the creation of the birds

u see a moodboard with a black bird in almost every picture. is it a ravenclaw moodboard? the foxhole court? six of crows? the raven cycle? you don’t know. there’s a gay couple. a pile of books. what fandom is it for????? you don’t have a clue. the world may never know.

What is alive and what isn’t and what should we do
about it? Theories: about the nature of the thing. And of the soul. Because people die. The fear: that nothing survives. The greater fear: that something does.
—  Richard Siken, excerpt of The Language of the Birds from War of the Foxes

birds are the cutest fucking things ever, fight me on this you cowards. you all glorify dogs and cats but can they fly??? no!!! can they fuckign twist their entire heads around to sleep like a little fluffy demon ball?? probably but fuck you anyway!! birds are the fucking pinnacle of the good lords creation, theyre the goddamn pillar of the community. my dads lawyer is a bird, and he saved me from jail 3 times. if you have anything bad to say about BIRDS i would like you to turn on your location so i can god damn FIGHT YOU???


More doodles from @xyloophones fics! This time from (rather, based on) To Boldly Go. 

“Oh, my god,” Yuuri gasps, eyes shining. “That is the cutest dog I’ve ever seen.”

Yurio glances over in the direction that Yuuri is looking. He does a doubletake when his eyes catch on the fluffy mass of Not Dog that Yuuri is melting over.

“Katsudon,” Yurio says in disbelief. “What the hell. That’s not a dog and I know that you know it isn’t a dog because you are our chief science officerwho has grown up on Earth, surrounded by dogs. That’s not a dog.”

Yuuri ignores him, cooing softly at the Not Dog.

“Yurio, don’t,” Viktor says softly.

“Viktor, what’s wrong with him?”

“Yuuri calls every fluffy, vaguely mammalian looking animal a dog. It’s easier to just let him.”

“Hi, there!” Yuuri calls, beckoning the Not Dog over. “I’m Yuuri! You are the cutest dog I’ve ever seen!”

“It’s not a dog! It’s got like eight legs and– What the fuck, Katsudon, are you petting it?!”

“Hey look guys,” Yuuri laughs as the Not Dog tackles him down to the ground. “I think he likes me!”

“Yuuri, it’s trying to eat you.”

“Ha, aww,” Yuuri smiles. “So cute!”” - Chapter 2. 

(The second two doodles are just dumb doodles inspired by this bit tbh)

I wonder if he wears slippers around the house and what surahs he likes to read during salaah and what his last thoughts are before his eyes close for the night.
I wonder what his ittar smells like and what his hair feels like and what his voice sounds like early in the morning.
I wonder if he prefers texting to calling or listening to recitation almost as much as reading and if his mother ever sang him lullabies when he was a child.
I want to know what he feels like when he hears the rain pouring and whether he appreciates the beauty of creation when he sees the birds soaring.
I wonder why I love a stranger with all my heart
and why someone who doesn’t even know my name
means more to me, than I mean to myself.
Edmund x Reader: I understand

This is a little something that popped into my head this morning. It isn’t a request, but I thought I’d post it anyway :) It’s my first imagine set during the War (1940s), and Edmund and Y/n go to the same school. I kind of got the inspiration from the scene in PC where Edmund stops Peter’s fight, and I switched it? Does that make sense? Let me know if you like this!

“Hey Eddie, you hanging out with book brain again?”

You looked up from the pages of the book you were holding. Three of the boys in your class were standing outside the school, sneering at you and Edmund.

“Go away Michael.” You said quietly, turning a page. The tallest boy of the group put on a mock-apologetic front. “Oh, I’m so sorry, am I bothering you and your little boyfriend?”

Edmund, who had been awfully quiet for the past minute, stood up suddenly. His schoolbooks fell onto the front steps. “She said to go away. Why are you still here?”  

Michael took a step forward, challenging Edmund. “What, you want to fight again? You want to get another bloody nose and have your darling older brother came to tell me off? Will you go running to your mummy?”

You saw Edmund’s jaw clench.


“No no doll, I can handle it.” The boy said, shooting you a fake grin. “Edmund, I apologize for my rudeness; After all,” He began again, tilting his head,

“You haven’t even got a mummy to run to.”

That was it. Edmund shoved Michael into the two other boys, the force he used making all three of them fall into each other.

“Edmund!” You yelled, attempting to stop your friend as he lunged at the boys. You set your book on the stairs next to Edmund’s things and scurried over to pry him off of Michael.

“I’ve-g-got this, Y/n,” He said with a muffled voice, taking a breath every time he hit his classmate. But he was outnumbered.

One of Michael’s cronies grabbed Edmund by the shirt, pulling him off his leader and punching him square in the ribs. You gasped, taking a step back. There really wasn’t anything you could do.

As you turned around, you noticed a crowd beginning to form around the fighting boys. 9th and 10th year students gathered with excited looks on their faces to watch the brawl. There was whispering all around, only drowned out by the yells and grunts coming from the center of the now fully-formed circle.

The whispers turned into chants of “Fight! Fight!”, and the small grunts turned into shouts and screams.

You had had enough. Apparently, someone else had too.

“Peter! What the hell are you doing?”

The oldest Pevensie jumped into the mess of bruised eyes and bleeding lips, tearing his brother away from the others.

“N-no Pete, I can handle this-stop!” Edmund struggled against Peter’s grip, pulling at the air as he was torn away from the center. “Peter, you bloody arse!” He shouted, pushing his brother away as he disappeared behind the crowd. The three remaining boys in the middle toppled over one another, not noticing Edmund had left.

“Blundering fools.” He muttered under his breath, pushing people aside to make his way back to the center.

You let out a sigh of relief, grabbing Edmund by his shirt and pulling him back towards you, away from everyone else. “Y/n, let me do this! I don’t need-” Edmund’s sentence was cut off short by you knocking the wind out of him.

“Don’t ever scare me like that again, do you hear?”

You buried your face into his shoulder, squeezing his limp body tightly against yours. “Please don’t.”

Edmund let his arms fall around you as you sobbed into his shirt. It wasn’t a conscious descicion; it just felt natural to do so.

“Y/n, I understand you were worried but-”

“No.” You said firmly, pulling away from him again. “You think this was just another fight, don’t you? That because you fought in battle…” You trailed off, releasing his shirt from your grip.

“Is that what this is about?” Edmund said softly, looking over your shoulder at the oblivious crowd encircling the three fighting boys.

“It always is.” You croaked out, biting back a sob.

“I watched you almost die, Edmund. I saw the life fade from your eyes countless times and I-” You took a breath.

“You don’t have to explain.” Edmund assured you, tucking your head under his arm. “I understand.”

“You don’t.”

I do.” He pulled away from your embrace. “But we aren’t in Narnia anymore, love.”  He said the last bit almost sadly, as if ‘anymore’ was his sealed fate.

“Just…promise me you’ll stay safe.” You muttered, half to yourself and half to Edmund.

“Only if you do the same.”

And for the first time, Edmund did something that felt almost like second nature: He kissed you.