork. And, uh, it's often through, it's been through some really challenging conversations in the past, um, that I've come to terms with those, because I think as much as I want to make artwork of like sexy, big booby girls, there's already so much of that.

And what, what am I saying that's different? Or like, why, why do I want to make this kind of work? You know, when I'm not seeing it in the world, what is it that, what is it that I'm not seeing in other drawings of sexy, big booby girls? And what can I contribute to that conversation? How am I going to change things? Um, And actually one of my, um, someone on Instagram, I put up a questionnaire this morning, asking people what they wanted to hear me talk about. And one of the questions was about my influences. So one of the biggest influences that I had in my work is Heavy Metal magazine. And

Eddy: I can tell when I see that

Onnie: I'll send you some photos of like my favorite covers and stuff so you can get it. Um, when, when I was about 17, I was drawing, it was the first time I'd ever, um, sort of drawn a porno comic. So as my friend, who was the writer, gave me a couple of magazines, give me a copy of hustler and, uh, like four copies of heavy metal. And I kind of flipped through hustler and was like, yup, cool, whatever sort of vagina. And when I got to heavy metal, I was so entranced. This was the first time I'd seen women of like vastly different body shapes, body types, skin colors, some of them were aliens. And this is definitely something that I'm trying to bring into. Um, the comics that I'm working on with Tom at the moment, but that was such an eyeopening thing for me. And really, I sort of decided there. And then when I was 17, I was like, I want to make sexy drawings of women that make them feel good about their own bodies. It was the first time that I'd sort of seen this kind of exuberant sexuality, uh, these different body types and that kind of right I guess, to enjoy sex that if someone makes a picture of it and they're like, this is what I think is sexy and you look at it and go, that's like me I could be sexy too.

Eddy: Yeah, absolutely. The diversity and the sex positivity in your work is what makes it stand out above everyone else doing erotic tattooing in my opinion, like it's just, when I look at, you know, the girls that have a little, they have a little pot belly, or they'll have a hip dip, that one boobs a bit saggier than the other. And it's like, I see that in the mirror and that's so sexy that image you've done and yeah, I can relate.

Onnie: Totally. And it's, you know, everyone's worthy of like praise and admiration and like lust and that's it. And especially growing up, I felt like I only saw a really narrow um, sort of ideal for what could be sexually attractive.

Eddy: Yeah.

Onnie: So I'm definitely pleased to see that, like, especially in tattooing, I feel like, um, erotic tattoos have really taken off. Um, yeah, since I started, there were two tattoos that I knew of when I started one was Dusty Neal who works at, uh, Black Anvil in, uh, Fort Wayne in the US and the other is Herman Canela, who is from Buenos Aires. And I'll send you some of their work as well, and I've never been tattooed by Dusty. It's one of my great regrets so far, I'd love to go and meet him and get tattooed by him because he was so kind of generous with his time and his knowledge and, uh, even just his attention. I think he started following me when I was an apprentice, and I shat myself. I was so excited, this is amazing. I'm like heres a guy who's doing bondage tattoos, like not just a little bit cute and sexy pinups, which is sort of where I initially saw my work sort of slotting in.

Eddy: Yeah.

Onnie: Tattooing I'm like these were full on erotic tattoos. And I was like, well, if that guy can do it, so can I.

Eddy: Its so good. And there's definitely such an important place for that in tattooing. Cause I mean, I'm, I'm guilty as well of being another one of those tattooers who does the pinup girl that's just like that prescribed version of normal. That's like skinny, white, Caucasian looking features, just like just so boring and lacking diversity. And it's just something you do without even thinking about it. Like, it's just like, that's, what's done. That's how it's always done. That's how you do it. But you've challenged that.

Onnie: Well. Yeah. And that tattooing tattooing is so much about iconography. Um, you're representing vast concepts for people in, by necessity, very simple imagery. You know, if you, you know, a tattoo of a pinup girl, it doesn't represent, this is the girl that the tattoo is off. That's a tattoo of love or longing or lust or desire or femininity or appreciation. And if you get a tattoo of a ship, you know, that means travel and journeys and. Um, so all of these concepts get distilled into very, very, very simple imagery. And, um, I mean, even with the work that you do, which no one would ever describe as like simple, even if you think about the concepts that you're doing, you know, uh, it's, it's sort of birds and flowers and these for the person who's getting them I imagine that the meaning is much more complex than I like birds and flowers.

Eddy: Yeah, absolutely.

Onnie: So actually doing. Doing the comic book. I should introduce the comic book a little bit more, but doing this comic book has been amazing because suddenly where I had to try and condense all of this stuff about women's power and sexual pleasure and enjoyment and diversity. Uh, now I have actual space for a narrative.

