That feeling you get when the conductor asks a low brass player if they can play their part louder and you see the person say ok and smile mischievously and you just KNOW they’re going to blast the hell out of that part next time around
For those of you just listening in, our stores do classes and birthday parties. For the week of spring break, we have a class that runs the entire week where little kids can come in and learn how to do a craft each day.
…the kids that come to these things are usually under the age where spring break is an actual thing. Oldest so far is 7. Our youngest is 3. Average is about four.
This does, however, lead to some interesting interactions with small children- which I’m willing to do. (It’s almost always the parents I have a problem with.)
The first is a tiny three-year-old to whom English is her second language. This presents a unique challenge, but if you lead by example you can work around language barriers enough to communicate.
We were making monsters out of clay, which amounts to making a pinch pot, turning it on its side, and then decorating it with googly eyes and making teeth, horns, spikes, and whatever else you might decide to put on a monster face.
This little girl…
Three eyes, horns, spikes down the back, a forked tongue, stripes on the tongue, spots on the skin, a lunch pail, and a mustache.
She was so proud of this neon mess of monster that she began menacing people with it. But instead of making ‘monster noises’ like the rest of the class did, she would just creep up on you silently and set it just out of your line of sight. And when you finally noticed that there was a monster there, she would hide behind you, giggling menacing.
Last night on a D&D adventure, our tiefling warlock was in the process of getting rammed by an undead rothé.
Tiefling: I see it coming and put my horns down, ready to ram it back.
Me (DM): Wait, you what?!
Tiefling (OOC): I wanna ram him back! I have horns and I’m gonna use them.
Me: Fine, you squat down, presenting your horns to the rothé. It misses, but locks horns with you. Your horns versus a powerful undead beast, the animal wrenches its horns away, cracking the tip of your left horn off.
Tiefling: NO! Not lefty! He was my favorite!! It’s my turn next so I cast agonizing blast and aim for his… (OOC) Wait, can I roll to find out which horn is his favorite horn?
DM: Oh my god…sure.
*rolls a nat20*
Me, head in my hands: If an undead rothé could favor one horn over another, this one would pick the right horn.
Tiefling: Yes!! I cast agonizing blast on his right horn.
DM: It hits with force damage, splintering the horn off at the base and falling to the ground.
Tiefling: Aha!! You take my horn, I take yours!
The rothé comes back for the tiefling, ready to ram again.
Tiefling: Uh…I put my horns down, ready to ram too.
DM: You already lost one horn, why are you doing this to yourself?
Tiefling: I need to assert dominance!
DM: The attack hits, but with his right missing and your left missing, it’s left locks with your right horn. It strikes your puny tiefling head, cracking the tip off your right horn.
Tiefling: What?! No!!
The battle ended, the rothé fell in front of the tiefling.
Tiefling: (OOC) Can I take his remaining horns?
DM: Do a strength check.
DM: You put your foot on the rothé’s undead skull, pulling its left horn with all your strength. Your foot falls through the skull but the horn comes loose…too fast. You pull it into your shoulder doing *rolls a d4* 4 points of piercing damage to your shoulder.
[flourishing a paper dramatically] for my next batch of weirdly specific and irrelevant headcanons, i give you: voltron driving hcs
pidge – too young to drive, but when she turns 16 literally no one is surprised to discover she is an awful driver. her turns are too sharp, her stops are too sudden, and she doesn’t watch her speedometer (“ma'am do you know how fast you were going?” “uh…35” “60”). i’m not entirely sure that she even passed her driving test, but i am totally sure she takes matt’s car anyway.
hunk – also not a great driver. he just. never really gets a feel for driving. in the first six months he drove, he got three flat tires and countless dents. good news: he’s good at fixing cars. he just cannot drive them.
lance – honestly, a good driver, but he always has music blasting and is always dancing and it scares the life out of hunk (“lance please put your hands on the wheel!” “lance please stop tapping your foot, that’s the gas pedal!” “LANCE YOURE GONNA MISS THAT TURN–”). he has never been in an accident, though, and genuinely enjoys driving. therefore he is the official driver between himself, pidge, and hunk.
keith – That Asshole who thinks traffic laws don’t apply to him. has never gone the speed limit in his life. common conversations in his car:
“keith, stop tailgating that guy, he’s going the speed limit” “well it’s too slow!!”
“keith stop that’s a red light” “don’t worry, there are no cars around and this intersection doesn’t have a camera”
“please slow down oh my god that’s a sharp turn yOURE GONNA FLIP THE CAR” “[laughing as the tires squeal]”
again, though, he is a genuinely Good Driver and has never been pulled over, much to lance’s annoyance.
shiro: everybody /thinks/ he’s a good driver bc he’s the model of safety whenever he’s driving the kids (“i’m not pulling out of the driveway until everyone is buckled up”). then, one day, the kids are driving on the highway and they see shiro’s car speed past, going at least 90mph and weaving between traffic. incredible.
allura: doesn’t drive often, but when she does, she has RIDICULOUS road rage. like, she’s a good driver otherwise, but whenever someone cuts her off or something, she’ll hold down the horn and then rant at her unfortunate passenger (usually shiro) for a solid minute. at least.
coran: perfect driver. uses turn signals perfectly, smooth turns, effortless merging. if he’s running late for something? all of that way past the speed limit. best driver.
matt: could be a good driver in theory, but never focused on the road. he zones out so easily that, like pidge, he’s almost constantly over the speed limit. “[staring unseeingly at the road for five minutes] shiro do you think gerard way is happy?“ "please god let me drive”
Steve, Bucky & T’Challa: Well mark us down as horn-
Sam: *sprays them with cold water* No! No more! I’ve had it up to here with your libidos. You had a go in the morning, after breakfast and even before we left for the movies and don’t think we don’t know about you three sneaking him to the restrooms. You didn’t even try to be subtle. All we want is our nights back where we don’t hear you four moaning. That’s all. We’re not asking for much. Give Clint a break. Look at him, he has anxiety!
Everyone: *solemnly nod while patting a pillow-clutching Clint on his back*
I walked up to the flowering altar, with my hands on my hips, admiring it at first and just the sight of it brought back memories. Ivar and I had been married no more than a few months now, wedded in the same exact spot in the woods.
I smiled, reaching out to touch it and started remembering how handsome he looked, his hair slicked back and resting nicely. His skin aglow from the setting sun, his tunic a strong blue to match his beautiful eyes. Bjorn had helped him find the right angle for his stool while Floki held him up on his back, waiting patiently.
The way my love looked sitting there on his stool when the drums had started, I recalled it clearly, the way he turned his whole body to see me, the sun hitting his face perfectly. How tightly he was holding and then wringing his hands, fidgeting nervously. The stunned smile when he finally saw me for the first time that day, holding an array of foliage in my hands as I made my way towards him.
My smile grew even more when I turned around and saw Ivar was sitting on a well made chair then, brought out special for him so he could watch his older brother be married up close. I walked up to him and smoothed down his hair, tucking it behind one of his ears. He lightly slapped my hand away with a smirk and raked his fingers through it, as if I had messed it up.
I raised an eyebrow, giving him a warning look and instead was about to talk to one of the other Shield-maidens joining the foray, when he caught my wrist and pulled me to sit side-ways in his lap. He cupped my face and kissed me as softly as only Ivar could imagine.
“I would behave myself if I were you, Ivar. You are playing a dangerous game.” I said lowly, nipping at his ear lobe. We were still newlyweds, nothing or no one bothered us. They all knew how in love we were with each other, getting caught fooling around wasn’t that abnormal in the slightest.