If you’re the kind of person who spends the first ten minutes of the Lyft ride to the airport worrying that you accidentally left the oven on—even if you didn’t even use the oven that day—you can quell your anxious brain with a quick smartphone precaution.
…before leaving the house, take a photo of your stove and oven dials—or your thermostat, or your iron, or anything else you worry about accidentally leaving on. If your brain starts to play the “Did I really turn it off” game, you can simply tap your photo app and see for yourself
I can imagine this being incredibly helpful for some people with OCD, as well as folks like me with anxiety disorders combined with ADHD (so lack of executive function which leads to frequently forgetting things which leads to legitimizing the fears from the anxiety since a lot of the time I DID forget The Thing…)
Title: Three Days Until Forever
Chapter: One-shot
Series: Haikyuu!!
Pairings: Kuroo/Bokuto
Warnings: Tooth-rotting cuteness and small children
AO3 Link
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Had he been just a handful of years older, and moderately less shy, Kuroo Tetsurō’s grasp of the situation - and the language used - might well have been quite different. As it was, at seven years old with scruffy hair and clothes a size too large - you’ll grow into them, his mother had said - all Tetsurō could do was blush and stare at the taller boy with the shock of white hair and piercing golden eyes that made his tummy feel strange and his heart beat too fast.
Bokuto Kōtarō was pretty. Not pretty in the way that Miki-chan in class 4-C was, with her long, silky hair that was blacker even than the sky at night, and her sparkling brown eyes. At nine years old, she had been asked out by all of the boys and most of the girls in the school at least once, and had said no every single time.
Bokuto Kōtarō was cute. Not in the way Leo-kun in class 2-A was though, with his round cheeks dusted with freckles, and his shoulder-length brown hair that the other kids liked to braid for him. Tetsurō could remember how the older boys would pick on Leo-kun, back when they were first years and so, so much littler than they were now. But Leo-kun was too nice, so the bullying stopped pretty quickly. And besides; he knew jiu jitsu.
No, Bokuto Kōtarō was pretty and cute in all the other ways. All the ways Tetsurō hadn’t known existed before that point, as a small, chubby hand thrust itself forwards in offering and Tetsurō could do nothing but stare and stare and stare, until the blinding smile seemed to drop a little and he remembered what manners were, grasping the offered hand a little too tightly.
“Let’s be friends.” And that was all it took. Kōtarō wasn’t a princess, and he wasn’t an action hero, and he wasn’t a model but he was perfect and Tetsurō knew he would never, ever love anyone as much as he loved Kōtarō - even when he got to be twelve years old and moved up to the big school, he would never love anyone else. He wouldn’t, and when he told Kōtarō as much the taller boy laughed, delighted, and called him his best friend.
The sports camp was only three days long, but at seven years old that might as well have been forever for the two of them. They ran and played and hid, they sprinted down the track neck-and-neck, they tried out the long jump - Kōtarō could jump further, which Tetsurō thought was only fair really since he was faster at track and that made them almost even. They played football, basketball, tennis and, finally, volleyball, always together and always grinning from ear to ear as the other kids became little more than background noise.
Tetsurō liked the football and the running best - he was good at them, he was fast, why wouldn’t he like them? But then some of the bigger kids started to get rowdy on the pitch, and suddenly football wasn’t so fun for him any more. Kōtarō preferred the basketball and the volleyball. They both agreed that tennis sucked, and hid behind the storage shed so that the camp counselors couldn’t find them when they accidentally upset the box holding all of the tennis balls, sending them skittering around the court.
At night, they shared a futon, huddling together with hushed giggles and whispers of secrets in the dark that only make sense to children. They both missed home, but that was okay, because they were together and that was what mattered.
Three days was up much, much too quickly. Tetsurō tried not to cry when his mother arrived to pick him up, refusing to let go of Kōtarō’s hand until he absolutely had to, and even then prolonging the contact to the point of stretching his mother’s patience.
He was a big boy now. And big boys didn’t cry.
Kōtarō had no such restraint - fat tears rolled down his cheeks and he sniffled wetly, gripping so tightly that Tetsurō’s fingers went a little numb. When Kōtarō’s parents finally tugged him away, hushing him softly, he resolutely stared back over his shoulder at Tetsurō - right up until he tripped over his own feet and would have fallen if not for his father’s hand holding him up. Tetsurō giggled, and finally let himself be led away, his mother’s hand large and warm and comforting around his own.
The car smelt so familiar, and it felt like years since Tetsurō had been dropped off at camp, small and alone and more than a little bit scared. He buckled himself in as his mother slid into the driver’s seat, slotting the keys into the ignition before finding her own seatbelt.
