#Christopher Allen Pencils

[keycomicbooks]

Miles Morales Spider-Man #38 (2022) Taurin Clarke Cover, Christopher Allen Pencils, Saladin Ahmed Story, 1st Appearance of Billie Morales as the Spider Smasher, Miles Morales clone Selim is the emperor of an oppressive alternate reality

#MilesMoralesSpiderMan #38 (2022) #TaurinClarke Cover, #ChristopherAllen Pencils, #SaladinAhmed Story, 1st Appearance of #BillieMorales as the #SpiderSmasher, #MilesMorales clone Selim is the emperor of an oppressive alternate reality "Empire Of The Spider - Part One" A timeline where Miles' clone SELIM is victorious, and the only thing standing in the evil Spider-Man's way is a rebellion led by General GANKE and a very grown-up and extremely badass Capitán BILLIE! SAVE ON SHIPPING COST - NOW AVAILABLE FOR LOCAL PICK UP IN DELTONA, FLORIDA https://www.rarecomicbooks.fashionablewebs.com/Miles%20Morales%20Spider-Man.html#38  #RareComicBooks #KeyComicBooks #MarvelComics #MCU #MarvelUniverse #ComicBooks #NerdyGifts #KeyIssue #Spider-Man

[darkmatilda]

𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: your first solo, undercover mission unexpectedly spirals out of control when a real heist begins at the scene.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐰: spencer reid x newbaumember!femalereader, robbery, the reader becomes a hostage, is beaten by the attacker (quite severely), killing of hostages, shooting, inspired by s1e9 where spencer saves elle on a train (the plot is very similar but set in a different scenery), spencer's pov, the attackers are definitely not the gentle type, reader is wearing a skirt (her whole outfit is described), glasses reid propaganda

𝐚/𝐧: merry christmas guys <3 fasten your seatbealts and get ready for this rollercoaster.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 14.8 k

"Why do I get the feeling that neither of you is even half as stressed as I am? Actually, scratch that—neither of you is even one-tenth as stressed as me?”

The question left your lips accompanied by a kind of sigh, an attempt to expel the air poisoned with anxiety and replace it with something fresh, clean.

"Because we know you’re going to do brilliantly, sweetheart," Penelope replied without hesitation, sparing you only a fleeting glance as she momentarily tore her eyes away from her computer screen. One of many screens.

Her office was filled with an uncountable number of them, all glowing brightly and lighting up the small, dimly lit space, which was also packed with her colorful accessories—pom-pom-topped pencils and flowerless plants in tiny pots, most adorned with smiling faces or hearts.

"Or rather," Reid interjected, spinning in a circle on his swivel chair, "because we both doubt you’ll even be remotely useful out there." A white box of Chinese takeout rested on his lap.

You shot him a grimace.

"Next time you try to undermine my self-confidence, make sure I’m not holding anything sharp," you warned, pointing one of your chopsticks at him. Yes, less than an hour before your first solo assignment, you were all happily indulging in junk food from the closest restaurant to the office, ignoring the looming possibility of digestive regrets. "Or you’ll lose an eye."

"Aren’t you tired of trying to kill me yet? First, you gave me a concussion…"

"You didn’t get a concussion, Reid. Stop exaggerating…"

"And now, you’re openly admitting that you plan to cause me permanent damage by depriving me of my sense of sight—which, as it is," he said, tapping the frame of his glasses, "is already in less-than-stellar condition."

"You two are just adorable when you argue with each other like an old, bitter married couple," Penelope commented with a small smile on her pink-lipsticked lips.

You first looked at each other, then at her, eyebrows raised, and in a synchronized moment, you both let out a huff. Unfazed, she continued.

"But now we really need to get to work. The exhibit starts in an hour, and you should get there with him. Have you ever used that microphone? It’s the latest model we’re testing, gosh, I’m so excited…"

"You’re adorable when you act like a typical nerd," you shot back, mimicking her little smile and tone of voice.

"A nerd I proudly am! Just like this guy here," she nodded toward Reid, who pouted slightly, looking offended. "You’re surrounded by nerds, sweetheart. Soon enough, you’ll become one too."

