#!!save!!

[asoulsreverie]

via enden-k

[rythyme]

i was seeing all these little blue flowers everywhere and kept thinking "dang what are these bitches, i can't remember..." well guess what. they were fuckin forget-me-nots. can't believe i failed step fucking 1, the hot girls on iNaturalist are going to laugh at me and i'm gonna flunk out of hobby botany school.

[abdalsalam2000]

The ceasefire agreement was reached and joy is floating among the Palestinian people

[doortongs]

something a friend said

[cometcrystal]

[asoulsreverie]

Double reblogging because what the hell I cried

﹟— ❛❛cause when you know you know. part 1.

☆﹟— paring: fem!reader x dick grayson.

☆﹟— summary: you've always had dick grayson's heart in your hands, since you were just sixteen.

☆﹟— warnings/tags: dick grayson x fem!reader. reader is an awkward dork. fluffy. dick is yearning. spiderwoman!reader. best friends to lovers (?). these two mfs are the same person in different fonts. reader is a mix of tom holland’s spiderman and the comics. rip uncle ben. the amazing divider was made by @bernardsbendystraws, thank you!. some spiderman: homecoming lore. ☆﹟— MASTERLIST. NEXT.

WAYNE GALAS WERE ALWAYS THE SAME — stiff, over decorated affairs where assholes shook hands and smiled fake smiles over champagne. At sixteen, Dick Grayson knew the routine like the back of his hand. He also knew how to blend into the background when he wasn’t in the mood to charm the crowds. It was from that vantage point, leaning casually against a marble pillar, that he first noticed you.

You stood a few steps behind Tony Stark, looking wildly out of place among Gotham’s elite. Wrapped in a simple blue dress that couldn’t quite decide if it wanted to be fancy or modest, you shifted your weight awkwardly from foot to foot, clutching a small purse like it might save you from drowning in a sea of tuxedos and designer gowns.

Dick’s lips quirked into a small smile. Adorable.

Tony Stark, of course, was in full showman mode, gesturing animatedly as he spoke with Bruce Wayne. The two billionaires were discussing the latest partnership between Stark Industries and Wayne Enterprises — a massive clean energy project meant to transform both Gotham and New York. The media was already drooling over it.

"…game-changer for the East Coast, Bruce," Tony was saying, his voice easily cutting over the soft hum of the orchestra. "Your tech, my tech — it’s like peanut butter and genius. Together, unstoppable."

Bruce nodded, ever the composed businessman. "It sounds promising. If we can get the logistics right."

"And we will," Tony said with his usual effortless confidence. Then, spotting Dick nearby — or maybe just looking for an excuse to brag — he turned slightly and gestured toward you.

"And speaking of genius," he said, "I’d like you to meet my brilliant intern. Absolute prodigy. I’m basically babysitting her before someone smarter steals her."

You blinked, startled by the sudden attention, and gave Bruce a stiff little wave, your fingers curling awkwardly halfway through. Dick had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing.

Bruce, gentleman as ever, extended his hand. "It’s a pleasure to meet you."

You hurried forward, shaking his hand a little too quickly. "Um — thank you, Mr. Wayne. It’s, uh, an honor to be here."

Tony clapped a hand on your shoulder, nearly knocking you off balance. "Kid’s working on tech that’ll make arc reactors look like antique junk. Don’t let the nerves fool you — she’s the real deal."

Bruce raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Is that so? I’d love to hear more about your work sometime."

You flushed bright red, mumbling something about polymer synthesis and energy conductivity — something brilliant that Dick couldn’t entirely follow, but he caught enough to be impressed. And amused. You were so obviously genuine — completely different from the polished, self-important guests around you.

Bruce must’ve picked up on your nerves too. With a small, reassuring smile, he glanced to the side.

"Allow me to introduce my son," he said, motioning to Dick. "Dick Grayson."

At the mention of his name, Dick pushed off the pillar and approached with an easy, charming smile — the kind that made Gotham’s elite swoon. But the second your eyes met, you visibly froze like you weren’t sure whether to shake his hand, run away, or throw up.

