#its the magpie brain...

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Smell Check [Easy: Failure]

MDZS Disco Elysium AU part 1 (part 2 - part 3)

[heybiji]

ialso love playign superhero ttrpgs can i ask what the Masks ttrpg is? i love finding neww hero themed ttrpgs ^-^ yay!

Ohhh!! Hey! i love getting to talk ttrpg stuff thanks for the question!

MASKS: A New Generation is a superhero ttrpg about teenagers all trying to figure out who they are in a world filled with people constantly telling them who they are and how the world works. It's less about the powers and the fights and more about the emotional journey of the PCs with mechanics that support that. It's a really narratively driven game!

tldr: try it out! it's fun! it's simple! and it's low-prep (apparently, just not for me, but i'm always just gonna do Too Much). you want a system with mechanics that revolve around telling a story? around your character's emotions and how they view themselves? this is the one for you! it's great and i've really been enjoying it!!

First of all, it's a fail-forward system, so the way your character levels (advanced) is by missing rolls. I like this a lot.

There are ten core playbooks that are essentially the classes you can choose from. They each come with their own powers, some intentionally more impressive than others, but it's not about the powers; it's about the core conflict that comes with each of the archetypes. Here are a few playbook examples:

The Delinquent: You've got these cool powers. But everyone keeps telling you how to use 'em. You know what they need? Someone to give them trouble, to make sure they don't always get their way. And hey! You're the perfect her to do it.

The Legacy: You're the latest in a storied heroic lineage, a family that shares a name and a cause. Now, everybody is watching and waiting to see if you've got what it takes to uphold that tradition. No Pressure, right?

The Nova: You're a font of power. Channel it, and you can remake the world into exactly what you want. Unleash it, and you can do miracles. It's wonderful... and terrifying. Lose control for even a second, and other people get hurt.

Your stats are your Labels. They're how you see yourself, and how others see you. The Labels are DANGER, FREAK, SAVIOR, SUPERIOR, and MUNDANE. Different stats help with different Moves/rolls, so for example a high DANGER stat helps you Directly Engage a Threat, while a low MUNDANE stat makes it harder for you to Comfort or Support Someone. Your Labels are constantly being shifted around throughout the game as your character's self-image changes (and that self-image changes a lot, basically the NPCs are just label shifting machines).

The mechanics are fun! Instead of traditional damage, the PCs have Conditions that they take on, and what conditions a character has affects their rolls. The Conditions are Afraid, Angry, Guilty, Hopeless, and Insecure. So if you're Angry you take -2 on your roll to do the move Comfort or Support Someone, if you're Afraid, it's -2 on Directly Engage a Threat, etc. There are multiple ways to clear your conditions but the most straightforward way is to take a particular action, so if you're Angry you have to hurt someone or break something important, and if you're Afraid you have to run from something difficult. These actions lead to some awesome and surprising story beats!

There's some other stuff as well, but that's the gist!

Coming from DND, it took me some time to adjust to something so wildly different in terms of the system, but I've been enjoying it! I haven't gotten to play it as a PC, but running it has been an interesting challenge. I think it's a pretty simple system to work with, and I at least hear it's low-prep (again not for me tho lol). It's mechanically looser than the only other ttrpg I've played (dnd) and requires a lot more decision making from the whole table, so I think in a way it asks more of its players in that way. And the GM role is constantly on in a specific way, because it's up to the GM to listen and call out when a Move is being triggered and a roll should be made based on what the characters are doing in any particular scene.

anyway I can always have more to say but MASKS has been fun. I recommend giving it a shot! And then you should tell me what you thought about it!!

[many-gay-magpies]

man i love how there was rly just. NO hesitation on charles' part on deciding to go to hell to get edwin out. like, typically you'd expect at least SOME deliberation, but nope he was instantly just like "so you can make a portal to hell? okay make one, i'm going in." and yeah some of it can be left up to the fact that he's a ghost and not as liable to die in hell as someone living, but seriously the fact that that was his default course of action? just right off the bat? that level of devotion is frankly a little insane

[magpies-in-a-mischief]

Guide to Troubled Birds but make it Tony G

[ssaalexblake]

we Know that Katniss loves Haymitch because she hears his story and spends the next couple of days deliberately messing with the honking demons nests (aka Geese) to gather some for Haymitch to raise, in memory of Lenore Dove.

