she/her | bi | fav color is blue | likes knitting

[1-naomi-2]

Kny actor AU headcanon:

The reason Giyuu, as a character, speaks so low is because the actor wasn't allowed to open his mouth too much during recording.

Giyuu's actor is very much punk. Looks like it too, when off the set.

Had lots of piercings, which usually took a stupid amount of time to take off before filming. Among those piercings—a tongue piercing.

Whenever he opened his mouth a bit too much on set, that little piece of metal would show. And it was neither aligned with the character he was playing to have a tongue piercing, and neither was it historically accurate.

It was the only piercing he refused to take off, even momentarily, so the director just told him to try and open his mouth when speaking as little as possible.

How did they record the scenes of him angry and yelling? A stupid amount of photoshop which was too expensive to do all the time. But the director said in an interview that having Giyuu (as a character) speak much lower than what his actor would've otherwise spoken like was a fitting decision.

[1-naomi-2]

I need some tips on thrifting:

How do you safely thrift plushies?

I don't want to get any bugs, as I heard a few horror stories, but I also don't have the necessary skill nor materials to rip the stitches and replace the filling, as some people have suggested on platforms like Reddit

[1-naomi-2]

(Disclaimer: with this post, I am not referencing any particular piece of media, folklore or anything of the such. This is not a reference to "Peter and Wendy" by J.M. Barrie, even if I will use Tinkerbell as an exemple. This is purely my little idea because I love fairies and I wanna implement more cultural depth in their overall world)

When we look at fairy wings, they differ quite a lot. Fairies (and pixies, and faes, and all other creatures similar—but I will use fairies as a general term) can have wings shaped like those of a butterfly, a firefly, dragonfly, moth, stonefly, honeybee and basically the wings of any bug that possesses them.

And, with such a wide variety in shape, we also have a wide variety in patterns. As seen in the first picture below, the pattern is recognizable, but definitely different from one wing set to another. In the further pictures, we see an even wider variety, with different colors, shapes, swirls, sizes and what not (all credits to the artists of these wonderful pieces—I found them on Pinterest).

Now, looking at Tinkerbell—the old design for her, the plain magical one we all remember.

Notice how her wings are plain? They are certainly lovely, but they lack pattern.

From here, my headcanon:

Wing patterns are tattoos.

All fairies are born with plain wings, such as Tinkerbell's. Sure, the size, shape and even color tint differ. Some may have more of an off-white tint, some may be leaning more into yellow, and in some rare cases, blue, purple, pink, green etc tint.

But the pattern isn't something you are born with. They are generally just tattoos made with pixie dust mixed with pigment. You have to be careful as you gently punch the color into the wings with a fine needle.

Some fairies get them as cultural tattoos, symbolizing something, like some human tribes do.

Some think they look cool, and they get them for fun.

To change the tint of your wings, you can also soak them in pigmented pixie dust. It will fade easier, but it works and is a non painful way to do it. You can also have it punched into your wings with a fine needle, but that is awfully tedious to do, especially on big wings.

Children play around and draw patterns with pixie dust on their wings. It fades quickly, especially when flying, but it is fun.

The patterns are kinda similar because those are, simply, trending. They look pretty, compliment everyone who wears them, and have become a symbol of being a fairy.

[1-naomi-2]

I love writing on paper with a pen. I get to feel like a struggling Victorian writer on the brink of being evicted, with alcohol problems and Dostoievski level sanity. Really gets the ideas flowing :)

[writeouswriter]

Controversial, but I think it's harmful to tell people you're never going to write something good on the first try or it's always going to be pure garbage, like that may be helpful for some on some level, but I personally don't think it's a healthy way of thinking, and it causes others to second guess work that is good. Is editing often helpful? Yes. But you're not going to have to Ship of Theseus everything you ever make. Anyway, the phrase "idk, man, it depends" strikes again.

[writing-prompt-s]

“So…….let me get this straight. You, An alien, and me, a human man, are supposed to get married?” “yes” “Which will fulfill the condition to prevent a bloody war with your people?” “yep” she said. “But we don’t even know each other?!” “yes we do, dear. We grew up together” “Say what Now?”

[1-naomi-2]

Imagine she was either his childhood imaginary friend or the monster under his bed or some shit

[1-naomi-2]

Mori from BSD headcanon:

So, you know that stereotypical way in which gangsters are said to speak in real life? Very ghetto-core, 'broken' english in a way, lots of harsh sounds and shorter, more casual words.