Eddy: Amazing.

Onnie: And that's so, uh, so daunting and so freeing, because it's really the opposite of what, of what I've been doing as a tattooist for years and years.

Eddy: Well.

Onnie: So that's, that's been really positive.

Eddy: Talking about the comic. How did it get started? And please tell the listeners all about that because it's so amazing.

Onnie: Okay. So, so the comic, we started a little company called One Handed Comix and that's me and Ugly Tom who's a, uh, an amazing tattooer, uh, over in Charlotte, in North Carolina. And we started chatting. Sam Rulz showed me his work, I think about two years ago now and was like, You'd love this guy's work. He's really great. He free hands, literally every tattoo, every tattoo, and as well as doing his own like massive projects, uh, tattoo projects that he's working on body suits and things like that. He's also a walk in tattooer occasionally. So if you want like a freehanded Polynesian half sleeve. Or, you know, some like drama masks doesn't matter. He will just draw that straight on you and then tattoo it.

Eddy: The confidence

Onnie: He's obviously like a very, very hardworking and inspiring, uh, tattooer, and so I've been following him for a while and we would chat here and there I'm pretty chatty online. Um, and especially when I really admire someone's work, so we sort of chatted a little bit back and forth. He said, he was like, Oh, this dude's pretty friendly. And then I heard he was on another podcast and I heard him speaking it was about an exhibition that he was having that was supposed to happen this month, um, that is ofcourse not going on at the moment. So we started talking about the themes that he brought up in the podcast, which were about religion and spirituality. And I had like a ton of stuff to say about all of this and sent him a message and then was like, hang on this isn't enough just started leaving him huge voice messages about it. And he wrote back and I guess, I think this was maybe a week or two before we went into lockdown here in New South Wales. And so it'd be about two and a half months ago, I think is the end of March two and a half months now. So, uh, no a month.

Eddy: I can't believe

Onnie: I'm so confused

Eddy: Yeah I don't know. Time, wibbly wobbly timey wimey.

Onnie: It's a loose concept at this point, a while ago. It feels simultaneously very quick and a million years ago. Uh, and so we were chatting away about that. He had a bunch of stuff to say in response to it, and then I had more opinions about it. He had more opinions about that and we were chatting away. And we were like, Hey, maybe we should just do a split sheet you know, we'll do like a little bit of, um, flash each and see how that goes. And then that very quickly turned into, we should make a comic together. And it should be a porno comic.

Eddy: Perfect.

Onnie: Perfect, and that was it. Like, and now, um, you, but tattooing was kind of tough. I mean, it's such a great job, but it can be kind of tough, man that comic book. So it's been it's yeah I guess it's been about a month and a half or nearly two months. We are almost ready to send this 16 page comic book to the printer. Almost.

Eddy: There's a lot of work in that.

Onnie: There's a huge amount of work. Um, but it's been such a joy to work so collaboratively with someone because it really is a truly collaborative effort where we sort of workshop the story together. Then we kind of talk about a layout. We'll do a rough, a very rough layout where we, you know, with stick figures, this panel should be from this angle and this panel should be from that angle. And the big explosion should happen on the bottom half of this page. And we'll sort of show each other ideas. Talk about them, talk about what we like. What we don't like then, uh, he, Tom has been doing the inks. And so I mentioned that he freehands, everything. Um, he's almost totally analog. So all of his contribution to the comic book is physically inking the sheets and then scanning them and then sending them to me.

Eddy: Wow.

Onnie: And then I work digitally over the top of them. Um, so we sort of go back and forth. So I will take his large layout. Digitally pencil um, all of the girls and the parts of the page that I'm drawing, send that back to him. He grids it up by hand to transfer all of my pencils onto the final page. All of his parts scans, those sends them to me. I then redrop my pencils in there, ink those over the top. And then I do a rough and then we talk about the colors and then I do the final version.

Eddy: Wow. That's amazing though, to be able to collaborate, like on such an equal level with another artist, I feel like the communication involved in that would be really difficult, but it sounds like it's working.

Onnie: It is yeah, it is working and I definitely don't think that it would be possible with just anyone. Um, I really, uh, I think we've definitely grown to be really close friends over the process and part of that's because there have been some really difficult discussions and I don't think I realized at the beginning how, um, Uh, I guess like how important these kind of discussions would be in terms of dictating the content of the comic and how much it's forced me to take a lot of ideas that I have in my own work about representing women and sex and forced me to examine them, pull them apart, and then be able to explain them back to someone.

Eddy: Yeah.