You do not mess with bird nests. Even the most docile of birds will decide to fight instead of flight if it's in the mood, and Geese are Not docile. Geese are demons out to taste blood. And they're big enough to hurt.

Katniss fought for her life for those eggs, all for Haymitch.

[ustwoforsaken]

invictus has had a hand in so many goddamn supervillain organizations its crazy. he wants to be a hero soooo bad (has an intense, all-consuming need to be in control of everything ever)

[ballvillepanic]

this is either the second or third time ive made an oc based off a reader-insert fic i liked. if i had a nickel every time this happened etc etc

[seens]

me, the man who specifically requested that my sleeve not come down onto my hand so i can still hide all my tattoos with long sleeves: hm. i kind of want a neck tattoo

[nerdie-faerie]

Scientists: we don't know exactly how this drug works on the body

Me: great because I wasn't going to be able to understand it anyway

Scientists: well we have theories

Me: nope sorry I'm good

Me: okay I've gotta write 500 words on the pharmacodynamic properties of lithium carbonate, shouldn't be too hard lets use that site my professor recommended

The site:

Me: ......oh

[ghostlynightpanda]

Hellooo!

Can you write a funny story for Tendou from Haikyuu? I watched The Proposal yesterday (i don't know if you know the movie) but there's a scene where tis big bird tries to grab a small dog, but the woman protects it and instead it gets her phone. Maybe a similar scene (without the dog) for reader? Maybe reader goes to shiratorizawa aswell and her key gets stolen by a bird and seh tries to get it back and everything and tendou is watching her and probably making fun of her when she tries to change her keys for something else. I'm sorry if this is too specific or weird, i just though it would be fun!

Brains, Brawn, and Bird Theft 

synposis: A top student at Shiratorizawa finds her quiet, academic life thrown off track when a magpie steals her dorm key—leading to an absurd chase, an unexpected rescue by Tendou Satori, and the start of an unusual friendship.

warning/content: Tendou Satori x fem!reader, -2.262 words

You were good at school — irritatingly good, according to your classmates. Not that you were smug about it. You just... liked learning. It was a quiet kind of thrill, mastering something on your own terms. 

Math clicked for you, literature spoke to you, and science gave you answers in a world that rarely did. So it wasn't a surprise when, at the start of your third year, your name once again landed at the top of the academic rankings for Shiratorizawa Academy.

It came with its share of perks — one of them being a dorm to yourself. A precious, quiet space where no one could barge in asking for notes or comparing test scores. No distractions. No unnecessary noise.

And definitely no volleyball players.

The volleyball team was... something else entirely. You knew of them — of course you did. You'd seen a few games when they were held nearby, mostly dragged along by friends who swooned over spike speeds and uniform numbers. You weren't immune to admiration; they were talented. But to you, they were distant figures. Focused. Intense. Almost mythic in the way people whispered about them in hallways.

Ushijima Wakatoshi. Captain. Powerhouse. Supposedly terrifying in person. Tendou Satori. The "Guess Monster." Unpredictable. Weird. Definitely not someone you'd spoken to. Reon. Shirabu. The rest — all names tied to performances, not personalities.

You had nothing against them. But they were on a different plane of existence, orbiting around tournaments and sweat-soaked glory, while your universe was highlighters, flashcards, and well-organized binders. Besides, they didn't exactly seem... approachable. Or interested in conversations that didn't involve blocks or serves.

So, naturally, you'd never expected to cross paths with any of them.

Certainly not because of a thieving magpie.

The afternoon air was warm, humming quietly with the sounds of distant practice whistles and cicadas tucked in the hedges. You walked the familiar path toward your dorm, bag slung over your shoulder, thoughts already drifting toward a quiet evening of studying and maybe—if you felt like living on the edge—a mug of instant cocoa.

The keys slipped from your fingers just as you reached into your pocket. No big deal. You crouched automatically.

