Antares ✨

"It was found in the wild forests of Enyhdorei," his temporary handler tells the one who is coordinating this event. "It has changed hands at least twice for each year since it was found. Only nine of its previous owners are alive." 

"And it still hasn't given up its magic yet? Or shed this form? I thought they were supposed to take on the species of the creatures they were raised by?" 

"It's been very resistant." 

They keep speaking, and Tomura knows these places. He knows that there will be many cages, that some will hold creatures that will truly have the intelligence of animals, that there will be slaves of both magical and non-magical species present, that they will be poked, prodded, and pulled into a holding room for potential buyers to gawk at before they decide if they'll place a bid for them when the auction proper starts. He knows that he will fetch the highest sum of anyone here because, despite the form he still clings to, and how many of his former masters he has already killed, everyone wants to change their fate, and they will risk life and limb to have Tomura reach into the strings and make their dreams come true. 

He stays perched on his web. The force cage that he is in is probably a meter by a meter square, and it's not really big enough for him to spread out his legs to their full length past the second joint, but he is more comfortable perching on the tiny web he was able to construct than crouching on the bottom of the cage. They talk for a while longer, and then his cube is levitated out of the room. Always rooms. He has seen the interior of so many buildings, but since he was taken from the burrow he hatched in, he has not seen the outside. He is too smart, too crafty, too dangerous to be moved on carts. He is always teleported into new buildings, and he doesn't like this one very much. It is large, with enchanted lights glowing on the ceiling, and intricate molding that he recognizes as being elven-made. He has had seven elven masters, and he does not like them much. He doesn't like any of his masters, but they despise the shape of him, always trying to surround him with their magic and infuse it into his web so that he will turn into something prettier for them to look at. He always pulls off chunks of his exoskeleton when he can feel them growing warm with that influence. It hurts, but he will not take the shape they try to force on him, and he kills anyone who tries to get close enough to touch him to make the reaction instantaneous. 

He is brought to the room with other creatures, and this one, he sees, is mostly non-humanoid beings like himself. Unicorns, fae-dragons, elementals, sapient greenery, all sequestered off in their own cubes. Most appear docile, but Tomura can feel the heavy weight of sleep magic in the air. It cannot make a creature like him sleep, not when he navigates dreams as easily as he does the waking world, but he assumes that means this venue is well-funded and cautious. That's no good for him. He has never succeeded, but he always has a better chance of getting further into an escape attempt in one of these venues rather than the personally warded homes of the people who purchase him. He doesn't know if he will even make the attempt this time. The enchantments are much greater in this building than the last, and there are guards stationed to either side of his container as he is put in place. They watch him intently, ensuring that he doesn't dare use his fangs against the walls of the cage and pull the magic out of the enchantment. 

So Tomura sits, pretending to be as docile and drowsy as the others being held in this room, longing for the feeling of the woods beneath his feet. 

///

Despite how many elves were present, the mortal who purchases him is a human. Ryoma Shima is a mortal in his early forties with fine clothes, dark hair, well-groomed facial hair, and a tall, broad build. He has a woman with him, on a leash, the thick gold collar that reaches from beneath her chin to the tops of her shoulders, etched with so many runes that it's clear he must have paid an arm and a leg to find the spellwork needed to keep a succubus as a pet he presumably gets a lot of 'use' out of. Tomura does not like this, nor does he like that he can feel it the first time that Ryoma Shima is told his first name, but he cannot fight it as an old thread is snapped and another is attached to this man, his dreams flowing into him. Conquest. Not that of a warlord, no, the violence that he commits is so much more personal. He wants to own pretty things, powerful things, things that other people will see and desire, showing that he is worth more than any of them because he can possess them so completely. He has a minotaur guarding his estate, a succubus warming his bed each night, a garden housing rare, dangerous magical plants behind his home, and a library of cursed treasures inside. And each and every one has been broken in some way to ensure that they suit him always and never meet his arrogance with the backlash he so deserves. He does not want the responsibility of ruling anyone, but he will never tire of being a tyrant over the people and beings he takes into his home. His dream is unfocused, nebulous, malicious. He wants Tomura because he wants to own. He will be the one who makes Tomura something beautiful, who takes his abilities for his own, and before he even has to exert that control over his fate, he will have already won because the simple ability to do so will be the acclaim that he has always wanted. Tomura hates this man more than either of his previous two owners, and they had far more ambitious dreams.  

There are a scant few forms of magic that work on a creature such as him, the enchantments to keep him caged powerful and expensive, often outlawed because using such magic for too long rots a mage from the inside out. That rot can spread, seeping into the land around the place where they cast most frequently and the place where their corpse is interred, and it can corrupt the land, bringing creatures that seek out that vile magic and can breed their own host of problems. So Tomura usually feels relatively assured that he will be safe from having his mind befuddled by spellwork that could force his body to comply. He has traded hands and moved locations so many times because the magic to tame him is so dangerous, and this arrogant man, he believes, will soon discover this as well. But he had thought he would stay in the country where he was born. Tomura believes it is named Stuoles. The mortal names for things are not ones that he typically cares to know, not when he is far too embroiled in parsing fate and dreams from the threads that weave their way through all of existence and stretch far beyond the boundaries of countries. But he knows from the golden piety that encases so many of the threads in this place he has lived his whole life, that there is a deep connection to at least one god. It makes pockets of darkness and corruption harder to form, and its citizens reticent to do anything to disturb that peace. But when Ryoma Shima takes him from that building where he was bought, he brings him somewhere else, somewhere far, far away, and those golden strands he has surrounded himself with for nearly two decades slip away, and they are brought into a new sprawling expanse where rot is already heavy on every thread. Trepidation begins to surge through Tomura's body, but he tries to believe that this will be no different than any other time that he has been held. He tries to assure himself that the cage will have to be opened for him to eat eventually, and when that happens, he will take in some of this corruption, and it will feed him just as well. He is not a creature of the gods, nor the devils. He is beyond both, above them. His ancestors created both. He will be safe. He will just need to learn if he likes this new flavor as much as the ones he grew up on. 

They travel for a long time, through many more buildings and teleportation circles, and when they finally arrive at the man's estate, Tomura is not given a good look at it. They cover his shell in a shroud of darkness to blind him to his surroundings, and then they bring him inside. There are many bodies in this place, and Tomura is hit with a wave of sickness as they pass. The people inside this place are sick, perhaps not in body, but in spirit, their desires having been broken down so terribly that most are so fleeting and empty that they cannot hold onto one for longer than perhaps a few weeks. Every dream, upon their return, is for their master's attention, because they wish to eat. How long was the travel from where Tomura was to this place? How long have these creatures been starving until their desires and fate have been so deeply emaciated that all they can think of is their want of food, rather than anything else in the world? Tomura huddles tighter to his web. He has felt such a weight of tragedy once before, when he was much younger, and a flood rose the river near his master's home and destroyed the farmland and so many houses. But even then, when famine came, there was variation in the suffering and the dreams of easing it. There were people who dreamed of food, ones who dreamed of assurance and comfort in their grief at the loss of loved ones, those who desired warmth and safety as they huddled with unfamiliar others as they tried so hard to make due with their circumstances, people who just so broadly wished for hardship to pass and let their lives return to what once was, those who wanted this pain passed onto their enemies. So much suffering, so many different desires, but in the house of Ryoma Shima, there is but one, and it pounds against Tomura's mind from the moment they enter the grounds, and he fears that he too will never eat again. 

He certainly does not eat that night, once his cage has been deposited where the man wants it. The shroud is not removed either. It is left on, he is left in the dark, and he does not have anything else to do or think, but that this place, already full of rot, will not let him go. No one will care what Shima must do to keep him caged, so he will not change hands again. Not unless he finds a way to become too much of a danger to the other man. He isn't sure he is capable of that, but he will try. He has to. 

He is left in the dark, with the house around him starving, with nothing of his own to eat for... a long while. He can't tell the days. Normally, he feels it when people sleep, but there is none of that. Whatever creatures Shima has surrounded himself with, they do not sleep, and their hunger is so large that Tomura cannot tell when or if he sleeps at all either. He feels mortal, but the creatures around him don't, and Tomura grows more and more frightened of what that means for the cruelty that he is able to enact. 

He learns too soon why this man has filled his space with hungry, feral things, demons. Dozens of them. Succubi mostly, but he houses one or two incubi as well, those creatures starving far worse than the rest as he forces them to feed from being dominated rather than from domination as their bodies should need. They suffer the most, their skin raw with how they claw at it like that will pull it away from being suctioned so tightly to their bones with hunger. The scent of their desperation makes all of the succubi worse, too. They throw themselves at the others, trying to alleviate some of their discomfort, but the nature of their being is that they cannot feed one another; they must derive their meals from mortals, and the suffering in this estate only grows greater. Tomura has suffered a great deal in his life, too. He was torn from the nest of the community he sought for himself in his youth; he has been caged, beaten, cursed, starved, poked and prodded with both spells and medical instruments, exorcised, and violently sainted once by a church that believed returning him to the Everhearth would save souls– theirs and his own. But never before has he been as afraid as he is in this estate, as he can only taste the desperation of hunger and the dream of conquest that clings to his new master's every cruelty. And he is left to stew in it, no food brought to his cage, no larger accommodation made for him than this tiny temporary holding cell, for the better part of three weeks once they have arrived. He cannot die of starvation, but he feels like he suffers a thousand deaths in this place anyway. 

The change that goes through the building is palpable when it comes. It is a wave that rolls through the halls like a curtain of cursed fog that mages use to kill enemies who believe hiding from sight will protect them from their wrath. The hunger doesn't abate; it just changes tone. He feels it, the desperation, the violence. Succubi, incubi, they are demons, yes, but they are a people. They share culture, customs, but in this place, they share suffering, and that is too great, too individual for them to ignore now as they surge towards the dark basement room that Tomura has been trapped in. Hunger, hunger, hunger. There is no beating heart in this place, only the clenching stomach of something that needs to eat or it will die, it will pull itself open, it will shove dirt and maggots inside of its abdomen just to make it full. Tomura presses his legs tight to his body, and he tries to make himself small in a cage already not made for him as a wave of demons enters the chamber and clamors over one another to try to get to him. Tails are pulled, claws rake across skin, feathers of so many different patterns and colors litter the floor– all of them accented with red as he watches in horror as they squeeze through that entrance, trampling each other, careless of the violence they inflict, as they try so desperately to get to him. 

There are bodies on the floor, holes pierced in them by high heels and sharp talons, bone fragments, and blood seeping out from beneath feet and fingers as the first wave of demons surge forward and begin to batter themselves against his cage, trying to break the enchantment by scraping their claws against it, unable to move the force cage from its anchor point within the circle. The first wave of them is crushed against the wall, and Tomura can only chitter with his terror as he watches their blood slush across the surface with ruined meat, the second wave being speared by the hollow bones of their wings as those splinters burst free of flesh. He feels their dreams die, and the next wave hits, with that same immense hunger, Hunger, HUNGER. 

A cage like this should be impervious to harm. A cage like this should be opened easily by his master, who can stop the enchantment with a snap of his fingers. With a flick of his wrist, a minor incantation, he could make this entire room Tomura's cage. Ryoma Shima knows this. And through the din of violence and hunger, when the last of his creatures have made it into this room and are trampling the corpses of their kin just for a chance to be fed, Tomura senses his desires more acutely than any other, and terror comes for him anew. No. No!

Tomura wants to batter himself against the walls too. He wants to run. He wants to get away from this onslaught because never before has he felt so sure that he will not be able to protect himself from what is about to happen. No, no, no! Fingers break, talons bend back out of nail beds as they scrape against his cage, as this final wave of desperate bodies spills around each side of the container like the flood that destroyed that village, and leaves him no possible escape. No one has ever tried this before. He has killed everyone who has ever attempted to touch him once he was out of his adolescence. He made sure that none could change his form, could open the lock that his body built around his ability to access the magic that all seek from his kind. He would not let them peel off this exoskeleton and force him into a new form, one that would be so much easier to control. Ryoma Shima conquers. He is cruel, with only the idea of ownership to satisfy the emptiness in his soul. Does he have a soul? Could a creature with one craft a building steeped in so much violence that even the spawn of Hell are nothing to its machinations of torment? Dozens of demons, starved, desperate, and all under his control, now dead or dying for his will, and too desperate to serve it to try and turn their strength, and teeth, and claws back on him. They will kill each other, tear open the spider as they were told, just so they can be fed by their master. But Tomura sees the shape of Shima's plan now, his dream as his whole body hums with an iridescent light that only he can see, as he is so certain he is about to clasp it in his hands. One will remain. It will peel off Tomura's armor, will force him to take this shape that Shima has learned how to control so thoroughly, and then he will end the demon and spend all of his time breaking this new pet until he finds a way to make life more interesting by seeing how many other strings Tomura's abilities can pull. Before that, though, he will take great satisfaction in breaking him, with tools, hunger, drugs, enchantments, his cock. 

Tomura understands all of this as the force cage breaks and he drops into the gore below, legs splashing through blood as he tries to run for the first time in his life, too terrified of his captor to fight back. 

