so i saw some people discussing how loki in ragnarok shouldn’t have been at all phased or subverted by dr. strange – which i agree with, but also, hey, it’s comedic and you can argue that he was taken off-guard, but upon re-watch, something stuck out to me –
there’s this moment when they appear at the bottom of the stairs and thor rolls down the last couple and stands up and he says
we could’ve just walked.
and it made me think of how magic works in terry pratchett’s novels, how (to paraphrase) the hard part wasn’t turning someone into a frog, it was not turning someone into a frog when you knew how easy it was.
like, the whole scene with dr. strange is just. all magic. all pointless magic. unnecessary magic, when, well. they could have just walked.
whereas loki doesn’t really rely on magic overmuch in the movie – he uses it as a tool, when he needs it, but if the job can be done with plain old non-magical trickery or a knife, he just uses those. he resorts to magic when he’s cornered by valkyrie, he uses it when his goals are most directly accomplished by using magic rather than by other means.
whereas dr. strange is using magic all over his scene, just to use it. just because he can. magic was unnecessary for ninety percent of what he did in that scene, the only time he needed magic was to whisk them away to norway. but he teleported all over the place even when he only needed to move a few feet, gave thor an ever-refilling beer that just spilled everywhere, floated around to make a show of how ~magical~ he was, when…
he could have just walked.
i mean, i’m very sure that the filmmakers intended it for comedic effect, but there’s also a layer there of dr. strange being much less comfortable with magic than loki is – loki doesn’t need to bust out the magic at every opportunity, it’s simply a skill, a tool that is completely under his control and at his disposal. whereas dr. strange (at least in his scene in ragnarok) is showing off, which reeks of insecurity.
i guess i’m thinking… if you take the magic away, loki is still a deadly, formidable opponent with many tricks up his sleeve, but dr. strange is just a guy in a cape.
this is good and true because in the comics loki and dr strange got in a fight in a parking lot and then both of them had their magic taken away so loki just punched stephen through a wall and called it a gay ass day
in fairness most days for Loki are gay ass days regardless of how many wizards he punches
After turning 18, every kid is required to go to special tattoo parlor
where the town’s resident mage gives them a tattoo. No one knows what
the tattoo will be until it’s done, not even the mage. The tattoo forms
itself into a symbol that will become very important in the person’s
life. On Character A’s 18th birthday, their tattoo forms itself into a
crown.
Character A convinces their best friend, Character B, to go get a
tattoo. Not wanting anything big, Character B gets a small flower on
their back. The next morning, Character A gasps when they see Character
B’s entire back covered in vines and leaves and flowers, and they only
seem to be spreading further.
Everyone gets one tattoo in their life, and that tattoo gives them a
power of their choosing. Character A really wants the power to see
through objects, so they get a pair of eyes. However, after a series of
visions, they come to realize the power that manifested was actually
seeing into the future.
“I’m a mage and have been searching for an apprentice for years by
pushing a little bit of magic into everyone tattoo I give, just to see
if anyone reacts to it. None had, until I gave you yours. The second the
needle touched your skin, ink started flowing into patterns everywhere.
Please stop freaking out” AU
When tattoos start appearing on one’s body overnight, it’s a sign that
they’re meant to join the War of Magic. However, Character A’s parents
are major pacifists and hate the war, so Character A begins their own
struggle as they try to hide the growing tattoos their parents.
“I’ve been told all my life that moving tattoos were normal – a sign of
being healthy. But I don’t think that means the tattoos are supposed to
come off of my skin and fly around? Cause that’s why I’ve been hiding
out in my room all week” AU
Your players are faced with an ancient Sumerian curse! However, since the early ancient Sumerian language was only used for recording tax debts, it turns out to actually be an ancient Sumerian bill.
and therefore they need to get hold of some ancient Sumerian coinage and bring it to the ruins of the ancient Sumerian tax office, because the Sumerians had a pleasingly direct way of preventing tax evasion, namely horrifying curses.
well I don’t have any coin but I have these copper ingots, lovely copper ingots, from a very reputable merchant, never heard a word said against him, very thorough with his paperwork, anyway they’re guaranteed pure copper and proper weight, so can I pay my tax with those?
I just want everyone to take a step back for a second and really think about how we’re using the most powerful knowledge tool in history to make jokes about a specific dude who lived almost 4000 years ago.
You’re a powerful dragon that lived next to a small kingdom. For centuries you ignored humanity and lived alone in a cave, and the humans also avoided you. As the kingdom fell to invaders, a dying soldier approaches you with the infant princess, begging you to take care of her.