"Dear God, forgive me my sins and watch over me…" you whispered, staring at the ceiling.

The mysterious he that Garcia mentioned was named Christopher Allen, and he was surprisingly young for a neurotechnology engineer. He worked on issues surrounding the human brain and developed devices designed to have a broad range of effects on it. But why were you supposed to go with him to some exhibit? Equipped with a spy microphone? And why was it stressing you out so much that for the past ten minutes, you had only been picking at your Chinese takeout instead of eating it?

Well, it's hard to decide where to start explaining from.

You were summoned before Hotch yesterday, who informed you that an opportunity had arisen for you to prove yourself in the field. Alone, undercover, for the first time in your—let’s be honest—tragically short career at the FBI. On top of that, this was meant to test all the new equipment your team had received, the kind that Penelope had been so enthusiastic about. You couldn’t shake the feeling that this was the main reason you’d been assigned this task. Someone had to check the effectiveness of the gear, and at the same time, you, the rookie, needed to gain more experience. Allen’s case was like killing two birds with one stone.

This scientist had worked with the FBI multiple times, and that’s why when danger started looming over him, he was quickly assigned protection. The threat came from threatening letters and even a direct attack at his own home, which fortunately didn’t end in tragedy. Allen was descending into paranoia and was afraid to even attend public events, even ones with full protection, like the tech exhibition—taking place in one of the modest local museums—designed to showcase the latest advancements in neurotechnology and more.

He was probably afraid that during the event, someone would simply rush at him with fists and try to murder him in front of dozens of random technology and brain enthusiasts. Or something like that. Your task was to pretend to be his assistant, never leaving his side and carefully observing the surroundings. And that was it. Nothing too demanding was expected of you, unless things started to go south. However, that seemed highly unlikely, as everyone made it clear to you.

Still, you couldn’t shake the fear—whether justified or not—that something would go wrong. And it would be your fault.

“Reid, clip the microphone on her,” Penelope interrupted your train of thought with the order. “You’ve never used one of these before, have you, sweetheart?”

You nodded in confirmation, watching as Reid set aside his box of Chinese takeout to take the tiny device from her.  He stopped a step in front of you, perched on the edge of one of the desks, his gaze shifting uncertainly between the small black microphone in his hand and you.

“Where… where can I…?” he asked, trailing off as he made a vague gesture with his hand, surprisingly loaded with awkwardness.

“Oh,” you let out a confused sigh, beginning to consider where it might be best to place it. The sleeve? Shouldn’t it be closer to your face to capture even your quietest whispers?

“Okay, I’ve got an idea,” you said, starting to unbutton your white shirt, revealing a significant portion of your neckline. “Here?” you asked.

“Yeah… I think so,” he replied hesitantly but didn’t move.

It wasn’t until a moment later that he swallowed and, with a slow, deliberate motion, reached for a section of your shirt near your cleavage. His actions were careful—almost excessively so—like his top priority was ensuring he didn’t accidentally brush against your skin.

The microphone’s clip was quite small, though, and attaching it to your clothing required him to take another step closer and lower his head near your chest.

Even as your breathing slowed, you couldn’t help but smile at the sight of Penelope shaking her head in amused disbelief. 

You preferred to look straight ahead rather than at his fingers, working with such careful focus, though you couldn’t help but let your gaze flicker to them repeatedly. Just for fractions of a second—it was difficult to pull your eyes away once they landed there.

Only when he finished, his hands dropping quickly to his sides as he stepped back, did you realize you’d been holding your breath for quite some time. You became acutely aware of how stifling Penelope’s little office was—how did she even manage in the summer?

"That's not all," the woman on the screen broke the silence, one you hadn't even realized had fallen. "There's also a transmitter you'll need to keep on you somewhere. Securely, so it doesn't fall out. Are you planning to go dressed like that?"

You glanced down at your outfit. A simple black skirt and white shirt—the first thing that came to mind then you learned you'd be posing as an assistant.

"Inappropriate?" you asked, searching for an answer first on Garcia's face, then on Reid's. The latter gave the barest shrug, barely even looking at you.