///

There was a raid scheduled last week; Dabi knows that. Raids come with an influx of new creatures to care for, both sapient and not, and they are always slammed and desperate for help after that. But Dabi hadn't been called in. There aren't many of them here, so Dabi always gets called in when they need help. He has three jobs now, technically. The first is what secures him room and board. He works as a chore boy at an inn at The Waiting Moon. He honestly doesn't really do much there. He sometimes helps out washing linens or dishes, mopping the tavern floor, making beds, and, on the rare occasion, he cooks if the chef is sick or has a family emergency, though that has only happened twice in his now three-year tenure. Mostly, what he does there is... stay. He doesn't know which of his siblings had the foresight to purchase a small, but secure business, hire on a cousin of their mother's to run the place with a relation to them so distant and convoluted that Saika Himura doesn't really consider them family by blood but by bond as she does her best to do what she can for their mother now, since she could not save her before she was purchased by Enji. Most of the time, Dabi gets in, and he goes to her office. He makes her tea, and they sit in silence for a while. But she was his mother's best friend long before he was born, and now, she keeps his mother a citizen and a patient in this country rather than a prisoner, by deeming her the landowner of this business. She watches him, sometimes. And once Dabi left the inn and didn't return for a month when she told him that she and his mother used to dream about the day they would have children of their own. How Rei was so sure that her first child would be a perfect baby boy. He didn't need to know that he'd been a disappointment before he was even conceived. He works there because it's the only housing he'll get if he wants a private room. He doesn't want to spend the rest of his life camping or living with roommates. So he works there, lives there, as he saves money. Or at least that's supposedly what he's doing as he works two other jobs. 

His second job is less formal. He's a mercenary, and he'll take anything on the job board that doesn't look like it will make him travel too far. He's done a lot of traveling already in his life, worn blisters into his feet until they were just calluses, and the soles of his boots fell apart. He doesn't want to travel like that anymore, so he takes the jobs he can get, guarding a shop, patrolling around the city, breaking up fights during festivals. He doesn't really make money at his first job, so the job board is where most of his coin comes from, and Dabi likes that he doesn't ever know if or when these job postings will run out. They probably never will, not when this is a relatively large city, and people always need something, but Dabi imagines what it would be like to walk up one day and find every single flyer taken down. He thinks he'd sit down and count how many holes have been nailed into the boards behind it over the years. 

His third job, the one that had a raid last week, is not somewhere he ever thought he would gravitate towards, but it's where he walks now as he goes to see what happened. The Guild of Iron Maggots is a deeply distasteful name, and one, to Dabi's understanding, that was chosen out of spite. No town or country is happy to have them around; they despise their purpose, but they are too important, too necessary to kill. They are the ones who get their hands in the muck and blood and make problems go away. They are resilient, dangerous, disgusting– because they handle the nasty business that is dealing with sapient creatures that are not of the mortal races, but that have been afforded rights by gods, fey, devils, and, reluctantly, governments who want to stay on the good side of the more powerful creatures that could end them all if they don't. Sometimes they are just run-of-the-mill monster hunters. While most creatures are cared for by some deity in some pantheon somewhere, most gods also recognize the truth and necessity of lives ending as often as they start, and they do not interfere when their creations are put down like animals if they wander into the wrong place or incite wrath by sowing their own machinations of strife through the world. That, really, is no different from mercenary work that Dabi takes from the job board, with the exception that everyone who holds a position in the guild is trained to fight monsters with both magic and through an extensive library they are required to study in for no less than seven hours a week. But sometimes, it's not a demon wreaking havoc that they're called to put down. Sometimes it's a poached griffin or sphinx that they need to foster until they can find its parents or a new home. Sometimes it's a devil who was pulled into this world against their will, bound to it, who now has to make a life for themself here or become a monster to mortals and fight to survive for the rest of their existence. Sometimes monsters come to them, scared and desperate, fleeing the borders of other countries that are so pious in their worship of this or that deity that they will be slaughtered, even if they should be considered a full citizen of that land, and the Iron Maggots offer them shelter. They offer them a path forward, resources to ensure that they have a chance, support, and, if they can, a way back home. The violence and unsavory portion of their work are the things that are talked about in the street, the things that politicians always claim to want to squash if they are given another term, more taxes, whatever. But the Iron Maggots have remained for five centuries now, across thirteen different countries, because no matter how hated they are, just like the insects of their namesake, they are too necessary to be removed. 

Dabi enters the guild hall, the building only second to the city council's in sheer scale, and finds that there is a buzz in the air that tells him the raid certainly did happen, and they'd brought something back. Something powerful, because the air is so thick with the magic of their reinforced wards that Dabi can barely breathe through it. 

He took this job because it makes consistent money for him. Seven hours minimum studying a week, ten gold a month in dues, but for his time tending the grounds, making food, spending time with the creatures in their care, or getting paperwork together to help find them citizenship where best would suit their needs, Dabi receives a seventy-five gold piece stipend on the third of each month. He doesn't need either of his other jobs to live a moderate, but comfortable, life, but he still takes them, because he does not want to travel anymore, and they do not always have real work to do in the guild. Even so, Dabi is a good worker, a hard worker, when he does wander in to study or do what work is needed, and so he feels fairly sure of himself when he seeks out this chapter's Guild Master, Atsuhiro Sako. 

He understands just how badly things went when he finds him out behind the guild hall, overseeing the line of five wagons, each filled to the brim and dripping blood from the carriages, as Sako instructs people to lay out the bodies on the ground, group by group, in the summoning circle laid in stones that opens the gateway to their contact in the infernal realm, a contact who is standing with Sako, their heads dipped together as they speak. Dabi met Noboru Yasutake once before. He was a mortal man, a few hundred years ago, but he sold his soul to the Demon Lord Vorgan and gave himself to the Hells for eternity. It's considered very, very bad form to ask a turned demon why they would do that to themselves, but Yasutake's reason is known to all because it is embedded deeply into the history of this country. He was one of many advisors to the emperor, the last emperor of Eflil, because that man whose name Yasutake had scrubbed from history was driven mad by his faith in the gods. He believed that if it was true that he was given the right to rule by the divine, then the kingdom should prosper by divine will as well. And he instructed all of his people to fast. He burned his own fields, poisoned wells, made his citizens weaker and weaker– and it did work. Rueyar, god of madness, forced those within their borders to live through that suffering, but it was suffering, and the madness spread. Perhaps there would be immortality for them if they continued on this path. Perhaps the suffering would be worth it. Perhaps they should spread their armies and bring this enlightenment to others. Yasutake was not the only one who tried to stop it, but he was the only one who spoke to a demon rather than shouting down the madness of mortals. He made a deal; he killed the emperor. The exact wording of his contract is his and his patron's alone, but Lord Vorgan is known to be a demon who values souls that were brought to his embrace through fair exchange rather than trickery, and he must have seen worth in Yasutaki great enough to keep an entire country from becoming hell on earth, to have made that bargain. Now Yasutaki works as his liaison with the Iron Maggots, and Dabi suddenly understands why he wasn't called in for the raid. If Hell had a direct line to this one, then Yasutake wouldn't have needed or wanted a lot of fragile mortals around while he was working. Even now, Dabi can see that they're just being used as janitors, though the staggering amount of shredded demon bodies that he sees being unloaded is still more than enough to give him pause. 

He approaches the two men, doing his best not to wince, as coming fully out from the wards around the building proper means he is suddenly subjected to the vile odor of rotting flesh, blood, offal, and waste that clings to the pieces of bodies that have been piled in the caravan. "Sako, Yasutake," Dabi does have the good grace to at least bow to the demon, even if he is a generally pleasant sort. Even his boss isn't that bad, but Dabi isn't going to risk getting killed because the wrong hellspawn saw him not abiding by proper traditions. "What happened?" 

It's Yasutake who sighs softly and looks back over the next batch of bodies that are loaded into the teleportation circle to the Hells. They are thirty strong at this location of the guild, but there are only seven that Dabi can see helping to do this work, and he expects that he will be helping with that soon as well. Technically, Dabi does not rank particularly highly, but that's because he keeps dodging Sako whenever the man asks him to take the officer's examination. He doesn't want to be bogged down by having a leadership role. His stomach churns at the thought. "We noticed there was a mortal who had taken contracts with no fewer than ten demons," the massive pile of bodies punctuates that underestimate, "and discovered that he'd found earth-born succubi and incubi to entreat to his service as well. He locked them inside of his home, bound them so they could do him no harm, and starved them." 

"We were alerted by a contact in Stuoles that a Dream Weaver was sold during an auction of exotic creatures and taken into our borders. We didn't realize that both were taking place in the same location until just before our raid." 

Dabi doesn't remark on that. He knows that the two have something going on outside of work, but sticking his nose into a demon's business is not a wise move. "What happened to the buyer? The creature? Is it... in one of the wagons?" His eyes flick to Yasutake. "Did any–?"

"No. From what I was able to glean from his soul, he starved them, promised them a feast if they could break the creature's adolescent form, and then let them... destroy one another in the pursuit. They all died before they could collect on their contracts." 

"I'm sorry." He doesn't know if Yasutake knows any of these demons, but Dabi offers the condolences anyway. It just seems polite. Yasutake wouldn't have taken this position for centuries if he hadn't wanted to serve the people he surrounds himself with. 

"The Dream Weaver survived," and Dabi can't be sure if he's ever heard Sako sound so exhausted. "I'm still having records pulled by the Stuoles chapter, but it appears he was taken from a spider nest in Enyhdorei at least fifteen years ago, and he's been bought and sold, well, gods know how many times." Sako pinches between his brows, taking a slow breath that cannot be settling with the smell of death hanging so heavily in the air. "He'd clung to that form all that time. The buyer, Ryoma Shima, got what he wanted, at least in part. He couldn't escape being touched, and it induced the change– but he was forming into an incubus. He tried to force him into being a succubus as he was forming instead." 

Dabi frowns. He does his studying, reads their books on demons. He knows that the distinction between succubi and incubi comes down to where they draw their power from. Succubi 'lie beneath', drawing the energy from their victims as they submit to their partner's desires. Incubi 'lie atop' and feed while holding a position of dominance over their partners. Succubi have soft wings with feathers; incubi have wings like those of a bat or dragon, but those are the only distinctions between the two. They can be male or female, present as whatever gender they desire, or none at all. Dabi didn't think that they were capable of changing what energy could feed them, and his eyes flick to the demon beside them unconsciously. 

"It is a violation. If one survives it, it can do lasting damage." Yasutake doesn't elaborate further than that, and Dabi feels even sicker. A living Dream Weaver. A creature like that is a miracle, and the man who bought him... wanted that magic so terribly that contracts with dozens of demons still weren't enough to satisfy him. What a nightmare. 

"We intervened before he could get too far, but the form was still forced on the creature. He is violent, frightened, and refusing to eat now. If he doesn't eat soon, he will fall unconscious and die, because we won't be able to force him to eat without... continuing that procedure." Sako looks like he would rather say anything else, rather plan for any other contingency, but they can't just let a Dream Weaver die. They are such rare creatures, often compared to falling stars or the tears of gods. Letting one die, letting it be violated, if the Gods above don't send a blight across the land for letting it happen, then the creature itself might choose to weave a line of ruin into the fate of every mortal strand it can touch in its dying moments– and there is no telling how far it can reach now that it has been incubating for so many years instead of being taken in by a proper host family sooner. "Dabi, I would have sent for you if I hadn't known you would be in soon." 

"Right." He doesn't swallow, or flinch, or do anything but watch as another mangled corpse gets dropped atop the teleportation circle etched into the ground. "Where is..?"

"He was... violent. We had to put him in the holding chamber. Reydi is in critical condition with the healers. He didn't trust us. I don't know if he sees intentions we hold subconsciously, or if he's just been conditioned to fear anyone who can wield magic, but he wouldn't let any of us get close to him." 

Yasutake doesn't say that extended to him as well; his eyes are on the bodies too. "He is suffering. He was touched by their hunger."

Dabi stands with the two men for another long moment. A starving demon that feeds off of the lifeforce of their victims? That's already bad enough. A starving Dream Weaver, forced into that shape, whose last interaction with a human was an attempted rape, and that can suck the arcana out of a person or twist the threads of fate to destroy them? If this creature doesn't die from its terror and hunger, then it's sure to kill whoever is unwise enough to try to save it. Sako used to fight him when Dabi went all in on suicidal long shots. But this creature is too important to let die, even as he sees the way that the older man's shoulders are so tense and he looks like he is fighting everything in him that wants to tell Dabi not to go into the building. 

"Well, how do I look? Didn't think I would be someone's last meal today. Appetizing enough?" 

"I would go inside soon," Yasutake tells him, his voice still unwaveringly grim. "He probably won't be enticed by the stench of death."

///

Hair brushes his face, tickles along his spine, tangles under his fingers as his nails scratch at the flesh of his neck. He has flesh now, like the soft meat that splattered the cage. The meat he drowned in when it broke and he fell to the floor. Tomura felt his exoskeleton fracture, his bones grow into place throughout his new body, felt the way that his new wings tore from his back as they took shape. Agony, all of it steeped in the blood and hunger of the creatures writhing and dying around him until mortal guards came into the room and dragged him out of it, his body too weak as it transformed for him to be able to do anything other than let the creatures pull him along. 

He was hosed down and thrown into a large bedroom, his vision wrong now that he was limited to only two eyes, as Ryoma Shima came to stand in front of him. 

"What is this? I said to keep the incubi away from it." There's anger in his voice that taints the satisfaction that was otherwise thrumming from his skin. 