But before your hand could even brush the metal—

FWIP.

A sharp flutter of wings startled you upright. You blinked. A black-and-white flash darted down from the trees, landed beside your keys, and—very casually—grabbed them in its beak.

There was a moment of silent disbelief.

"...No," you said aloud.

The magpie tilted its head, then hopped backward a few steps, dragging your keyring along the concrete.

You stared at it. It stared back.

"Drop it."

The bird gave no indication of understanding. In fact, it looked almost smug—if that was even possible for something with feathers. You took a step forward.

The magpie hopped away.

"Don't you dare."

It took to the air in a blur of feathers, flew a few meters, and landed again — this time on a patch of lawn near the path.

You stood there for a second, processing the sheer ridiculousness of the situation. You were an honors student. Top of your year. This sort of thing did not happen to you.

And yet.

You sighed, tucked your bag tighter against your shoulder, and followed the magpie.

It became a game of keep-away.

Every time you got close, it either fluttered just out of reach or watched you with sharp, birdy disinterest. You tried reason, crouching low, palms out like you were coaxing a skittish cat.

"Come on," you muttered. "It's a key. It doesn't sparkle. It's not food. You don't even have pockets."

The magpie remained unmoved.

Eventually, the chase led you toward the school's gym complex. A few people passed by in the distance, but thankfully, no one seemed to notice you crawling across the lawn like a rejected wildlife intern.

The magpie landed on a bench near a picnic table just outside the gym. You slowed your steps. Charging at it clearly wasn't working. You needed a new strategy.

You glanced down at your wallet. Then back at the bird.

"...You're into shiny things, right?"

Carefully, you pulled out a 100-yen coin and tossed it a few feet away from the table.

Nothing.

You squinted at the magpie. It had definitely looked. But it wasn't moving.

"Seriously? You don't want money now?"

You tossed another coin, this time a little closer to the bird.

"Take the coin!" you hissed. "It's shiny! It's practically treasure! This is a better deal than a key, you greedy winged bastard—"

"Huh," a voice said behind you, low and unimpressed. "Did you just throw money at a bird?"

You froze.

You turned around slowly.

Standing just behind you, arms crossed, expression unreadable, was none other than Ushijima Wakatoshi.

And next to him, wide-eyed and practically sparkling with interest, was Tendou Satori.

"Ohhh my god," you whispered, horrified.

"Wow," Tendou grinned. "You're even weirder than I am!"

"It's not—! It's not what it looks like," you blurted out, heat rushing to your face so fast you were surprised you didn't combust on the spot.

Ushijima blinked slowly, his expression neutral as ever. "It looks like you're throwing money at a bird."

"That's... okay, yes, technically, but that's not the point!"

Tendou leaned in slightly, eyes sparkling with interest like this was the best thing he'd seen all week. "I dunno, sounds pretty pointy to me. I mean, you literally chucked yen at its face."

You turned back toward the magpie with a helpless gesture. "It stole my keys! I was trying to bribe it. Which is totally logical! Birds like shiny things, right? That's, like, science!"

"Is it?" Tendou tilted his head. "I thought that was just a myth. Or was that raccoons?"

"I—" You blinked. "Why are we talking about raccoons?!"

There was a very long, very tense pause. The bird shifted slightly on the bench, letting the keychain dangle tauntingly from its beak.

You rubbed your face, flustered and panicking just a little now. Then your eyes landed on something miraculous. Something game-changing.

A protein bar.

Clutched loosely in Tendou's left hand.

Your eyes widened like you'd just spotted the Holy Grail wrapped in plastic and labeled with calorie content.

Tendou noticed your expression. His fingers tightened instinctively around the bar. "Uh..."

You stepped toward him, hopeful. "Say, you're from the volleyball team. Tendou-san, right?"

"...Yes?" he replied, somewhat cautiously, taking a step closer to Ushijima as if he was trying to seek shelter from your intense gaze.

"Can I have your protein bar?"

He looked baffled. "Wait, what?"

"I'll pay you! I'll buy you another one later, or I can give you money now—here!" You whipped out a crumpled bill from the wallet still clutched in your hand. "Please, I really need it."