"H-hi," you said, voice quick, bright — and unmistakably thick with a Queens accent. "It’s, uh, real nice to meetcha."

Dick grinned wider, immediately charmed. "Pleasure’s mine," he said, reaching out.

You hesitated for a beat, then took his hand. Your grip was surprisingly firm, even if your face was screaming pure panic.

Tony almost chuckled. "She’s from Queens," he explained. "You know — where people actually say what they mean and don’t take an hour to do it."

You gave an embarrassed little shrug. You looked like you want to throw up.

That earned a real laugh from Dick, warm and easy. You smiled too — a real smile this time, the kind that crinkled your eyes and hit him somewhere he hadn’t expected. Bruce’s phone buzzed discreetly in his pocket. He glanced at the screen, then gave a small, apologetic nod. "If you’ll excuse me," he said. "Duty calls."

He slipped away, leaving you, Tony, and Dick standing awkwardly together by the marble column.

Tony, never missing a beat, gave Dick a mock-serious look. "Why don’t you two go mingle? God knows she needs more friends."

You groaned under your breath. "Oh my god, Mr. Stark, please don’t."

Dick just laughed again. He fell easily into step beside you as Tony wandered off to schmooze with some politicians. You walked stiffly at first, hyperaware of every move you made in the ridiculously fancy heels Stark had bullied you into wearing.

"So," Dick said, shooting you a grin as he offered you a glass of sparkling water from a passing tray, "Queens, huh? That explains the accent."

You accepted the drink with a sheepish smile. "Yeah. Born and raised. It’s pretty different from all this… you know, money and marble columns."

Dick laughed. "Trust me, you’re not missing much. All it means is you get invited to boring parties like this one."

You laughed too — a real, snorting laugh that made a couple of nearby socialites glance over disapprovingly. You barely noticed.

"So, what’s it like working for Iron man?" Dick asked, tilting his head in that way that made his hair fall a little into his eyes. He probably practiced looking that effortlessly cool in the mirror.

You shrugged, taking a sip of your drink. "Kinda like babysitting a genius toddler with unlimited money and no fear of death."

Dick barked a short laugh. "Sounds about right."

You hesitated, then added, "But seriously? He’s been good to me. Not a lotta people would take a chance on some random kid from Queens."

Dick raised an eyebrow, interested. "Random? C’mon, Stark made it sound like you were about to solve the energy crisis or something."

You snorted again, feeling a little more at ease. "I mean, maybe. Eventually. If I don’t blow up a lab first."

He grinned at that, the easy kind of grin that made you feel like you could tell him anything. So, without really thinking, you shrugged and said, "Plus, I kinda get it. I grew up pretty rough, y’know? Not a lotta money. Lost my folks when I was little."

You said it so casually — like you were talking about the weather — that it took a second for Dick to process.

His smile softened, the cocky edge fading just a little. "Yeah?" he said, voice a little lower now, a little more real. "Me too."

You blinked, surprised. "Wait, really?"

He nodded, tapping two fingers against his chest lightly. "Orphan club. Lifetime membership."

You gave him a crooked smile. "Guess that makes us, like, trauma buddies or something."

Dick chuckled, but there was a warmth in his eyes now that hadn’t been there before. "Guess so. But hey," he added, nudging your shoulder lightly, "at least you’re smart enough to build your way outta Queens."

You shrugged again, feeling your face heat. "Yeah, well. You’re the one who looks like he belongs in a magazine."

Dick gave you a mock-offended gasp. "Are you saying I’m just a pretty face?"

You bit your lip, trying not to laugh. "I’m just sayin’, you definitely got the rich kid smile down."

He laughed, full and bright, and for a second it felt like the two of you were the only ones in the whole stupid, glittering ballroom.

SIX MONTHS PASSED WITHOUT you or him even noticing. Long-distance friendships were supposed to fade, or at least get awkward. Yours didn’t. Despite being hundreds of miles apart — you in New York, Dick in Gotham — you and him texted, called, and memed at each other like your lives depended on it. Some nights you stayed up until 3 AM talking about everything and nothing at the same time. School drama. Terrible cafeteria food. The best ways to take down a guy twice your size when you were stuck in a tight suit.