Headcanon that Mori can 100% speak like that. Mori, this polite, well-mannered middle-aged man who is described multiple times as a 'gentleman', can absolutely speak like random gangsters at the corner of the street. He just does not because he thinks he sounds unprofessional.

We don't know exactly at which age Mori was taken into the mafia. It might have been after the war, but the mafia would probably prefer children or younger individuals who are easier to manipulate, over grown adults who can already make the difference between good and evil. So, i think he might've been taken in young, trained, and then allowed to go into the war to make a point (that ability users could be useful in war as weapons).

I think around the age of 14, because that is basically the cursed age in BSD where the worst happens for everyone.

So, he was probably exposed to more ragged language during his training, and it was probably useful to learn to speak like that because it would make undercover missions in different rival gangs much easier.

So even now, at 40, he can switch and speak like that. The first time he slipped and muttered some curses under his breath, trying to find something, Kouyou could not believe her ears—she still teases him about it.

[d1rambler]

I love you please marry me /j

I have an entire system for the way port mafia speak works with the hierarchy and this is fantastic

[1-naomi-2]

Okay now you HAVE to share with the class that system I'm genuinely curious

[d1rambler]

This is a really rough draft, but I tried my best to consolidate!

Linguistic Stratification in the Port Mafia: Register, Power, and Social Control in Bungō Stray Dogs

(aka: why nobody in the Port Mafia is ever “just talking”)

Thesis

The Port Mafia does not merely use language. It disciplines it. Speech within the organization operates as a stratified register system in which grammar, lexicon, and pragmatics index hierarchy, proximity to violence, and ideological alignment. Fluency is not measured by eloquence, but by control: control over when to be polite, when to be blunt, when to euphemize, and (crucially) when not to speak at all.

Therefore, I propose a three-register model to explain Port Mafia speech patterns across Japanese and English, arguing that register choice functions as a mechanism of power, social sorting, and psychological containment. Deviations from register expectations are never accidental; they signal instability, resistance, or narrative fracture.

The core principle is that language is an infrastructure of power. In the Port Mafia, language does not reflect hierarchy; it produces it. Who is permitted indirectness? Who must speak plainly? Who may soften violence into metaphor, and who must name it directly? These questions are not stylistic. They are structural. Registers in the Port Mafia operate like clearance levels. Each member is linguistically licensed to occupy only certain speech domains. Register mobility exists, but it is policed, monitored, and narratively significant.

So what are the three registers of the port mafia?

Register I: The Street Register

(荒い言葉 / 汚い言葉... rough, unfiltered speech)

Its function is immediate action, intimidation, and survival. For its sociolinguistic profile, this register is associated with physical violence and its execution. It is the language of those closest to bodily risk. Its bluntness is not a lack of sophistication but a rejection of mediation.

Japanese Characteristics

Sentence-final rougheners: だ / ぞ / ぜ

Frequent particle dropping

Harsh pronouns: お前, てめえ

Phonological erosion:

すごい → すげえ

うるさい → うっせえ

Minimal subordination; parataxis dominates

Violence is named directly. There is no euphemism because euphemism introduces distance, and distance is a privilege.

English Characteristics

Non-standard or compressed syntax

Imperatives and verbless clauses

Profanity as grammatical glue (noun, verb, intensifier)

Elision and contraction

This is not “uneducated” speech. It is anti-bureaucratic speech.

Register II: The Operational Register

(業務語 / 中間管理言語... professionalized criminal speech)

Its function is coordination, reporting, and logistical abstraction. This register is the true backbone of the Port Mafia. It is where violence is transformed into a process.

Japanese Characteristics

Plain form mixed with selective keigo

Complete sentence structures

Corporate euphemisms:

処理する (“process”) for killing

案件 (“case”) for illegal operations

Emotional neutrality

Register II speakers do not say what happened; they say what was done. Agency is obscured. Responsibility is diffused.

English Characteristics

Grammatically standard

Corporate-military hybrid lexicon:

“asset”

“viability”

“logistics”

Passive constructions preferred

Compare:

Register I: “We killed him.”

Register II: “The asset is no longer operational.”

The latter erases blood.

Register III: The Gentleman’s Register

(上品語 / 支配的丁寧語... elite, distancing speech)

Its function is authority maintenance, psychological domination, and narrative control. Register III is not politeness; it is containment.

