of my least favorite parts about being a middle school history teacher
is the bullshit “Living History” assignments we give at the end of every
school year. Kids are supposed to sit with their grandparents and video
tape, voice record, or transcribe their oldest memories for posterity
(and for an easy way to bring up their GPA).
+ like loathes them
+ specifically centipedes and spiders because “nothing should have that many legs”
+ every time he sees a bug in his home he flinches, backs away, and tells it to fuck off for good measure
+ and then continues to COMPLETELY ignore the spot of the house it’s in until he’s sure it’s bound to be gone
+ once he didn’t go near the toaster in the corner of the kitchen for eight straight days because there was a spider living there and he refused to ask neil to kill it
+ the only reason he ended up going back is because neil finally decided to check out what was wrong
+ found the spider and smashed it with a shoe
+ which he had to physically show to andrew
+ who kept insisting the spider had nothing to do with it
+ neil knows better than to ask about it
+ the same cannot be said for nicky, defender of all bugs who also squeals every time he sees them
+ one day he asks andrew about the thing with the bugs even though kevin and neil both shot him looks that clearly said “don’t ask”
+ of course nicky asks
+ andrew just ignores him at first and pointedly directs his attention to kevin to call him stupid for something
+ and nicky’s like, “they’re not doing anything wrong andrew they’re just bugs”
+ “first of all, they are unwelcome guests in my home, just like yourself”
+ “second, legs.”
+ nicky and kevin leave not too long after because now andrew is in an even more sour mood and neil isn’t even /trying/ to help
+ later neil asks andrew about it
+ because he’s curious and also he finds it kind of endearing
+ (because scary andrew is afraid of BUGS and that boy is nothing if not a collection of endless surprises neil aches to understand)
+ he expects andrew to brush off the topic or ignore him
+ he doesn’t
+ instead andrew has this expression that can be explained as nothing other than “disgruntled”
+ “the legs”
+ hes practically grinding his teeth when he says it, like it’s something personally offensive
+ “nothing can get away with having that many legs /and/ breaking and entering.”
+ “one is a personal attack on me and my person and my home. the other is a felony”
+ neil CANNOT stop smiling
+ he kills every bug in the house without question after that
I feel like the sheer goofiness of the Wild Magic Surge mechanic in D&D isn’t appreciated nearly enough. If you’re a sorcerer and choose the Wild Magic origin, you have some teeny problems controlling your magic, so that any time you cast a sorcerer spell, the DM can make you roll a d20 to see if you get a Surge. If you roll a one, it’s Surge time, and you have to roll a 1d100 to see what the heck has just happened to you.
Highlights from the list of 50 possible effects:
You grow a long beard made of feathers that remains until you sneeze, at which point the feathers explode out from your face.
You cast grease centered on yourself.
1d6 flumphs controlled by the DM appear in unoccupied spaces within 60 feet of you and are frightened of you. They vanish after 1 minute.
You turn into a potted plant until the start of your next turn. While a plant, you are incapacitated and have vulnerability to all damage. If you drop to 0 hit points, your pot breaks, and your form reverts.
You can’t speak for the next minute. Whenever you try, pink bubbles float out of your mouth.
For the next minute, you must shout when you speak.
You cast polymorph on yourself. If you fail the saving throw, you turn into a sheep for the spell’s duration.
I mean, it’s funny enough to picture a brand-new level 1 adventurer accidentally spitting out these super-powerful spells, but just imagine an epic-level sorcerer in the middle of a world-ending confrontation accidentally turning themself into a potted plant that takes double damage. Incredible.