It didn’t take long before the truth slipped out.

You were Spiderwoman. He was Robin.

The discovery was a complete accident — a FaceTime call cut short when you had to swing off mid-conversation to stop a robbery, your phone falling out of your pocket mid-swing, the screen still open as Dick watched wide-eyed.

You expected him to freak out.

Instead, he just texted:

"dude... that's so sick. also ur form was trash lol. we’re training next time ur in gotham."

When Homecoming season rolled around, you weren’t even planning on going. Crowded dances weren’t really your thing. But then Tony Stark, with his usual flair for the dramatic, said something like, “Kid, you gotta have at least one normal high school experience before you get arrested by the feds or something,” and signed you up himself.

The only problem?

You didn’t have a date.

Which is why, two weeks later, you stood frozen on the sidewalk outside Midtown Tech, wearing a dress that you had panic-ordered online, while Dick freaking Grayson leaned casually against a rented black car looking like he’d just stepped out of a fashion magazine.

Sleek suit. Easy smile. Blue eyes that sparkled when they landed on you.

You gawked. He whistled low under his breath.

"You clean up nice, Queens," he said, offering you his arm.

You shoved his shoulder lightly, face burning. "You’re literally Bruce Wayne’s kid. You clean up by existing."

Still, you took his arm.

Inside the gym — decorated with cheap streamers and a truly tragic DJ — heads turned immediately. Whispers broke out like wildfire.

"Wait… is that Bruce Wayne’s son?"

"He’s so hot in person. I just saw an article about The Flying Graysons-"

"Eww, isn’t that weird ass chick from the Decathlon Team?"

Enhanced earring. Sometimes you hate that. You spotted Ned across the room near the snack table, eyes wide as saucers. He threw you the most aggressive thumbs-up you had ever seen.

You nearly burst out laughing.

Dick, of course, noticed everything — the stares, the whispers — and just tightened his hold on your arm, leaning down to murmur in your ear: "They’re just jealous they didn’t think of asking you first."

You rolled your eyes, grinning. "Shut up, Gotham."

"You love me," he teased, winking.

You tried to play it cool.

Tried to act like your heart wasn’t punching itself in the face.

Instead, you just said, "Whatever, rich boy. Let’s dance before I regret this."

And somehow, with Dick’s hand wrapped around yours and the gym lights flickering overhead, you realized you were having the best night of your life — cheap decorations, judgmental classmates, bad punch and all. No crimes, no tight suits, just the arms of your best friend around you.

SOME YEARS LATER...

NEW YORK CITY SMELLED LIKE hot dog stands, wet pavement, and cheap coffee. It was comforting, in a weird way — grounding, like an old song you never forgot the words to. It smelled like home.

You had just finished your doctorate at Empire State University — biophysics, the degree that had nearly broken you with sleepless nights and endless labs. Four years of undergrad, another six buried under papers and research grants, all while swinging through the city rooftops under a different name.

You were proud, sure. But pride didn’t pay rent, which meant you were still picking up gigs at the Daily Bugle, still hustling freelance science writing jobs, still showing up at FEAST with boxes of canned goods, just trying to help where you could.

You huffed, adjusting the box in your arms as you kicked open the back door. Aunt May had been working at FEAST full-time now ever since she retired, and somehow, you always found yourself drawn back here too. Helping people — it was kind of your thing. Always had been.

What you didn’t expect was to walk into the kitchen and see him—

Leaning casually against the counter like he owned the place, grinning like he hadn’t just crossed two state lines without so much as a warning.

"Hey, trouble."

You blinked, nearly dropping the box.

"Dick?!"

He flashed that damn movie-star smile at you — the one that should’ve come with a warning label. "Miss me?"

"What the hell are you doing here?" you cried, laughing as you dropped the box on the table and practically launched yourself at him.