“You made a friend.” She sounded so pleased, so proud, and warmth spread across Tetsurō’s chest as he beamed up at her.
“His name is Bokuto Kōtarō and he’s my other best friend.” He replied happily, bouncing a little in his seat as his mother started the ignition, excited to get home and tell Kenma all about his weekend. “And,” he continued, when his mother only hummed in response as they pulled out of the car park, “when we’re grown up, I’m gonna marry him.”
His mother’s face did something strange at that, though it quickly smoothed out into her usual pleasant smile. Reaching over, she ruffled his hair and Tetsurō squawked as he wriggled away, earning a laugh. “As long as you’re happy, sweetheart.” She finally replied and, for the first time in what felt like forever, Tetsurō really was.
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“I’m so proud of you.” Tetsurō beamed down at his mother, having overtaken her in height in his early teens. She was adjusting the front of his suit jacket, smoothing her hands over the rented fabric as it lay flat against his chest, eyes shimmering and he knew it wouldn’t be long before she was outright crying. “Just look at you, all grown up and still following your dreams.”
“Come on, let’s take our seats.” His grandmother tugged at his mother’s arm, leading her away and offering Tetsurō a smile of her own.
“Ready?” Kenma finally asked, once they were alone, fiddling with his cufflinks.
“I’ve been ready for the past twenty years.” Tetsurō beamed down at his best friend, earning a small smile in response. “I feel like I should be nervous.”
“I feel like you should be too.” Kenma agreed, swatting at Tetsurō’s hand when he tried to reach out to ruffle his hair. “You look good, don’t make him wait too long.”
“As if I would.” With a huff of laughter, Kenma was gone and Tetsurō was left standing, alone, with the gentle melody of a piano filtering through into the small waiting room.
The music changed. It was time.
All eyes were on Tetsurō as he took slow, measured steps towards the altar. Towards Kōtarō, who turned to watch his approach, mouth splitting into a happy grin as fat tears rolled down his cheeks, golden eyes shining. Because of course he was crying already, emotions he had never really learned how to control brimming over. And if Tetsurō was starting to get a little misty eyed as well when Kōtarō reached out and took his hand, well - no one else needed to know.
Bokuto Kōtarō was pretty. Bokuto Kōtarō was cute. And, as Tetsurō scrawled his looping signature at the foot of the marriage licence, Bokuto Kōtarō was finally his.
Tetsurō was being watched. He could feel it, the inquisitive stare that bore into his back and made him shiver in the cool air of midnight. The moon was high in the clear night sky, surrounded by a blanket of stars that seemed to sparkle with an unusual clarity considering he was still rather close to the distant lights of the city. Everything was bathed in a pale glow - everything save for Tetsurō himself, hidden within the looming shadow of a squat storage shed, the obsidian black of his fur ruffling a little in the breeze.
It was a nice night to be out. He could smell the scent of other night creatures on the slightly warm summer breeze; mice, rats, a few other cats, maybe a fox or two. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked and Tetsurō paid it no mind. Dogs were only dangerous if he let them get too close, and even then it was usually closer to misplaced affection than any actual killing instinct on their part.
Tetsurō was more likely to hurt them than the other way around.
He was still being watched, and yet he could scent nothing on the wind, no signs of danger to set him on edge. Still, he knew better by that point than to assume it was his imagination - he had made that mistake before, and had a long scar across his flank to show for it when a fox’s jaws got a little too close and almost took his life. He had barely been out of kittenhood by that point, still too small to really defend himself, and shouldn’t really have been wandering around on his own. But he had survived, and he had learned, and he hadn’t made the same mistake again.
There! Golden eyes stared at him, round and unblinking. The tree was to his left, upwind, so the easterly wind fluttering over him like a gentle caress would never have warned him of the danger. Slitted hazel-grey eyes stared back, all senses on high alert as the owl tilted his head first to the left, then to the right.
Tetsurō had never really liked owls. They were strange and they were dangerous. Unpredictable, with sharp claws and sharper beaks, gripping and rending and tearing at the flesh of any poor creature that accidentally ended up as dinner. The smaller ones were fine, he could ignore those, too tiny to really be a danger to a cat of his size. This one, though - this one was big. Silver and grey, with two tufts of feathers standing up atop its head, and it still hadn’t blinked.
He needed to be careful. It was too soon to shift back, and he was stuck out in the open. The suburbs were nice to wander around when he couldn’t sleep, but they were still populated enough that a naked human running about would attract attention, even in the very early hours of the morning when anyone with any sense would be tucked up safe in bed.
The way Tetsurō saw it, he had two options; either continue with the staring contest until the owl grew bored and moved on to hopefully smaller prey - because, despite being a predator himself, Tetsurō was under no illusions on how appealing he must look as a potential meal for such a large bird. Or, he could risk the thing deciding to attack by fleeing into the undergrowth and finding a decent hiding spot until it flew off to find an easier snack.
