#january ‘24

[whiskeysweetheartt]

I’m no longer going to be upset (or try not to be at least) about things I cannot control. If things are meant to be, they’ll be 🙌🏼

[warmglowofsurvival]

[northgazaupdates]

24 January 2024

Filmmaker Khaled Tuaima photographs a falafel vendor. The man behind the counter has set up his makeshift shop (mostly comprised of canvas sheets and poles) in a central area between several shelter centers in northern Gaza. In the absence of electric heating, the man uses wood to heat the oil, which is incredibly labor-intensive and time-consuming. Further, being out in the open is dangerous, as he could be targeted by IOF snipers or drones at any point. He stands out there anyway so that he can provide for his family. The prices of the few basic necessities still available in Gaza have increased astronomically, leading people to take desperate measures to survive.

Source: Khaled Tuaima on Instagram

[ryuryuryuyurboat]

8 letters, 3 words!

synopsis: confessions are tricky.

genre: fluff

characters: lyney x gn! reader

warnings: modern (college) au, reader is referred to in 2nd person, navia + lynette cameo

a/n: hehe hi @ariicandy! i'm your secret admirer for @ecrin-de-litterature's kiss don't tell event :> hope you like this gift hehe happy valentine's!! likes, reblogs and comments highly appreciated!!

©2024 ryuryuryuyurboat. do not repost, translate, plagiarise, or modify in any way, shape or form.

masterlist

“oh my, y/n, you really do have expensive taste.” navia grins at you from across the table. “did you win the lottery, or something?”

you huff. “no, i found them on my table.” the second you open the lid of the (previously) beautifully decorated tin box, the sweet fragrance of macarons wafts into your nostrils— you almost miss the way your friend’s jaw drops as she openly gapes at the treats. 

“what?” 

“you… er, well, do you know what those are?” navia gleefully looks between you and the macarons.

there’s a soft clink as lynette sets down her teacup. “5 bucks they have no clue,” she bets, earning a soft “tsk” from you and a smug navia crossing her arms as she leans back in her chair. 

“of course i do! they’re macarons! hey–” you protest, as navia dissolves into giggles and lynette sighs, “hey– listen, listen, i may have flunked midterms but that doesn’t mean i—stop laughing!—that doesn’t mean i don’t know a sweet treat when i see one, okay!”

lynette leans forward, an odd glint in her eyes. “these aren’t your ordinary macarons, you know. there’s only one bakery that sells them like this, and people queue for hours just so they can get their hands on one of these– they only sell eleven boxes each day, mind you. it’s like you’re saying your louis vuitton is just some random bag you picked off the streets. a single box can quite literally cost you the skin of your a–”

you cut her off. “i think we know what you mean, just take some if you wanna try ‘em, okay?” 

“still, who’d gift you something so expensive?” navia muses, chewing on the lemon macaron she’d nicked while you weren’t looking. 

“probably the same mystery guy who gave me that plushie bouquet the other day, and then those chocolates from yesterday, and also probably that box of pâte de fruits…” you hum in thought, utterly oblivious to your friends’ astounded gazes.

“...y/n, i think you might have a secret admirer.” 

“wha– hey, wait! what was with that tone when you said ‘who’d give me something that pricey’? you tryna say i’m not worth those?!?”

laughter echoes across the empty cafeteria as you lunge at navia and screech something about wanting her to return the macaron. none of you notice the pair of periwinkle eyes fixed on your figure from afar.

—

“ooooh, does someone have a secret admirer~?” navia peeks over your shoulder at the white envelope lying innocently on your desk. “y’know,” she continues, unfazed by your side-eye, “if it’s the same guy that got you those macarons, maybe you should consider getting–”

“shut up,” you grumble, feeling your ears heat up, “i don’t even know who gave me all these.” 

“do people not normally sign their names somewhere?”

“just the initials.” you unfold the enclosed paper, pointing to the very bottom, where the letters LS were printed. “who’s that supposed to be? lonely spirit?”

you don’t see a certain someone’s eyes dim when you don’t bother reading the letter and shove the envelope into your bag.