Dick caught you without hesitation, his arms wrapping around you in a warm, easy hug. You hadn’t realized how much you needed it until right now. Twelve years. Twelve years of growing up side-by-side, saving cities, teasing each other over coms, late-night phone calls just to vent about patrol. And yet somehow, seeing him in person after a few months apart hit you harder than you expected.

You pulled back. "You idiot! You’re supposed to call before you show up in my city."

"What, and ruin the surprise?" he teased, ruffling your hair — which earned him a murderous glare from you. "Besides, I figured Aunt May could use some extra hands around here."

May appeared in the doorway at that exact moment, wiping her hands on her apron. Her face lit up when she saw Dick. "Richard, honey! It’s so good to see you!"

"Richard," you snickered under your breath, watching Dick grimace in horror as May pulled him into a hug.

"She’s the only one allowed to call me that," he grumbled as he shot you a look over May’s shoulder.

You grinned. God, you’d missed him.

There was a way Dick fit into your life that no one else could replicate — like he was the missing piece to a puzzle you hadn’t even realized was incomplete. Maybe it was the history. Maybe it was the fact that you understood each other in ways that no one else ever could — the grief, the pressure, the guilt that came from trying to save people and knowing it would never be enough.

Maybe it was just him.

Because somewhere along the line, Dick Grayson had gone from Gotham’s golden boy to Nightwing — the heart of Blüdhaven, the hero everyone loved. He wasn’t just a sidekick anymore. He was the blueprint.

Kids in Blüdhaven wore Nightwing shirts and told stories about how he’d saved their dad or helped their aunt or dropped off Christmas gifts at the shelters. He was the hero people wanted to be — not just because he was good with his fists, but because he never stopped believing the world could be better.

You were proud of him in a way you couldn’t even put into words.

And looking at him now — a little older, a little more worn around the edges, but still him — you realized how much he still made you feel like you weren’t alone in any of it. He was your best friend and your family.

You saw May kissing his left cheek before going back to the main room, it was time to serve lunch.

"So," he began, leaning against the counter with that casual drawl he used when he was trying way too hard to sound chill, "how’s your thing with MJ going?"

His tone was careful — soft — like he knew exactly how much of a train wreck your love life had been lately. How you always ended up back at square one: alone.

You shrugged, shooting him a half-hearted smile.

"Eh. How’s your thing with Babs going?"

You tossed the question back at him without missing a beat, raising your brows pointedly.

Dick mirrored your shrug, lips twitching.

"Eh."

There was a brief pause — the kind only two people who knew each other too well could slip into without it feeling awkward — and then you smirked.

"Well, there’s your problem. You’re into gingers."

He snorted. "You’re into gingers."

You pointed at him like you just cracked the code of the universe.

"Exactly. That’s why we both have commitment issues. Everyone knows gingers are secretly evil."

Dick barked a laugh, shaking his head.

"Evil and dangerously attractive. It’s a lose-lose."

"Honestly," you sighed dramatically, "it’s not our fault we keep getting attached to soulless, beautiful monsters."

He grinned wide, that stupidly charming Nightwing grin.

"Soulless monsters — sounds like half the people we fight too."

"At least fighting bad guys doesn’t leave me crying into a tub of ice cream at two a.m."

Dick’s eyes twinkled with mischief.

"I guess you forgot your little friend Felicia Hardy in this sentence."

You gasped, smacking his arm — not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make your point.

"That was one time and she tricked me!"

"Uh-huh," Dick said, smirking as he rubbed his arm dramatically. "And then she ghosted you and stole your watch. And your wallet".

You groaned.

"I told you that in confidence, you traitor."

He grinned even wider, clearly enjoying himself.

"You’re lucky I’m your best friend and not, you know, selling these stories to the tabloids."

You gave him a half-hearted glare before letting out a snort.

"Yeah, because Nightwing Reveals Spiderwoman Got Played by Cat Thief would really earn you some credibility."

Dick shrugged, unbothered. "Might finally knock me off GQ’s ‘Sexiest Heroes Alive’ list. Honestly, it’s getting exhausting."

You laughed, the sound bursting out of you before you could stop it. God, you missed this. The easy rhythm of you and Dick — how he could drag you out of any dark place with just a few dumb jokes and a mischievous glint in his eye.

