#community magic

Every inch of the walls, every inch, was covered in complex weavings. Some were patterns – spirals, knots, circles or intersecting lines, and even I could feel the power in them. There was a great circle of stones in the center, like a huge well, and over that was stretched layer after layer of nets and spell-weavings, held down by pegs driven into the earthen floor. And every single one of them was made of hair.

I saw every colour in the weavings, from as black as my aunt’s crow-wing hair to the snow-white of age to the near-white blonde of some children. Red and brown, too, and all shades between. This was why our hair was cut. For this great, secret magic.

I was so captivated by the weavings that I didn’t realize the boys had joined us until one of them said what I was thinking. “This is why our braids are cut off,” he said quietly. “To make these?”

“Yes,” one of the white-garbed wise-women said. There were several of them here, some old, some young. It was a middle-aged one, with broad grey streaks in her brown hair, who spoke now. She stood before a square, white altar-stone, with candles set in the four corners and a knife lying in the center beside a bowl of what looked like water. “This is the shield of our land. The great magic that protects us from both evil below,” she pointed to the huge well, “and evil outside. This is the wall that shields us, and keeps us safe.” She beckoned the boy who had spoken forward, and he approached her nervously. “And this is the secret of which you must never speak, outside this place, so that no whisper may ever reach our enemies on this plane or the other. Understand, to speak of it is utterly forbidden, and if you do, you will die.” 

She took up the blade, then, sharp and gleaming, and the boy stepped back, but she only took his hand and pricked his finger so that a single drop of blood welled onto the blade. Then she moved behind him, and cut through his braid with the knife, so his hair fell loose just above his shoulders. Then, ceremoniously, she handed him the braid, laying it across both his hands. “Now,” she said, and though she spoke quite softly, the room was so silent that her voice seemed to echo. “Look within yourself, and find what part within yourself you are willing to give up, what power of yours can go into this hair, and be used to protect you and all your people. When you have found it, lay the hair on the altar. If you choose not to make the sacrifice, hand the hair to me. The choice is yours, to be made freely.” She looked out at the rest of us. “All of you are free to choose,” she said gently. “We compel no-one. We only ask that you give a little of yourselves, to serve all, and what you give you may choose, and if you choose to give nothing, that you are free to do.”

The boy stood for what seemed like a long time, and then he sighed and laid the braid on the altar. “It’s done,” he said, and his voice was unsteady, as if he wanted to cry.

“Thank you,” the woman said simply, and she laid a hand on his head in blessing, and then told him to stand on the other side of the altar.

She called up one after another, washing the knife in the bowl between each person, and each stood with his or her braid across his hands, making a choice, then laid the braid on the altar. Until Mari. She was a girl I didn’t like much, but I felt sorry for her when she started to cry. “No! No, I won’t!” she cried, stepping back and thrusting the braid towards the wise woman. “I won’t!”

“Very well,” the wise woman said calmly. “That is your choice.” She turned, and dropped the braid into a bucket behind her. “Go and stand with the others, then.”

Mari took a step towards the group, then looked at the bucket. “What are you going to do with my hair?” she asked, sounding nervous but suspicious at the same time.

The wise woman shrugged. “Throw it away,” she said calmly. “It’s of no use.”

Mari bit her lip, and went to stand with the others, but her eyes didn’t seem able to leave that bucket.

When it was my turn, I was shaking with nerves and excitement. I went to stand before her, had my finger pricked, and my braid cut through. My head felt so strange, with the curls coming loose, so light, and when she laid the braid over my hands I felt dizzy when I looked at it.

I cannot truly explain in words what happened then. I can only say that I knew, without knowing how I knew, that I could put some part of myself, my power, into my braid, and that the importance of what I gave up would determine the magical strength that hair would have when it was used.  It could be anything. A talent, a memory, any part of myself.

I considered for a long moment, but I’d already known what it would be. I’d had time to think about it, while the others had their turns. Two years ago, sickness came to our village. I gave it my grief for my mother and my brother and sisters who died, the sorrow that had cut me like a knife within, the pain that had haunted me ever since. It was the strongest thing in me, the strongest thing I had to give.