Onnie: And especially, uh, someone who, you know, who lives on the other side of the world, who's a different gender to me, has very different like, uh, romantic experiences. Um, and it's been, it's been really, really great to, uh, I guess, speak so openly and honestly, about what started off as like a kind of fun sexy art project, but it's actually pooled up and forced me to really analyze my own beliefs and motivations about this kind of stuff.

Eddy: That's soo amazing.

Onnie: Yeah.

Eddy: That's what arts for.

Onnie: Exactly. Exactly. I think without that sort of mirror into, um, into the world, sometimes you just don't recognize yourself or your own ideas. So.

Eddy: And the fact that you've had to explore what you believe and why you believe that, and then figure out how to express that that expression is going to be so much more authentic and so much clearer and have such a bigger impact on your audience.

Onnie: I hope so. And as much as I don't think that I would label this a feminist comic. Um, it's not that, not that it's not feminist, it's unashamedly feminist just by virtue of what it is, but I also just want to say that there's like a lot of really messy sex in there. And, um, it's. Deeply pornographic. Uh, the comics are called One Handed Comix because the idea is that you have to, you can read them one handed. I'm pretty sure everyone's been masturbating a lot in captivity. And so the whole idea of this comic kind of came out of like trying to meet a need for people.

Eddy: Yes, adult toy companies are doing so well right now.

Onnie: I'll bet they are. If anyone wants to send me a vibrator, I'll happily accept them, um, at the shop, just look up the TLD shop address, and then send through whatever you've got.

Eddy: Onnie can sponno those, uh, friggin sex toys.

Onnie: Yeah. I'll I'll, I'll get you to put the address up at the end so that peple know where to send them.

Eddy: Get you some of those crazy alien ones to go with those alien babes you draw.

Onnie: Oh my God. The alien egg ones. I want that. It's so intensely weird. I really love that. I really don't mean weird in the negative sense. Um, But like, I have a deep interest in those like alien egg. Like I think it's called, like, Ovipositor I may be wrong, I read that, that vice article, like five times and every time I'm like, Oh my God.

Eddy: Every time I see a picture it takes me a moment to like, Oh, Oh yes. That's what it is, huh.

Onnie: Just imagine like sort of wobbling around the house, like just laying alien eggs for my flatmate to find.

Eddy: Amazing. And that's what I'm excited about with your, with your comic, the fact that it's, it's going to be so much more interesting and kink friendly and women friendly and trans friendly and like all of these like different people who aren't represented in mainstream pornography. Like they get to have a place now.

Onnie: Yeah. Yeah. And that's, that's really important. I mean, like I said, like the first issue is only 12 pages long, so, um, and we've got a couple of extra, we've got like one little extra story and a couple of like fun sort of cute fake ads that we made to go in it. So, um, I don't, I don't want to run the risk of disappointing people by talking about like the incredible diversity in it. When the initial story that we've got is pretty, uh, I mean, it has a limited number of characters. So that also means that there's kind of a limited number of, um, things that we can touch on really.

Eddy: Yeah.

Onnie: But that is very much the plan in terms of making more. And we've sort of god, I don't want to jinx it, but like we've we talked about making more of them and that's, that's something that we'd both really like to do. And we're going to try and get as much done while we're in isolation. And then afterwards, I think we're gonna try and work out a way to balance tattooing and making comics because it's something we both really want to continue. Um, But I mean, having it be kind of set in space and giving, giving us that gives us the option of like non human aliens, who can be any gender, any race, um, they can exist in sort of any sort of form that you as the author illustrator want them to take. And I really liked that because I love the idea of being able to present something that might seem different and unusual. Uh, here on earth, but in this comic you can have, um, well, this is just the like polyamory planet and everyone lives like this and it's super normal and everyone's really happy.

And we talked a little bit about the Netflix show Hollywood I think that was very, very much a fantasy rewriting of history. And there's something sort of joyful and positive about that where you can say, look, this is the, this is the future that we, or the past that the sort of dimension that we want to imagine things have happed in. And then from that you can kind of go, well, maybe this is possible.

Eddy: Yeah. That's, what's so good about SciFi it gives you the space of endless possibilities and to just imagine this really optimistic, wonderful world that you can enjoy.

Onnie: Yeah. Yeah. And especially in terms of, um, sort of different forms of activism. I do want to talk about that as well, because I don't necessarily think that the solution to achieving equality is just to kind of whitewash everything and say, well, let's just imagine if everything was wonderful right now. Um, and, but that, that is part of it. And at this point in time, uh, like I was saying, that's, I'm really following my interests and, and this is something that I really want to make, I want to provide kind of a bit of escapism for people, um, and yeah. Make people hopeful and, and feel better about the situation that we're all in at the moment.

Eddy: I'm sure people are going to absolutely love it.