"But come on now, sexiest hero alive," you teased, nudging him lightly with your elbow. "Why are you truly in New York?"

Your face ached from how much you’d been smiling. It was almost enough to make you forget the three broken ribs healing under your shirt and the nasty wound stitched up on your left thigh. Almost.

Dick just shrugged, the corner of his mouth tugging up into a half-smile.

"Nothing at all," he said lightly. "Just missed you."

You squinted at him, unconvinced.

"Missed me enough to leave your city to crumble without Nightwing?"

"Don’t be dramatic," he said, rolling his eyes fondly. "Tim’s covering me this weekend. Blüdhaven’s in good hands."

You studied him again — really studied him — noticing how his bright blue eyes suddenly dipped away from yours, shyness creeping into his expression. Dick sighed, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans, like he was bracing himself.

"It’s May fourth," he said quietly.

You froze for a beat. Of course.

You didn’t need him to say anything else. You knew exactly what that date meant.

Uncle Ben’s death anniversary.

You were so burried into your Spiderwoman's stuff last night that you forgot all about Ben, you didn't even noticed how sad May was this morning. A lump formed in your throat. The pain was still there, buried deep. It always was. Even with all the miles between you and that night, the guilt, the regret — it never quite left. You thought you had it under control, thought you had it buried in the same corner where you stashed all your unresolved issues. But not today. Not with Dick here, looking at you like that.

You were about to say something, anything, to push the conversation somewhere else. But Dick stepped closer, the usual teasing smirk gone. His gaze softened, his voice quiet, steady.

"You still blame yourself, don’t you?"

The question hit harder than you’d expected, like he’d plucked the thought right from your mind. You met his eyes for the first time since he’d dropped that bomb. The guilt, all of it, was there — clear and raw. You didn’t need to say a word.

He sighed, stepping closer, until his body was just a breath away from yours. His hand brushed against your arm, the touch warm, gentle.

"Hey," he murmured, his voice low and comforting. "You can’t save everyone. I’ve been doing this long enough to know that."

You almost laughed at how ridiculous it sounded coming from him. Dick Grayson — Nightwing, a hero, a Titan — was the one who saved people, who did the impossible. He was the one who made sure no one fell through the cracks. He was everybody's safety net.

"I’m not like you," you whispered. The words sounded bitter in your mouth. "I’m not like him. I could’ve done more, should’ve done more. I—"

"Stop," Dick interrupted, his voice firm but caring. "You did everything you could. But you can’t do it all, especially not alone."

You looked up at him, his blue eyes meeting yours, soft with understanding. There was no judgment in his gaze — only the kind of acceptance that made your chest tighten. He’d seen your worst moments. And somehow, even in those, he still cared.

He was always there, wasn’t he? Even when it felt like the whole world was crashing down around you, he was the constant you could rely on. He didn’t need to say a word — he just was.

"I’m sorry," you muttered, shaking your head. "I should’ve been better, Dick. He deserved better. He would be alive—"

Dick’s hand moved to your shoulder, his grip solid, like he was holding you together in a way no one else could.

"You don’t have to carry that on your own," he said quietly. "And you don’t have to keep punishing yourself, either. Ben wouldn’t want that."

You clenched your jaw, trying to swallow the lump in your throat. But the dam was breaking. Slowly, painfully, the tears you didn’t realize were there started to well up. And Dick — always, always there — pulled you into his arms without hesitation.

"Hey," he whispered into your hair, his voice soothing, "You’re not alone. I’m here, alright? And so is May. We’re all here."

You clung to him for a second longer than you probably should’ve, your hands gripping the back of his shirt like it was a lifeline. Maybe it was. You hadn’t realized how badly you needed this. You squeezed your eyes shut, pressing your forehead into his shoulder, trying to swallow the emotion threatening to spill over.

Eventually, you pulled back, just a little, blinking away the tears. Your chest felt lighter, like the weight of the years had shifted just a little.

"Thanks," you said, voice thick. "I really needed that."