"We are the same," the succubus woman who was with him before is still at his side, golden collar chained with a similar leash to the bed, though she has enough leeway to make her way around the large bedchamber. "His being is hungry for domination, rather than supplication, Master." Her kin lay in a dying tangle beneath this room, but she is heedless of their woe, her voice almost uninterested as she looks upon him. 

Tomura has a mouth, a throat; he can speak words in their language now, but he doesn't want to. He doesn't want this shape, doesn't want the hunger that makes his stomach feel as though it will compress his body until he is nothing but stardust. 

Shima approaches him, catches him by the chin, and lifts his head. Tomura still has sharp teeth, but he doesn't know if they will take magic from his skin the way they used to. Still, he has no hesitation when he attempts to bite the man's hand. Mortal flesh hurts so much differently than his adolescent body did as the mortal man strikes him with such violence that he tastes his new blood in his mouth for the first time. Tomura cries out as he is knocked to the floor, and Shima speaks again. "Very well, it's not as if I don't have practice breaking one of these. Chain him to the bed, spread his legs. We'll give it a day or two to take, and after that, contact the surgeon." Tomura is grabbed, arms pulled up as they try to move his body, which is so much bigger and heavier than it was before. "Hmm, tell him that nullification is in order, as well as having his talons and wings removed. We don't want him trying to find ways of undoing my hard work." 

He has wings, claws, and sharp teeth. He doesn't understand all of the words the man says, but he feels some new instinct in this body, something that screams for him that he needs to fight. He has to get away. He should not let any mortal ever deem what should be done with his body. He cannot let this man choose for him. He has to fight, he has to get away–

He does not. Not on his own anyway. He is chained to the bed, the woman sitting beside them, watching as Ryoma Shima forces fingers inside of his body, in a hole that is tight and bleeding now as Tomura cuts his wrists and ankles as he tries to get away, cracking his teeth on the gag in his mouth that keeps him from biting, his wings crushed against his back. That is how he's found when other people enter the room. When spells are flung through the air and the woman is bound in new ethereal chains, when Ryoma Shima is locked in more mortal bindings, and Tomura is free from his. 

He does not think as he leaps from the bed and uses those new claws and teeth to make Ryoma Shima the same spray of gore and blood that he used to force Tomura into this shape. 

He doesn't remember being taken from that place, but he's brought to a new one. Another large building with magic walls that seal him into a cage. He doesn't know who the man is who enters the chamber and strips out of his clothes and tries to touch him, but Tomura is very hungry, and he learns, even though others come in and restrain him while the man is taken away, that blood and flesh do not satisfy this appetite that now lives inside of him. 

///

Dabi moves to the larger holding chamber. It's a room that spans four meters wide and two deep, a permanent enchantment over the room that leaves a force wall separating it like glass from the larger room around it. His crest and name on the scroll of security that Sako holds allow him to move through it like air, but it keeps the man inside contained. There is a privacy screen in place, curved around the small bathroom and upright tub, along with a cot. This is a temporary prison, not a place that they usually house creatures they've rescued. If this one wasn't... in the state he is, he would have been given a small apartment, probably on the second floor of the building, since that's where the best rooms are. But they can't have a feral Dream Weaver in the shape of an incubus able to just open a window and escape to wreak havoc, so they immediately became jailors to a creature that has lived his life in containment. A creature who has wrapped himself in the thin blanket from the cot, and who is sitting in the corner of the room, wings clutched around himself as well, long black claws cutting into his neck again and again, staining his skin and the fabric with blood.

By the gods. Dabi joined this guild, not out of the goodness of his heart, but because it paid well and it was the first thing that stumbled through his path when the one he'd been on was not an option anymore. He didn't join up because he knew that magical creatures needed support in a world that would take everything it could from them, or find excuses to kill them when it felt like they didn't have anything left to offer. But that doesn't mean he's not sympathetic to the creatures that come to be in their care, and he can't help but look at this creature who is clearly in such a state of distress and feel his heart tighten around his pity. 

"Excuse me," he addresses the creature in a calm, low voice, trying not to startle him. He could just walk in and start taking off his clothes, but he doesn't know if he really wants to be ripped limb from limb– probably dick first– if he tries that, so this seems like a more appealing option. 

The creature stiffens, startled, his eyes wide and red as they snap to him as he lingers in the doorway. He doesn't say anything, but the frantic movement of his claws stops, and the cuts start to knit themselves back together very, very slowly. That kind of healing will deplete the scant energy he still has, and Dabi knows that will only make his expiration more swift if he doesn't get something to eat soon. 

"My name is Dabi. Has anyone told you where you are?" He's sure that Sako, Yasutake, someone tried, but he's not sure if this creature was in the state of mind to be able to understand any of it then. He gets no response, so he goes on. "You're in the guild hall of the Iron Maggots. We're an organization that tries to find displaced and mistreated arcane creatures and attempts to find them ways home, new homes, and any resources they might need to be taken care of if they continue to live on mortal lands." He doesn't mention the monsters that are too far gone or that are without reason that have to be put down. He needs this creature to trust him. "We understand that you were stolen from your home many years ago. I'm sorry. We'd like to help you acclimate to your new form and help you figure out where you would like to go and what you'd like to do with your life now that you're free." 

Dabi can't help flinching back as the man, moving with speed far greater than any mortal, suddenly has his bloody hands smearing streaks against the force wall, his wings flared wide, and his teeth bared in a snarl as he speaks. "Free? This is freedom? I thought that I was in another cage. My mistake." 

His heart pounds and sweat prickles his skin, but he takes a breath to steady himself before he goes on, "This is a cage, I'm sorry about that, but you are... volatile and dangerous right now. The last person we sent in to feed you is still with the healers. He might not survive." The look of fury on the man's face does not soften, so Dabi just goes on. "Until you eat and... are in the mind to actually have a conversation with my superiors, we need to keep you here. I'm sure, after everything you've been through, that you would rather get out of this place sooner than later. We don't want to hold you here forever either. We're a home to creatures who want it and a waypoint for ones who prefer to be on their way and just need the resources to move forward." Those red eyes are still suspicious, but the man withdraws from the glass slightly, watching Dabi as he listens. "You were in the form of a spider until very recently, right?" Dabi asks and goes on without an answer. "Do you know what you are now?" 

From the way the creature's jaw clenches, Dabi suspects he knows, suspects he hates it. What would it be like to go from a creature with a completely different anatomy into a body like this? Especially one that was hurt as soon as he took this form, especially one that is now hungry for something he likely never wanted before. 

"Incubi need to feed on nightmares or sex. I'm sure that after the violence you went through, the former is more appealing, but nightmares aren't going to offer you enough energy to help sate that hunger, and getting them isn't as reliable or as readily available as the latter. Once you eat, your body will start to feel better, and you'll be able to talk to my boss and the demon liaison who is here to help with your transition. If you don't eat, you'll die." He isn't sure if this creature cares about living or dying; he just knows that he has to explain these things, needs to get this being to at least consider eating before he tries to enter the room. 

The creature is still eying him, and the next words sting even though Dabi tries not to let them. "You're here to feed me?" 

Dabi knows what he looks like. He hasn't had anyone want to touch him for the better part of three years now. He isn't surprised this creature doesn't want him either. Even though the Dream Weaver was a spider up until very recently, he is an incubus now, and he is beautiful. His long, wavy white hair falls around his face and down his back like silk. His skin is smooth and bright, unblemished save for two small scars on his face and a single point of dark pigmentation below his lips. Angular features and dense, toned muscle lines his body, his inky horns, wings, and long, tapered tail a deep, smooth black that has a red iridescence to it that makes his eyes even more striking. His fingers and toes are tipped with long, sharp black claws that make Dabi's skin prickle with anticipation as he tries to keep his eyes from locking on the long, thick cock and heavy balls between his legs that far exceed the gifts most mortal men can claim to have. He is supposed to be alluring. His good looks are supposed to convince people to ignore their survival instincts and spread their legs for him instead. 

"I'm the primary option, yes, but if you'd prefer a woman, I can ask my boss if any are available to satisfy your hunger." 

"No." His voice is sharp and firm, and Dabi takes another slow breath. He does not want to be the one who has to tell this creature that they will force feed him rather than let him starve to death on their lands. "You'll do." 

He is, at least, relieved enough to not let the tone of those words sour his stomach. "Okay. I can do whatever you want– within reason." He will, honestly, probably do anything this creature asks if doing so will ensure he eats. But Dabi at least wants to try to preserve himself if he can, rather than killing himself recklessly before he's actually done his job. "You're very strong now, and your teeth and claws are sharp. Please, if you can help it, try not to tear my staples or cut my skin." He might also need to tell the creature to wait to put his large cock inside of him until after he knows if the Dream Weaver inherited the sex demon's ability to force self-lubrication. But in all honesty, he can have torn-up insides fixed by healers. The important thing is that this creature eats his fill as quickly as possible. 

The creature watches him for another moment, his hands closing into fists against the wall. "That's it?" 

"Don't use my body as a bathroom, and I'd be even happier," Dabi adds dryly, steadying his nerves as he reaches to start undoing the buttons on his vest. It's mid-spring now, warm enough he didn't bother to put a coat or cloak on over his long-sleeved shirt, vest, and trousers. He doesn't want the creature to destroy his clothes with those sharp claws in his frenzy, so he should remove them before he steps through the wall. "My name's Dabi," he reiterates. "What should I call you?" 

"Bring your belt." The creature tells him without answering his question. Dabi doesn't push his luck. First things first, get this creature to eat. Anything else comes second, even his own life. He hopes there is nothing short of being ripped in half that their healers can't fix if the need arises. So he strips out of his clothes until he's standing naked in the area, leather belt in his hand. 

"Can I come into the room?" He asks, trying to keep his voice calm and soothing. 

"Make a loop with your belt. Put it around your dominant wrist." The Dream Weaver instructs instead. Dabi does so without hesitation, tightening the belt further when the other man looks like he might start to growl when he sees the slack Dabi's left in it. Nerve damage can be healed too, he reminds himself as he makes the loop snug enough he knows his extremities will tingle and ache when the binding comes away. "You can pass through this?" The creature asks, anger still in his voice as he touches the barrier that separates them. He must have watched the others pass through it like air when they came to retrieve Reydi. "Turn around, give me your hands." 

Dabi knows that incubi need to control their partners to feed, but he has a suspicion that necessity has absolutely nothing to do with the demands the Dream Weaver is making of him now. He doesn't care. He will give himself over, make himself into nothing but a doll if that means that he will eat. It's been a long time, and Dabi is tired. He doesn't want the world to burn anymore when he knows that it won't ever reach deeply enough inside to keep him warm. He turns around, takes a few steps back until he feels the wards part around his skin like cool water flowing over him, and then the demon-like creature catches the tail of the belt, brings it around his other wrist just as tightly, and secures it in place so Dabi can't struggle out of the restraints. His sharp-tipped fingers brush his skin as he does so, and his touch is also cold. He's not sure if that is because he's hungry or because he doesn't have the fires of hell boiling beneath his skin, but Dabi can't help shivering. He'd almost hoped that he would have more of his mother's resistance to chill, but no. His whole body is now as weak against it as it was his fire. 

The creature yanks him through the wall with a velocity and strength that still manages to put a bit of terror in his veins, but Dabi goes, just doing his best not to stumble and fall to the floor. It would be more humiliation than his spirit could stand if he ended up braining himself against the foot of the bed long before he could actually help the other creature.  He doesn't really have a chance to think past that, however, because once the Dream Weaver has his hands on him, the man is pulling him off his feet as he turns him around. Bruising fingers catch Dabi's chin, his eyes glowing and crazed, as he pulls Dabi in and brings their lips together with a violence that takes his breath away. Dabi feels the seam through his bottom lip split, but that isn't the only blood that fills his mouth as he can't open his lips quickly enough to keep from being bitten roughly as the overwhelmingly bitter and citrus taste of incubus venom begins to coat his tongue. Dabi has never liked the taste of grapefruit much, and this is very similar, and he dislikes the taste of blood even more, but he knows better than to resist, swallowing down the venom by the mouthful as the creature pushes it past his teeth. His hunger is so potent that Dabi feels his skin start to prickle with heat the moment it settles in his stomach, and even that seems too slow for the other being, his body now pressed tightly against Dabi's, and his long, thick cock already leaking against where it rests against his hip. 

Dabi, in his conscious mind, knows why the other man is so eager, why his hands touch him with a roughness that doesn't seek violence, but screams of the desperate need to be closer, closer, closer, but the venom and touches are still so much for his body that has received nothing of the like for years now. He finds himself doing his best to kiss back, to lock the necessity of this act away and just let the passion from the other being overwhelm him as his venom does its work and sends wave after wave of warmth through his veins. He feels his skin cover itself in goosebumps from the chill of the other man's touch, feels his nipples pebble, and the only warmth in his body settles itself between his legs, not only in his rapidly filling cock, but in a tell-tale tingle that begins at his hole, but needs time to take effect. Dabi doesn't know if he'll get that time because the demon is hungry as he pushes him down onto the bed, claws cutting his skin as his hands try to grab at the meat of his body in fumbling, desperate touches driven entirely by instinct as he tries to sate his hunger. Still, when his tail wraps tightly around his thigh, Dabi spreads his legs so it isn't yanked out of the socket and lets the Dream Weaver settle close. 