Tendou leaned away slightly, holding the bar just out of your reach. "This is escalating very fast."

"I'm serious," you pleaded. "It's my last hope. The bird has rejected money."

Ushijima, still utterly expressionless, asked, "Are you going to throw the money at him, too?"

You turned to him, scandalized. "What? No!"

He nodded once, as if your answer had genuinely clarified things for him.

Tendou gave you one last squint, then slowly handed the bar over.

You held it like a relic, turning back to the magpie with renewed determination. "Thank you. I owe you."

The magpie was now perched on the edge of a nearby table, still smugly guarding your keys. You walked toward it slowly, lifting the protein bar as if presenting a rare offering to some kind of trash deity.

"Come on," you whispered. "This is a snack. A human snack. So much better than keys, right? Look. Carbs. Protein. Peanut butter flavor. You like peanut butter, don't you?"

It flew up into the tree right above the table. 

"Argh, stupid asshole bird!" You clenched your teeth, glaring at the magpie, who was now just out of reach.

You still kept approaching, inch by inch, climbing onto the bench and then the table, holding the bar out like a sacrifice.

"Please?" you begged. "Please take the snack and drop the keys. I'll even stop calling you a stupid—if you just... cooperate."

And then, finally—finally—the magpie dove.

You flinched, one arm coming up to shield your face, but the bird executed a sharp maneuver mid-air: dropping the key onto the table and snatching the bar in one clean, predatory swoop.

Its wing clipped your cheek.

"GAH—!" you yelped, stumbling backward. Reflexively, you tried to step away.

But tables end.

And you forgot that part.

You felt your foot slip, and gravity tilted you backward before your brain even caught up. For one brief, soul-leaving moment, you were certain your fall would end with a broken tailbone and a crushed sense of dignity.

Instead, you landed in a pair of arms.

More specifically, the strong, slightly startled arms of Tendou Satori.

You stared up at him, your mind short-circuiting as your back pressed against his chest, and his weirdly lanky limbs wrapped around you with surprising steadiness.

"Well," he said with an eyebrow raised, "hello there."

You blinked at him, still processing.

Then the fluttering of wings brought your head snapping around again.

"Oh no you don't—!"

Your keys glinted on the tabletop where the magpie had dropped them. The bird, having already devoured half the bar, turned mid-air and came gliding back in your direction, probably aiming for Round Two.

You launched yourself out of Tendou's arms without warning, practically throwing yourself onto the table to cover your keys with your whole body.

The magpie had to veer off with a sharp squawk to avoid a collision.

Panting, you sat there, keys clutched protectively to your chest, glaring at the retreating bird. "Mine."

Behind you, Tendou let out a low whistle. "Holy shit. You really are weirder than I am. And here I thought the elite students at this school were, like, functional adults."

You glanced at him over your shoulder, hair a mess, shirt rumpled, keys clutched in a death grip.

"Shut up."

The sun hadn't even started to set yet, but the heat of the afternoon was already fading, shadows stretching long across the courtyard outside the gym. You leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed, one foot tapping lightly against the concrete.

The sound of sneakers and laughter echoed from behind the gym doors, followed by the unmistakable thud of a volleyball hitting the floor.

You checked your pocket. Yup — protein bar secured. Debt, about to be repaid.

The doors opened moments later, and the first of the team trickled out, talking among themselves, toweling sweat from their necks, and in Shirabu's case, looking like he was already halfway into overanalyzing the last set.

And then—

Tendou appeared, mop of messy red hair sticking to his forehead, grin already tugging at his lips as he spotted you.

You didn't say a word.

You just tossed the bar.

"Catch."

His reflexes kicked in immediately, hand snapping out mid-step to snatch the protein bar from the air without breaking stride.

He blinked at it. Then at you.

"What's this?"

"Payment," you said smoothly, pushing off the wall. "For services rendered during a bird-related crisis."

"Wow. I don't usually get paid for rescuing girls from trees. Is this what chivalry feels like?"