I felt it go, and my body felt as light as my cropped head, all of a sudden. I hadn’t forgotten them, or the love I’d had for them, but the pain and weight of sorrow was all gone… and the hair across my palms felt much heavier. I laid it on the altar, and felt the hand on my head in blessing, and went to stand with the others.

No-one else refused, that year. Mari was still snuffling when we went out from the cave, all together, and walked back to the village. Dawn came, while we walked, and we were all tired and yawning.

Dern, one of my oldest friends, came to walk beside me. “What did you give up?” he whispered.

“We’re not supposed to talk about it,” I whispered back.

“We’re not supposed to talk about the ritual,” he countered. He looked sad, but a bit relieved too. “So I’ll just say… I don’t think I’ll play the drum anymore.”

That startled me. Dern had always been so good at drumming, playing so people could dance. “That?”

He shrugged. “It was just something I had a knack for. I’ll miss it, but… I didn’t need it.”

I nodded slowly. “I think,” I said, looking up at the pale sky, and listening to the birds starting to sing, “that I won’t be sad anymore.”

“That’s good.” He took my hand and squeezed it. He knew how heavy my grief had weighed on me.

We never spoke of it again, any of us. But none of us felt quite the same about Mari, after that day. I understood now why sometimes one boy, or one girl, or two or three, would seem to draw away from the others after the ritual. They hadn’t been willing to give something. They had kept their power to themselves, instead of making a sacrifice. It was hard not to feel different about someone, knowing that.

This valley has been peaceful and prosperous all my life. Free of the weight of my grief, I picked up the threads of my life again and became a hunter.

Ten years later, Mari went missing, vanished while she was out collecting mushrooms. All we hunters went looking for her, assuming she was lost or injured.

I found her, at dawn of the next morning, at the very edge of the great valley. She was sitting on a fallen tree, and she was crying.

I went over to her, sitting on the log beside her. “Are you all right?”

“No.” She wiped her eyes on her sleeve. “No, I’m not all right. I’ve never been all right since the ritual, and you know that and now… now it’s worse.”

“Worse how?”

“Because…” She swallowed hard, then stood. “Come. I’ll show you.”

She led me towards the top of the ridge. “I went over. I was going to leave and not come back. I couldn’t stand it, knowing… knowing everyone knew. But there were… were men. They chased me, and I… ran back. They were laughing, and shouting threats, they said they’d…” She shuddered, and I put an arm around her shoulders. “But then they crossed into the valley, and…” She stopped, and pointed.

There were four of them, all dead. One had been cut into pieces, as if by fine wires. Another had been hanged from a tree. A third seemed to have fallen and broken his head open on a stone. The fourth looked untouched, though his eyes were wide open in terror and the earth showed where he’d kicked and flailed before he died. When I examined the body, though, I found that his mouth and throat were stuffed with handfuls of hair. He’d been smothered with it.

There was more hair tangled around the ankles of the man who’d fallen, and twisted into the rope that hung the one in the tree. While I examined them, I heard a trembling voice. “What happened to them?”

I looked around. Another man stood, just over the ridge. He was dirty, and looked as unsavoury as the dead men, but he also looked terrified. “I was behind them, when they… they all just died. I didn’t see what did it, but they all died. Was it a demon?”

“This valley is protected,” I said, choosing my words carefully. “To enter here with ill intentions is… unwise.”

Then I turned my back on him, and went to Mari. She was crying again. “I wouldn’t give,” she sobbed. “I was scared of losing part of myself, and I wouldn’t give it up, and… and it protected me anyway. It saved me even though I wouldn’t help.”

“Of course. When we all did it, we did it for everyone. Not just everyone who contributed.”

“But no-one will ever forget that I didn’t,” Mari moaned. “I wish I had, I do wish I had, but now…”

“So go back.” I pulled her braid. “It’s been growing for ten years. That’s long enough to go back, and nearly dying in the woods is a good enough reason.”

She stared at me, and slowly touched her hair. “Go back?” she whispered.

“Why not? People do.”

“People do,” she whispered. “I… thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Let’s go home and get some sleep first, though.”