Onnie: I really, I really hope so. I really, really hope so. Um, Yeah. I hope people like it as much as I am enjoying drawing it and

Eddy: I love that you're enjoying drawing it. That makes it even better.

Onnie: It's so much fun. I'm going to confess something here. Uh, a lot of people have been asking if drawing a porno comic makes you horny. And look, the company line on this sorry Tom the company line on this is that actually, you know? Sure. Maybe, but we're really focusing on things aside from just the content, like the composition and all of this. So look, it's not like some kind of total fuckfest, but also honestly it does make you kind of horny.

Eddy: No harm in that.

Onnie: It's really hard not to draw porn all day and think about exactly what it is that would turn someone on about a particular scene without getting a little bit turned on. I only hope that that is passed onto the reader of this and that everyone gets at least a little bit turned on from reading it.

Eddy: I think so. I think with your tattoos and your art, like you can definitely see the joy you've had in creating it and that that's a hundred percent passed on to the viewer and that's why people get your tattoos. So that's going to happen with the comic too.

Onnie: Um, I also feel like the comics really pushed my artwork dramatically. I've been forced to go back and study a lot of anatomy. Um, a lot of movement, uh, talking about communicating a narrative, just in images. And I'm going back to a lot of my roots and like rereading a lot of my old heavy metal magazines to get inspiration and to help decide, you know, how we want the comic to look and to feel and what we need to do to do that.

So I'm so excited to get back to tattooing and just feel like I've leveled up all of these skills. Um, You know, even, even more in this time. So I'm, I'm keen to like, yeah. Apply that to tattooing again and pushing, or I guess having an implied narrative in my work is really important because I want part of what excites that audience so much is to imagine who these characters are, what they're doing, what's happening, what they're about to encounter. Um, and so, yeah, I mean, for the comic there's, I mean, there's a direct narrative there, but you also don't show every single thing in a story. And so you have to, the viewer has to get from one panel to the next and understand what's happening. And that is really something that I want to push with tattooing. I'd really like to move beyond the simplistic iconography of what tattoos are, even though I love that so much about tattoos. I think what I want from my work is to be able to communicate more with an image.

Eddy: Yeah. I can see that happening because your work is so dynamic. There is a lot of like room for storytelling in that.

Onnie: Cool. I'm so glad. I mean, your boxer girl, like.

Eddy: I love her

Onnie: She's a good example

Eddy: Onnie did, for our listeners Onnie did this amazing, like strong, muscular, angry boxer woman on me with like skin tears around it. It's so good.

Onnie: She's like fighting out of, out of your leg. Um, but you know, she's really like, she's kind of like a little bit like rough. It's obviously not the, uh, not the beginning of the fight, but it's not the end either. So I want you to think about like, Who is she? Why is she fighting so hard? Is she gonna win? Maybe, maybe not.

Eddy: Damn right she's gonna win. It might get a bit, a bit like difficult there towards the end, but she'll come out triumphant. I can guarantee.

Onnie: Spit out the tooth

Eddy: Spit the blood on the canvas.

Onnie: And that's I mean, that's kind of the artwork that grabs me the most is when I continue to like turn it over in my head after I've seen it and try and try and pull it apart and try and figure out what's what's happening. So

Eddy: I think, Oh, what about other guests? Brody, who I spoke to the other day. You did a lovely tattoo on them of a special moment.

Onnie: Yeah. Um, Oh, that was, that was so nice. It was really lovely to have Brody in the shop and, um, uh, yeah. Get to know them and get to do a really fun tattoo. And I think does Brody work with Sera Helen?

Eddy: Yes.

Onnie: Yeah, at Crucible. Yeah. Uh, she's also amazing I'm wearing her today.

Eddy: I noticed that. Yeah, Sera's incredible.

Onnie: The girl with all the tribal tattoos, riding the dragon tat gun. It's amazing.

Eddy: So much talent in that studio and in the one you work in as well.

Onnie: Oh, yeah, the boys are fantastic. It's really, it's been really, really good. And it's nice to work in a studio where the, I guess the art style is say same, same, but different. Um, I always like to think that my work is pretty firmly rooted in traditional tattooing in that I'm trying to make, uh, you know, bright, solid colors, clean black lines. Um, I want them to age well. But I'm just putting them together in a slightly different way than Trad Trad.

Eddy: Yeah.

Onnie: But I've learned so much in the last couple of years that I've, I've worked there. They're all really amazing tattooers.

Eddy: And they all have that same kind of thing. The really bright, bold colors, crisp black lines it's just so powerful as a tattoo and it will age so well, that kind of work.