Japanese Characteristics

Highly controlled keigo (sonkeigo + kenjōgo)

Indirection and implication

Metaphor over reference

Absence of explicit violence

Statements are framed as inevitabilities rather than choices.

English Characteristics

Elevated diction

Rhetorical parallelism

Metaphorical displacement (“pruning,” “adjustments,” “inconveniences”)

Zero profanity

This register does not command. It assumes compliance.

Expansion on the Registers, a separate piece I wrote:

If you’ve ever wondered how organized crime “talks,” the Port Mafia along Yokohama’s waterfront is a perfect case study, because their language isn’t just about communicating—it’s a hierarchy, a psychological tool, and a performance all at once. Imagine the docks: the salt in the air, the clang of container cranes, the smell of oil and fish, and the chatter of dockworkers who’ve grown up on the pier. Within that chaos, three linguistic registers operate simultaneously, each calibrated for its own social and operational demands.

The lowest tier is the Street Register, Kusai Kotoba (臭い言葉, “Stinky Words”), the language of the frontline enforcers, debt collectors, and low-level soldiers who actually put hands on people. In Japanese, it’s rough, fragmented, and masculine: sentence-final particles like ぜ (ze), ぞ (zo), and だ (da) dominate, while は (wa) and が (ga) often vanish entirely in the push for speed. Pronouns are blunt and aggressive—お前 (omae), てめえ (temee)—and vocabulary leans on yakuza slang and dockside argot: 人形 (ningyō, “puppet”) for cops, ぶっ殺す (bukkorosu, “kill”), まく (maku, “shake a tail”), がめ (game, “hustle/scam”). Phonologically, vowels slur or drop altogether, so すごい becomes すげー, うるさい becomes うっせー, making the speech fast, jagged, and almost shouted over the constant industrial racket of the port. In English, the Street Register manifests as truncated, imperative-laden sentences, non-standard grammar (“He ain’t got the money,” “We was just walking”), heavy slang (“clip” for shooting, “mook” for fool, “the fuzz” for cops), and profanity that doubles as intensifier, adjective, or verb. Contractions like “gonna” or “wanna” mimic the clipped, aggressive rhythm of dockside speech, and the overall effect is immediacy: you hear this language and know it belongs to someone who’s used to muscle and survival over finesse.

Above that, in the middle, lies the Operational Register, Gōrō (合廊, “Back Hallway/Gutter Language”), the lingua franca of mid-level operators who run daily port operations, coordinate shipments, and manage logistics without getting their hands dirty. In Japanese, it’s a hybrid of polite です/ます (desu/masu) for superiors and clients, and plain forms for equals, which signals both hierarchy and solidarity. Vocabulary blends formal business Japanese with sanitized criminal jargon: 案件 (anken, “case”) for a job, 処理する (shori suru, “dispose of”) for violent acts, 顧客 (kokyaku, “client”) for someone hiring illicit services. Dockworker influence is pervasive: many euphemisms reference cargo, manifests, or scheduling (so “processing a shipment” might literally mean moving contraband). Phonology is measured, neither slurred nor overly enunciated; the rhythm is deliberate, like someone explaining logistics in the back office while the water laps against the hull outside. English translation is grammatically standard, with euphemistic terms like “asset” for a person, “logistics” for smuggling, “conflict resolution” for violence, delivered in clear, competent speech. This is the language of the mid-level manager who coordinates murder and extortion with the same tone used to coordinate crate deliveries.

At the apex sits the Gentleman's Register, Jōhin-na Kotoba (上品な言葉, “Elegant Speech”), reserved for the Boss, his direct advisors, and senior executives. Here, language becomes performance and weapon simultaneously. Grammar is flawless, highly polite, and indirect, using keigo (尊敬語 and 謙譲語) to establish immense psychological distance. Lexicon is classical, metaphorical, and often maritime in its indirectness: eliminating a rival is “ensuring the hold is secure,” cleaning up loose ends is “tidying the deck,” even threats to the organization are phrased as port-related maintenance or environmental metaphors. Phonology is measured, precise, and melodious; every syllable carries authority. English equivalents are elevated, complex, and rhetorical, with euphemisms and metaphorical abstractions replacing brutality: “complications” for rivals, “opportunities” for extortion, “inconveniences” for murders. Contractions are nonexistent, diction is meticulous, and sentences unfold like a port-side diplomatic briefing rather than a gunfight.