“cool,” you say, picking a bone from your teeth. it’s a power move you saw on VHS, but it actually just makes your gums kind of hurt. feels like ripping a popcorn kernel out.
around you, the abandoned subway is dripping. your horde of slightly-used-but-still-good Items Of Debatable Usage shifts under the scales of your tail.
“so, like, how did you find me, again?” you curl your tail up, around, through the air. the soldier looks bad, but you also don’t want him to die on your rug because you just got that cleaned. it’s really sixty rugs sewn together and to be honest? talk about a cleaning charge. used to be a dragon’s promise was worth something in this world.
you weren’t listening. “then she sent me here to you,” the man is saying.
you curl your tail around a handkerchief and pass it to him to clean up his blood. when it lands on him, you realize you’ve sort of erred. it is not a kerchief. it is a full king-sized sheet that is a replica from the set of the That’s 70′s Show. you’ve never seen an episode.
“she?” you taste the pronoun in your mouth. “let me guess. tall, green-black hair, very like a snake, but like, in a way that feels sort of human. like if a human was being a snake more than if a person was snake-ish.”
the soldier, with his one free arm, is trying to wrap parts of the sheet around his wounds. he barely nods. it’s kind of rude he’s so distracted.
you appraise him. “she didn’t like you,” you say, and hop off the ledge you’re lurking on. you feel graceful usually, but the smallness of this man makes you feel sort of crowded. like if you walk the wrong way you’ll squish him.
he coughs into his hand. the baby is fussing. “she… what? how do you know?”
“sent you the hard way,” you say, “quest and everything.”
you sniff downwards. the baby is absolutely Royalty, capital R. smells like a future princess. smells like hidden-in-a-wood. you smell again. actually, maybe it’s a tower. she smells like a tower princess.
maybe he thinks that you’re gonna eat her, because he wraps her tight against his chest. he smells like not-related, but absolutely sworn-to-protect. ugh.
you swipe your tail. clear off a space, dive in your claw. fish around. pluck out what is not a crib (cribs are useful) but instead a race car bed that has high enough walls it could convince itself to be a crib. “plop her down,” you say, “she’ll be safe here.”
“how do i know?” his voice is scratchy.
“call her,” you say, “call steph.”
he doesn’t move. you roll your eyes. “ugh. is she still going by that name? call The Witch of Night”. a name, which, not that it matters, you suggested to her about six eons ago. now it’s more like “One of the Several Witches Of New York City And Surrounding Boroughs.”
“i trust her,” he says, “i don’t trust you. how do you two even…?”
“she’s punishing me,” you say, because honestly! when is she not! she has no idea what a prank is supposed to look like! “this is to remind me that i belong in a Tale, and i escaped, and it totally ruined a Very Good Spell.”
he’s staring at you. his eyes are glassy. he stumbles. you edge the racecar bed closer. he puts the baby in it and she hushes, which you take to be a good sign. you rock it gently with your tail. if you took care of her (which, you won’t, obviously) you’d have to do some Small Magic and turn human for a while, even though you always feel kind of tiny and weak in human bodies. it would make it easier to hold and carry and take outside this little bundle of joy. no, not joy. Royalty.
“dragons are supposed to die in Tales,” you say, “and i didn’t die, clearly.” you begin to hunt for something that can function as a bottle. “major disappointment for all involved, myself included, trust me.”
the man drops to his knees. you suck in your breath between your teeth. he flinches like he expects flames, which is kind of hurtful. if you had wanted to eat him, you would have just done that already. but really, barbecue in front of a baby? even dragons have morals.
“ugh,” you say, and you pull out your old talking stone you can’t afford (Verizon has great coverage for hidden supernatural beasts, but really, at what cost) “hang on.”
the phone rings about two whole times. your heart always flutters, just a little, because it’s her on the other end. “sophie?” you ask.
“yeah?” her voice holds a smile in it.
“steph sent me another baby,” you say. you meanwhile pull what-is-not-a-rattle out of the pile and shake it for the girl. “the guy who brought it, is, like… toast.”
he looks pale.
“not literal toast,” you amend, “absolutely could be worse.”
“i keep telling her,” sophie sighs, “we’re not ready.”
“she’s just excited,” you say placidly. it’s not good to speak ill of your inlaws.
“how much longer for the guy?”
you sniff. “uh, forty minutes, tops. how fast can you get him to the hospital?”
“oh, twelve with traffic.” in the background, you hear her moving, already on her way, her keys jingling.
“what do we do with … uh Recent Acquisition.” you tickle the baby with a tail. it giggles and it sounds like bells. you roll your eyes. absolutely Royalty, kind-as-kittens, pure-of-heart, some-bullshit-yet-to-be-written. you want to snuggle with her, which is just completely unbecoming of a dragon.