Neither option sounded appealing. Option three, of course, was to shift back into his human form and scare the owl off - but he was miles from home, and wouldn’t be able to shift back into a cat again for a good few hours afterwards, meaning he would be stuck in the middle of nowhere with no way of getting home.
Damnit. He shouldn’t have wandered so far, really. Hadn’t really realised he was doing it, until the sensation of being under scrutiny had made him stop in his tracks. It was still staring, and Tetsurō shifted.
Bad move - a spread of wings, a rush of air, and the owl dropped, plummeting towards him at a speed he wouldn’t be able to avoid, talons outstretched.
Shit shit shit!
He didn’t have a choice. With a disgruntled yowl, Tetsurō pushed back and out, feeling his bones warp and his skin stretch. It wasn’t the most pleasant sensation, but he was long since used to it, sprawling back into the bush behind him and putting an arm up to protect his face from the too-fast approaching attack. He braced himself, knowing that the owl was too close, knowing it wouldn’t be able to pull up in time and he was going to have a new set of scars to show for it.
Still, better those scars be on his forearm than across his face.
The press of talons into his flesh never came. Instead, Tetsurō found himself being shoved bodily into the dirt, with a lap-full of not-owl as a very heavy and equally naked male landed ungracefully on top of him.
“Shit, sorry dude.” The man laughed as though this was the most fun he’d had in a while, pushing himself up on his arms though making no move to shift from between Tetsurō’s legs. The owl was grinning, too wide and clearly amused, those same golden eyes staring down at him. “Didn’t know you were, yanno.”
Tetsurō sorta wanted to punch him.
“Well now you know.” He drawled, levelling the man with a glare. “So, you can get off me now.” Because he was heavy, damnit! The guy was nothing short of built, all broad shoulders and solid muscle. He wasn’t bad looking either, and if he kept shifting around like that Tetsurō was going to have another problem very soon. One that he didn’t particularly feel like dealing with while sitting in a bush in the middle of the suburbs, thank you very much.
“You’re pretty hot.” The guy hummed, almost as though he was commenting on the weather, and Tetsurō flushed up to the tips of his ears.
“You’re not bad, yourself.” He replied - because what else could he say to that? He gave up on trying to wrangle his blush back under control as the man grinned again, his entire face lighting up as he finally, finally pushed himself back far enough that Tetsurō’s traitorous body stopped trying to respond to having the solid muscle of a stranger’s thigh pressed up against his still very naked private regions.
“Bokuto Kōtarō.” The man - Bokuto - introduced himself, pushing himself to his feet and offering a hand to tug Tetsurō up as well. Tetsurō took it, letting himself be pulled up, stumbling a little as he stepped on a sharp stone and winced.
“Kuroo Tetsurō.” He answered, letting his hand linger for a beat too long before releasing his grip on Bokuto’s fingers. “So I really hope you have some plan for getting us clothes, considering I’m stuck like this for a while thanks to you.”
“I didn’t know you were human, I thought you were a cat.” Bokuto whined, actually whined, and by all rights it really shouldn’t have been as cute as it Tetsurō found it.
“Do you often go around attacking cats?” If Tetsurō sounded a little put out, that’s because he really was. Okay, so he might not be a cat all of the time, but he was allowed to be a little protective of them as a whole, especially when he thought of how easily those razor-sharp talons would tear through the little bodies of the smaller cats in his group. Kenma was wary and rarely ventured out beyond their usual territory, but Shibayama was still so young, and Yaku wasn’t likely to get much bigger, and both had a habit of wandering off.
Then there was Lev. Lev, who was as oblivious as he was large, who was barely out of kittenhood and still growing, who wasn’t allowed out alone because he had no sense for danger but who snuck out anyway. Lev, who would make an excellent meal for a large predator such as Bokuto.
“You looked tasty.” The huff and matching pout shifted a little too quickly into a leer as golden eyes flicked down Tetsurō’s body and back up again. “To be fair, you still do.”
“Clothes first.” Tetsurō had to put his foot down, had to be firm, because his damnable traitorous body was reacting a little too strongly under the intensity of Bokuto’s stare. Thankfully it seemed to do the trick as Bokuto’s expression shifted back into a pout - and really, just how changeable was this guy’s mood?
“Right, yeah.” He huffed, moving to presumably shove his hands in his pockets, before realising that he didn’t have pockets and barking out a laugh. Tetsurō couldn’t help himself - an intelligent snort slipped out at the ridiculousness of it all, and he covered his mouth as Bokuto grinned back at him, seemingly unbothered by his nakedness. “Come on bro, my place is just over there, I’m sure I’ve got something that’ll fit you.”