Taken together, these registers enforce hierarchy, broadcast psychological stability, and encode the operational structure of Yokohama’s underworld. A foot soldier who slips into Gentleman's Register risks exposure; an executive who slumps into Street Register risks losing respect. 

So, register access as a hierarchy? 

If we wanted to view register access as a hierarchy, street-level members are confined to Register I. Register II is aspirational (like with promotions and such), but Register III  is inaccessible. Attempting higher registers is read as a presumption. So it would invalidate your street cred. For mid-level operators, they’re fluent in Register II, capable of controlled descent into Register I, and have limited, imperfect access to Register III. Their value lies in code-switching. They translate violence upward and policy downward. Executives use Register II for operations, Register III for governance, and Register I is retained as latent competence, usually an homage to the streets they came from. A sudden drop to Register I is not a loss of control—it is a threat display.

So, what about Mori?

As you said, Ōgai Mori lives almost entirely in Register III. Crucially: this is not affectation. It is self-reconstruction. Register III is not something he performs, but it is the linguistic environment he has forced into being. So when he uses lower registers, it is deliberate, tactical, and profoundly destabilizing. A single curse from him carries more narrative weight than a paragraph of threats from anyone else. Mori is the ultimate linguistic strategist because he’s a control freak and the Boss of the mafia. His Register III is flawless—not because he's naturally refined, but because he understands that language is armor. Every keigo construction is a deliberate choice to maintain distance and a sense of mystique. No one hears him speak casually. No one hears him angry. The voice is always controlled, measured, and slightly clinical.

The slip that Kouyou witnessed (from your earlier post) would have been extraordinary precisely because it revealed the street kid beneath the gentleman. A muttered "kusottare" (くそったれ - fucking shithead) while fumbling with a drawer? That's not just a curse but a fossil, a linguistic remnant of a fourteen-year-old being trained by men who spoke only Register I. 

As the boss, he would use Register III to make even violence sound administrative. "The current arrangement with the Mimic has become... inefficient" means "Oda's orphans are all dead and I orchestrated it." The horror is in the disconnect between the elegant phrasing and the brutal reality. Yet if genuinely threatened, he might snap into Register I instinctively. Not often (he's too controlled), but a genuine assassination attempt might get you "Omae, shine yo" (お前、死ねよ - You, die) before he catches himself, and you die.

Also, register instability marks spies and defectors. Characters who do not fully “fit” the Port Mafia are linguistically legible before they are narratively revealed. Probably helped Mori figure out Tachihara’s status as a spy. I’ll have more on this later, based on characters like Dazai, Ango, Kyouka, and Tachihara. Also, silence is not the absence of language; it is a refusal to misregister. Characters with limited access to register often choose silence over incorrect politeness. This is not rudeness—it is self-preservation. Hyper-keigo indicates insecurity. It marks those who want legitimacy but lack it. The narrative consistently treats this as unstable.

Operational/Street Register Port Slang (Japanese/English):

荷役 (にやく, niyaku) – “cargo handling”; could double as a euphemism for moving illicit goods.

船倉 (ふなぐら, funagura) – “cargo hold”; could metaphorically describe hiding people or goods.

岸壁 (がんぺき, ganpeki) – “quay/waterfront edge”; could appear in metaphors or threats (“Meet me at the ganpeki”).

ブリッジ (burijji) – ship’s bridge; in slang, could mean the boss’s office or command post.

タグボート (tagu bōto) – tugboat; maybe used metaphorically for someone who “pushes things along” behind the scenes.

荷主 (にぬし, ninushi) – “shipper/client”; could appear in Operational Register as euphemism for a client or target.

ロープを切る (rōpu o kiru) – “cut the rope”; figuratively could mean to sever ties or eliminate a threat.

船の下 (fune no shita) – literally “under the ship”; could describe someone low-ranking or expendable.

“Tie up the hold” → finish a task or secure a target.

“Deckhands” → low-level operatives or enforcers.

“Manifest” → plan, record, or cover story.

“Crates” → drugs, weapons, or contraband.

“Loose ends” → literal or figurative cleanup (murders or intimidation).

“Stevedore” → someone doing the heavy labor; could double as metaphor for a grunt or foot soldier.

“Haul” → a completed score or theft.

Sooo! That's all I have for now. Any other questions? I'll be sure to type up my thoughts on defectors/spies, and how it would be kind of obvious with the linguistic drift.

[1-naomi-2]

Oh my fucking Gods—this is the best thing I've read in ages!!