Dick’s thumb brushed carefully along your jaw, grounding you. You stared up at him, the breath catching in your chest, and for a long moment, he just looked at you — like he was memorizing you, seeing every crack, every bruise, and not turning away.

Then, without a word, he leaned in and pressed a soft, steady kiss to your forehead. Just like many others he gave you in these past twelve years. He lingered there, letting the touch say all the things neither of you could voice out loud.

When he finally pulled back, he dropped another kiss, featherlight, to the tip of your nose — the smallest, softest thing — and it broke something inside you in the best way. It wasn’t romantic, not in the big, sweeping way movies liked to show. It was better. It was pure, steady, real. The kind of love that had nothing to prove and nowhere to go. It just was.

You closed your eyes for a second, breathing him in — the faint smell of his cologne, the leather of his jacket, the clean sweat of someone who lived moving, fighting, surviving. When you opened your eyes again, he was still there, hands steady, smile small and genuine.

"You’re such an ugly crier, Webs," Dick said, voice full of teasing warmth as he wiped your cheeks with his thumbs. "Is that snot? Seriously?"

You let out a wet, broken laugh. "Fuck off — my uncle died, you asshole."

"I know, I know," he said, his grin tugging at the corner of his mouth even as his eyes stayed soft, careful. He cupped your face between his hands like you were something fragile and precious, his thumbs brushing away the tears and — yeah, maybe a little snot too. "You’re allowed to cry. Even if you do it… extremely unattractively."

You hiccupped a miserable sound and buried your face in his shoulder. Dick just laughed under his breath and tucked you closer, like he could shield you from the whole damn world if you let him.

"You’re the worst," you muttered thickly into his neck.

For a minute, you just breathed together. No words. No expectations. Then you heard the familiar shuffle of footsteps and Aunt May’s voice coming from the kitchen doorway.

"Well, isn’t this the cutest thing I’ve seen all week."

You jerked upright, immediately wiping your face. Dick just threw an arm lazily around your shoulders, pulling you into his side like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Hey, May," he said brightly, like you weren’t two seconds away from crumbling.

Aunt May just smiled knowingly, walking over to kiss your temple and then ruffle Dick’s hair, making him squawk in protest. "Always good to see you, honey. But next time, you know, call first".

"Yes, ma’am," he grumbled, fixing his hair like some offended cat.

"Come on, you two," she said, already turning back toward the kitchen. "There’s leftovers from dinner. You can eat and then help me serving lunch. We have new people here needing help and Miles is really anxious about meeting your friend".

Ah, Miles. He's a great kid and hero. Dick's probably gonna like him. Dick squeezed your shoulder gently. "Race you to the table, ugly crier."

You elbowed him hard in the ribs, but you were laughing. Really laughing. Later that day, standing in front of Uncle Ben’s grave, the city felt quieter and worst than usual. Maybe it was just the way your heart was beating — slow, heavy, a little cracked around the edges. You stared at the headstone until the words blurred, the lump in your throat too thick to swallow.

Without a word, Dick stepped closer and pulled you against his side, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. His fingers found yours easily, lacing them together like they belonged there, like they always had. He squeezed your hand and then, without any hesitation, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

It was so soft it made your eyes sting all over again.

You leaned into him, letting his strength anchor you, feeling his heartbeat steady against your side. The sun dipped lower, the air turning cooler, but neither of you moved. You could always hear his heartbeat, even when he wasn't in the same room as you. Nice part of having powers. You have the sound memorized in your head.

Dick didn’t rush you. He didn’t tell you it was time to go, or that you had to be strong, or that Ben was in a better place. He just stayed — solid and silent and sure — holding you. He spent the whole evening there with you, never once letting go of your hand. May was in front of you, mourning in her own way. In silence.

When the city lights finally started to blink on in the distance, you turned your face into his shoulder and whispered, voice cracking, "Thank you."

Dick just squeezed your hand tighter, pressing another kiss to your hairline.

"Always, Webs," he murmured against your hair. "Always." like they belonged there, like they always had.

