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#dead of night
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Danny leaned over the guy who summoned him. The blue eyed man in a hoodie and boxers, was quite fit but compared to Danny he had nothing.
“So let me see if I got the story straight. You, Richard Grayson, son of one of the most wealthy men in the known cosmos, summoned me, the high king of the infinite realms,to Bludhaven.”
Dick shifted one foot to the other as and refused eye contact.
“Yeah..”
“And you summoned me here at 3 am. Because you fucked up and told your family that you had a partner for the gala your dad holds every New Year’s Eve.”
“Correct.”
Danny sighed and brought a hand to his temple,
“So how am I supposed to help you man? Like I can’t exactly order one of my people for this kind of thing.”
Somehow the guy seemed to get more sheepish as he ran a hand through his hair.
“Well about that-“
“No fucking- Did you really summon to me-“
“Listen, I’m desperate ok!?”
“Desperate!? My god that’s when you ask a friend or pay a hooker or something like that! Not try to seal a deal with the king of the infinite realms!”
Richard Grayson for his part started to pace, Danny didn’t know rather to laugh or cry over the absurdity of the situation.
“Any friend I could bring and pull a lie like this is already going to be there. I specifically said a plus one! My family works close with all of Gotham they would figure out a hooker before we would enter the venue.”
Dick turned and went to his knees,
“Please your majesty, I have like seven younger siblings, I will never live this down, all I ask is one night, please.”
Danny sighed,
“Be lucky that I am not Pariah Dark. He would’ve killed you where you kneel. Alright dumbass get up. I will help you but you will owe me one IOU for me to redeem whenever I wish.”
Danny knelt and offered his hand,
“Do we have a deal?”
“Deal.”
With a shake of a hand Danny brought them both off the ground and he changed back to human.
Danny felt himself smirk as he plopped himself onto the couch.
“Alright, then let’s begin to get ready, we want to be believable yeah? So let’s get to know each other. I’ll go first my human name is Danny Fenton nice to meet you.”
Richard Grayson seemed to gape for a moment before joining him.
“I go by Dick, do you like acrobatics?”
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bwallure · 6 months
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DEAD OF NIGHT (1945) dir. Alberto Cavalcanti, Robert Hamer, Charles Crichton, Basil Dearden
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goryhorroor · 5 months
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day 24 of horror: favorite horror from each decade (1890s-2010s)
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colinarcartperson · 2 years
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For the prompt “Dead of Night”
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Dragan Bibin - Dead of Night
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oakendesk · 7 months
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book cover - Dead Of Night - 1952
Willard Downes
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natsarrownecklacx · 1 year
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Dead Of Night, To Far
Wanda Maximoff x reader
Summary- A few weeks later… Wanda asks if you love her, the answer she receives is neither one she expected nor was prepared for
Word Count- 2,685
Warnings- character death, strangulation, unwanted touch, nightmare, I think that’s it
Series Masterlist
ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ
“Do you love me?” Wanda mumbles against the skin of your shoulder, taking a short break from trailing kisses there to speak the words into the room. Her eyes are closed as she does so, just as they have been for the past few minutes, savoring the feeling of your skin against her lips.
Wanda stays silent as she waits for your answer, resting her forehead against your shoulder. She waits five seconds, ten, fifteen. It’s too quiet. Wanda opens her eyes, moving them immediately to your face, searching for a reason as to why you haven’t answered her. But you don’t move. You don’t look her way. You simply lie there, staring straight ahead of you at the ceiling.
Wanda thinks you must not have heard her. So she repeats the words again, louder this time, leaving a gentle nip to your shoulder as she does so, thinking that will draw your attention to her.
Still, you don’t move. You give her absolutely no indication of having heard her. Of even acknowledging she’s talking to you. You just lie there. Unmoving.
“Y/n.” Wanda calls your name, growing frustrated at the lack of interaction from you. “Y/n.” She says louder this time, grabbing your jaw in her left hand to tilt your face towards her. 