—

13 february. 7 days since you started receiving letters. 7 days since you got your first plushie bouquet (how the sender knew your favourite blooms and even your favourite character was a mystery you had yet to solve). and 1 day before valentine’s. 

the letter you got today was way simpler than the flowery words that filled the pages from before:

3 boxes, 8 letters. think you’ll be able to figure it out, ma chérie? that’s the key to your last gift.

(hint: the way each letter starts is important. good luck♡)

“the way each letter starts?” lynette shrugs, “no idea. probably something like the first letter of the first word.”

“lynette,” you begin, “you’re a genius!”

one problem, though. you only received 5 letters. oh, well, didn’t hurt to try, right?

“let’s see…” you lay out the letters on the table, trying hard to ignore the contents that made you blush so furiously in the safety of your bedroom. “u, l, v, o, i, e…” you mutter, before navia gives you a light shove.

“no way it’s taking you so long, isn’t it already so obvious?”

“???”

“rearrange the letters—where’s my pen— and what do you get?”

you stare mutely at the letters. “...i love u.” you read, before you’re hit with a realisation.

“wait– boxes are containers, and then words are like containers for letters– and then, and then… and then i love you makes up eight letters in three letters! i’m a genius!”

“if you’re such a genius, you should’ve noticed a certain someone staring at you.” lynette nods at a point behind you, “go get your man, y/n. i don’t wanna hear complaints about being single for valentine’s.”

you turn– and there stood lyney snezhevich, in all his glory, a bouquet in his hand. he offers you an apprehensive smile as he extends his arms for you to accept the flowers—your final gift— and averts his eyes. 

“seems you’ve managed to crack the code, ma chérie. now, then, if you hadn’t known from the letters… will you be my valentine?”

taglist: @yinyinggie @lynyluvr @kazemiya @meidnightrain @thexianzhoujade @dailypenpen (send ask to be added to taglist!)

if you liked this, do consider dropping me a follow for more :>

[phoenixtakaramono]

𝘖𝘪. Ladies and gentlemen, The Boys are back 💉🩸

[kruk-art]

January Day 24 - Harbingers

[royalarchivist]

Tubbo reacting to Quackity's waterbucket drop during Minecraft Extremo!

[takeiteasyjoan]

Drinky water 🥰🐍

[musickickztoo]

Jeff Beck

June 24, 1944 – January 10, 2023

[ohmygodletmesignup]

ITS GONE‼️‼️

[dailykafka]

— January 24, 1922 / Franz Kafka diaries

[deanspunchingbag]

waking up to supernatural trending is a fun game of is it normal trending or did someone do something™️

[warmglowofsurvival]

[northgazaupdates]

24 January 2024

Notice for people with Instagram accounts

If any of you have questions about life in Gaza right now, there is a fantastic opportunity for you to ask them. Palestinian photographer Islam Bassam Barbari, currently located in northern Gaza, has opened up a submission box on Instagram where you can send your questions. It will only be open for less than a day, so if you have an Instagram account and have something you want to ask, this would be a good time to do so. You need to have an Instagram account to participate. I will leave reblogs open after the submission box expires in the hopes that more people will follow his account and boost his content. If he answers your question, please share across all your accounts for awareness and education purposes.

The link to the question submission is here and it will be open less than 23 hours after this post is published.

Thank you to Islam for this opportunity

[mossbeds]

there is no ache like this

[lulublack90]

Prompt 24 - Dinner

@jegulus-microfic January 24 Word count 970

Previous part First part

“Seriously! What the fuck?!” Sirius cried out, all signs of sleepiness gone. 

“Sirius,” Regulus pleaded, not finding it funny anymore. Sirius closed his eyes and inhaled deeply before pointing at his brother.

“You get out of that bed right now.” Regulus, for once, did as he was told and began to clamber out. When Sirius saw that he was only in his underwear, he immediately covered his eyes and said. “No, no. Get back into bed.—Regulus, I mean it. I do not need to see that!”  

It was James’s turn to snicker now, but it soon died in his throat when Sirius turned his icy stare on him. He became very interested in the colour of his sheets. 

Remus cleared his throat, getting Sirius’s attention.

“Why don't we go shower, get some clean clothes on and a coffee in you? Let these two idiots get sorted, and we’ll reconvene for dinner?” He put a hand on Sirius’s shoulder. Sirius pouted. 