The next time I saw Mari, her hair didn’t reach her shoulders, and her eyes were bright with relief. It was fear that had held her back, and it had weighed on her mind all that time. She was happy, after that.

I’ve given my hair three time. The second time was when my only child, born late, came healthy into the world. The third was when my wife died, and I came to the caverns to become a wise woman.

So you see, I understand how you feel. I know that for some it’s a hard choice, a frightening choice, one you can’t make when you’re so young and unprepared. We all know that, that’s why there’s no scolding when someone refuses. Some people never do it, and it doesn’t bother them. It’s what’s right for them. Others, like Mari, like you, it weighs on.

But it’s never too late. When you’re ready, when you know what it is you have to give and can give it freely, come back. We’ll be ready then, with the knife, and the blessing.

Only you can choose what you give to your people, and only you can know when or if it’s right to give it. But it’s never too late.

There, don’t cry. You’ll know when it’s right.

---

Note:

Lucifer:

Since day one of their arrival, Lucifer has kept tabs on the health of MC.  However, he doesn’t intervene unless he believes that MC may be ill or in the way of harm.

MC’s been getting paler over the last couple of months and it has not escaped his notice.

He begins taking careful note of whether MC is getting enough vitamin D in their diet, going so far as to ensure that shared meals at the House of Lamentation are full of the nutrients their human needs to remain healthy.  If MC seems down or out of it, they’ll promptly find themselves whisked off to get a prescription for vitamin supplements to make up for any deficiencies they might have from now living in the Demon Realm.

He remembers the adjustments he and his brothers had to go through after they fell.  For most of them, it meant changing their diets, though Asmo in particular despaired over the loss of the spattering of freckles over across his nose and cheeks as he feared his beauty was fading.

It might not bring their freckles back, but he’ll be damned if MC becomes unhealthy on his watch.

Luke is also looking a bit more pallid these days.

He might have mentioned something to Lord Diavolo about MC and the angels looking overly pale these days due to the lack of sufficient sun exposure they’d normally have in their own realms.  It was only coincidence that a trip was soon planned to spend some time in the sun at Lord Diavolo’s private island.

He might not say anything, but seeing MC happy and healthy is a source of Pride for him.  He’ll admire from afar if they manage to get MC’s freckles back.

Mammon:

“Yo, human!  Where’d all ya spots go?”

It took him a while to figure out what was changing, but being in charge of their human means he needs to notice these things!

He freaks out at first thinking it means that MC is getting sick.  Even after explaining it to him, he’s a bit skeptical that it doesn’t mean that MC is unwell.  He knew that humans could have spots cuz he’s seen them during his time in the Human Realm,but he never knew it was because of the sun.  Now that he thinks about it now, though, it makes sense with the changes some of the brothers went through after the Fall.  And the little pipsqueak angel also seems to be significantly more pale.

He internalizes this for too long before finally mentioning something to Lucifer.  “Hey, maybe a trip out to that island would do them some good, yeah?”

Lucifer shot down a trip to the Human Realm just to go to the beach…but he’d see about organising a group trip to the Demon Lord’s private beach.

Asmo:

“Oh, darling, you’re looking so pale these days!  Are you feeling alright??”

Asmo’s one of the first to notice the sun-kissed color of MC’s cheeks and freckles fading the longer they’re in the Demon Realm.

It reminds him of part of his own transition after the Fall.

He drags MC to his room whenever he can to make sure that they’re keeping up an acceptable skincare routine.

There’s a specialty spa he loves to go to because it has tanning booths.  While normally scarce in the Demon Realm, they are popular in areas where Human Realm spa services and aesthetics are more on trend.  He uses them to get just the right amount of sun-kissed glow and dainty flecks back to his skin.

He’ll suggest they go there sometime and might drop a hint that they even have tanning there, though he’d never pressure MC into using them.

If MC likes the suggestion, Asmo will want them both to make a routine of going together.

He’ll be overjoyed when MC’s cute freckles start making a return.

Asmo is one of the first to jump onboard for plans to go out to Lord Diavolo’s private island.  He’ll never miss a good opportunity to get in some sunbathing (and pictures of him sunbathing for his Devilgram).  He’s one of the ones sure to remember sunscreen and insist on lathering up MC - it’s not sexy to get all red and burned from too much sun!