The expression you wear is not one she is familiar with when it comes to you. It’s as though you're completely void of emotion. Of sympathy. Of joy. Of fear. Of love. All that’s left is a hollowed out husk of a person. One that, from what Wanda can see in your eyes, is quickly filling with unfathomable rage.
Your eyes are empty, your breathing heavy. As though an unbearable weight physically sits on your chest and you are doing your best to drag air into your lungs, expelling the air as fast as you can before they explode from the pressure. 
“Why are you being like this?” Wanda asks, hurt clear in her voice. “Y/n.” She says softer this time, moving her hand holding your jaw up to cup your cheek. In hopes that the action would soothe you enough to calm you.
“I hate you.” You say, exhaling a heavy breath. “I hate you so much I can’t move, I can’t breathe! I hate that you did this to me, you took me from my life. I had a family!” You scream at her, getting up on the bed, kneeling across from her to put some distance between you.
“I hate that you hold me so gently, like you're afraid I’ll break. I hate that when you have a nightmare about the old y/n you hold me so tightly, like you're afraid I’ll disappear. I hate that despite everything you’ve done to me you still think I actually like it when you touch me. As if you think your touch will magically fix everything you’ve done thats so fucked up! Your touch makes me feel sick." Your voice drops as you mumble the last words, as though the sheer sincerity behind them is sitting heavily on you. A memory of her touching you flashes in your mind, Wanda seeing it as she reads your thoughts. The memory only serves to make your skin tighten around you.
Wanda’s eyes fill with tears as she listens to your rage induced ranting. Her heart clenching painfully in her chest, this can’t be real.  “Why are you saying all of this? You love me. You told me you love me.” She whispers the last part, as though her fragile heart could not bare the reality of her words. As if the poor thing would give out at any moment. You told her you loved her. You’d lied to her. She believed you. 
“Of course I said I love you, you crazy bitch! You could have killed me with a flick of your wrist and just moved on to torture another universes version of me with your presence. I used to want to keep that from happening to any more of us but I can’t take this anymore! I hate you! I’d rather die than spend one more minute with you!” Tears streaming down your face as you scream the words at her. The desperation in your eyes a telling sign that you mean what you say.
Wanda’s tear stricken face matches your own, her tears still falling as she tries to process what you’ve said. She thought she’d found you, that she could be happy and have you back. But she was lying to herself. You were lying to her. 
Wanda steals her expression, refusing to let you see her cry anymore. “Fine.” She says, her eyes void of emotion. She feels something dark flicker inside her, as though a small root of something evil long forgotten is growing rapidly, weaving its way around inside her and knotting around her heart.
Waving her wrist in the air Wanda summons her magic to wrap around your body. Her eyes flash a dark red as she watches her red tendrils quickly tighten to choke the life out of you. Your body constricting under the force of her powers. 
Wanda watches you intently as she suffocates you with her magic. Crushing you. Bleeding the life from your body. She listens as you cough and splutter for air, trying desperately to get oxygen into your lungs.
She watches, not taking her eyes off you for even half a second, just to make sure that you didn’t say what you did in a fit of rage. At least that's what she tells herself. She watches in hopes that you didn’t mean it. That you do love her, as you promised her you did. Not because she finds the sight so utterly addictive. No, of course not. She’s not that kind of person. 
She watches as your eyes remain pleading the entire time she strangles you with her magic. Not for forgiveness or for her to stop, but for a faster death. For mercy in the form of eternal release. The escape that death will grant. If only it would come sooner. 
The sight should scare her, seeing what she’s doing to the person she loves. But she’s too entranced in what she’s seeing to fully register anything other than the feelings the look in your eyes causes her. One of delight, pure, carnal, unending and evil delight. 
When your final moments arrive and you realize you are soon going to die Wanda watches as relief floods your eyes. You’ll never have to see her again, the thought flashes through your mind too fast before you go, but Wanda catches it. 
The thought makes her click back to her senses. She watches in terror as the color drains from your face and your eyes roll to the back of your head. Your body goes limp in her hold, the feelings she previously felt about her actions recede fast, leaving behind only fear and terror.