©cybergoth1, 2025

[magic-can]

The deadline has passed, the scumbags voted to continue sending money to Israel. Keep protesting, keep fighting. And keep supporting verified campaigns. The Alanqar family still needs help (verified #6 here) so if you want to do something please support their campaign in any way you can: https://www.gofundme.com/f/rising-from-the-ashes-ghadas-journey-of-hope-and-resilien?utm_medium=customer&utm_source=copy_link&utm_campaign=fp_sharesheet&lang=en_US

While you are at it, please share @zinaanqar ‘s campaign (link here)

[orpheuslament]

friendships end. relationships end. fictional man whos doing even worse than you is forever

[sol-lar-bink]

Z-A starters explained

[theinternetarchive]

a few great films that are free on the internet archive

in decent quality too!

here is the archive collection of these films so you can favorite on there/save if desired.

links below

black girl (1966) dir. ousmane sembene

the battle of algiers (1966) dir. gillo pontecorvo

paris, texas (1984) dir. wim wenders

desert hearts (1985) dir. donna deitch

harold and maude (1973) dir. hal ashby

los olvidados (1952) dir. luis bunuel

walkabout (1971) dir. nicolas roag

rope (1948) dir alfred hitchcock

freaks (1932) dir. tod browning

frankenstein (1931) dir. james whale

sunset boulevard (1950) dir billy wilder

fantastic planet (1973) dir. rené laloux

jeanne dielman (1975) dir. chantal akerman

the color of pomegranates (1969) dir. sergei parajanov

all about eve (1950) dir. joseph l. mankiewicz

gilda (1946) dir. charles vidor

the night of the hunter (1950) dir. charles laughton

the invisible man (1931) dir. james whale

COLLECTION of georges méliès shorts

rebecca (1940) dir. alfred hitchcock

brief encounter (1946) dir. david lean

to be or not to be (1942) dir. ernst lubitsch

a place in the sun (1951) dir george stevens

eyes without a face (1960) dir. georges franju

double indeminity (1944) dir. billy wilder

wild strawberries (1957) dir. ingmar bergman

shame (1968) dir. ingmar bergman

through a glass darkly (1961) dir. ingmar bergman

persona (1961) dir. ingmar bergman

winter light (1963) dir. ingmar bergman

the ascent (1977) dir. larisa shepitko

the devil, probably (1977) dir. robert bresson

cleo from 5 to 7 (1962) dir. agnes varda

alien (1979) dir. ridley scott + its sequels

after hours (1985) dir. martin scorsese

halloween (1978) dir. john carpenter

the watermelon woman (1996) dir. cheryl dune

EDIT: part two here + the letterboxd list

edit: part three here

[yellbug]

i am so absolutely utterly scared that my insane grandfather in his 80s who runs miles every morning is going to leave me a bird in his will and i am especially scared he is going to leave me a large cockatoo named "captain hook". hook has been trying to make me his child bride since i was like 6 years old and every time i see him again which has only been a couple times with decades in between hook is like "you. it's always been you. ever since you were born i've known we were meant to be" captain hook you are a bird and i am a LESBIAN and i don't WANT an eternal sentinel captain HOOK!!!!!!!

[macbethheadband]

Right click -> save as -> ancient curse

[ilovegayvampires]

Collection of images and memes for anyone who doesn’t know what to draw (edit: I added way more ❤️)

[mushyooms]

buying him time

[hayanahed]

Emergency: Help Evacuate My Family From GAZA WAR

Dear Humanity,

I'm Haya from Gaza , from a family of 8 people: my parents, two sons, and four daughters (two of them suffer from allergies).

I've witnessed the evidence of the tragedy that has struck our lives in Gaza, where my family and I have survived amidst numerous previous wars. But today, we face the most dangerous and fierce battle in the current war. The urgent need intensifies for us, as we have nothing left and are unable to secure our basic needs such as food, water, and safe shelter.

Here is our story - On October 7th, our lives changed forever, my family and I evacuated from northern Gaza to southern Gaza, hoping to return soon, but it wasn't meant to be. Our home was surrounded, burned, and then completely destroyed, Our home, once a fortress of hope, now lay in ruins, a stark reminder of our shattered dreams.