You scoffed. "You didn't even climb the tree. You just stood there and watched me nearly get beheaded by a flying trash gremlin."

Tendou chuckled, unwrapping the bar and taking a bite. "A grateful flying trash gremlin. I gave it food, it gave you your key back. Symbiosis."

"I was the one who gave it food."

"And I was the supplier. I feel like this makes us business partners. Weird bird-based entrepreneurs."

You raised a brow. "Great. Let's put that on our resumes."

The two of you started walking — casually, naturally, like it wasn't even a decision. Just two people heading in the same direction, side by side.

"You sure you don't need it?" Tendou asked, holding up the protein bar. "What if you get mugged by a raven this time?"

You glanced at him. "Then I hope you're on standby with a granola bar and a catcher's mitt."

He grinned, sharp and amused. "You're fun. Weird, but fun."

"You're calling me weird?"

"Absolutely."

You didn't argue. It felt… surprisingly nice to talk to someone like this. Someone who didn't ask about test scores or cram schools, who just said things without caring if they made perfect sense.

The volleyball team faded into the distance behind you. Somewhere along the path to the dorms, you heard Shirabu's voice, confused and borderline distressed.

"Wait... isn't that Y/N? The third-year prodigy? What is she doing with Tendou-senpai?"

There was a beat of silence. No one had an answer to that. Almost no one.

Then, Ushijima said, in the same calm, steady tone he used for things like "The ball was in" or "Protein is important":

"She was mugged by a bird. Tendou helped."

Silence.

Shirabu blinked. "...What?"

Yamagata squinted at him. "Was that a joke?"

Reon looked genuinely unsettled. "I don't think I've ever heard him joke before."

No one was sure — because Ushijima, stone-faced and unreadable as always, simply began walking away without another word.

Which only made it so much worse.

Goshiki looked between the older players in confusion, almost as dense as Ushijima in certain aspects, as he asked in complete seriousness, "Did Tendou-senpai help her when she was mugged... or did he help the bird to mug her?"

Masterlist

[ross-hollander]

I went down to...

...the hell for 'mech pilots, once. You get there walking down the lonely, beaten dirt trail, in the fog-shrouded forest, approaching a lookout post where the sentry sits. Uniform of an army you have never seen, viscera spilling out where his flesh rots through. He waves you in, tells you which hangar you have a slot at.

Just past the entrance is the first hangar, Limbo. For those who never did more than they needed to, never looked out for anyone except themselves, never repaid good with bad- or, in fact, with anything at all. They sit there in rows after rows, silent in their niches while technicians without eyes clamber over them. Sometimes, they say, the repairs are completed, and they wave the pilot on out of the hangar, back up the trail.

To the left is Lust, for the magpies, the looters. The ones who craved the metal that had been flesh and bone to others. There they are torn from their cockpits, hearts plucked out by those eyeless technicians, replaced with minute metal homonculi: piloted themselves in murderous clashes until flesh-shreds are all that remain.

To the right is Gluttony, for the over-prepared, the hoarders, the ammunition hogs. Their 'mechs stand beneath a flimsy stone ridge as an endless artillery barrage rains down on them. The terror of the instant death- in spite of all their armor, in spite of all they took for themselves -is constant.

When you walk past Lust you go to Greed, for the spray-and-prayers, for the overkillers sowing cities with missiles and stray shots. Here wait the fallen angels, colossal, purely alien 'mechs of ever-sweltering black metal, and the pilots toil heaving batteries and missiles and armor panels, all of crushing weight, to repair them. Some lie fallen under the burdens they were lugging, never able to arise.

When you walk past Gluttony you go to Wrath, for the cockpit stompers, the ones who shoot down ejecting enemies. They are chained in their seats, ejects disabled, glass barred over, and their reactors cook them in their own can as they howl and sizzle. They go deaf from the radios that share every damned soul's screams with every other.

When you walk past Limbo you go to Heresy, for the metal-breakers, the engine strainers, the ones who slaved their 'mechs to the extreme. Here they lie on tables, those eyeless technicians disassembling them, removing piece by piece and replacing it with metal, from digits to nerves to brain, until all that remains is mute, unmoving alloy.