Wanda stops, she screams, as if she’s only now realizing what she’s done. She scrambles to the other side of the bed, where your lifeless body rests, and takes you into her arms. She sobs as she rocks you back and forth, mumbling incoherent I’m sorrys and I love yous.
Wanda can’t believe she just did that. She hurt you like that, in such a brutal and slow, painful way. She can’t believe she has to grieve your death again, the pain of it already weighing heavily on her shoulders. But she deserves to hurt this way, she knows that, she hurt you. How could she do that? How could she allow herself to do that?
“Wanda.” A voice calls out to her, distantly. But she’s too busy stroking your hair behind your ear and pleading with you to please come back to her to even notice it. 
“Wanda.” The voice calls out again. It fades into the room around her, peeling the paint off the walls and stripping the room, slowly, of everything inside it. 
She peppers kisses all over your face. Mumbling words of remorse as she does so. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Please come back to me. I can’t do this without you.”
Your warmth is still there, the one Wanda always craves to hold her on her bad days. You still smell the same, the same scent she buries her nose is just to feel close to you. You're still you. You're still here, only you're not. The only difference is the absence of the rise and fall of your chest and of course… a heart beat.
I can’t do this again, she thinks. But it’s too late. Wanda knew that as soon as she saw you go limp in her magics hold. You're gone. And she knows, without any doubt, that the relief in your eyes when you realized you could go would haunt her for the rest of her life. 
“Wanda!” The voice comes again, louder this time and Wanda does notice it. It’s a voice she recognises, because how could she ever forget that voice. Wanda looks up from your body, searching for the source of the voice, only to be met with a seemingly never ending void of darkness surrounding her. 
She screams into the void. Yelling out for the owner of the voice. If she could just see her, just one more time. 
A figure in the distance breaks through the never ending blackness around her. The person moving closer and closer until they stand right in front of her.
When the figure stands close enough for Wanda to make out who it is, her hold on your lifeless body tightens, pulling you to her chest with her hand held securely against your head while the other wraps around your body.
It’s her. It’s Wanda. Dressed in the same outfit she used to wear day in day out before she got you back. The black ink on her fingers runs higher than Wanda’s does, consuming her whole hand up to her wrist. Her eyes are darker, scarier, more unhinged. A sick smile rests on her face as she takes in the sight of your body in her other selves arms.
“Leave her alone.” Wanda bites at her mirror self, seeing her reach out a hand to touch you.
Her counterpart simply smiles at her, the evil look in her eye growing as she answers. “You’ve already taken care of her, Honey. There’s nothing left to protect her from.” 
Wanda’s heart physically hurts her hearing those words. Her arms tighten on you again, pulling you into her as if she could somehow absorb you. Bring you back to life. Protect you. As if she hadn’t already done the worst thing to you. 
The other Wanda leans in, using her hand to wipe away her variant's tears. Slowly, she leans in to whisper in the girls ear. “It’s alright, Sweetheart. Just move on to the next one.” She then pulls back, leaning in to place a kiss on Wanda’s forehead. Wanda closes her eyes feeling the other woman's lips on her. She feels a warmth in her chest, a comforting one. But she feels something else to, the black roots around her heart growing stronger. 
Wanda wakes to a light shake of her shoulders, she sits up in the bed gasping for air as she frantically looks around her. The void is gone, along with her shadow self, now replaced with her bedroom. Warm hands cup her face and she flinches, instinctively batting them away. 
“Wanda.” You say her name softly, concern evident in your voice.
She stops. Everything stops for a second. The only sound heard in the room is your combined breathing. It can’t be.
Slowly, Wanda turns her head in your direction. Her tear filled eyes meet your concerned ones and she immediately breaks down. She lunges forward wrapping her arms around you as she holds onto you for dear life. “I’m sorry.” She chants against the skin of your neck. “I’m so sorry.”