“i’m going to kill her,” sophie says, “what kind of baby?”
“tower princess.” you gently push the man and his blood off your rug. ugh. he’s moaning and groaning, so you tell him, “dude i’m on the phone.”
he’s going to be fine. sophie never met someone she couldn’t heal. she healed up the big old wound that was your heart, after all, cleaned it out and patched it up and made you whole. and she’d done that literally a few times, too. your Day Witch. the dawn star of your heart.
there’s a little laugh. “remember our tower?”
“babe,” you say, “how can i forget.” you look over to the Dying Man on his Final Quest. you offer him a partially-burned cellphone and mouth call who you need to. you need to say it a few times, because he isn’t good at reading dragon lips.
“sorry about steph,” sophie sighs. “she just wants to be an aunt.”
there’s kind of a pause and sophie adds, gently, in a way that your heart breaks to hear, “and maybe …. i kind of told her i wanna be a mom.”
sure, steph is much nicer since six eons ago when she went through a totally-edgy there-can-only-be-one-powerful-twin phase (and really, aren’t we all like that as teenagers), but as an aunt? she’s not like sophie, who is kind and gentle and good and whole and has loved you in any form you choose, who has held your claw when your cried and shined your scales and sorted your Horde and helped you find new bodies and helped you escape a Tale (her Tale too) and who ran off with you and survived, and thrived, and lived in a world that forgot magic, and live, and love, and watch lots of netflix, which, along with vaccines, is your absolute favorite New Era thing.
but anyway. what if steph goes dark again. what if you forget to invite her to the birthday party or it gets lost in the mail and lo and behold, eternal sleep. what if she don’t like how the baby speaks and decides Toads For Tongues. what if she goes through the whole mirror-mirror bullshit. not with your baby.
your baby. is this, like, your baby now?
“i kinda,” the words feel so Right. like Tale kinds of Right. like somehow when he showed up he wasn’t finishing his quest but starting yours. the baby laughs again and you realize: she doesn’t sound like bells. she sounds normal, you just already love her, “i kinda wanna be a mom too.”
I have a theory that the valued quality of each of the four Houses isn’t really about the personality of its students.
The valued quality of each of the four Houses has to do with how they perceive magic.
Stick with me a second: Hogwarts is a school to study magic. Magic as Hogwarts teaches it can be seen as many things: a natural talent, a gift, a weapon, etc.
So how you believe magic should be used will both reflect your personality and change how you handle that power.
“Their daring, nerve, and chivalry set Gryffindors apart,” Gryffindors perceive magic as a weapon. Gryffindors tend to excel in aggressive forms of magic, like offensive and defensive spells, and they are good at dueling. But a true Gryffindor knows that the power is a responsibility, and so they must always use their powers to stand up for what’s right. They are the sword of the righteous, which makes them as good at Defense Against the Dark Arts as they are at combat magic.
Hufflepuffs believe that magic is a gift and that the best gifts are to be given away. Hufflepuffs, “loyal and just,” would naturally abhor the idea of jealously guarding magic or using it to hurt someone else. So Hufflepuffs share their magic to benefit of Muggles, like the Fat Friar, to protect the overlooked, like Newt Scamander with his creatures, or to oppose those who would use magic to torment and bully, like the Hufflepuffs who stood with the DA and the battle of Hogwarts.
Slytherins are the opposite: they believe their magic is a treasure that they have been entrusted to protect. The Slytherin fascination with purity, with advantage, with cunning and secrecy–all of which were perverted by the Death Eaters–comes from the idea that people with magic in their veins have been given something special that it is their duty to protect at all costs. And perhaps they aren’t entirely wrong: power in the wrong hands can be dangerous. And power interfering at will with Muggle affairs is a gross presumption that could turn the course of history. Though the series shows some of the worst that Slytherin can be, “evil,” is not a natural Slytherin tendency. “Cautious,” is.
Ravenclaws believe that magic is an art form, one that is beautiful and should be appreciated and studied for its own sake. If “wit beyond measure is man’s greatest treasure,” then asking what magic is for is useless. It’s more important to immerse oneself in magic for its own sake. Ravenclaws push the boundaries of magic to see if they can, hence Hermione’s spell experiment on the DA coins being dubbed a Ravenclaw quality, but like Luna Lovegood in the pursuit of extraordinary creatures: they can also be content to plumb the depths of what already exists.