The night before we left from the north to the south was terrifying. Shelling sounds were everywhere, making a loud noise that felt like it went through our souls. Every explosions shook the ground like earthquakes, sending shockwaves of fear through our trembling bodies. filling us with fear. The air smelled of destruction and blood, making it hard to breathe. When dawn came, we saw the devastation around us, realizing our home was now a symbol of loss and despair.

We ran into the streets and with each step we took into the unknown streets, we felt as if we were plunging deeper into the abyss of our shattered existence, leaving behind everything we own in our home: Clothes, important official documents, the car, and literally it's almost everything - the enormity of our loss weighed heavily upon us.

Our home it was where we found hope, safety, and made precious memories. Losing it felt like losing years of our lives, leaving us adrift amidst the wreckage of our shattered existence.

A brief video depicting the devastation that struck our home and our entire neighborhood in Gaza.

Desperate Plea: Escaping Gaza's Allergy Nightmare

I, Haya, suffer from severe allergy to penicillin-derived medications, and my sister, Amal, also suffers from severe allergies to medications from my family such as Paracetamol and Ibuprofen.

These allergies create a deep sense of fear and anxiety for us, as we live in a constant state of tension and fear of anything that may require a visit to the hospital. We fear being given inappropriate medications due to the unavailability of suitable treatments in Gaza because of war or lack of awareness and not informing the doctor of our allergies, which could lead to serious consequences threatening our lives.

MY Father Income

Our dreams are heading towards oblivion in the labyrinth of an uncertain future

My story, along with my siblings, represents a united team of four individuals, three of whom are skilled programmers and one graphic designer. We work as freelancers in the world of freelancing.

As for my younger sister, she is a student studying at the College of Architecture. She has always carried a big dream in her heart, a dream of being part of changing Gaza, of making it more beautiful and better. She looked forward to the day when she would receive her degree and start building this dream. But the beginning of the war changed everything. The destruction of infrastructure and universities cast shadows of despair over her dreams.

When I think of my brother in Belgium, I can't help but feel deep sadness. He has been suffering from unbearable anxiety and insomnia since the outbreak of the war. Sleep eludes him at night, and his physical and mental health collapses under the weight of these heavy burdens, negatively affecting his performance at work. Problems and challenges pile up in front of him without the slightest opportunity for rest.

We all feel psychological pressure and extreme anxiety. The war hasn't been limited to external attacks but has deeply infiltrated our daily lives. We search among the rubble for a little safety and the basic resources for survival. Every day comes with a new challenge that we must overcome.

As we sway amidst the rubble of shattered dreams, our souls wrestle and our hearts beat strongly challenging the ravages of war.

Our parents earnestly seek a way to rescue us from this hell, feeling the heavy responsibility for every moment we spend under the shadows of fear and destruction. They dream of a safe place where they can build for us a better future, filled with security and hope, for we deserve life in all its meanings of comfort and peace.

Perhaps this fundraising campaign represents a light in the midst of darkness, it is indeed the only hope we cling to firmly.

I appeal to the world as a whole to hear my cry and the mournful cry of my family in Gaza. We need the helping hand that reaches out to wipe our tears and build a bridge to safety.

Your donation is not just a donation; it's an opportunity to rebuild life and brighten a better tomorrow. Be part of our hopeful story, for we need your hand to start anew.

The purpose of the fundraising campaign

The goal of this fundraising campaign is to rescue my family - my parents, my siblings, and me - through the Rafah Crossing to Egypt, which currently requires $5000 per person. This campaign is our only chance to stay alive, and I humbly request your assistance at this critical time. I will provide you with a comprehensive breakdown of the expenses, committing to transparency and clarity.

All of our important links are here https://linktr.ee/hayanahed

Verified by :

⭐️ operation olive branch, number 26 on their spreadsheet. (On Master list)

⭐️ Project watermelon,line 249 on their spreadsheet. Or you could see it as number 212 here is the photo for more clear proof

Thank you for your kindness and support.

.جزاكم الله خيراً

yours sincerely;

Haya Alshawish.