If MC is involved with Asmo, he’ll lay sweet kisses all over them for each freckle.

Satan:

It was less that he noticed and more just that he’s aware that it’s something that happens with many humans and angels when they spend significant amounts of time staying in the Demon Realm.

Being born to the darkness of the Demon Realm, however, he did not realise the cause of the change being connected to the sun - or lack thereof.

“Ah, that’s…intriguing.  I’ve never come across such a thing discussed in any of the books I’ve read about human anatomy.  Is it painful to lose them?”

He scours books on skincare for humans and reads up on the effects of too much and too little sun exposure.  There sadly isn’t a whole lot written on this in the Demon Realm, yet.

Satan is the one that suggests that MC maybe should be seeing a doctor regularly during their stay to ensure that their health is being properly looked after.  After all, the human health books advise that routine bloodwork can signal of issues developing long before outward appearances may reflect a problem.

If MC doesn’t care of their freckles fading, then he doesn’t care, either, though the little spots remind him of the spots that some cats have. They're cute.

Diavolo:

Is genuinely very concerned when he notices MC’s “spots” fading away.

They’re the first human exchange student that he’s become close enough with to notice such a thing happening.

He knows that many humans can have all kinds of spots; some many, some few; some dark, some light.

But he didn’t know they could start fading away.

Does it mean their precious exchange student is ill??

He asks Barbatos to assist him in finding books that might provide the answer, but they don’t have much luck.  It seems to be a phenomenon little reported on within the Demon Realm.

He isn’t sure how to approach it, so is just blunt about it one day when he and MC are enjoying some private time together, “I don’t mean to alarm you, MC…but I noticed that your spots don’t appear to be quite as plentiful as when you first arrived here.  Have you been feeling well?”

Is relieved when he’s told that it’s a normal thing to occur due to the lack of sunlight that the Demon Realm has, but is equally upset that he’s inadvertently been the cause of this.  The health of his exchange student is one of his highest priorities while they are under his care.

Even if MC is getting sufficient nutrients from their diet, Diavolo is skeptical that their freckles fading isn’t inherently a sign of bad health.  He tells Lucifer that they’ll all vacation at his island over Spring Break.

Is disappointed that a few days in the sun won’t be enough to ensure that MC’s freckles will come back and not fade again.  So that just means they’ll have to plan more sunny trips!

Maybe he should make a mini sun for MC.

Is skeptical that tanning beds are sufficient for the same desired effect but will confer with Asmo to find the best and safest options to explore with MC.

MC’s spots are one of his favorite features if they’re involved with the Prince.  They’re one of the cute unique things that humans can have.  They might be from the sun but they’re like having a face and body full of stars like the night sky.  He could spend hours lying together with MC and gently tracing them.

-Ch. 11: The Exchange Students-

Some Months Ago…

Michael had chosen the angels that would serve as the coming year’s exchange students from the Celestial Realm, and the demons serving as their own representatives to the Human and Celestial Realms had been sorted.  That left only this second Human Realm representative after they had chosen the first from the last batch of names to come from the ornate basin created for the purpose of providing a list of Human Realm candidates to choose from - a means of narrowing down potential prospects.

Diavolo gave the wide bowl a stir with his fingers, watching the whirling fluid glisten until it slowly manifested the name and details of five new candidates.  Barbatos stood opposite him dutifully taking note of each as they appeared.

While the process wasn’t completely random - he needed some criteria to make this work as smoothly as it could - it was enough so that they did not recognize any of the prompted candidates this time around.  With the names gathered, Barbatos was off to the Archive of Souls to retrieve the life files belonging to these humans.

The last few had been…dull, to say the least.  They weren’t failures for his project by any means, simply painfully average for his own amusement.  Diavolo had laughed seeing Solomon’s name offered up from the first batch of names - the sorcerer would certainly liven things up.  While he didn’t know Solomon well, he knew of him well enough.  Barbatos had stated he was neutral on the summoning of his human pact-holder, so he had been pulled as their first Human Realm exchange student.  He hoped for another of similar wit to shake things up again.