When you walk past Heresy you go to Fraud, for the abusers of the flag of truce, the false colors or feigned surrenders. Although you can never walk past Fraud; their 'mechs stagger forwards, down that misty dirt road, until metal rusts, until servos give out, until limbs drop off, until they finally collapse, staring, stagnant, mindless, imprisoned in their cockpit, watching the rest of the damned keep heaving themselves on.

No person ever goes to the last hangar. The last hangar is not for the pilots, you see. The last hangar is for Treason. The frozen control systems. The faulty radar that failed to pick up an incoming strike. The eject that refused to work when it was most needed. The last hangar- or so I am told -is where metal goes to pay for its sins, and it is no sight for mortal eyes.

[pearlescentzine]

Pearlescentzine contributors - part 3!

@slashmagpie ; Magpie is a writer with a love of unreliable narrators and complex character dynamics. She's a little in love with PearlescentMoon and is excited to help bring this zine to life! Outside of writing, you can usually find him falling down rabbit holes, exercising all manners of artistic hubris, and trying his best to be a steady rock in the fog.

ao3

@messiergalaxy31 ; Self-taught artist who has a passion for environmental art. Using dramatic colour and perspective, I aspire to evoke emotion through my works.

twitter | instagram

@razcascade ; Parlorrabbit is a digital fanartist and animator who likes storytelling and pretty minecraft builds. Loves making character designs and storyboards for animations that only sometimes get made.

bsky | instagram

@pocket-sized-nightmare ; Pixel is a writer, lover of silly crafts, and Minecraft fan who's been watching PearlescentMoon since 2021! Hermitcraft, Empires SMP, and the Life Series exist in their brain where sleep probably should be.

@rosvyy ; I've been watching Pearl ever since 2020 and have been a fan ever since! Her life series are my favorite, but recently Ive been finding myself just having her streams in the background while I work and for sleep aid! I'm so excited to be working with so many talented artists on this zine

tiktok: Rosvyyy_

@shorkthesharkk ; Hello gamers!!! Im shork! I'm still fairly new to the community but so far it's been a blast meeting all kinds of insanely talented people, who are part of it! Its such a joy to contribute to this project and I can't wait to see how it turns out!!!

youtube

@syneester ; Syn, of their full name Syneester, says they are a multifandom artist, but do not let them fool you. All they ever draw is Life Series and Hermitcraft and Life Series again. They'll never leave that desert.

bsky | instagram

@boonbeenblade ; Vanyel here - just your typical author with a day job to daydream through! Big fan of MCYT and extraneous, the wheel of creativity just keeps spinning!

ao3

@vinikpuh ; Vini is an Armenian artist who found mcyts this summer and fell in love with their content. Pearl in particular inspires her to draw

@ssilentwillow ; Willow is a rather new PearlescentMoon fan, but binged the entirety of her season 10 backlog within a week, and is very excited to be here! She likes to draw angel wings and cute outfits, amongst other things.

[many-gay-magpies]

thing in doctor who that absolutely destroys me: whenever some character is talking about a war or losing a loved one and says something to the doctor along the lines of "how could YOU understand?" or "you'd never understand, doctor" and then it flips to a shot of the doctor just looking so. sad and knowing. rips me apart every time it's just excellent

[marypsue]

In that vein (hah), I just have to take a moment to gush about the costuming in The Lost Boys because. Have you seen the costuming in The Lost Boys. Like each costume standing on its own without anyone in it still gives you a sense of a whole character, which is important because some of these characters don't get, uh, lines. We have to be able to distinguish them immediately by visuals, and the thing is, we can, because they're not just dressed to look attractive, they're dressed with the purpose of establishing character.

Like, consider Michael. They kept it very simple for him, on purpose, he's a regular everyman kind of guy thrown into a Situation. But also, he's trying too hard. The white t-shirt, jeans, and leather jacket call back to James Dean, Rebel Without A Cause, but the leather jacket's brand new without a scuff or a crack, not broken in, and it sits uncomfortably on his shoulders. The earring doesn't suit him - it belongs to somebody else, a funhouse mirror version of himself that he's tempted by, but also it literally belongs to somebody else. Who gave him that earring? Star's implied to have done the piercing, for him, which also tracks - the earring's a little piece of someone else, someone darker and wilder, that's been dug right down into his flesh by his association with Star. It's tasted his blood.