A weak moan slips out of his mouth, mingling, he realizes as an afterthought, with the growls and whines that are coming out of the other's throat as he drags his teeth along Dabi's neck. There is no hesitation in his touches, only the desperate need that fills Dabi's head and makes his thoughts just as hazy and desperate too. He can't help how his body feels like he might melt into the bed, and can only be happy that the need inside of him is enough to spur the venom into action more swiftly, because once the other man can get between his legs, he immediately begins to look to get his cock inside of him. Dabi isn't sure that he's ever had anyone want him so badly that they would touch him like a wild animal looking to rut, but it's so easy– so pathetic, a voice whispers in the back of his mind– to let himself believe that he is wanted like that now and want in return. He feels himself beginning to leak, his heartbeat aching along his length as his whole body begins to shake like a coil about to snap, as he feels the being's cock brush against his hole, and the slight, exploratory pressure is enough to send a gush of pre from the tip of his cock and a flood of slick against his thighs and soaking the sheets beneath him. 

The demon's lips clasp over the bud of a nipple at the same moment he slams his hips into Dabi's, burying that generous cock inside of him with no further prep or care, and all Dabi can do is sob as his spine curves, and his prick pulses his cum over his stomach and chest. He feels the way that his rim burns, but doesn't tear, how heavy the creature's cock sits inside him as he pants and trembles while he holds him down on the bed– and the way that lightning crackles in his throat as it is pulled up through his chest, turning the satisfaction and energy released through his orgasm into something the demon can eat. It burns bright blue as it slips from his mouth and Dabi feels a keen ache behind his ribs when it goes, but the Dream Weaver opens his mouth, he leans in, breathes it in, swallows it away with a groan, the edges of his eyes prickling with tears as his hands and hips start to move, his desperation only spurred on by that first taste of what he needs. Dabi can't help moaning as his hips keep moving, his body warmed as his arousal grows again rapidly, wanting nothing more than to lose himself as he becomes a receptacle for the creature's need. 

///

Tomura wants to go home. The thought echoes through him every day, even as the keepers of the Iron Maggots move him from the cell to the 'lightly' warded apartment on the upper floor of their building, like that will make this captivity better for him. Maybe it should. He is no longer, technically, in a cage anymore. They give him clothes for this new body, access to a private bathroom with a wash tub, a bed, mortal food if he wants it, and options for... the other things he has to eat if he doesn't want to starve the way those demons did before. The leader of this guild comes to talk to him, joined by a demon that is soaked in the other man's scent, and Tomura hates them. They can't hide that they ache for this place, that they have dreams and desires that go so much deeper than the words that they speak to him. 

'Home', 'comfort', 'safety', 'peace', they preach. He should not have been taken from the nest he chose as his home as a child, but they cannot take back all the years of torment he endured in small cages as many masters attempted to break him until he would use his abilities. But they will help him to get set up in a new home, they will ensure he wants for nothing, even if he can use his magic to twist the world into giving him anything that he wants. They are bound and determined to ensure that he is healthy, happy, whole– but no matter how much they want to believe they are doing this out of a sense of goodness or duty, Tomura can read the intentions that are tangled deep throughout their very souls. Atsuhiro Sako wants to help people, creatures like him, yes, but he does it in the name of his ancestors. He does it because he wants to be the man who leaves such a mark on their legacy that it won't be considered a blasphemy that he lets the line die with him because he is in love with the creature beside him, their union not only taboo, but incapable of bringing children. And the demon, of course, is a creature made of ambition and greed. His intentions appear more magnanimous than most that Tomura has met, but he does, for all intents and purposes, seek the power Tomura wields because he wants to ensure that the country he sold his soul for does not ever face strife again. He made sacrifices for that goal, but whatever he did can't actually guarantee it for eternity. That is why he still comes to the mortal plane and puts in the work to keep this a reality. But Tomura's magic is only rivaled by that of the gods, and he is not bound in their towers of light and gilded rainbows that keep them from acting directly should he choose to. He can change the fate of this entire country, make the lands blessed and untouched for eternity, if only he grows to love it here, if only he stays long enough to grow into the full power that will be awarded to him in his adulthood. Yasutake wants that for him, but not because he truly cares, no matter how much he tries to. He wants Tomura to thrive because he wants this land to thrive, and Tomura only feels his resentment grow towards them the longer that he spends in their presence. 

"Where's Dabi?" They've just told him, again, that he won't be able to go back to the forest. He won't be able to undo this body that was forced on him. He won't be home again. He will have to find a new one, but he can stay here in the guild for as long as he likes. Yasutake will assist with his demonic instincts, the Iron Maggots will help him adapt to a life outside of captivity. They will be good to him (so someday he will be good to them in turn. 

Sako hesitates, "Dabi is reading in the library, I believe." 

"We can acquire someone else for your meal if you're hungry," Yasutake tells him. "There is danger in feeding from the same mortal too often. Taking too much can kill them." 

"I don't care. I don't want anyone else. Send Dabi." He is cold and cruel with his words, and they prove that their hearts are greedier than their minds and virtues want to accept, when both men only hesitate for a moment before they rise and begin to head to the door. Another two books have made it into the stack they leave for him. Some of it is educational materials, things for children to teach them how to read because they do not know that Tomura's first owner was a man who called himself a teacher and who tried to force Tomura to learn about the world so he would be more adept at twisting it to that man's will when the time came. Tomura learned from him how to break runes without eating magic, and he learned how quickly his venom killed that same day. These books, however, now that the men have discovered he already knows how to read, are instead thin, unmarked tomes of leather that contain lewd etchings and writings about sex with mortals. He is supposed to learn these things too because he will always have to have sex if he wishes not to starve to death. He will always be this. There is no undoing what was done. Tomura flips through the books once the door is shut. There is a large library attached to this building he knows, and he expects that Dabi will be a while. He always comes when Tomura demands him, but he is... tired. Tomura knows it, can taste it on him when he comes to his room, and if his keepers are worried, he imagines that the man will be sent to receive potions and food before he is sent to him today. Whatever. As long as he does what he's told. 

Tomura waits, growing bored with the books quickly. He knows more than they think he does. He might not have lived a full life in any of the cages he's found himself in before, but he has listened and observed many that have unfolded around him. He understands the new instincts that have layered themselves over the ones he has lived with all his life, and he knows how he needs to take his meals to ensure that he is eating well and getting the most out of Dabi instead of wasting him. And as he continues to wait for the mortal, he finds himself looking out the window, a vast and unending anger that once flowed deep beneath the surface of his exoskeleton rising like bile in the back of his throat. Do those men really believe they will ever find a way to soothe this disgust and fury towards mortals enough to keep him docile? To make him work to better this world that is so steeped in its greed and lust for power that it would take a frightened child out of his home and sell him into slavery over and over again? Do they really think that magnanimity and indulgence will tame him, as if he is a kicked dog that will always forgive his master if they give him a juicy bone as the wound is smarting? They keep him in this apartment because they know better. They know he is not tamed yet, they fear he won't ever be, and the wards here keep him from sinking his fingers into the threads of the world and shattering this building apart at its seams.

He can't manipulate those threads, but he can touch them. He can look upon them and fantasize about how to tug them this way or that, to change the course of this building. There is a seal in the back of the building, where demons are supposed to come and go through. But there is another one, hidden in the small house that exists on the edge of the guild's land where Sako lives and entertains Yasutake despite the apparent professionalism and adherence to codes that they hold so strictly. A second seal, a small house, maintained well enough, but no domicile is ever perfect. Tomura can feel the thin crack in the foundation that has been formed through years and years of wet seasons and a failure to always ensure that the first heavy rain is properly diverted through the gutters around the structure. He knows that there are tiny cracks, that a larger one could be coaxed out of them, that as the house settles, it would be so easy, so innocuous to let the room where the sigil is drawn move, the floorboards warping out of place. He could break the secrecy of that seal, open it, and see what demons spill out onto this land. Sunder that seal while Yasutake is inside of the guild hall, and the protections against his kind are lowered in the main rooms, and watch what happens when they are overrun. Ruin the reputation this organization has for keeping people safe from monsters like him, watch it crumble apart until these wards can't keep him inside of this building anymore, and then he could sink his hands into the threads of this country and bring it to deeper ruin than that demon ever thought he was saving it from so that no one ever thinks that they can control him ever again–

Knuckles rap lightly against Tomura's door before the handle turns and Dabi lets himself in, as he has done so many times now, and he breathes in the scent of the mortal's skin like he's coming up from underwater. He smells like the old books he's spent his day with, the dull earthiness of the mud he had to walk through to reach the guild hall this morning, even though he's wiped his boots, and the faint tang of pine that must be pressed into the soap that he washed with during his bath. But he does not smell like magic the way all of the other guild members do as he enters Tomura's prison cell. 

"You wanted to see me?" It's not really a question. The words are filler for the one that it embarrasses the other man to ask. Should I take off my clothes? Tomura nods once, curtly, and Dabi sighs softly as he fully enters the room, closing and locking the door behind him. He knows that everyone else in the guild is aware that he is the only person Tomura will feed from, but he doesn't like the idea of someone walking in on him when he is lost in the throes of Tomura's venom. So he closes the door and enters the small one-room apartment, making his way towards the bed so he can perch on the edge of it and start by removing his boots. 

In all honesty, Tomura isn't hungry at all right now. He knows, instinctively, that his sessions with Dabi previously have filled his stomach enough that he likely won't need to eat for a long while. But it's not the incubus part of him that needs Dabi now the way he does. Still, Tomura lets Dabi strip out of his clothes until he is naked, the other man automatically keeping his hands behind his back and sinking to his knees beside the bed. The incubus in him purrs its satisfaction at seeing how readily Dabi will supplicate himself for him, but it's not that part of him that needs Dabi right now as he moves over to the other man, sitting on the bed so he can reach and run his hand through his short, dark locks. 

Dabi is different from the other creatures that Tomura has found himself surrounded by in the past. He is more akin, in many ways, to animals than he is to mortals or the fantastical creatures that he was sold alongside throughout his life. He thinks that categorization might be insulting to the man, were he ever to breathe life into the thought, but he doesn't mean for it to be. From his understanding, Dabi is smart. He is a good worker, someone who always seeks to do something to fill his days, and who cannot stand idleness for idleness's sake. But Tomura thinks he works because he knows the emptiness inside of him is so vast that it will swallow him whole and leave him no way to escape and put on the guise of being human again. Every creature Tomura has ever met wants something from him. Everyone. Even if they are not consciously aware of what he is, their dreams reach out to him and try to coerce him into giving them attention, begging to have life breathed into them in a way that only Tomura is capable of, and that he refuses to ever give himself over to. But Dabi does not dream like that. He does not think of the future past the end of a single day, and Tomura compares the soothing mind that he finds there to that of an animal because the dreams he has are simple and unflinching. Dabi dreams of his bed on days when he has not had enough rest. He dreams of a good meal when he is hungry. He dreams of remaining as whole and healthy as he can be when he is worried about being hurt. His mind screams for pleasure when Tomura has him tangled in his sheets. But that is all. There is nothing more or less. An emptiness hangs onto the shape of him that, even knowing what Tomura is, cannot be convinced to reach for something greater. And he is a balm to the pain of existence that claws at Tomura constantly. Of course, he has not been freed; of course, no one wants to let him return to the forest that was his home so very long ago; of course, he will be expected to live out his life weighing the dreams of others in his hands and determining if they are worthy of being tended to the way that only his bloodline allows. Tomura is a prisoner here, as he will be a prisoner in some form for the rest of his life, but Dabi is the only mortal he has ever met who does not feel like a jailer. When he is in Tomura's company, his dreams are simple. Before he is entangled in his arms, he only desires to not be hurt. When he is in his bed, he wants to feel good. When they are finished, he wants to be allowed to clean up. And even when Tomura digs deeper, looking for the selfish motivations that the man must have to choose to give his time and body to a creature like him each and every time it's asked of him, he still cannot find them. Dabi wants to be good to him, wants to feed him, wants Tomura to thrive, in part because it's the duty that he swore himself to when he joined the guild and in part because he knows a creature as powerful as Tomura needs to be protected. Not because he wants to use his powers for himself, but simply because that is what he truly believes needs to be done. 

Tomura wants to spend time with him because he could not have ever imagined finding the company of a creature such as this in all of the years that he has lived. Mortals always want something, always want selfishly, always want too much. They ask gods, devils, and fate to give it to them, and they never stop. They ask for those things in his company as well, their souls crying out to him even if they keep their demands caged behind their lips. But Dabi does not want, and Tomura finds himself struggling to give him something in turn. 

He cards his fingers through the other man's hair. He dyes his hair, but there is a peak of white at his roots that whispers its true color, and once again Tomura finds himself with another aspect of the mortal that is a mystery. His body is covered in scars, lashed together with sutures that he never once considers Tomura could heal. Dabi has access to so many resources through the guild, but he never realizes that the magic Tomura could wield, focused directly on him rather than some sprawling dream like those of his boss, could take the metal from his skin. He could take the scars away, too. He must care about his appearance in some capacity if he goes through the trouble of dyeing his hair. But Dabi's only fleeting worries that he will find him unpleasant to look at are often banished at the first drop of Tomura's venom in his veins. He cares about his appearance, but he doesn't dream of making it something better. 