This fits so well into the BSD narrative, especially the show's tendency to make every single little detail an indirect characterisation of the world's deeper structure.

I would like to discuss Register II, if you wanna read it.

As you said, their speech is professional. The kind of lingo you would hear in firms and business meetings, where their words are both indirect but also blunt enough to understand them if you have the will. As I see it, they are that fine line between Register I and Resgister III—blunt, but not aggressive. Professional, but not elegant. They can't afford to make metaphors, or be 'indirect'.

This associates with a principle in general business—economics, accounting, etc—always be clear and leave no room for other interpretation besides the correct one (the one you specifically meant). The speech pattern of Register II is, also, I assume, often met in paperwork. Documents, reports, anything written down—another basic rule of accounting: nothing is done within the firm without a written, signed document.

So, I am asking—would you associate Register II with the Financial side of the mafia?

What I mean by 'Financial side'—a term I came up with to reffer to a certain branch of the organization—is the people who do not go out on the field, but instead stay in offices.

In the mafia (again, by my own analogy), you would have, first of all, the 'Field Force'. The people trained to kill. They go out on missions for the most part. They are the ones treated as weapons. The 'ones who execute orders', if you will. The raw strength of the organization. These are people like Chuuya, Akutagawa, and the Black Lizard. I am not saying they do not have to deal with the bureaucratic nightmare that is paperwork, but that does not take up more than 50% of their total workload, and completing paperwork is not their main use.

Second of all, the 'Financial side' of the Mafia. These are people who, unlike the Field Force, are able to fight—because fighting is a must in the mafia—but that is not their main role. We all know the mafia cannot operate only on violence and one boss stuck reading reports all day. At least not anymore since Mori's rise to command. There is definitely a system of people who keep the place running properly. The mafia itself functions like a huge, corrupt corporation. These are the 'brains' of the operation, in a sense. While they still follow orders from a superior (Mori), they are the intelligence behind attacks.

But we are rarely shown these types of people in the show. I cannot give a concrete exemple of a member solely part of the Financial side of the mafia. So then what is my proof for their existence?

My main reasoning for believing these people exist in the mafia is Gin, in the BEAST AU. She was take in young by Dazai. She was obviously trained to fight, perhaps just like in the main AU, trained as an assasin, especially since working near the boss requires a certain level of fighting skills, no matter what you do near him. But she is a secretary. She handles paperwork, and her main role is to do just that—suffle documents. So if secretaries exist, they obviously cannot do everything by themselves. They would have to be transporters between the boss and other people who, like both the boss and the secretary, handle paperwork.

The Financial side is represented by secretaries, accountants, financial analysts, economical analysts, strategists, lawyers, judges, archivists, etc. The people who are there to ensure the place has structure on an internal level.

I cannot give a name to fit this category, because the purely Financial side mafiosos are the most rare type of mafiosos we see in the show or manga or even novels. Dazai, when he was in the mafia, may count as part of the Financial side, but we need more information on him to back that up. He fits better into a separate category, which is the Lieutenants. He was an executive after all, but by Lieutenants I mean the people right under the boss, who from there order specific branches of the mafia. Chuuya might be considered a Military-type Lieutenant, because he orders the Field Force. Dazai, by comparison, was a strategist and right hand man, not necessarily a fighter.

"But didn't you say the Financial Side is represented by strategists as well?" Yes, it is. But Dazai is a special case. He does.. basically a bit of everything. Torture, documents, strategy, and missions on the battle field on top of it all. He is a master of all trades—reason why Mori was so keen on him taking leadership—and sticking him into a single category wouldn't quite fit.

Alright, we've deviated from the subject and I started rambling too—but back to my main question: would you consider Register II to fit with the Financial side of the Port Mafia?

[1-naomi-2]

Mori from BSD headcanon:

So, you know that stereotypical way in which gangsters are said to speak in real life? Very ghetto-core, 'broken' english in a way, lots of harsh sounds and shorter, more casual words.

Headcanon that Mori can 100% speak like that. Mori, this polite, well-mannered middle-aged man who is described multiple times as a 'gentleman', can absolutely speak like random gangsters at the corner of the street. He just does not because he thinks he sounds unprofessional.

We don't know exactly at which age Mori was taken into the mafia. It might have been after the war, but the mafia would probably prefer children or younger individuals who are easier to manipulate, over grown adults who can already make the difference between good and evil. So, i think he might've been taken in young, trained, and then allowed to go into the war to make a point (that ability users could be useful in war as weapons).