You don’t understand why she’s apologizing, but you do know that she needs you right now. Needs you to hold her. To tell her it’s okay, she’s okay. She’s safe.
Wordlessly, you gently maneuver her so that she’s sitting in your lap, her head resting against your chest. At first Wanda thinks you're trying to leave her, her fists tightening in the fabric of your sleep shirt in a poor attempt to keep you close. You rid her of her worries with whispered words or reassurance. She doesn’t remove her hands from your shirt, but you feel her grip relax slightly. You take it as a win, a sign that she may be calming down, even if only slightly.
Once she is settled in your lap, her head tucked against your chest where she can hear your heartbeat, you begin to rock her from side to side. You hold her for a while, letting her cry away her fear and sadness from whatever dream haunted her.
“Shhhhh, it was just a nightmare.” You whisper into the crown of her head, placing a gentle kiss there. “It was only a dream. I’m right here, I promise.” Wanda nods her head against your chest, your words assuring her more than you know. She’s here, Wanda thinks to herself, y/n is fine, you didn’t hurt her, she’s okay.
After a few minutes of silent tears Wanda removes her head from its place against your chest, your heartbeat and reassurance having soothed her enough to reemerge. Her eyes are puffy, stray tears slowly streaming down her cheeks, following the tracks of those that she shed before. 
“Do you love me?” She asks and the broken look in her eyes breaks your heart.
“Always.” You answer without an ounce of uncertainty, bringing your hand up to wipe away her tears then kissing the tip of her nose. 
Wanda closes her eyes, leading her head back against your chest. She’s drained, you can see it in her body language, so you lay back on the bed, her body lying on top of yours. She’ll fall asleep soon, you can feel her body already getting heavier as she drifts off in your arms. 
“Promise?” She asks, her voice filled with sleep, the exhaustion from the last 20 minutes taking a toll on her.
“I promise.”
Wanda falls asleep in your arms, sleeping peacefully through the rest of the night. When she wakes in the morning she immediately looks to your sleeping form on the bed. She reaches out for you, taking you in her arms she takes a deep breath, burying her head in the crook of your neck and breathing in the smell of your shampoo.
A smile spreads over her face. She has you. You love her. She can be happy. But then a thought creeps into her mind, one that scares her. Part of her liked when she hurt you in her dream. The fear she saw flash through your eyes excited a part of her she didn't even know existed.
Wanda tights her hold on you as that thought is followed up by another. One far scarier than the last. What if she does hurt you. What if she loses it, just like in her dream, and does something to harm you.
No. She wouldn't. She couldn't. But she did, and she liked it.
The thought makes her feel sick. Maybe the darkhold took more of a toll on her then she thought. She can feel its influence stir inside her, remembering the power she held over you in her dream. Then she remembers her alter self, the knotting darkness she brought out inside her. The memory makes something dark flicker in her eyes and her smile returns, more of a smirk now. 
If this is who she is now, she may as well make the most of it.
ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ
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browsethestacks · 10 months
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R.IP. John Romita Sr. (January 24, 1930 – June 12, 2023)
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renegadesstuff · 1 month
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THEY ACT LIKE A MARRIED COUPLE 🥹🤍
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comicartarchive · 1 year
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Dead of Night 6 Cover by Larry Lieber and Al Milgrom
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movie-gifs · 2 years
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Dead of Night (1945) dir. Charles Crichton, Basil Dearden, Robert Hamer, Alberto Cavalcanti
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Ghostwriter was really asking for soup time at this point.
He had apologized for his first Christmas truce before, last year he even convinced Clockwork to help him make a copy of the original work he had ruined.
So why in god’s gracious earth did he wake up to Amity Park being in a hallmark movie.
Danny glared as the people milled about the center of town like they haven’t since the portal opening.
It was unnerving, the only thing really missing from the equation was some out of town love interest or something.
“Hey, excuse me.”
Tall and built with black hair and blue eyes.
Oh you got to be-
~~~~~~~~~~~
Dick tried to make himself look more charming as the guy he approached turned around.