Maybe, if he had grown up the way he should have, maybe he would know how to draw out dreams from people like Dabi or shape the numerous ones that often press in on him from every direction, but he did not have that experience. Now, he finds himself uncertain of how to give anything at all to Dabi, always hoping that he will enjoy it in some base way rather than in the way his instincts scream to him he should be able to achieve. He wants to grant Dabi twists of fate that will soothe him and make his existence better and his being more fulfilled. But Dabi wants simple things, and Tomura is a prisoner in this place. The only route he has to grant Dabi that kind of satisfaction comes as he knots his fingers tightly in his hair and forces the other man to look him in the eye as he tugs harshly at his roots. 

Blue eyes look up at him before dropping down to his lap again, his skin warming and the tang of his desires changing in the room. Tomura wants to be good to this mortal man who asks nothing of him and gives himself so easily to anything he demands, but what Dabi likes, even if it's not something he would ever admit to, is violence. 

"Open your mouth." He demands. Tomura wonders if he will ever hear this new voice that lives in his throat as anything other than angry, but since his transformation, he hasn't managed it. He is angry. He needs to be, or he'll fall apart. And Dabi, even though he knows he shouldn't, likes the way his meanness feels as it lashes against his skin. He doesn't want to be hurt, but he likes to be forced to feel small, useless, worthless, and Tomura's chest aches for him. It doesn't seem right, and he knows there's something wrong with him too when treating this mortal– the only mortal that he has ever liked– makes some of that anger inside of him ebb a little. He feels better when he hurts him, when Dabi hesitates, and he has an excuse to twist his fist just a bit and put enough pressure against his scalp to make Dabi wince as he is pulled in closer to his crotch as he opens his mouth. 

Tomura was given clothes by his captors, which is something, he supposes, even if he doesn't really like wearing them. The pants and shirts all came from Hell, to his understanding, slits in the back of the tops for his wings and a waistband with a neat opening at the back for his tail, but Tomura doesn't like the way clothes feel against his flesh. He has lived so much of his life without them and being confined in cloth that he can feel every time it brushes against him is disconcerting and uncomfortable in a way that he doesn't appreciate. But he wears the pants because when he doesn't, he tastes relief on the edge of Sako's mind. Because if Tomura can't acclimate, if he can't be good and follow the rules of society that they want him to adhere to, then he won't be able to leave any time soon, and the longer he stays with them, the more time they will have to try and convince him that he should love this place and spend his energy making it thrive. So his cock is clothed when he takes Dabi's open mouth and presses it against his body, his tail flicking against the bed as Dabi's eyes flutter slightly and his lips close around the half-hard bulge of him, his mouth hot and wet enough that the fabric begins to dampen immediately as his tongue presses out to run over the shape of him. He feels the soft sigh that the mortal gives as he relaxes a little more, still holding his arms behind his back with his fingers laced together because no matter how much he likes Dabi, he cannot convince himself to let the mortal touch him. Dabi wouldn't hurt him. Dabi's body is already starting to smell like his arousal, even though not a drop of venom has managed to slip past his lips yet, as Tomura rakes his claws over his scalp, just shy of causing abrasions, as he speaks, 

"Such a cockwhore," those books have plenty of advice for the ways that bodies should be entwined, but there are even longer sections about the words that should and should not be used when speaking to one's partners. Tomura doesn't always listen to those things because he can't bring himself to tell Dabi that he thinks the simplicity of his desires is as beautiful as the bright blue of his eyes. His exoskeleton may be long gone, but there is no part of him that he thinks couldn’t be cracked open and destroyed if he were to speak his desires to the other man so plainly. It's easier to tell him, "No wonder you spend all your time reading, it must be hard to convince anyone around you that you're not always just thinking about having your mouth filled up."  

Dabi sighs against his skin, tension leaving his body as he relaxes into his touches even though they seek to bring him pain. Tomura catches flickers of his wants. Dabi wants him satisfied; he wants to taste his skin, wants to be allowed to fill his mouth, wants no one to ask him why he doesn't argue or fight him when there is so much that his superiors want Tomura to learn outside of just satisfying his hunger. Dabi wants to serve him, and he can't put it into a solid shape why doing so when Tomura hurts him settles inside him better and more fully than any other task he's given himself throughout the years. Tomura doesn't ask him to understand those desires; he just wants to ensure that Dabi feels them in their entirety. 

So he yanks on his hair, pulls him closer, and savors the way that Dabi's moan vibrates against his skin as much as he likes the way he laves his tongue over the growing bulge of his erection like a dog hungrily lapping up a treat. He makes Dabi lick and suck until he's desperately trying to find the taste of the venom beneath the cloth, and he still doesn't give it to him. It would feel good, he knows, to shove his cock into Dabi's mouth. To thrust into that slick, warm place and feel his tongue move, his throat constrict, and every falter and whine that comes out of him as he brings himself back against the deepest part of that channel he can reach all as Dabi tries his best to do what Tomura wants without letting bloody tears stream down his cheeks– but Tomura isn't hungry right now, and his cum and pre are tainted with the poison that would force Dabi to feed him. He wants to enjoy his body without having to eat away at his lifeforce, so he can't cum down his throat.

He entertains himself instead by shifting, pulling Dabi's head up so that the other man winces as he looks at him through thick lashes and eyes so blown that only the thinnest sliver of blue remains visible. And then he moves so he can press his heel between Dabi's legs. The human whines, his fingers fumbling to catch at Tomura's ankle as he presses his heel with increasing pressure into the other man's balls, catching the tang of his pain in the air as Dabi whimpers– but his arousal is strong still. He likes this. Wants it. Even if his mind can't make sense of it and his desires are animal flashes that don't quite take a solid shape, he likes the way it hurts him, the way that Tomura looks down at him as he forces him to endure. There is a shape in Dabi, one that Tomura tries to coax out through the pain, that tells him that Dabi knows pain more than he ever wants to admit. He wants to be made to endure whatever Tomura demands, but it's a desire that lives deep inside of him without the selfishness of mortal understanding to shape it. Tomura's skin warms further, reaching down to the waistband of his pants and undoing the fastenings so he can take himself out, slick from his pre and Dabi's spit, as he strokes himself in one hand as his other keeps Dabi at bay when his mouth immediately falls open again and he tries to lick him. Tomura pulls his hair even more roughly as he draws his foot back and kicks forward in the next breath. 

It's not a very hard hit, but it's enough of one that Dabi nearly forgets himself, his arms flinching as he lets go of how he's been holding his hands behind his back, wanting to cover his sensitive genitals, before he remembers that Tomura is in charge. Tomura wants him to hurt. Tomura doesn't want him to touch anything at all when he's in his bed. And Dabi, in turn, wants to do anything that Tomura asks, even if he didn't think he liked hurting like this until after the first time Tomura turned violence on him while in his bed. He can't help but wonder how much violence Dabi would actually let him inflict. Would he spread his legs, keep them open, if Tomura was going to break him completely? If he tried to open him with his tail or claws instead of letting his venom do its work? What could he inflict on this man who lets only the echo of dreams run through his mind before he shies away, before he decides he is real enough to say 'no'? Tomura thinks that if he found out, he would lose the only mortal he has ever met that he doesn't mind keeping in his company, so he doesn't dare explore that thought any further. He knows how much pressure he can put against Dabi's balls, how he whimpers and sobs as he is kicked and battered, how he moans when Tomura shifts his hand from his hair to his throat and digs his thumb into the hollow to choke off his breath and put bruises beneath purple skin that no one will be able to see. He knows all of these things, and he does not hesitate to stroke himself, his own arousal aching against his nerves, as he drives Dabi to agony and pleasure at the same time, until his mind is awash in only the dream of him, before the mortal spills all over his stomach and thighs as Tomura lands a final, rough kick against his nuts. He's not sure if it's the orgasm, hand around his throat, or the blow that takes the other's breath away, but Tomura keeps him in that state of emptiness burning in his lungs for another long moment as he moves his hand roughly over his cock, stroking himself as he rides out the delight of seeing how completely ruined his favorite mortal is. But he does loosen his grip on his throat as his cock begins to ache and his balls grow so heavy and tight. He needs Dabi to have enough sense to listen when he says, 

"Know you're nothing but a filthy, cum-eating whore, but you don't get that until I give you permission. Close your mouth and stop drooling all over yourself like a dog." 

Dabi whimpers like one, the keening ache to be allowed to suck him off so sharp and big that it rivals the selfish dreams of every other mortal that surrounds him– but he doesn't argue. He closes his mouth as just a few bloody tears slip over his cheeks and his prick, spent, still twitches against his foot as Tomura holds painful pressure against his balls.  He stays there, looking up at him like Tomura is the only thing he wants in the world, and that is more than enough for him. Tomura didn't care about sex or pleasure when he was a spider. He doesn't think he even had the concept of missing out on it when he was in that state. Now he's hardwired for it, and even then, he doesn't think that he would want the way he does now as he strokes himself with Dabi looking at him like that if he were to entertain anyone else. It's so easy to bring himself over the edge in just a few strokes, eyes open and breaths rough as pleasure pulses along his length, his palm tight as his balls ache, so he can cum in long stripes over Dabi's face. The other man closes his eyes and tenses his jaw tight in an expression that might look like a flinch to anyone else, but Tomura knows he does that to keep it out of his eyes and to keep his mouth from opening automatically because the temptation to taste him as he lands over his cheek, forehead, and lips is nearly too great for him to resist. 

Tomura makes him stay with him for a long while afterwards, able to breathe easier in his captivity than he has in years, when Dabi is only an aching dream of desire and nothing else as he dominates Tomura's awareness. 

///

In some ways, Dabi is having more sex now than he ever has in his life. That's a strange acknowledgement that he has to make, but he can't actually escape it once it becomes clear that Tomura Shigaraki– a name the Dream Weaver gave up so reluctantly to Sako that they half-thought it was a lie– will not allow anyone else in the guild to feed him. There is some debate about trying to find someone from the city instead. There are plenty of whore houses that cater to men and women, and finding the creature another meal that can help to take the burden of feeding off of Dabi would probably be a good thing. But there is a hesitation throughout the whole building as Sako first tries to send for other members of the guild who are not housed close by. They have a Dream Weaver in their care, and although there are so many rules and laws that come with keeping such a powerful creature, Shigaraki's entire life thus far has proven that there are so many people who will attempt to get around those decrees that it is too great a risk to start advertising that fact by bringing in outside people to help satisfy his needs. Even so, Dabi can't help but feel... strange when he spends time with Shigaraki. He knows that it's dangerous, and he hasn't actually taken a job from the board in town since the creature arrived here, because he knows that spending too much energy elsewhere when the half-demon creature seems to want to feed on him at least four times a week is a bad idea. So he splits his time between the guild hall and the inn, and does his best to eat well and rest as Yasutake keeps telling him to. Which means he knows he really shouldn't troll around the brothels in the area until he finds one with a woman incubus and asks for a few hours with her. He knows better, but the way that Shigaraki makes him feel when he's got his venom in his veins is so strange that he needs to know if it is just because he hasn't fucked any sex demons before him, or if there is something else going on that he just can't put his finger on. But she uses him, whips him, mocks his body, makes him cry as much as he cums, and Dabi doesn't feel anything at all. He just wants to go home and get clean, unable to shake the itch under his skin that makes it feel like he's being unfaithful when he's just Shigaraki's current rations, not anything else. 

The understanding that it's not the sex itself that is causing him to feel so off is enough to have him trying to dedicate more time to figuring out what else he can do for the other man. Sako is adamant about providing the Dream Weaver any luxury and care they can, but nothing seems to satisfy Shigaraki. Clothes, books, fine soaps, perfumes, crafts, music, the best view out of the guild, the largest apartment, as many of the other guild members as he could eat– nothing makes Shigaraki look at them with anything but contempt, and after another two weeks of being held in the guild hall, Shigaraki refuses to open his door for anyone but Dabi. 

"You need to do what you can to socialize him," Sako tells him, the exhaustion on his face clear even as he still makes meticulous efforts to keep his clothes neat and tidy. "He has the power to reshape the face of the country– if not the world. We can't have him locked away, stewing in myopathy until he decides that the threads of fate should be twisted to destruction. You're the only one he'll spend time with; do your best to encourage him to branch out, or at the very least not to hate mortals for the violence that was inflicted upon him by the few." 

Dabi holds his tongue and very wisely does not comment on the fact that Shigaraki has only ended up here because there were swaths of mortals who facilitated it. He may not believe all mortals are inherently evil, and he certainly doesn't want to be responsible for the widespread destruction that he's sure will come about if Shigaraki's resentment doesn't ebb, but it feels disingenuous to try and convince the creature that his circumstances were a rare and unlucky exception. There are so many poaching rings throughout the world that their guild is only one of dozens that work to stop them, to say nothing of all of the governments and educational institutions that also try to keep a hand in the pie, whether their intentions are pure or not. Right now, he's at least being trusted to be the one who will do this work, and he doesn't want to think about what Shigaraki would do if he were forced to stay away from him on the orders of people who don't quite want to extend the grace to him and understand that, for whatever reason, Dabi seems to be the only person that he will tolerate. He knows he's fed Shigaraki more than he really needs to eat, and he doesn't want them to force him to stay away for the months it will take for the Dream Weaver to become hungry again in earnest. So Dabi listens to what he's told, but he goes to the supply room and finds some finer rope than what would be used for the horses in their stable, and he loops it over his shoulder before he goes upstairs to find the other man again. 