Onnie: Well, that's it. Yeah, I'm really proud. I think I've gotten tattooed by everyone at the shop now, at least, at least once. And they all look amazing. Um, and yeah, it's really nice. They get a lot of, a lot of compliments on, um, on those sets that the guys did. Yeah, I do miss them.

Eddy: It's so hard being away from the colleagues. Cause I think we spend more time with them than we do in our own homes. And then suddenly you're not seeing them every day and it's just like, Oh, I wonder, I wonder what they're doing right now.

Onnie: Do they still think of me?

Eddy: We have a little group chat where it's like, there's a lot of memes and a lot of little, I miss you gifs and just like love hearts and rainbows to each other.

Onnie: I have to say at the beginning of, uh, isolation, the memes were fire.

Eddy: Oh my God

Onnie: People, there were so many good ones. Things have seriously declined since then, my favorite meme group on Facebook have descended into jorts and Shrek memes, and they have a boomer Thursday now and like I could take just boomer Thursday was just, people would just post terrible boomer memes, you know, where it's like, the punchline is always like I hate my wife. And I can try to take that. Like I kind of, I enjoy the irony of it that you can't have like three ironic meme days out of a week when we're all home all the time. I'm like you can make a jorts thread, you can make a Shrek thread. I don't want to see that all, like I intensely disliked jorts now.

Eddy: I have to admit I'm not yet as developed in my understanding and taste of memes. I mostly just stick to the Elle Woods Legally Blondes memes.

Onnie: Well, that's fine. You've got Brooke and Siarn there and they're on fire.

Eddy: Brooke is the meme queen.

Onnie: Yes, Yes. Oh my God.

Eddy: Um for our listeners Brooke is a one of the amazing artists I work with and I don't think anyone has ever been better at sharing memes than, than Brooke, or even in her drunken state, creating them.

Onnie: Does she have her own meme page yet?

Eddy: Not yet, but I have been begging her to do a meme page and a YouTube channel. You should see some of the videos she's left on my phone when we've partied.

Onnie: I know.

Eddy: I'll send them to you.

Onnie: I would follow the YouTube channel Brooke at the Hamo

Eddy: Right.

Onnie: We'll just call it The smoking section,

Eddy: Havin a fuckin duzza at the Hamo.

Onnie: I know next time, the next time I come up, I really want to come and party with you guys. And you should come out too, um, but yeah mainly

Eddy: We, last time we worked out, we can do it at my house when Amy was here. We just like had a fashion show and went through my

Onnie: I saw the fashion show

Eddy: My costume box and it was lit.

Onnie: Oh man. Yeah. That'd be great to have a fashion show again. I mean, I've been buying a ton of clothes from like my tattooer mates and that's, that's been awesome. Um, but mainly I just live in my like yoga pants these days.

Eddy: I can't wait till we're all back at New Zealand, um, Tattoo and Art Convention, and your booth, where you and Sam are always on fire and bring the fashion. I remember your Christmas theme booth last year. Sam's always just glitter and rainbows.

Onnie: I just want to say for anyone out there that is thinking about doing a Christmas theme booth, don't do it. People don't like it.

Eddy: I loved it

Onnie: I was so excited to do this Christmas booth. I thought people were going to be really into it. I'm like who doesn't love Christmas. It's the happiest time of the year. People don't like Christmas. They don't want Christmas tattoos not an convention anyway. Um, the only way that I could get people into it was to like tie my shirt up.

Eddy: It became smutty Christmas,

Onnie:] It was smutty Christmas. I mean, it was already smutty Christmas, All the Christmas designs with smutty Christmas designs, but

Eddy: I wear the hell out of your smarty Christmas shirt. That's like, it's like a weekly, like thing that I wear that shirt as soon as it comes out of the wash it's back on again.

Onnie: Amazing. I'm so happy about that. I still have, I still have quite a few like big sizes in that, because I think the last shirt I did was black and it's like, I sold out of XLs straight away. So I got a bunch of XLs made up in this one, but are ran out of smalls first up, I think. Yeah, that was all the girls wanted a pink shirt with the bondage babe on it just sitting on top of this guy

Eddy: Was so good.

Onnie: Yeah. But I am, I am really, really looking forward to that. I hope that's going ahead in November. Um, but if not, you know, the years just go faster and faster now. So yeah.

Eddy: Yeah they do, I can't believe it's May already we'll be back to tattooing in no time. I'm sure.

Onnie: I thought you were going to say November.

Eddy: Please no. How, like, how do you reckon this current situation is going to affect tattooing? Like, or how we experience art even?