So while you can see where personalities will overlap over Houses, perhaps in Sorting we should be asking ourselves less what we think we are and more what we think we believe.
that’s much more interesting and substantive than “brave, smart, evil, miscellaneous”
VIKING LORE HELD THAT BOTH WEAVING AND SORCERY WERE WOMEN’S WORK, DITTO THE ORDERING OF THE HOUSE ACCOUNTS. MANY CULTURES HAVE HISTORICALLY LEFT ACCOUNTANCY TO WOMEN! MANY SOCIETIES HAVE ALSO LEFT FIBERCRAFT TO WOMEN BECAUSE IT IS TEDIOUS AND REPETITIVE BUT ALSO VERY NECESSARY. SEE ALSO: COOKING, CLEANING, BUDGETING, EMOTIONAL LABOR.
ANYWAY FIBERCRAFT, AS I HAVE DISCOVERED VIA LEARNING TO DO A WHOLE LOT OF IT, IS ALMOST ENTIRELY APPLIED MATHEMATICS EXCEPT FOR THE PART THAT’S ENGINEERING (WHICH IS ALSO MATHEMATICS). ONCE YOU LEARN EVEN THE BASICS OF KNITTING, SEWING, AND WEAVING, IT BECOMES ABSOLUTELY INCREDIBLE TO REALIZE MEN THINK WOMEN ARE BY VIRTUE OF THEIR SEX (these are of course sexist gender-essentialist men who are not cool with trans people) ILL-EQUIPPED TO DO MATH SOMEHOW. HOLY SHIT, HAVE YOU SEEN HEIRLOOM KNITTING PATTERNS? HAVE YOU SEEN THE FORETHOUGHT THAT GOES INTO WORKING A HARNESS LOOM? OH MY GOD.
THIS IS, THEN, WHERE PROGRAMMING (AND SORCERY) COMES IN. A PROGRAM IS “CODED INSTRUCTIONS FOR THE AUTOMATIC PERFORMANCE OF A PARTICULAR TASK”. WEAVING IS OFTEN A BINARY PATTERN: OVER/UNDER. PUNCH CARDS ON ADVANCED LOOMS CAN SET WHETHER THREADS GO OVER OR UNDER, AND SWITCHING THE CARDS AROUND YIELDS DIFFERENT PATTERNS OF CLOTH. A DUDE NAMED JAQUARD DEVELOPED EXTREMELY COMPLEX PUNCH CARDS THAT STARTED TO ENCODE HIGH VOLUMES OF INFORMATION FOR INCREASINGLY AUTOMATED LOOMS. A HUNDRED YEARS LATER WOMEN ARE USED AGAIN FOR THE ‘TEDIOUS BUT NECESSARY’ BUSINESS OF USING BINARY ON/OFF CARDS TO WRITE PROGRAMS FOR EARLY COMPUTERS.
WHERE SORCERY FITS INTO ALL THIS IS HAVE YOU EVER SEEN A WOMAN USE A CARD LOOM REALLY FAST? IT’S THE MOST INTIMIDATING SKILLSET OUTSIDE OF A RODEO. SHE 100% LOOKS LIKE SHE COULD MAKE YOUR BUTT FALL OFF IF YOU CROSSED HER. APPLIED MATHEMATICS / ENGINEERING IS BAFFLING TO WATCH FROM THE OUTSIDE, ESPECIALLY WHEN IT COMES TO FIBERCRAFT. YOU CAN MANIFEST WITH YOUR MIND AND HANDS THIS HIGHER AND TRUER ARCANE PLANE OF EXISTENCE INTO A NICE SCARF AND KEEP YOUR HUSBAND ALIVE FOR THE WINTER. MAYBE IF HE CROSSES YOU YOU CAN ALSO MAKE HIS BUTT FALL OFF.
I TOTALLY ACKNOWLEDGE THAT MEN DO FIBERCRAFT TOO BUT THIS WAS SPECIFICALLY ABOUT THE INTERSECTIONS BETWEEN WOMEN, MATH, FIBERCRAFT, AND MAGIC, SO THERE YOU GO.
You may have known this already, but the Apollo guidance computer’s core memory was literally woven strands of copper, and it was all done by hand, by a bunch of women. Because who else knows how to weave things?
*SLAMS HANDS ON TABLE* WOMEN’S WORK SENT MEN TO THE FUCKING MOON HOW IS THAT NOT MAGIC AS HELL
Oh oh oh oh this is my subject on Viking reenactment gigs, I’m the group’s Vala and I also fill in for the weavers and spinners because IT’S THE SAME SHIT let me tell you about it 😀 😀 😀
SPINNING with a drop spindle, none of your fancy high-tech spinning wheels here my friend, SPINNING OMG is literally taking undifferentiated fluff and turning it into the most useful and life-essential item in your whole civilisation with little more than a click of your fingers–without thread you have no sails, no clothes, no blankets, it’s literally power of life-or-death shit here, it is magic AS FUCK. That’s without doubt why the Norns were spinners and weavers.