I think around the age of 14, because that is basically the cursed age in BSD where the worst happens for everyone.

So, he was probably exposed to more ragged language during his training, and it was probably useful to learn to speak like that because it would make undercover missions in different rival gangs much easier.

So even now, at 40, he can switch and speak like that. The first time he slipped and muttered some curses under his breath, trying to find something, Kouyou could not believe her ears—she still teases him about it.

[d1rambler]

I love you please marry me /j

I have an entire system for the way port mafia speak works with the hierarchy and this is fantastic

[1-naomi-2]

Okay now you HAVE to share with the class that system I'm genuinely curious

[1-naomi-2]

Mori from BSD headcanon:

So, you know that stereotypical way in which gangsters are said to speak in real life? Very ghetto-core, 'broken' english in a way, lots of harsh sounds and shorter, more casual words.

Headcanon that Mori can 100% speak like that. Mori, this polite, well-mannered middle-aged man who is described multiple times as a 'gentleman', can absolutely speak like random gangsters at the corner of the street. He just does not because he thinks he sounds unprofessional.

We don't know exactly at which age Mori was taken into the mafia. It might have been after the war, but the mafia would probably prefer children or younger individuals who are easier to manipulate, over grown adults who can already make the difference between good and evil. So, i think he might've been taken in young, trained, and then allowed to go into the war to make a point (that ability users could be useful in war as weapons).

I think around the age of 14, because that is basically the cursed age in BSD where the worst happens for everyone.

So, he was probably exposed to more ragged language during his training, and it was probably useful to learn to speak like that because it would make undercover missions in different rival gangs much easier.

So even now, at 40, he can switch and speak like that. The first time he slipped and muttered some curses under his breath, trying to find something, Kouyou could not believe her ears—she still teases him about it.

[somecluelessidiot]

Regulus: I want to wake up with you every day for the rest of our lives.

James: I wake up at 4:30 AM every day for Quidditch practice.

Regulus: I want to see you at some point every day for the rest of our lives.

[1-naomi-2]

Black brothers headcanon:

For an emberassing about of time, neither Sirius nor Regulus knew the other was an animagus. They had suspicions, and considered the other's behavior strange at times, yet they didn't have enough clues to make the connection.

The first one to actually discover the other was an illegal animagus was Sirius, when Regulus—exhausted one day and getting a bit sloppy—turned into a cat when he thought he was alone in his room.

Once the surprise wore off and the realization settled in better, Sirius, being the little shit he was, decided to do what good big brothers did—terrorize his little sibling.

By this time around, when the two brothers would innvitably go home for the holidays, or for the breaks between semesters, both Sirius and Regulus snuck out of Grimmauld Place regularly to see Remus and James, respectively. Sirius saw Regulus leave a few times, and memorized his routine relatively quickly: the younger Black would sneak out his bedroom window, which was on the second floor, step on the roof of the elves' quarters, which were right below his bedroom, turn into a black cat and jump off, going peacefully on his merry way.

But, whenever Regulus snuck out in his animagus for, at some point and without fail, a large, stray-looking dog would go and chase him through streets and neighborhoods for a good half an hour before Regulus would manage to get rid of him. It didn't matter if Regulus went out at different times, or if he was careful, if he changed his path or went through very tiny spaces. That dog would appear out of nowhere, as if knowing where to find him, and try to grab him.

For a good few months, Regulus thought he was targeted by some rabid, feral stray beast. Which was true, in a way.

Said beast, meanwhile, was laughing his ass off after every single one of these little 'cats and dogs' game he created.

[1-naomi-2]

In addition to this—after a few months, when Regulus found out Sirius was an animagus and he made the connection between the hound chasing him at night and his brother, he was absolutely furious. And, in order to take revenge, one day, having found Sirius, in his animagus form, digging through trash, approaching him with a leash like "Who's a good boy?"

Then proceeding to forcefully drag him to a pet salon, where he payed for whatever package they had for "drastic canine fashion situations".

He picked up Sirius four hours later, still in his animagus form (againt his will), now a sulking, still bit too big, puppy smelling of flower-scented shampoo, with his nails and fur trimmed, and a pretty pink bow on.

The worst part was that any change done to Sirius in his animagus form reflected upon his human form as well—his hair was cut when he turned back. His hair, his pride and joy, cut and straightened, from about nipple length as it was when it was curly, to around shoulder length straight.