Onnie: Um, I I'm really hoping that it reminds people just how important art is in these times, um, in whatever capacity, whether you're talking about a tattooing or theater, film, or movies, I've been listening to so much music, uh, and really. I guess really kind of examining all of this, this stuff that I'm looking at, whether it's the books I'm reading or the TV shows that I'm not watching while I draw, or the artwork that I'm making, um, and how that has the capacity to make you feel less alone and less isolated in your, in your circumstances. Um, so I hope that that gives people a sense of like greater importance or that there's greater importance placed on, um, on the arts at the same time I think things are going to be really different. I mean, here in Australia, we, uh, I think the majority of tattooers are eligible for some form of welfare welfare generally. Um, Job Keeper.

Eddy: Yeah. If they're residents. Yeah.

Onnie: If they're residents, um, but uh, over in the US that's not the case, they don't have the same. They don't have any welfare for tattooers.

Eddy: It's so ridiculous.

Onnie: It's ridiculous. Well, because it's also illegal for them to open up. And so people are fighting for the right to reopen their studios, um, which is dangerous still dangerous.

Eddy: Yeah. It's difficult because you

Onnie: Cause I'm a big expert.

Eddy: Yeah. Well, that's it like what, none of us are really experts, but like, you know, from what we're told, it's it's dangerous. But then at the same time, of course, they're going to fight. They're terrified. They're not going to pay their rent or eat or look after their families. It must be so scary. And artists just, I mean, imagine being an isolation without art. We just couldn't do it.

Onnie: Well that's just, that's just solitary confinement.

Eddy: Exactly. Like we need to respect artists and look after them.

Onnie: Yeah. Yeah, absolutely. And I mean, expecting, I mean, cutting off people's livelihood, but expecting them to still maintain all of their outgoings, um, is ridiculous and impossible. So yeah. Um, I'm very, I'm very worried for my friends over there. Um, I don't, uh, I don't really have a clear idea yet of what that's going to mean for tattooing, whether that means you have, uh, artists moving out of tattooing into a more secure job. Um, I think the situation would be similar to Australia where there's not even if you move out of the job that you've got now, which job are you going to move into?

Eddy: Yeah.

Onnie: So I guess I'm sort of withholding, um, my opinion until I know more or I can actually make any kind of informed guess.

Eddy: Yeah, it could go back to the way it was, you know, in the early days in Western tattooing where, you know, it was a tattoo shop and a barber shop and, you know, multiple other kind of trades all in one little, little house.

Onnie: Well, that's it. I don't know if you've been to Sleeve Masters here in Sydney.

Eddy: No I haven't.

Onnie: It's still, it's the same venue that it's been, and it's this tiny, tiny, narrow shop. And you come in and there's a counter. And then there's the tattoo studio. And that the artists chair, and then there's like a little room behind that I think with like a sink, but the toilet's not even in the shop.

Eddy: Wow.

Onnie: Um, so, you know, it's very, very old school and, uh, and really, really tiny. And I do kind of love that atmosphere. Um, it's very different to sort of the big, calm, open spaces of a lot of studios nowadays, but yeah. Uh, it's, it's definitely a fun spot to get tattooed in. So I wouldn't be mad if we had more kind of like just figure it out as you go along tattoo shops, you know as long as everyone's clean, then it's fine.

Eddy: Yeah. There's a space like I think, you know, there's a risk that we'll lose walk-in shops, but I think if people are creative, we can have like lots of different ways of going about tattooing that's still safe. And I guess like, Legal so that we can operate without getting fined, but you know, like we can get creative with it.

Onnie: There's like so much money lying around now

Eddy: Yeah. Anyway, um, I want to go back to something you mentioned earlier about. Um, the discussions you have regarding feminism or, you know, different opinions and theories and how to mitigate them. Cause I know that that's something that you talk about a fair bit and that we were talking about before this interview, um, like what, what, what is, what is your approach?

Onnie: Um, I guess in in these kinds of discussions. I think it's really important to God is there's a couple of things. Um, these are often really hard discussions to have, and I like to choose my words really carefully. Um, you know, because it's, I think it's easy for meaning to be misconstrued. So, Ummm. I think that listening is of course really important. I think that the majority of times, if you're discussing, I think that the pros for feminism and the cons for feminism, when you have two different people coming at it from opposing sides, I think often they want the same solution. But have very different ideas about either what feminism is or means um, and don't fully understand it. And I think the opposite can also happen, um, where you can assume someone's intentions or, and, uh, and both it's very easy, I guess, to misconstrue what the other person's saying, or to really stick to your assumptions about what they're saying. And the most successful discussions I've had have, I guess also taught me something about, about the other person, about the way that the other person thinks, um, about their sort of fears or apprehensions.