There was laws about not saying people’s names or talking about people when you’re spinning, because you’re basically bringing something into being out of nothing, and with that kind of power you could just as easily bring events into being. So folks probably look the other way when you’re spinning thread for your son’s shirt and you want him to be victorious and honourable, but if you’re spinning away and bitching out about that ho Ingvar (see below) and how she stole your man and deserves the same to happen to her, that’s a crime. You’d be in better legal standing if you just punched her, because enchantment against a person was seen as sneaky and underhanded, with all connotations of forethought and antisocial intention, while punching someone could be an understandable lapse of self-control.
It was also forbidden to spin “against the sun” (ie: counterclockwise) because ok we also know there’s a mechanical aspect to that as well, it’s very useful to have the twist going in the same direction at all times so it doesn’t cancel itself out, but it was believed that an item made from backwards-spun thread could literally kill a person, there’s an account of a Vala spinning a shirt to murder a priest and it’s inferred that it was spun backwards. Because like, the sun is the source of all life, and to go against the sun goes against life, and much as the anti-twist cancels out the twist, it cancels out life. Brutal.
And you couldn’t talk about people when weaving, either, because weaving is an extension of the whole something-from-nothing power, but presumably people did anyway because there’s an actual find of a weaving tablet with a curse carved on it “Sigvor’s Ingvar shall have
my misfortune” so basically every time the card was turned, it would strengthen the curse, and literally spin and weave it into being. HOW FUCKING AWESOME IS THAT. There’s also a find of a weaving sword with a “love poem” carved on it, note the quotemarks because this “poem” goes “Think of me, I think of you; Love me, I love you” THAT AIN’T NO POEM FAM THAT A SPELL. She probably making him (or her) a shirt.
And that’s three times I’ve mentioned shirts, so I should tell you that making a shirt for someone was a Big Deal, in a way it was sort of the period equivalent of the boyfriend sweater, with the sheer amount of labour that goes into making a shirt you have to really give a whole lot of shits about that person. There’s an account of a woman making a shirt for her brother-in-law while her husband was away, and it’s OMG DRAMA BOMB. The Vala I mentioned above really gave a lot of shits about murdering that priest. Hence, the most-likely-a-woman who owned the inscribed weaving sword could very well have been making a shirt for her crush, who may OR MAY NOT have been her husband. You know, she could’ve been like “hope my nice hubby thinks about me while he’s away” or she could’ve been like “damn, brother-in-law too hot” or she could’ve been like “damn, Ingvar too hot” (wlw aren’t attested at all but you gotta assume it happened because humans) but in any event she knew what was up. And making a shirt for someone wasn’t thought of as *overtly* magical, mostly, but there’s kind of a subtext to it that presupposes any shirt could be enchanted and probably was to some extent.
And this is just scratching the surface of the academically well established stuff, with none of my own hypotheses and observations. I can go on for hours.
I have talked about knitting and fiber arts with many different women of all sorts of religion and non religion, and the vast majority of them say that when they make special items, they put some kind of intentions into the garment.
Thanks sooo much for coming along on this ride! I’m so happy to say that Silenced Magic is live on Amazon today. It’s free with Kindle Unlimited, and ’d be honored if you’d check it out and maybe even leave me a review.
Here’s what you’re getting into:
Sean Ollivier doesn’t find out that David Takeda is just your run-of-the-mill comp-sci junior at Deercreek University until Sean accidentally-on-purpose outs himself as a witch. He’s surprised when David’s surprised, so Sean has to ask—isn’t David an elf? Come on, he’s attractive, he’s socially awkward, it all adds up. David insists that, no, for real, he’s not an elf. And what does Sean mean, magic?
David finds out that Sean means magic is a Thing That Exists when he takes David to his usual paranormal hangout to double-check about this alleged not-an-elf business. David has to come to terms quickly with the fact that all the regulars at Sean’s fave coffee shop, Mistletoe, are just a little bit on the abnormal side. Paranormal, actually.
Turns out Deercreek is full of witches, psychics, elves, pixies, giants, werewolves, faeries, and a thriving paranormal underground that swirls around Mistletoe. David and Sean get tangled in all of it as they hack magical databases, expose a new magic, and figure out if a witch and a human have any chance at falling in love.
And because I’m so excited to finally, finally share this with you, there’s an excerpt under the cut (different from the excerpt you can read on Amazon!):
Steel Phoenix Studios 