It's also a little piece of the boys' uniting aesthetic bleeding over onto him. There's a magpie sensibility to all of them, but then each of them are visually distinct as themselves within it.

Star's clothes have 80s cuts but form a 60s hippie silhouette, solidified in time. She's the most colourful of them all, her white tops signifying a flash of innocence, but at the same time as she climbs on David's bike, she pulls on a big black jacket that almost envelops her, a little piece of his shadow falling over her and devouring her light. Again, it doesn't quite fit her, like she's playing dressup as a darker, wilder self just like Michael is.

And speaking of David. That boy is chin to toe wrapped up in black. The coat references batwings, which is a great detail. And those gloves! He doesn't touch Star; he doesn't touch Michael; he doesn't touch the world, except through a layer of darkness. It's real Old West, white-hat-black-hat level symbolism. Except.

The real villain of the piece isn't the dangerous, sharp-edged boy in black - although of course you need to look out for him, they don't call him 'dangerous' for no reason. The real villain of the piece is the most perfectly conventional, middle-class, unassuming, don't-look-twice take-him-home-to-mother normal guy imaginable. Grey and beige. Business casual.

It's the perfect camouflage for a predator.

(And then also like. I can't wax as poetic about it right now because my brain cells are otherwise occupied. But please consider how much character is there in, like, the Frogs' army-surplus duds and Sam's terrible, incredible shirts.)

[cod-thoughts]

What about silly pricenik?

This is great i love sharing dumb headcanons ive got hehe. Heres some i have in my notes! These are most of them! Rest is under the cut there was...a lot 0_0

Nikolai

Despite being a fantastic pilot, Nik has a horrible sense of direction on the ground. He once got lost in a massive tesco's and refused to ask for help, claiming he was “scouting the exits.”

Nik insists on making every departure as dramatic as possible. Helicopter pickups? Cue the music. Leaving a room? He slams the door just right so it echoes.

Nik’s sense of humour is as dry as the desert, and he can deliver the most absurd statements with a completely straight face. Soap once believed for an entire day that Nik had a pet bear named Boris. Nik gifts Soap a stuffed bear with a note that says his name is Boris for secret santa two years later too.

Nik collects tiny, odd souvenirs from missions—a bottle cap, a rusty coin, a piece of scrap metal. His pockets are always jingling, and Price swears he’s part magpie.

Nik is surprisingly good at poker and never misses a chance to challenge the team. His poker face is so good that even Ghost has a hard time reading him.

He won’t admit it, but Nik has a soft spot for cheesy romantic comedies. He does drag Price to watch the opera, theatre or musicals and Price loves it because Nik is so happy there however, Price refuses to watch a single rom-com "Sorry, Nik, love can only do so much."

Nik can MacGyver his way out of almost anything. Once built a makeshift flare gun out of a broken torch and a rubber band. It worked—just barely.

Nik’s rucksack is always bursting with random things—extra batteries, half a loaf of bread, a flask, and tools for a job no one asked for. Somehow, it all ends up being useful.

He has an entire list of mission rituals he swears by, like tapping the side of the helicopter before takeoff or wearing the same lucky socks on dangerous ops.

His voice booms like he’s addressing a crowd. Gaz calls him “The Walking Megaphone.”

Nik has a habit of keeping little mementos—like the first time Price scrawled mission coordinates on a scrap of paper for him, which Nik still keeps in his jacket pocket.

He once made a playlist for Price that was entirely love songs in Russian, claiming, “It’s all about the vibe.” (yeah, sure nik. Price looked up some of the lyrics and blushed furiously before finding nik and making some of the lyrics come to life...)

Even in the worst situations, Nik finds a way to keep spirits up. He once cracked a joke mid-firefight that had even Ghost smirking.