He knocks on Shigaraki's door and waits. Technically, the residents in this building cannot lock out the guild members from their space– the wards simply won't allow it. It's a safety measure because Shigaraki is certainly not the first violent creature that they have ever housed that should not be able to be alone in a room with a member of staff. But physics does play a role in the order of the world in ways that magic does not always immediately circumvent. Shigaraki figured out, almost immediately after moving to this room, that the furniture that was nailed to the floor couldn't stand up to his newfound strength, and when he doesn't want visitors, he simply barricades the door. It's something that vexes his boss, and another thing that Dabi has to keep his mouth shut over, because of course Shigaraki would worry about his safety. Of course, he would want to have a space that is only his that won't be easily entered by other people– especially people who tried to force him to eat immediately after rescuing him from a man who tried to force that on him alongside twisting his body into this new shape. Dabi knows there are good intentions in this guild, but the desperation to keep Shigaraki from slipping through their fingers and giving his power to someone else is overriding the good sense and patience that they normally meet their new residents with. So he knocks on the door and waits patiently. Shigaraki can smell him, he thinks. He's not sure, but the other creature has the enhanced senses of a demon along with whatever comes from being a Dream Weaver. There isn't very much on all of the abilities that his kind actually possesses because it is so rare for his kind to exist, only six on record so far in the histories that the Iron Maggot's research can date, all of them leaving their adolescence in different forms, which makes understanding what they should expect from him even more difficult. But whether it's his sense of smell or something else that allows him to know who is standing on the other side of the door, Shigaraki always knows. 

Dabi waits another moment before he lets himself in. The others have stopped trying to come see the creature, and Shigaraki has responded by not shifting furniture in front of the door while he's awake, so he can enter the room without trouble. It's not a surprise that Dabi finds him standing at the window, looking out far past the edge of their grounds and to the forest beyond. He doesn't think he's entered this room once and not caught the creature staring so longingly at the outdoors. Even today, when the downpour outside rushes so much water over the panes of glass that everything beyond is a blur of color, Shigaraki stares. Dabi's chest aches for him. The window does not open, and not even a dragon could shatter the glass. Shigaraki was kept in a cage as a spider for fifteen years. He was brought here bound and unconscious, so he wouldn't attack anyone when he was rescued. How badly must he want to stand in the sun, the rain, the open air of the outdoors, and simply exist somewhere that he isn't caged? Dabi never thought he was a particularly empathetic person, not throughout the majority of his life at least, but he feels a greater stirring of that emotion in him for Shigaraki than anyone else he's known before– if only because he has a stronger idea of what it is like to be born for a purpose and have one's entire existence shaped around it. He was denied the experiences of being a child until he was too old and too used to not having them that they felt like a slap in the face when that was suddenly all he was expected to be. Their circumstances aren't the same, but Dabi thinks he understands Shigaraki better than he does Sako as he tries his best to make the Dream Weaver content in this captivity that he only promises won't be like his others with words that can't ring true so long as Shigaraki is still kept in a cage. 

The other man doesn't say anything for a long moment, and Dabi moves into the room, shutting the door behind him and crossing over to the table. He is always asked to disrobe, so he sets the rope down and sits so he can begin unlacing his boots. Shigaraki still doesn't say anything for a while, and, eventually, Dabi is naked and waits for orders. Sometimes he is asked to kneel, sometimes to lie on the bed, but always, Shigaraki wants his hands restrained. He doesn't know exactly what violence was enacted against him, but he suspects that magic and, when that wasn't enough, fists were used to try and force his body to his captors' will. He doesn't resent being asked to make concessions for Shigaraki's comfort, but he wonders if his lack of magic is the reason that the Dream Weaver will only abide his company and none of the other Iron Maggots. 

The wind howls and rain continues to spill across the window panes, but Dabi does try to talk to the other man. "I don't know if you've gotten to it yet," he starts, his voice soft and calm, "But I had a book sent up about knots. I thought that you might like it." 

Shigaraki still doesn't say anything, but Dabi sees his shoulders tense slightly, his large, black wings tightening against his spine a little more. Dabi is almost apologetic as he considers the other man's attractiveness again. He’s rarely gotten to be in the company of many people that he finds so stunningly attractive, and even knowing that this is the form that the other was forced into, he can't help but see the loveliness of his form and think that he's... almost glad that he's the only one who he will feed from. That means he doesn't have to share– It's such a violent thought, in the wake of what he knows Shigaraki has been through, that Dabi feels his throat tighten up around the shape of it, his stomach immediately turning queasy. No. No. Shigaraki is not a lover, not an object to be owned in any way. This is not a relationship; this is just Dabi doing his duty, just as making sure the stables are mucked and the horses are fed are. At least when it comes to the sex, anything else should be focused entirely on the fact that he needs to help Shigaraki live in this place without his bitterness eventually becoming something that will lash out. Dabi isn't sure how many dreams the other man can grant or if he can touch as many strings of fate that he wants without the gods interfering, but it's his responsibility to help Shigaraki understand the consequences of those actions past the resentment that he rightfully clings to as he tries to adjust. Dabi takes a soft breath and then opens his mouth to explain the rope, to ask if he wants to try some of the things in the book. Maybe that will make him feel safer–

"Get on the bed." Shigaraki's tone leaves no room for argument, and Dabi isn't supposed to pick fights with the other man in the first place, so he takes a breath and leaves the rope on the small table before going over to the bed. Most of the time, Shigaraki will tell him if he wants him on his back or stomach, but he doesn't give him further direction, so he lies on his back, wanting to see how the other creature conducts himself. He doesn't push the other being for further conversation, even though he's supposed to. It's hard to be the one who talks to people, and it has been for a very long time for Dabi. He is good with the other creatures they take in, the ones that are animals, even if they have vast stores of power, because his presence is less threatening to those beings who can smell what he lacks as soon as he is in their presence. Shigaraki is the most complicated creature that he's ever been expected to help while simultaneously being the most important, and Dabi knows he isn't allowed to fumble this as he does so at every step. 

Shigaraki moves over to the table, taking a book from the stack and the rope before he sits on the edge of the bed, not touching him. Dabi can't help the prickle of awkwardness that goes through him as the Dream Weaver starts to flip through the pages, ignoring him for the most part as he does. But at least the bed is soft. He lets the other read, stays still, and after a few minutes, some of the tension in his body begins to ebb. He finds himself noticing that the sheets smell like Shigaraki, like the raw power of a storm crackling with lightning and the chill that clings to stone in winter. He doesn't think he's ever felt himself relax into the scent of another person before, but he supposes that he's never spent the night with any other person more than once. 

The other man sets the book on the bed, open to a page, as he takes the rope in his hands and starts to unwind it, and before Dabi's eyes, makes it longer as his magic weaves through the fibers and extends it much farther than it should. His magic is powerful enough to make something out of nothing. Dabi can see, as he watches the single coil of rope turn into lengths that should come from half a dozen, all without the fibers getting any thinner. His breath catches in the back of his throat as he watches Shigaraki work, realizing that this is likely the first time the Dream Weaver has done any kind of magic in front of any of their people. Red eyes flick up to his face, and then Shigaraki speaks again, his voice cool and self-assured. 

"Bring your forearms together and hold them upright." 

Dabi does so, the position causing his arms to mostly block his face and stop him from staring at the creature as he begins to make a loop with the first length of rope. "It's good to see that you're casting," he tries weakly. That magic is the reason that everyone is tying themselves in knots around Shigaraki. Knowing that he is capable of something simple means that the others will be assured that he can do more complex things when the time comes– though Dabi isn't sure when that will be. Shigaraki has the ability to change the world, to practically grant wishes, but that doesn't mean he'll do it on a schedule for anyone's machinations but his own, and it's foolish for people to believe that things would go any other way. 

He brings the first loop parallel to Dabi's arms before he begins to wrap it around, starting closer to his elbows as the first knot begins to take form. Dabi shivers slightly, the roughness of the rope against his skin not nearly as noticeable as the coolness of Shigaraki's touch as he slips two fingers beneath it to test if he's left enough room between it and Dabi's skin. Perhaps that shouldn't make his chest ache keenly for the creature, but that care is evidence, even after just a few weeks, that Shigaraki actually is putting in an effort to improve. He didn't care about hurting Dabi the first few times he used cloth or clothes to tie Dabi up, and he had hurt Dabi badly enough once or twice that he'd needed to go see the healers. But he's reading the book, putting his fingers between the ropes, and attempting to keep him safer than he did at the beginning. That is more than Dabi could have ever expected, and he can't help the relief that rings through him as he has this small assurance that he's not completely fucking things up in his efforts to help Shigaraki acclimate. 

"You don't have magic." The words feel like they come out of nowhere. Dabi had been so distracted by watching the other man work the first knot into place, slightly misshapen, but functional as it settled near his elbows. But that question sharply refocuses Dabi's attention as he tries to look at the other's face when his own is mostly covered. 

"...No, I don't." Most people do, and even a being kept caged and isolated would know that from the people that he did come in contact with. Nearly everyone in the world has some ability to access the arcane arts. It's just a matter of how strongly they can, where they draw that power from, and what their bodies are able to withstand. Some people strengthen themselves through the connection to the divine or infernal, some are able to learn vast amounts just by studying books and channeling through specific tools and focuses. But it's a very, very rare thing for someone to have no magic at all, and his throat is thick as he admits, "I used to, but it was taken from me." 

Shigaraki's fingers still, working on making another knot going along Dabi's forearms. It's the same kind as the first one, and this already looks neater just from the repetition. "Why?" They don't know much about Dream Weavers, but from what scattered records they've found trying to track down the people who had bought and sold Shigaraki through the years, Dabi knows his fangs used to be even more dangerous as a spider. Not only was he venomous enough to kill ten men with a single bite, but he could suck the magic out of enchanted objects and people with those sharp teeth too. Dabi hasn't seen evidence of him trying that since he arrived here, but Shigaraki only spends time with him, where that ability wouldn't work in the first place. He knows magic can be stolen; of course, the method and reason behind it would be the thing that interests him most. 

Dabi considers lying, or telling the creature he doesn't want to share that information at all, but his privacy isn't a concern to anyone right now. There will be hell to pay if he upsets Shigaraki, so he is better off doing whatever he asks. "It was part of my sentence that was to be carried out after I was released from my imprisonment." 

The Dream Weaver's gaze is heavy on him as he asks, "You were jailed?"

He is not going to get out of speaking, and he doesn't want Shigaraki to ask Sako about this instead if the guild leader comes back to check on Shigaraki at some point, so he resigns himself to telling the story he hasn't needed to in the past few years. "I killed my father when I was fourteen. He was a member of the Hero's Guild, but I was so young, and there were extenuating circumstances that caused me to receive a truncated sentence. I served six years and was stripped of my magic indefinitely when I was released." He doesn't tell Shigaraki that his father bought a bride from far away, that he was able to do so because her family is part winter spirit, having descended from a line of mythological beings that he probably spent beside in the cages of an auction house. Or how his mind shattered when his father threw him aside when his breeding experiment proved to be a failure when he was young, how he burned himself over and over again to earn that favor back. He doesn't tell Shigaraki that it got so bad he spent the years from twelve to fourteen in a coma, and when he pulled himself out of that place, he went straight to his father, saw him beating his youngest brother, his replacement, so he would be better than Toya had been, and had lost his mind. He burned so hot and bright, so suddenly, that his father, even with all of his years of experience, couldn't withstand it and died as the house burned to the ground. He doesn't want to tell Shigaraki that his sister, only thirteen, discovered that their father left them nothing and that their mother didn't have citizenship through their marriage anymore, making her a foreign agent in their lands because Eflil was at war with Putroesia at the time. That she had to figure things out for them and find distant relations like Saika to keep them safe and protect them from being taken in by the state and separated or deported. He was too angry and bitter at the time, furious that he hadn't died in the fight or been sentenced to death, so the world would never forget the so-called hero who had damaged his child so badly that they both had to be put down like feral animals, to care about the strife inflicted on his siblings. But they pulled themselves together while he was imprisoned, and he hated how far behind he'd fallen when he was released. So he traveled, walked around the country doing any job he could until he finally accepted the invitation from Saika to live at the inn while he saved money to get his own place. He joined the Iron Maggots because Atsuhiro's family had their own history of fucking over the Hero's Guild whenever they found corruption in their ranks, and the man would take him on even without magic to actually be as helpful as their other members. He hides from taking the officer's examination because he doesn't want to be locked into this place forever and because he doesn't want rumors to circulate that it was good that he wasn't executed, that he made something of himself after being released, that he grew past the cruelty of his father, so the people in charge can feel better about not noticing how bad things had been even when it was only their mother showing the signs. 

"It was just a few years," Dabi tells him. It wasn't good, but he was a child when he was locked up, and he spent the first several years of his sentence with other children. And when he was moved to the facility for adults, he was kept away from the general population because his father had put so many of those people away in the region. Even if some of them might have been happy to see his murderer amongst them, there was a fear he would be killed, and that would reflect poorly on the justice system. He doesn't want to talk about this anymore, but he knows that he does have to keep talking to Shigaraki, so he tries, "Is that why you like having me around? Because I can't do any magic?" 

The other man doesn't answer him for a moment as he finishes the line of knots that keep Dabi's arms together, his fingers threaded between one another, before he makes him stretch his arms back over his head so Shigaraki can lean over him and secure one more around the bed frame so he can't move. "...In part." Dabi isn't going to push, a rush going through him just at getting the half-demonic being to open up to him about anything at all. It would be so much easier, so much better, if he could learn the things that Shigaraki wants, so he can help him. A soft swishing against the sheets tells him that Shigaraki's tail is flicking slowly, a sign of building agitation, as he picks up the book again and begins to flip through it. 