And when you can get to the root of those emotions, that's when you have an opportunity to I guess change someone's mind or actually make them receptive to hearing your experience. Yeah. Um, and again, look like, like I said earlier, this having these kinds of discussions is a lot of work. You know, it really does require effort not to let your emotions overpower you when you feel really passionate about something. And that's absolutely something that I I struggle with, and Greg will tell you, we've had some discussions about feminism where we've just been like, look, we just agreeing to disagree here. And he fucking loves, he loves to wind me up.

Eddy: But that's how we, that's how we learn to like the, the discussion back and forth. Like, you know, I wasn't always a feminist. I didn't always have the knowledge I have now, but it's through understanding that it was the fear that's like been bred into me by society of all of these changes and all these like dynamics. I don't understand. And then once you start to understand those and understand how they affect our behavior and our language and everything like that, then you can start making those changes, but you have to be able to have a conversation and be challenged but listen.

Onnie: Yes. Yeah, that's so important. And I think everyone grows up like that. You, you grow up, uh, trying to understand the status quo and how to fit into that. I mean, that's what being a person is about. And I think that. Uh, fitting in with other people is something that's really hardwired in us. Um, and so if you live in a patriarchal society, which we do, um, those are going to be seen as the ideas that are normal and acceptable and right. And it's yeah. It's like you say, until you realize that maybe your own experience or the experiences of others or the things that you see in the world, uh, don't add up. Then that's when you begin to question and challenge that, um, but people can spend a lot of their time, uh, often their whole life trying to fit in. And so when you challenge that, that, that becomes a very personal confrontation.

Eddy: Yeah.

Onnie: Um, Just because they've invested so much in maybe suppressing these things in themselves that you're embracing and saying, Hey, we don't have to put up with that. That's not actually right. And let's do something about it.

Eddy: Yeah.

Onnie: And you feel like you've been fighting in the wrong direction, your whole life. Like, Oh my God. I thought if I just conformed that I would be happy. And now you're saying I have to rail against conformity in order to be happy.

Eddy: Yeah. It's hard how are we? We just want to be normal, but then being normal is actually quite toxic because who does, who prescribes normal anyway, and it's just.

Onnie: That's it. And there is no normal there's no,

Eddy: No, there shouldn't be.

Onnie: I've never met a normal person in my whole life. Even the most normal people that you meet might have some giant Koi tattoo on their back that you don't know about. And tattoos are definitely not normal.

Eddy: No, no. Anyone with a tattoo is a freak.

Onnie: Absolutely. I think we can all agree on that. Especially porno tattoos.

Eddy: Yeah. If you've got a fucking like shunga tattoo then nah, you don't belong. Nope. Sorry guys.

Onnie: Actually, someone, someone did say like what one of the Instagram questions was. Um, if you've had any negative reactions to your work as, as an erotic tattooer, um, And sometimes yes, people have those kinds of reactions. My favorite thing, this comes up all the time at conventions, like some people will wander off that, look at the really filthy stuff, then I'll be like, why would anyone even get this? People get tattoos of things that they like and some people like blowjobs.

Eddy: Yeah.

Onnie: Um, you know, there's sort of an idea of if you're going to get tattooed, there's a certain set of things or parameters that you can, you can acceptably get tattooed sometimes, you know, people say, well, it has to be really meaningful. Has to be something you would never change your mind about.

Eddy: The thing I hate when they're like, Oh, it's something that, you know, you won't be ashamed of on your wedding day. Like what. Who give a fuck. Put a fucking dick on my forearm for my wedding day please.

Onnie: Done. I'll see you after quarantine. Are you going to renew your vows with like a nice big, like forehead dick.

Eddy: Like, um, that the woman in that old tattoo book that got around about a decade ago where she's got like all of these dicks across her chest and butt, and there's like the cockroaches and everything.

Onnie: Is it the Dave Lum Yeah. The Dave Lum necklace,

Eddy: I think so.

Onnie: The dick necklace.

Eddy: Yeah.

Onnie: For anyone, for anyone wondering, uh, what I look like. Um, me and that lady are fairly physically similar. I do not have a Nicholas, a dick necklace.

Eddy: Not yet anyway.

Onnie: A dick nicklas. But I wish I did. Um, I deeply regret never getting tattooed by Dave Lum. And I've been really lucky when I'm in the States to see a bunch of his tattoos in the flesh. Sadly, never the dick necklace one day.

Eddy: One day.

Onnie: Yeah. So it's actually, it's funny that you bring that up. Cause of course I said, you know, there were so few people getting pornographic tattoos before, before me and, and sort of these other artists I mentioned, um, which is of course, uh, just proved not true at all. People have always been amazing filthy perverts who love sex.

Eddy: Oh Yeah. Absolutely.