Wherever they go, Nik seems to have a knack for charming the locals. Whether it’s his booming laugh or his easy smile, he somehow ends up with an invitation to dinner by the end of every mission.

NikPrice

Nik insists on picking Price up for missions in the most inconvenient places possible (when he can)—like rooftops, narrow alleyways, or middle-of-nowhere fields. Price grumbles about it every time, but Nik calls it “adventure pickup.” The boys love it just because it annoys Price.

They’ve worked together so long they don’t need words to communicate during a mission. Nik swears it’s because they’re “two halves of one operational brain,” to which Price always mutters, “God help us all.”

Nik once stole Price’s hat during a mission and refused to return it until Price called him “the best pilot in the world.” Price begrudgingly complied, but Nik still teases him about it.

Nik has a habit of doing absurdly dramatic favours for Price, like flying halfway across the world to deliver a forgotten map. When asked why, he always shrugs and says, “For you, John? Anything.” (Price eventually realises its not cause Nik can, its cause Nik wants to and he finally puts them both out of their misery and asks him out. Price thinks this will stop Nik, it in fact does not)

Their comms during missions are half professional, half flirting banter. Soap and Gaz are constantly muting their headsets to avoid laughing during stealth ops. Ghost is just used to it at this point.

Despite the chaos of missions, Nik has a way of carving out small, quiet moments with Price—whether it’s a cup of tea at dawn or sitting shoulder-to-shoulder in silence on a rooftop, sharing a flask.

Nik isn’t overly demonstrative in professional settings, but his gestures still speak volumes—brushing a speck of dust off Price’s shoulder without a pause from Price, straightening his collar too, or resting a hand on his lower back as they move through crowded spaces. When it's just them or them and the team though? Nik is all over Price, extremely touchy, does not care if Price is bright red or the team make fun of them for acting like teenagers. He is touching his Captain.

Nik knows every scar on Price’s body and has a story for each one. Price doesn’t like talking about his injuries, but with Nik, he doesn’t mind. Nik tells him his own tales in return, trading battle marks like old soldiers comparing medals.

Nik insists Price’s coat is impractical for cold weather and always drapes his heavier jacket over Price’s shoulders without asking. Price protests half-heartedly, but he never takes it off, it smells like Nik and leather, what's he supposed to do? Not tuck his nose into the collar and smell the familiar scent of his partner?

Their eyes do most of the talking. On missions, one look is all it takes to communicate everything—from reassurance to affection to, occasionally, “I’m going to kill you for that stunt later.”

[takami-takami]

UM UM UM. Um um. Idea.

This whole nesting concept, but it's pre-relationship and pining!Keigo.

Every time he sees something comfortable-looking, bird brain goes buy it, give it to mate you gotta prove you can provide. He dukes it out with the avian instincts every single time he wants to buy you something because all he can think half the time is nest!! help make the nest!!!!

You get a nice blanket from him for a holiday (the bird brain won) and there's practically steam out his ears as you rub your face on it to feel the texture.

- magpie anon ✦

GOD!!!! THIS!!!!!!

The first time he shows you his apartment... Something about the way he stutters "do you like it?" It's fluttery even as he slightly puffs out his chest, trying to appear capable. His wings flutter when you accept the nest compliment his place.

Don't even think about asking him for materials. His little birdie heart couldn't take it. Keigo offhandedly mentions needing to go shopping next week to get some knicknacks for the kitchen, but you decide to throw a curveball in his meticulously planned schedule by having the audacity to ask him to fetch a few sheets while he's out since you tore your last ones.

Oh, did he say he was going next week? He meant now. Right now. He's shoving his feet into his boots as we speak, as he walks, completely ignoring your confused "where the fuck are you going" and forgetting his jacket on the way out.

He can be good. He can be a good boy, he'll be fast because Keigo's so good at being fast; the best at it, actually. Everyone knows it.

He'll show you. He'll pick the softest, sturdiest one and will pop a blood vessel when the cashier tries to get their scent on it while bagging.

"That won't be necessary, I got it!" He chirps, blindingly white smile doing its job convincing them he isn't just about ready to bite.

He's just being a good friend. That's all.

He's thoughtful, like that.