Dabi feels a little bit of discomfort in his shoulders at the position and shifts up on the pillows a bit more to elevate his torso and then uses the slack in the rope to let his arms rest against his forehead as he waits to see what will happen next. He guesses that his superiors would want him to use the fact he was imprisoned to try and relate to the creature, but Dabi knows those words would be too disingenuous to even attempt. His father got what he deserved– but so did Dabi, in a way. He would have preferred death, but being arrested was a matter of course for burning down the house and murdering his father. He wasn't a child who was stolen away in the night, imprisoned, and sold for years upon years. Even if he's done violence now, Shigaraki was innocent when that happened to him. Pretending their experiences are the same would be cruel.

"...I can hear it." The Dream Weaver tells him without looking up from the book. "The desires of everyone around me. They scream from deep inside of people's souls, making themselves known even if I want to ignore them." 

His heart starts to hammer against his ribs as he tries to shift so he can see the other's face as he speaks. Does any other living soul know what Shigaraki has just told him about his kind? Is he the first mortal to be trusted with something that is so fundamental to Shigaraki's existence? "...That must be... loud. Is it uncomfortable? Is there anything we can do to help?" 

Shigaraki looks at him, then, red eyes unreadable, but the flicking of his tail pauses. "You already do." He sets the book aside and reaches to catch one of Dabi's ankles, making him lift and bend it so his left leg is against his torso, ankle almost touching the back of his thigh, before the next length of rope is retrieved. "...What do you want for your life, Dabi?" 

He hesitates. "Shouldn't you already know?" Maybe he just doesn't understand the abilities the other has, but that's what he thought those words would entail. 

"Other souls scream, yours doesn't. You... want like an animal." Shigaraki keeps speaking, a little faster, clearly knowing that is rude even for him as Dabi bristles. "Other people want a legacy, they want wealth, they want lives of luxury or comfort, love, family. They dream of things that are larger, things that run like a current through the rest of their lives without ceasing, even as smaller desires appear to satisfy their short-term wants. Animals, in my experience, don't have dreams that stretch throughout their lives. They want a meal when they're hungry. A place to sleep when they're tired. A partner when their physical needs demand it. You don't dream about your future." 

Dabi lets those words wash over him, trying to take away the knee-jerk reaction to the insult, before he takes a breath and says, "I want to buy a place of my own." It's what he's been saving up for for the past two years. But... if he really cared about that... Shigaraki would know it. If he really wanted his own place, he could have afforded it a long time ago with his stipend. "I want–" the words don't leave him, because they don't even form. He wanted to be the best when he was young, his revenge in his adolescence, and after that... just to not be remembered as the pitiful child broken by a cruel man. He just wanted to live his life, without his siblings or mother bothering him, and he just... hasn't thought about it past that. "I want to help you." But that feels like a cop-out too. He has helped other beings in their care, and when they moved on, he did too. Just onto the next thing, doing his job the way he was expected to. He realizes, sharply, that while he wasn't concerned with the state of his existence, it was just passing him by blandly. 

Shigaraki looks at his eyes again, his fingers still in the knot he's started to coil around his leg to keep it bent at the angle he wants. "The less you want, the more it helps. At least one person here doesn't want to use me for something." 

His chest aches, "They don't want to use you like your other captors did. They do want to help." He hasn't been in the position of advocating for other people much in the past, but he puts in the effort now. "No one knows how your magic works. We try to help all creatures that come to our door, but we can't do our best if you don't help us and tell us what you need." Shigaraki's eyes drop away from his, his lips tightening into a line that speaks of his displeasure more than the harder tug he gives to the rope as he pulls it taut around Dabi's flesh roughly enough to make him wince. "And... people can't just become absent of all desires. There are entire religious orders that are dedicated to spending their congregation's entire lives to getting rid of the desires in their hearts." 

"I know. A sect purchased me when I was eleven. It took me eight months to heal from the exorcism they performed." Shigaraki informs him, and Dabi wants to roll over and smother himself in the pillow for misspeaking. Gods damn it. 

"People are always going to want things, and want things from you," Dabi tries instead, "but has anyone here made any demands of you? Have we ever prevented you from having what you wanted because you didn't do something we wanted?" Shigaraki glares at him, but Dabi pushes, "If no one is making demands of you, then what harm are they doing by wanting? People ignore what others want all the time, especially when they don't actually ask for it and just expect it to be provided. Is there some reason you can't just ignore the things other people want? Is it painful?" 

"It's loud." The Dream Weaver snaps, "And I can't ignore it. The desires in people's hearts are as real and present to me as the words we're speaking now. Every conversation, every thread of fate, I feel them spill out from each object and person around me, and people are so sure of their importance that even though I refuse to bend to their wills, they dominate my senses. Your people may not make demands, but they imprison me here. They ensure I can't leave all in the hope that someday I will concede that I am too rare and useful to be allowed to be on my own again, and I will be grateful for being trapped and give them the desires their hearts scream for." 

No point in lying to a creature whose abilities make him so insightful that he puts into words the things Dabi has been so sharply aware of since Shigaraki was taken in. But it does leave him in an uncomfortable position, more embarrassing than the one the Dream Weaver ties him into as he brings his other leg up as well, tying that one in position too, so that Dabi is trussed and spread so the other can see every intimate part of his body. "...Maybe we can work something else out," Dabi tells him. He can't just be set free. "If you go on your own, you'll be hunted for the rest of your life. You would be hunted here, too, if anyone found out that you're in our care. We don't want you to end up... sold again." Dabi can only hope their altruism sounds genuine when it comes from him if he really doesn't have any ulterior motives that the Dream Weaver can sense. "You're strong now, but... you need people just to eat. Could you keep yourself safe if you were on your own, and still be able to find food when you needed it?" It feels so cruel to ask that when he knows that Shigaraki has no experience caring for himself. Even before he was taken, he was in a burrow with likely no less than a hundred siblings and the brood mother of the clutch. She would have cared for him like he was one of her young. He might have suffered a thousand different ways in the captivity of those who owned him, but none wanted him dead. They all ensured that he would have what he needed, and those needs have become so much more complicated now that his meals have to come from mortals. 

Shigaraki knows all of that just as well, proving that despite the way that those around him make the mistake of treating him like a child, he has learned so much throughout his life. He just finishes with the last knot and then runs his fingers beneath the rope. "I like this better than the belt." He tells Dabi instead of acknowledging his questions. "I miss my webs." 

He never would have considered himself a bleeding heart, but his chest aches terribly as he hears the Dream Weaver admit that. He has been stoic fury since he arrived here. Even his feeding is violent– it's just a miracle that violence works for Dabi instead of breaking him. But it hurts to hear him admit that so much of that anger comes from mourning. Dabi doesn't even have a clear memory of what he was like the first few years he was imprisoned. He was hurt, furious, and awash in such sharp peaks of emotion that were dread, grief, mourning, even though he never managed to regret what he'd done. He just– he just felt too much and couldn't get a hold of himself for a long time. He's not going to sing praises for the prison system, but he was away from what remained of his family, he didn't have the tools to hurt himself or others anymore, and his basic needs were met. It wasn't good, but it was worlds better than how he had been from five to twelve, before his coma, where everything was so terrible that time is still sharp and painful to think back to. And in turn, he absolutely lost his mind for a long time as his body was forced to cope with all of that after the fact. Shigaraki will probably go through a lot of those same things, and Dabi isn't sure that anyone else here will ever understand that. 

"I'm sorry." He's not expecting how hoarse his voice is, how his eyes burn and ache, his vision misting pink as his whole body keens in recognition of what Shigaraki is going through and how much worse it's going to get as everyone around him tries to force him to be what they want sooner rather than later so they can rely on his abilities. "I'll talk to them– if being around people is hard, I can ask about moving you somewhere else." He has money. He could give what he's saved back, use it to buy some land, somewhere far off in the woods where people won't constantly be around. He could build a cabin, come to feed Shigaraki whenever he needs it, and just... let him be there. Maybe if he gave him somewhere far off and isolated, then maybe he wouldn't resent the wards that need to be layered around his residence, so less scrupulous people don't try to kidnap him again. He's not expecting the other man to suck in a sharp breath, his fingers flexing against Dabi's skin, and for a moment, he thinks it's because he's surprised that Dabi would make that offer in the first place. Then he realizes how badly he wants to make Shigaraki's life better and understands that he can taste that too. His face heats with his embarrassment, mouth opening to apologize for not being able to control that, even if it is a benevolent desire. But Shigaraki pulls on the rope holding him to the bedframe, making him lift his arms higher before he leans in and brings their lips together. Dabi opens his mouth against his, ready to accept his venom and just feed him to try and stop stepping in it every time he opens his mouth. 

But Shigaraki won't open his mouth. He kisses Dabi slowly, sweetly, chastely, his hands moving to cup the sides of Dabi's jaw as he does so. It's a tenderness that Dabi hasn't ever felt from another person before, and he thinks it only manages to break his heart more as it makes him want the best for this man who has gone through too much and who is likely to never be allowed peace by this greedy world that desires his power for itself. But he wants the best for Tomura. He wants to help him. He just doesn't know if he's going to be allowed to. 

It's not the first time that Shigaraki has stopped himself from giving Dabi his venom when he calls him to his room. Dabi thinks that is what keeps him from having to devour the energy that comes with Dabi's orgasm, but he never considered that the other man was doing so because he was looking for a way to give him something, to connect with him more than just use him as a meal. He understands now as Tomura touches him gently, not pricking his skin or bruising the sensitive parts of him as he instead tests the tightness of the ropes, decorates Dabi's skin with kisses, and moves between his legs. Without his venom, Dabi won't be wet for him, and no oil has been provided. But the half-demonic being doesn't choose to connect their bodies in a way that would bring pain so sharply to Dabi as he seeks satisfaction. He just keeps kissing him as he works the venom-laden pre over both of their cocks, his hand sure and gliding smoothly against them as he strokes. Dabi is helpless, trapped in the ropes, and by the way his ribs seem to want to flower open and hold onto Tomura tightly enough that he won't go through the pain of this life alone anymore. But it doesn't hurt, and the way that the Dream Weaver touches him in turn makes Dabi think he's forgiven for those desperate desires as he strokes them both until they spill against one another's skin. 

Shigaraki doesn't let him leave for a long time after. He changes the position of the knots on Dabi's body so he is all but mummified on the bed, but not necessarily uncomfortable, and then he holds him close. His arms encircle him, but so do his wings. Even his tail curls tightly around his ankle like the creature is terrified that he will still manage to slip away into the night. But Dabi stays where he is and doesn't begrudge that Tomura still doesn't feel safe enough to untie him and let him hold the other man in turn. That will come in time, or it won't. Either way, he's grateful for the comfort that he can offer Tomura in whatever ways he can. 

The next morning, someone does come to check to make sure he isn't dead, and Dabi watches how Shigaraki shuts down yet again, his wings tight to his back, tail flicking constantly, and a low growl rumbling out of his chest. And he knows that he has to find a way to get him out of here, or he won't be able to look the Dream Weaver in the eye again. 

///

Dabi warns him, before he leaves after their longer conversation, that he might not be back for a week or more. He offers to feed him again, and Tomura mourns something he didn't know he'd lost when he can't pull him close and kiss him deeply as a sheer expression of affection and trust the way he wants to because of this form he was forced into. But Dabi seems to understand. He understands more of who Tomura is than he thinks anyone else has bothered, and the way the first desire he feels in the other man, that is not something animal and immediate, is his need to help Tomura get to a place that will be better for him, makes him even more inclined to keep Dabi close. He chose right when he didn't let any of the others come near him, was lucky that he found a mortal who already got everything he wanted out of his life, and was so impacted by the fact he has had to continue past that point that he doesn't long like others do. There's a part of him, even in his relief, that knows instinctively that's not the way humans are supposed to work, but Dabi is alright. And if he isn't alright someday, then Tomura would be willing to help him with that the same way Dabi has been so adamant about helping him. 

Even so, when Dabi does leave and not return for a full week, Tomura finds himself clawing at his skin worse. It still feels wrong under his nails– having nails feels wrong– and he doesn't know how long it will take for that sensation to ebb. He was a spider for so long. He's only happy that Dabi left the rope for him along with the book about knots, and he finds himself, when his neck is bloody and aching as his skin knits itself back together, practicing tying it around itself. He practices, wrapping it around pillows and blankets the way he might do so when Dabi comes back, but also stringing it between furniture and hooks he coaxes out of the walls with his magic. He cannot make his influence spread past the wards around this room, but he tests the bounds and learns that he can conjure within the confines just fine.

Dabi does come back at the end of the week, a little harried and smelling faintly of stress and sweat, but he sees the hooks and ropes, and Tomura feels a blip of worry go through him. 

"I'm not going to hang myself," Tomura tells him. He never wanted to die. He remembers going around other creatures, in the auction halls, ones who were so scared, so angry, so tired that all they wanted was an end to their suffering any way they could get it. And they wanted to control that end. Some of them succeeded, some were punished for their attempts, and learned they could be made even more miserable than they were before. But Tomura never wanted death– not for himself at least. 