When he heard that the justice league were getting concerning calls about a town In Illinois, he saw an out from the Christmas gala.
Sure Dick enjoyed the season, but the fact that he has to spend a large amount of the winter season putting up a front as the perfect firstborn was not something he wanted to do unless he had to.
That being said, the town was a bit unnerving. He hadn’t seen anything supernatural per say but the constant cheer is something he had only ever seen on the silver screen of his home. He had tried to approach several different people only to be met with seasons greetings and promptly ignored when as they ran off to do whatever small towns do for the holidays.
This guy at least wasn’t plastering a smile on his face.
“Hey, excuse me I’m new in town and looking around, my name is-“
“Let me guess, Rupert or Orlando or some shit.”
“What?”
“Well it has to be pompous and annoying. It’s kind of a trend and shit last time I checked.”
“I have no clue what you’re talking about man I just wanted to ask-“
The man snorted as he left, throwing over his shoulder with a large amount of snark,
“For a tour around town? A place to stay? A friendly face? Sorry man, man but I’m not interested. The town square is full, ask someone else I have a date with a caffeine addiction.”
Dick watched a bit stupefied as the guy weaves into the ground and out of his eyesight.
“Well he seemed charming.”
Dick raised his phone to the earpiece and sighed,
“Yeah well, he’s the first person who didn’t sound like they weren’t on a script so far. I didn’t even know that midwesterners took Christmas so seriously. How long until you reach town Jay?”
I’m reaching midtown just about now. It looks like Santa took a shit on every-“
There was a sudden squeal of tires as the line cut.
Oh no.
~~~~~~~~~~
Jason gasped as he tried to calm his breath glancing at the guy he almost hit on his bike.
Jesus Christ that was close.
“Shit man are you alright?”
“Peachy. Always liked pancakes and all that.”
~~~~~~~
Danny felt a blush hit him as the behemoth of a guy let out a snort. It was embarrassing that he didn’t notice the guy until he almost became a smear, the dude was built like a tank and wearing a red helmet.
“I shouldn’t’ve taken that turn that quickly.. sometimes forget I’m not at home.”
“Oh yeah? Where’s home for you?”
“Gotham if you believe that.”
“Explains why you drive like you’re chased by death.”
“You have no idea..”
He took off his helmet with another snort and shake of the head. A white wisp in a sea of black shook out while mirthful blue eyes met his.
Crap..
“Name’s Jason. You are?”
“Nunya,”
The guy raised a brow mildly confused.
“Pardon?”
“Nunyabusinessbye!”
Danny took off before he was done with the sentence. He could feel eyes on his retreat for the second time today.
‘Jesus, smooth recovery Fenton.’
~~~~~~~~
Tim rubbed his eyes as he listened to his older brothers bicker over the coms.
He couldn’t understand the issue with the surveillance! All the cameras and mics are properly functioning but for some reason everything is corrupted and it’s driving Tim up a wall!
A break, Tim needed a break from this Airbnb and something caffeinated.
~~~~~~~~
‘Just ten minutes, ten minutes and he could get his drink, he could rant to his friends on the group chat afterwards and wait out the story. ‘
And with as much bravo as any tired young adult, he entered the shop.
Danny almost left the cafe as he heard another unfamiliar voice bellow out.
“What do you mean you don’t have coffee, it’s a coffee shop!”
Blue eyes, black hair, surprisingly smaller than the first two and eye bags that could rival Danny some nights.
Danny was done.
Fuck the treaty this was war.
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whoreville--pecker · 6 days
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From 'Dead of Night' 5 Year Anniversary (Live at Sunset Sound)
March 22, 2024
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goryhorroor · 1 year
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horror sub-genres • anthology horror
horror anthology films have existed since the era of silent movies, offering a collection of at least three short horror films, each with a unique premise and a different cast, but sometimes the stories will tie in with each other to create a much bigger story.
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grayisaghost · 3 months
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weirdlookindog · 1 year
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Dead of Night (1945) - British Quad
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