Onnie: And if you look back through newspaper records, you can find an article from almost every decade from the 1910s until today saying how tattooing is not underground anymore. Now it's becoming mainstream and it's not just for sailors of criminals. Every 10 years they bring this article out. It just makes me laugh because of course, I guess it's always been a little bit mainstream and a little bit subversive. And when, and it's, it's such a personal art form, so you don't have the same kind of control, let's say, um, is evident in, uh, like fine art, but you have gallery owners and curators and they, they can very specifically control who they, they think should be popular and, and whose work is going to be um, expensive, um, tattooing, you know, you're always dealing with sort of one on one clients. So while there is like a very, in, in all facets of society, very strong ideas about what is normal and acceptable. Uh, you get to meet some amazing people who have fantastic ideas outside of that, about, um, you know, what they like, what they want to decorate their body with. Um, and it's been such a privilege to. Have so many great clients. Who've shared so much with me about their, you know, their sexual experiences, um, their orientations. I am constantly surprised by how normal people look and the wild ass stories that they tell me.

Eddy: That's like, that's, that's one of the best parts of it. Like the stories you hear. In this journey while you're traveling, tattooing and like the shit you see in the stuf you hear.

Onnie: It's wild. Yeah. And I'm really, that's something that I miss so much right now is traveling and I can't wait to get overseas again, really, really excited about getting to do more traveling. And

Eddy: You've always been a big traveler hey?

Onnie: Yeah. Yeah. And my, um, you know, my mum has always been a big traveler as well. And, uh, you know, she's from Canada. So she moved over to Australia and then never left. So, I mean, I haven't, I just keep coming back to Australia. Like, I don't know. Maybe I should find some other country to live in for awhile.

Eddy: You'll come back.

Onnie: Yeah. I mean, I do love it here. I probably will always come back and we are very, very fortunate here as much as I rail against the government. Um, and send them a lot of, I've been sending Scott Morrison memes every time I see a real sassy one, I just email it to him. And even though, uh, I don't think he personally is receiving them. I'm hoping that I'm like slowly converting his staff.

Eddy: Yeah. They're probably all just being like, Oh wait, he is a joke. No, my favorite ones are all the Scotty no, from Austin Powers.

Onnie: Oh, my God. I haven't seen any of those.

Eddy: Ok, I will send them to you. Yes.

Onnie: We'll put them up on the screen.

Eddy: Yeah. It's yeah, we, we have like a lot of other patriarchal colonial countries. We have absolute bullshit dick wads in charge, but you know, Maybe we can burn them down and start a new one day.

Onnie: I'm going to continue to accept the welfare money that I contributed an enormous amount of tax towards.

Eddy: Damn right.

Onnie: And yeah.

Eddy: I paid tax. I'm taking that welfare.

Onnie: Exactly. That's exactly it. It's just funny that I gave you guys recently anyway.

Eddy: And I want everyone else taking that welfare too. Even if they didn't pay tax because you deserve it cause you're a human.

Onnie: Well, exactly. That's, you know, we live in a society, right?

Eddy: We've got to abide by their silly laws. They should fucking pay us.

Onnie: Totally totally well that's, I mean, it's, you know, it's a cycle it's, um, it has to be a cycle. So yeah, I mean, I hope, I hope people are doing really well. And I just wish so deeply that, um, everyone had the same kind of luxuries that we do at the moment. Um, yeah, so, and in the meantime, hopefully a nice comic book will help people.

Eddy: Definitely.

Onnie: Even if it's just some form of escapism for a short time.

Eddy: I think that's, yeah. It's, it's those little, those little moments where we can escape that will get people through it. For sure.

Onnie: Yeah. Yeah. And it's important. It's important to have a rest from the crushing existential horror

Eddy: Stop start worrying about when you can go back to tattooing and have a wank.

Onnie: That's it. That's it.

Eddy: Well.

Onnie: Um, Yeah, I was going to say, I think I have to head off.

Eddy: That's all right. Is there anything you wanted to mention before we finish up?

Onnie: I think I've pretty much covered everything. Uh, I'll give you the TLD address and, uh, send you through a bunch of cool memes um, for you and everyone else to laugh at.

Eddy: Well I'll post, for our listeners, I'll post a bunch of pictures and links, um, for the things that we've discussed, um, in our blog. Um, I'll also put links in the show notes and, um, yeah, you'll be able to listen to the episode on Spotify and iTunes and a few other channels. Um, Yeah, make sure you subscribe follow and share and help spread the love of tattooing. Um, thank you so much Onnie for sharing your story and to all our listeners for tuning in. We really appreciate it. I hope you all have a brilliant day and remember to love the heck out of yourself.

Onnie: Yeah, awesome, all right. So nice talking to you.