He cried for an HOUR, while Remus panicked trying to calm him, and Regulus filmed all his whining.

[1-naomi-2]

Black brothers headcanon:

For an emberassing about of time, neither Sirius nor Regulus knew the other was an animagus. They had suspicions, and considered the other's behavior strange at times, yet they didn't have enough clues to make the connection.

The first one to actually discover the other was an illegal animagus was Sirius, when Regulus—exhausted one day and getting a bit sloppy—turned into a cat when he thought he was alone in his room.

Once the surprise wore off and the realization settled in better, Sirius, being the little shit he was, decided to do what good big brothers did—terrorize his little sibling.

By this time around, when the two brothers would innvitably go home for the holidays, or for the breaks between semesters, both Sirius and Regulus snuck out of Grimmauld Place regularly to see Remus and James, respectively. Sirius saw Regulus leave a few times, and memorized his routine relatively quickly: the younger Black would sneak out his bedroom window, which was on the second floor, step on the roof of the elves' quarters, which were right below his bedroom, turn into a black cat and jump off, going peacefully on his merry way.

But, whenever Regulus snuck out in his animagus for, at some point and without fail, a large, stray-looking dog would go and chase him through streets and neighborhoods for a good half an hour before Regulus would manage to get rid of him. It didn't matter if Regulus went out at different times, or if he was careful, if he changed his path or went through very tiny spaces. That dog would appear out of nowhere, as if knowing where to find him, and try to grab him.

For a good few months, Regulus thought he was targeted by some rabid, feral stray beast. Which was true, in a way.

Said beast, meanwhile, was laughing his ass off after every single one of these little 'cats and dogs' game he created.

[1-naomi-2]

Trying to learn basic anatomy for the first time :]

[1-naomi-2]

I present to you:

Engaged Damian and Jon, age ~27, having to sit through the most awkward possible dinner as Talia Al Ghul and Ra's Al Ghul, Bruce Wayne, Selina Kyle-Wayne, Dick Grayson-Wayne, Jason Todd-Wayne, Tim Drake-Wayne, Cassandra Kyle-Wayne, and Clark Kent, Lois Lane and Kon-El Kent try to talk to eachother as the families of the soon-to-be husbands.

Ra's has been given very aggressive verbal instructions by both Damian and Talia to not utter a word. This is somehow worse because it freaks everyone out. Damian has been appointed to sit next to him.

Clark tried to compliment the decorum 4 times already. Each time he received less-than-pleasing answers from the Al Ghuls such as "The chandeliers are carved from bone" (whether of animal or human is unclear), "Thank you, it is a family heirloom great grandmother owns (implying she's still alive)" etc.

Bruce has been glaring across the table at Ra's for half an hour now. Tim keeps stepping on his foot under the table to tell him to quit it. Dick is no better, because he keeps glaring at Talia. On that side, Jason doesn't even bother as much as Tim does.

All while Damian and Jon are suddenly very interested in their plates of food. At some point Jon tried to help diffuse the tension and Damian just pulled him back down in his chair.

[1-naomi-2]

Damijon headcanon:

(This takes place around the time they are 16 to 17 years old—we'll pretend DC aging Jon up never happened) Headcanon that Damian does grow much taller as a young adult—he's been short during most of puberty and then one day he just *grew*. Like, *sprouted*. But still, Jon beat him to that, and is one of the only people who are actually taller than him, by about half a head or ¾ of a head (Damian reaches to about Jon's eyes or nose, depending how you want it).

So, due to this, Jon has developed a habit Damian would describe as utterly unnecessary and incredibly emberassing—whenever Jon hugs Damian, he has a habit of picking him up. Just.. keeps him in a normal hug for exactly .5 seconds, then lifts him just a bit off the ground so they are the same height. Bonus points, if Superboy's *really* excited, he might start floating a bit too, with Damian still in his arms.

The first time it happened in front of literally anyone, Damian was absolutely mortified and red with emberassment. Refused to look the person in front of whom it happened in the eyes for *months*.

(Said person was Bruce. He avoided his father in the manor like the fucking *plague*. Did not help that Bruce was equally mortified, given the fact he somehow had no damn idea Damian and Jon were even friends, much less dating. Dick has never been more amused. Tim had video proof of Batman and Robin pretending the other doesn't exist.)

[1-naomi-2]

I love cooking but cooking doesn't love me

[knickknat]

The title “Archive of Our Own” is metal as fuck