“But Remus—” 

“I know. But I think we’d all be happier if we took a minute and James and Regulus weren’t  in a state of undress, don’t you?” Sirius grimaced. 

“Yeah— You’re right. Wait!” His eyes blew up. “James, please tell me that you’re wearing more than your underwear?!” 

“No, Sirius, he's completely naked,” Regulus cackled, mischief back in his eyes. 

“Reg, why?” James whined. 

Remus put his other hand on Sirius’s shoulder and firmly manoeuvred him towards the door.

“Grimmauld Place. Six O’Clock. Bring Chinese food.” He told them before shoving Sirius out of the room. They could hear him protesting all the way down the stairs and out the front door. 

“Well, that could have gone better,” Regulus said, completely straight-faced. 

“You think?” James croaked back. He ran his fingers through his already mussed-up hair. “Reggie, I think we need to talk about this—us. Before we face Sirius again. Just so we both know what’s going on.” He felt himself blushing. Regulus luckily didn’t notice as he got out of bed and began dressing from the neat pile of carefully folded clothes he’d left on James’s dresser. James waited for Regulus to finish, carefully turning his head away to give him privacy.

He went over to the dresser and pulled out some clean clothes. He dumped them on the bed and began dressing. Only realising Regulus had been staring at him the entire time as he went to change his underwear. 

“Do you mind?” He asked pointedly.

“Not even a little bit.” Regulus grinned. “Need to make sure I like the whole package.” He waggled his eyebrows, and James realised how much like his brother Regulus looked at that moment. 

He turned his back on Regulus and quickly removed yesterday's pants. In the short time he had no underwear on, Regulus had darted across the room and grabbed his arse. He jumped in the air and squealed in shock. Regulus’s head squeezed under his arm so he could look down. “Reg, what the actual?!” Regulus pulled his head free and wrapped his arms around James’s waist. He reached up on his tiptoes. His body pressed firmly into James’s back. 

“10/10,” He whispered into James’s ear before nipping the lobe and disappearing out of the room, leaving James standing there holding his clean pants in his hand, gobsmacked. 

He wasn’t sure where Regulus had gone. So, when he was fully dressed, he went downstairs. 

He was sat at the kitchen table munching on a pile of toast. James sat opposite him. Regulus pushed a steaming cup of tea across the table at him. James beamed at the little offering. He didn’t think he’d ever seen Regulus make anyone anything, let alone a cup of tea. He was honoured. 

They sat in comfortable silence while they munched through the stack of toast. James had grabbed a jar of jam to spread on if they wanted to with the butter. 

Once they’d finished their breakfast, even if it was basically lunchtime, James tidied away their things and sat back down. 

“So,” He said, clearing his throat. “I think we need to talk,” It felt so awkward. He didn’t know how to do this. Regulus saved him. 

“The way I see it is. I like you. I’m guessing you like me? Do you want to see if this goes anywhere?” James nodded and grinned. 

“Yeah, okay. That sounds nice.” 

“What, only nice?” Regulus raises an eyebrow at him.

“Really nice?” James offered. Regulus huffs a laugh through his nose. 

“Yeah, okay, really nice.” His expression changes, “We still have some time before we’re expected at Grimmauld. Wanna watch a film?” Regulus didn’t wait for an answer. Instead, he went to the living room and turned the TV on. James joined him, not even thinking about it. 

He sat down next to Regulus on the sofa, and Regulus snuggled into his side. It felt so natural as if they’d been doing it for years. At some point, his hand ended up in Regulus’s hair, his fingers carded through the curls. Regulus let out soft hums, like a cat, now and again. 

The stroking turned to touching, and before he knew it, Regulus was straddling his lap, and they were kissing, movie forgotten. 

Too soon, the reminder James had set sounded, and they were forced to head out. 

Thirty minutes later, they had two bulging bags of steaming takeaway and were standing outside number twelve Grimmauld Place.   

James closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as his hand hovered over the doorknob.

“Reg,” He said quietly. “Please don’t rile him up.” Regulus winked at him before pushing him aside and opening the door. James rolled his eyes and sighed before walking over the threshold, praying that just once, the Black brothers wouldn’t go out of their way to annoy each other. 

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