Dabi tries to shake off how startled he is that Tomura is so in tune with his thoughts that he could catch that flicker and gives him a tired smile instead. "I've been in talks with Sako and Yasutake. We're trying to find a place that is defensible enough for them to feel comfortable letting you stay." But somewhere they can own. Tomura manages to keep his mouth shut. Dabi is trying to do as much as he can for him. He isn't stupid. He knows that this is the only thing he can do to make sure Tomura isn't locked in this guild hall for the rest of his very long life. The other humans will never let him leave entirely. Even if he gives them everything their hearts desire, they will fear what could happen if he offered that grace to others. So they want him somewhere no one else can find him, and his magic is caged, just as it is in this room. Dabi wants to help him as much as he's allowed, but he's walking a thin line. Those men are the ones who control whether he is even allowed to come see Tomura, and they both know that the energy he's gorged himself on is enough that they could starve him for years if he refuses to play nice and they take away his access to Dabi. It's a terrible precipice of cruelty that they find themselves teetering on the edge of, but Dabi is doing his best to balance on it. Tomura doesn't want to make it any worse. 

"I have a couple of maps," he says as he brings the papers over to the table and sets them down. "Going back to Enyhdorei isn't really safe, given any of the people who know where you hailed from may look for you there, but we have a lot of densely forested areas in our borders that might offer some of the comforts of home." 

Tomura sits down at the table with him, catching his hand first. He doesn't really know much about how he's supposed to be affectionate, but he wants to try. He thinks Dabi has done more than enough to earn that. He presses his lips to the back of his knuckles and watches as color blooms along his cheeks. There's a flicker of guilt in him, even as he tries his best to be what Tomura needs, because he can feel that Dabi didn't know he needed that kind of affection too. But... this is the first time that he doesn't mind giving someone the things they want. Dabi still wants in fleeting bursts, but maybe, someday, he will want something more concretely, and Tomura will give that to him as thanks for all of the time he put into being kind to him. 

Dabi clears his throat as he lays out the maps, notes scratched onto accompanying papers so he can tell the other man in as much detail as he has been able to gather about these places that have the potential to become his new home. 

///

It takes seven months. Not seven months to travel and build the house, but seven whole months for the guild leaders to be convinced that Dabi can be responsible for Tomura's well-being and for them to agree to let the two of them leave. They try everything they can to convince him that being at the guild hall will be better. They offer to clear a place on the grounds for him, they offer as many other partners as he wants, they offer to find someone who can transmute his body back into that of a spider if that would sway him. But what they do not offer, and what he wants most, is his freedom, and it takes Dabi seven months of effort to convince them that giving any kind of pseudo-freedom is closer to what he really wants. Tomura can taste their fear. In their minds, they frame it as a worry that he will be captured by other people, that someone will try to take advantage of him, and he will need to be protected lest he become a danger to himself and others. But the truer taste of their hearts is that they worry he will run away. The moment he is out of their sight, they fear he will do his best to escape, and that will leave them without any of the dreams that they were hoping he would someday grant them for their patience and assistance. 

Tomura nearly tears the building down with the raw strength of his body when they come to him again, Dabi standing between them, his skin layered with the scent of another's magic, sweat, and blood, and they show him the large tattoo that he 'agreed' to have written across his back. A tattoo that, upon Tomura giving his blood to the mark, will ensure that he cannot go more than two kilometers away from Dabi. Dabi, who, due to his name on the Iron Maggots' registry, will always be able to be found by them, should they ever look. Dabi is wan and pale, looking smaller than Tomura has ever seen him before as he realizes that... the mortal always knew he was Tomura's leash. But that is the moment Tomura realizes that Dabi would have let him slip it if he'd wanted that. He would have gone out into the woods with him, and then he would have let Tomura run away. Dabi likes this guild just fine, but he doesn't hold some sacred loyalty to it. He would have faced the punishment he was given just so Tomura could have his freedom. 

Tomura wasn't certain he would ever feel anything as deeply as he feels his anger, but although that emotion comes from the injustice that he finds Dabi facing now, it stems from something deeper that takes up all of the space in his chest. He bleeds for them, watching as the lines of ink shimmer across Dabi's skin and glow golden with his magic, etched there for the rest of his life. Seven months for them to make a seal that will force him to forever be tied to Dabi, because they thought that was the only way to keep him in their service. Tomura doesn't say anything to them about that, and although Dabi is allowed to stay in his room that night and Tomura can hold him, they don't dare talk about it either. He has a feeling that the mortal's goodwill is waning further and further towards this group that took him in once upon a time. 

Seven months, and the land is finally acquired, and that very day, Dabi has a screaming match that lasts no less than half an hour that everyone can hear throughout the building when he finds out they won't let him and Tomura leave yet. They want to wait until the wards are up around their home– wards Dabi adamantly argues they do not need when Tomura's magic is so great that he will be able to place his own over his domicile. They want to give them 'extra security,' and when Dabi won't budge, they want to give them 'comfort' by ensuring the home is already built before they leave. But Dabi fights tooth and nail, fights until they threaten to remove him from the building, and then he makes them regret that seal on his back. 

He doesn't have to be an Iron Maggot anymore, but Tomura is bonded to him. If they have to go to court, and Tomura would have to travel with him to do so, then he would be given claim over him. The Iron Maggots are a waypoint, not a home, and Dabi is the one Tomura is bonded with and the one he would choose if a court gave them the choice. Tomura has no magical sense of it, but he is aware enough to know that as Dabi fights for him, he breaks the few threads of friendship that he'd managed to form with someone who was always kind to him. But he does it without hesitation. 

But it works. They still have to wait a week, but that's because Dabi spends a week with the money he's saved in the two years he's worked here, and the stipend given to them for the cabin and works with him to plan out what supplies they'll need right away. Tomura feels the wealth of magic aching inside of him as he hopes he understands his abilities enough to unleash them the moment he is out of this room. Dabi wants so little for himself, but all Tomura can want is to do right by him. So they plan out all of the things they'll need right away, all of the building materials, books, and tools that will be necessary for them to build the cabin and cultivate the land well enough that they can live on their own and in peace if that is what they want. They'll be twenty-eight kilometers from the nearest village, and their home will be far from any of the trails, making that distance one that will likely take them a day and a half to travel, but it's worth it to know that people won't be able to stumble into their sanctuary. 

"You've lived around other people your whole life." Tomura remarks as Dabi fills out the requisition order for the lumber they'll need for the house. 

Dabi looks up with a slight frown, tugging at his lips. "Yeah, for the most part. I spent the first two years after I was released wandering around as a mercenary. I camped most of that time. I'll be fine roughing it for a while as we build." Though he does hesitate slightly. He was loud about the fact he did not want any of the other Iron Maggots coming to the location and helping with the construction, but he does ask, "Do you... really think that we'll be okay building this on our own? We'll have to dig a well, put in plumbing, lay a foundation– I'm happy to try, but if we can't, we'll have to contact someone, and I don't trust a random person more than I trust the guild." 

Tomura can't help but find it cute. He was so determined to protect the space they're making for themselves that he would put them in a precarious situation when it comes to actually making the home for themselves that they're looking for. "We'll manage." Tomura feels the power that has always sat in his veins growing larger and larger, filling out this form now that he is no longer trapped in the body of a child to protect himself. The wards of this room trap so much beneath his skin, and he knows that when he's free of this place, he will be able to give Dabi anything, everything, until he decides what it is he really wants. It's the least he can do for the mortal who continually puts every small thing he has on the line for him. Dabi has, selflessly, to Tomura's unending surprise, done everything he can to ensure that Tomura will have a better life than he's been given so far. All Tomura can think to do is offer him that same care in return. 

So they wait seven months for the land, and then another month and a half to finalize all of their orders and have them all come in. Materials are shipped to the Iron Maggots guild hall, and Dabi has their enchanters seal each group of items into crystals that they will be able to travel with easily and store until it comes time for them to be used. Dabi, even though they are both a little more worried about how well they will do with them, even procures a handful of chickens and a dairy cow so they will have to go to the city even less, provided they can care for them well. But those animals will stay in stasis for years if they need to inside of the crystals, so they can take their time clearing the land. Tomura's skin itches at the power inside him that wants to go to that place and do its work, but he is contained. In all, he spends a year of captivity with the Iron Maggots, the longest time he has ever been held in one building, and just a few weeks after that anniversary, Dabi comes to the guild hall at the crack of dawn, and they depart. For a moment, as they move to the threshold of the wards, Tomura thinks his superiors will change their mind and stop them both by imprisoning them. But although bitterness is a heavy taste in the air, he and Dabi are allowed to leave, going back towards the city that Tomura knew existed, but could never see, where Dabi has arranged a wagon for them to take them as far as the edge of the forest they will be staying in. It will shave weeks off their travel, and Tomura lets that be. The moment they stepped out of the guild hall, the instant the weights of the wards were no longer shackles holding back his potential, Tomura became acutely aware that he could fold the foundations of space and time and could take Dabi's hand and simply step from one place to another without the effort that comes with mortals casting teleportation across the globe. He felt how every machination of fate and every impossibility of dreaming was now his to manipulate. He could bring them to their new home right away, could let the tattoo seep out of Dabi's skin like his body pushing out a splinter, but he waited. Dabi put in the effort to find them travel, and it will behoove them to travel properly, at least a few times. At least until they know enough to move through the land, until they can do so without trouble, just in case there is ever a time when Tomura cannot use his magic to take them to and from without effort. 

So they travel the slow way, first by wagon, and then hiking through untamed forest until they find the section of land that the Iron Maggots acquired for them. But Tomura stops Dabi before he can set foot on the grounds, that someone has already come out to mark with arcane wards that will limit his abilities once again. Tomura makes sure that it hurts that mage when he rips them from the earth to show them clearly that he will not be held in a cage ever again. And the moment he lets his magic free, he doesn't want to stop. He takes the bag full of crystals and steps into the center of their land, trees not being felled, but receding into the ground, reversing their lives until they are just seeds buried beneath the soil as the ground takes new shape beneath his feet. He releases their supplies, builds a chicken coop, clears land for their cow, forms the well, foundation, and structure of the cabin, the pipes that will give them some of the luxuries of the city, plants their garden, and ensures it will be in full harvest whenever they have need of it. He makes certain that every step they took to get here from the nearest city, where the wagon dropped them, will be a glowing path that only they will be able to see, so they can traverse the land more easily. He layers the grounds with protections of his own, holding back the gaze of those who will try to spy on them with magic, any wild animal who might come to do them or their animals harm, and will ensure that for centuries, no matter what acts of nature may impact this forest, their home will stand, safe and unblemished. He makes the cabin and all of the land exactly the homestead that he has been thinking about for the past nine months, and then he takes Dabi's hand and tries to pull him to the door, desperate for him to see the home he's made for them. 

He feels it then, and it stops him in his tracks. The yawning, yearning that has carved out the place where Dabi is standing and the flood of guilt that tries to drown it. He meets bright blue eyes that look so stricken, so afraid– but not of him. Never of him. Dabi is terrified of himself, of the want that has taken hold so tightly around his heart that it is at risk of being crushed into nothing. He wants a life with Tomura. He wants to stay here. He wants to not just be his best option and a safe meal, but wants Tomura to want him. He wants Tomura to feel as deeply about him as Dabi realizes he feels about Tomura. He wants desperately, and that scares him so badly because he knows that is the one thing that drew Tomura to him in the first place. Dabi is so scared because he doesn't want to be selfish, because he doesn't want his needs screaming at him, and he doesn't want Tomura to feel obligated to love him the way that Dabi is in the process of realizing himself. 

"We have three acres," Dabi croaks before Tomura can say anything. "I can go camp– I can make somewhere else. How far do I have to be–?" 

Tomura moves into his space, feels Dabi's heart break as he believes, in that split second, that Tomura will kill him to free himself from this burden. But then Tomura presses their lips together, careful to not let any of his venom into the other's mouth as he tries to show Dabi that he will grant that wish. He will give him that dream. He isn't sure he can right now, but he has been thinking, since the moment they stepped into these woods, that he doesn't want to give him up. That he doesn't know if he would ever be willing to face the long, long life he has ahead of himself without Dabi by his side. There is so much magic in his body, and he would tear away as much of it as he needs to ensure that Dabi stays with him throughout the rest of his existence. He kisses Dabi and then drops his hands away from his face so he can clasp them together and makes good on that promise that just made to himself and creates a mote of that life in his hands. 

"Stay with me, until the end of our lives." He opens his hands and a small firefly glows against his palms, "and I will never let another dream turn sour. You will never want for anything again." 

"I just want you to be happy." Dabi manages to croak, meaning it as much as he wants to be with him. 

"Then stay with me." 

He reaches out, shakily, for the insect, and it flies from Tomura's palm to his fingertips and turns into a burst of brilliant blue and intensely hot fire that startles Dabi as that warmth flows into his body and breaks every ward and curse that has ever been placed on him. Tomura sunders his ties to the Iron Maggots and unleashes the magic that he thought was stolen forever from deep in his bones. He does what he can to make Dabi whole after the mortal has done so much to ensure that no one will ever do him harm again. He thinks it will take time and both of them doing better before Dabi doesn't feel like it is the peak of selfishness, but he can't help himself from throwing himself into Tomura's arms and being the one to press in for a kiss for the first time since they've known each other. 

Tomura thinks that Dabi is allowed to be selfish; he's allowed to be selfish after everything he's endured. But he will be as generous to Dabi as Dabi was to him once he was freed from that place. He will ensure that Dabi has whatever he wants for the rest of his life, and he will be more than content knowing that Dabi will never stop trying to give him that same treatment in turn.