Five files were brought before him.  The first two were nearly dismissed outright - not a thing drew him to them.  The third was a musician from the country of Australia.  Had potential.

The fourth was…almost completely blank.  Suspiciously so.  Evaline...no family name.  A young witch born in the Louisiana state of the United States - most likely to the governing coven of that territory but that detail wasn’t given.  Age, old enough as a human though quite young as a witch…  Sex and gender were bizarrely blank.  Father, mother…both deceased.  No current information.  The only picture able to be drawn from the file was one of them very young in life - no older than a child - but too hazy to make out many details beyond the flash of auburn hair and wide amethyst eyes.  Details were missing and others not populating as they should have been.  This file had been tampered with.

Looking at it closer, Diavolo forced away the traces of interfering magic on the file, but his frown deepened when nothing new populated.  Something else was preventing it from retrieving further information on this witch.  Outside magic?

His lip quirked up.  He handed the file back to Barbatos, a glint of excitement in his eyes.  He commanded, “See what you can find on this one.  I believe that will be our second exchange student.”

“As you wish, my Lord,” Barbatos responded, sweeping up the other files to return to the Archive.  The fifth file taken remained unopened and forgotten, so pleased he was to have been handed a mystery.

He sat back in his office chair, losing himself in his thoughts of what kind of magic could prevent the Archive of Souls from collecting the information of a soul.

Barbatos reported to him his findings a few weeks later.  He had managed to find the witch by complete happenstance - which they both knew to be too improbable to not be at the winding of the threads of fate.  There was something drawing them together for a reason.

Evaline had returned to their hometown, Barbatos’ first stop in seeking them out.  He recounted that he had sat down at a coffee shop to research the area more thoroughly when another customer - a female-presenting witch with long auburn hair and those striking eyes - walked in to order.  And immediately swore and returned to their car to retrieve their wallet.  “For a moment I believed that they had detected me.”  That chance meeting had allowed him to surreptitiously follow their movements for the prior two weeks.  Barbatos noted that they moved with an abundance of caution, but, with much patience, he was finally able to pinpoint where they called home in another state during a moment of carelessness.

Diavolo hadn’t cared for most of the ‘how’ details, drawn in by the pictures and video Barbatos had secretly taken.  The witch was a curious mix of contradictions and curiosities.  They loved animals and music and sweets.  They spent equal time between the library, coffee shops, clubs, bars, high scale and seedy areas - Barbatos theorised that they were seeking something as they didn't always seem the most comfortable in the crowds they found themselves in.  They shied away from others, had a quiet and gentle manner, were ‘charmingly’ clumsy, and perhaps overly apologetic.  They wore a glamour that never once faltered and, while they otherwise used their magic sparingly in the open, Barbatos reported that the magic he did feel from them was suspiciously slight given the skilled glamour.  They had a temper and righteous streak and could swear up a storm - all seen when they made a scene and dumped their drink over a man at a bar for ignoring another patron’s pleas to leave them alone.

Evaline had caught on that they had a shadow at some point and had begun efforts to flush Barbatos out, prompting him to return and report.

Someone who would bring excitement.

It hadn’t been a hard decision for Diavolo to finalize their choice of exchange student.  In the coming weeks, he would have Barbatos make the arrangements for bringing them here for the beginning of the new school year.

To say that he was shocked at the turn of events would have been an understatement.  It had taken every fiber of his being to contain his excitement after their moody exchange student revealed herself to not only be a witch but born to a demon.  The more she spoke, the more was simultaneously revealed yet raised even more questions.

A demi-demon witch…

He had to rein in the mountain of questions he wanted to ask as she sat anxiously alert across from him in his office while her father barely resisted fawning further over her.

She didn’t like ‘Evaline,’ nor was she any longer Morcanta - the name renounced with the departure from her coven - she was ‘Evie,’ living under the assumed family name of Felicien.  And thus it was so on her official R.A.D. paperwork.  She didn’t care how she was addressed but had a current preference for feminine terms.  He sensed a hesitancy and assured there was no permanence should that change at any point.