“Thanks.” Tetsurō fell into step next to his new acquaintance, thankful that the breeze was still warm and the street was still empty, letting Bokuto’s idle chatter fill the air between them and finding he didn’t mind it at all.
So I had yet another break from internet life to deal with real-life shit. Again.
Anyway, I decided to spend my evening watching AMVs on youtube because that’s a sensible, adult-type thing to do, right?? Sudden urge to find some Bokuto-themed ones. Apparently today is his birthday. I did not know this, and now y’all are going to have to deal with the un-beta’d shit I’ve got knocking around because I didn’t prep anything for this and it’s half ten at night.
(Do I even have any Haikyuu followers?? I feel like I need to find some. Before S4 comes out. So I can flail.)
why on earth are snakes seen as mysterious, cunning and insidious, they are literal dumbasses, slithering through the world trying not to die of their own dumbassery. Sometimes my pet snake fails to eat his rat because he can’t find the head and it won’t fit into him because he tries to eat it ass first, so he gives up and sulks in his cave for three days. Sometimes he tries to wrap around his heat lamp in the middle of the night, then kaboom! falls to the ground and lies there confused for half an hour. He gets offended by his water dish. One time he got scared of his plant because a leaf touched him funny as he was slithering by. When he was little and not used to handling,he tried to bite me occasionally but missed every single time. He’s scared of black rats and won’t eat food that isn’t either white or light brown. I have no idea how he would survive in the wild. He’s not evil and mischieveous, he’s literally a cannoli with a head and he’s never had a thought in his life.
Major Premise: Crowley is a man-sized serpent when he first meets Aziraphale.
Minor Premise: Serpents shed their skin to allow for their increase in size as they grow.
Conclusion: After six thousand years of shedding, Crowley must now be the size of Jörmungandr and cannot change back for fear of accidentally crushing the entirety of southern England and half of Wales.
#listen #listen do u know how much braining it takes to make the words go? #it is a lot #it’s like wearing fancy clothes all day #and then when you’re at home and comfy #u just put on ur pj’s ( @feynites)
people talk about women being ‘emotional’ and ‘overreacting,’ but you don’t see a woman making an arch-nemesis out of an albino whale and obsessively chasing it down like a lunatic for 585 pages
since i made this post, i’ve had multiple women telling me they would absolutely hunt down a whale for an extended period out of a bloodthirsty desire for vengeance, and i want to apologize for engaging in gender stereotypes
bow: considerate, healing personality, gentle voice, attentive, open fields watching the clouds, constantly talking about love, thought to be lazy at times, always in their thoughts
sword: protector, adventurous, late nights looking at the stars, the warmth of a sunset, usually late but always with reason, amiable, the gayest one, overly idealistic
dagger: frank but fair, the first smell of rain after a hot day, sleeping in, cold drinks, sensible, doesnt share much about themselves, cares deeply, needs caffeine
axe: brave, persistent but stubborn, rather use action than words, loud and boisterous, unmannerly but always apologizes, kind hearted, really likes dogs, the sensation of finally lying down in bed after a hard day
lance: cautious, practical, dumbass passing, overly defensive at times, prefers sweets to savory, the first to offer advice, a safe person to be around, probably bi
staff: intuitive and careful, writing poems, mid day tea, not the most athletic, sarcastic and witty, over working, lack of sleep, loyalty, probably really into frogs tbh
Stunned mortal who just saw a miracle happen: What’s your name, angel?
Crowley, who really shouldn’t be caught dead doing one of Aziraphale’s miracles, and who’s about to invent a whole ass angelsona named Raphael: Oh, haven’t you heard?
you know how fandom likes to try to make nicknames out of aziraphale i’ve seen azi and zira and honestly I still think his only legitmate nickname is “angel” but
Raphael is the back half of Aziraphale’s name
crowley invented a whole ass angelsona and named himself after Aziraphale
crowley and aziraphale bumbling their way into wildly misconstrued and misinterpreted appearances in historical and religious texts is basically already canon, so
@goodomensblog i’m including your tags because seriously, same, it’s so in character for him that’s the first time i’m agreeing for real with the raphael hc thing.
#THIS IS MY FAVORITE CROWLEY IS RAPHAEL HEADCANON#tbh i’m not crazy about the idea of Crowley being Raphael pre-fall#but the idea of him bullshitting his way through an awkward social interaction#and accidentally inventing a whole ass new angel??#with part of aziraphale’s name????!#lsndksnsksnsns its the equivalent of that scene where the person glances around the room and picks a random object as their name lsnsksmsms#this is so funny#good omens#crowley#favorite