Many of her questions made it obvious that she thought like a human, so ingrained with their biases and insecurities that they presumed much the same of the Demon Realm.  As the others before her, she would come to see that not all of the rumors of the Demon Realm reflected reality - at least less so since he became ruler.  He allayed her concerns while covertly taking note of his own musings.

What was her sin alignment?  Too early for him to tell.  Possibly bound by Lust and Pride like her father…or potentially a diminished pull due to her human blood.  Perhaps it was better to ponder if she even had a notable alignment? Elemental leanings?  A sharp brightness in her aura hinted towards Fire or perhaps the more volatile Lightning. What else did her aura reveal?  Difficult to tell given how she held it so close.  It occasionally jolted, a product of her current anxiety, and revealed flickers of a multitude of magicks.  So defensive.  He’d learn more once she settled. Would she have a lean towards being more human or more demon?  Also too early to tell. Something about her name nagged at him, but he couldn’t quite figure out exactly what.  Why was it strange?

He could see now that her glamour hid her demon features quite well.  Without a trained eye and purposefully looking for it, he didn’t believe he’d even have noticed it.  While not completely human, he wasn’t sure he could have found a better fit for his exchange program.  After all, with its success would inevitably come more demi-demons and others as the races co-mingled once more.  While they had been rarely born in the past - and it was even more rare for one to be allowed to live past infancy by humans - there were few still living in the Human Realm with enough demon blood to have any claim to the Demon Realm.  This was a prime opportunity to study how one would adjust to living in the modern day Demon Realm under his rule.

He mostly brushed off the pesky business of her existence being due to realm breaches from one of his own generals in charge of preventing just those - that was for him to address with Inari privately.

A giddy feeling bubbled up in his chest.  This was shaping up to be precisely the fun that he had been seeking.

Next time...

“What a wonderful coincidence!” Diavolo beamed at them.  Evie wrapped her tail over her lap to pin it down from wagging like an idiot in response.  She supposed that she was happy to see them.  Uuugh, she was not at all accustomed to having to temper such…emotive responses.

Her dad wasn’t even bothering to open his menu, which Evie noticed was in Devil’s script as opposed to her own in English.  He happily responded to Diavolo, “We’re out to celebrate Evie’s first week!  Whole day of fun things!  Did some running outside the walls this morning.”

Entry Tags: Shameless Smut, Size Kink, Knotting, Implied Diavolo/Lucifer, Demon Anatomy, Rough Sex, Additional Tags May Be Added, Oral, PIV, One Shot Collection, Worldbuilding is one of my kinks

Tags & Warnings will update with collection entry progress.  Please see individual entries for specific tags/warnings.

Welcome!  This is my new (probably mostly) NSFW collection dump for prompts, deleted scenes, alternative scenes, etc, for my fic Community Magic.  Prior reading of CM not needed, but encouraged!  This contains possible spoilers for CM.

This first scene came about from writing one for Community Magic where Evie ends up (innocently) in Diavolo's bed for the night while everyone's at the castle having fun in their costume pajamas (Evie's is a sea butterfly, but not really relevant here, lol). That one doesn't result in any frisky business since it's faaar too early for that in CM canon, so this is a "what if" alternative: what if aaall propriety was thrown out the window and they gave into the tension right then and there?

-Teaser-

Evie pulled at his arm, planning to quickly roll from his grip, but he wouldn't budge.  And like that her patience evaporated as her anxiety took over.  Letting out a strained sound of frustration, she struggled against him until she felt him nuzzling into the top of her head, his body vibrating with the deep rumbles from his chest.  …Was he purring?

Damnit.  Was she growing increasingly horny without any viable outlets the past few months?  Yes.  Was part of that due to her own personal rule of not sleeping with housemates, no matter how willing and attractive they might be?  Also yes.  Did she find the Demon Lord attractive?  Ugh, yes.  Was breaking her Demon Realm celibacy with its Prince a great idea?  Probably very not.

…Technically, he wasn't a housemate.

The sudden stiffening of his form told her that he had woken up.

His grip on her loosened as he pulled away enough to put space between them.  "Sorry, am I holding you too tightly?"