"You look amazing. Absolutely stunning, darling. I wish I could have an assistant like you," Penelope reassured you. "But in this economy, I can only dream about it. Anyway, my point is, you don't have any pockets. Where are you planning to keep the transmitter and your gun?"

"I was thinking of just tucking it into my skirt. At the back."

"I don’t think that’s the best idea," Reid interjected doubtfully. He hadn’t reclaimed his spot on the swivel chair and stood instead, arms crossed over his chest. The embarrassment you’d managed to put him in (quite adorable, really) was slowly dissipating, leaving only a faint blush on his cheeks. The corner of your mouth twitched when you noticed it. "I mean, it could fall out, or start sticking out, which could lead to questions like why an assistant is walking around with a gun..."

"Okay, I get it," you sighed. You could’ve thought this through a bit better. "Maybe I’ll have time to swing by home and grab, I don’t know, a blazer or something..."

"You won’t," Penelope declared after glancing at the time. "But you can always borrow my jacket."

You looked at the garment draped over the back of her chair—a bright pink leather jacket. You didn’t even bother responding; you simply stared at it, letting the expression on your face do the talking.

"Alright, I admit it, I didn’t think this proposal through. So, it looks like we’ll have to..." She trailed off, her gaze landing on Reid’s figure. Surprised by the attention, he pointed at himself.

You also directed your attention at him. He was wearing a simple brown blazer, which would go well with your unremarkable outfit.

"Take it off," you instructed.

He was silent for a moment, though there was no visible protest on his face—just doubt.

"It’s gonna be too big," he remarked, his hands gently grasping the edges of the jacket as if unsure whether to take it off.

"Apparently, oversized is coming back into fashion."

"Okay, fine," he sighed, removing the jacket. Underneath, he wore a shirt and a black vest, from which a matching tie peeked out. Initially, he seemed hesitant about the idea, but handed it to you with some urgency. "Here you go."

You sent him a brief, grateful smile.

"You’re saving my mission, Reid. I’ll mention you in the report. And I’ll frame your name with a little heart, drawn with one of Penelope’s glitter pens," you declared.

He returned the gesture, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly as he gave a small nod. You noticed his gaze was almost fixed on your face, as if some invisible force were forbidding him to look away, down or sideways.

You didn't think too much about what it meant, you didn't really have time. You put on the blazer, which was indeed a little too long, and hid the transmitter in the inside pocket. You placed the weapon at your hip, concealing it with your clothes. As you were about to leave, you said talk to you later because the two of them were going to communicate with you through the earpiece the entire time. They wished you good luck, and you were just about to leave the desk when Reid, suddenly as if unable to stop himself, said your name one last time.

You looked at him questioningly. Instead of responding, he made an uncertain gesture near his chest. Confused, you looked down.

For the entire time, half of the buttons on your shirt were still undone.

*

You had never met him in person, but you recognized his face from snippets of interviews that occasionally appeared online, or perhaps he had even been on the news a few times. He was in his thirties, give or take five years, hard to tell. His entire persona seemed to be built around the carefree nature of a young eccentric with a sharp mind and an unrestrained tongue, constantly refining his thoughts and conclusions, often controversial, causing an uproar among the public. Without a doubt, he was one of those people often called a genius. Which, not always, was a compliment.

Allen seemed deeply displeased by your presence. He looked… tired. His red hair contrasted with his very pale complexion, as if made of glass, and dark circles rimmed his eyes. He wasn’t shockingly tall, about your height, but with broad shoulders.

"The FBI was supposed to provide me with protection because some psycho is literally trying to kill me, and they send you?" he asked, bitterly, exchanging a brief handshake with you before getting into the car.

You both sat in the back, the driver at the wheel. You were supposed to arrive at the exhibition together. His reaction caught you off guard, his open anger sparking the same feeling in you.

"What's your problem?" you asked. His insulting tone irritated you the most, especially since he hadn’t even had the chance to get to know you.

For a moment, the man sat staring out the window. His body was tense, almost stiff, as if stressed. His elegant attire, with a shirt half-tucked into his pants and too many buttons undone, suggested that he usually dressed more casually.

He let out a heavy sigh, as if furious, then hastily wiped his face with his hand.

"Just..." he began coolly and cautiously, as if holding back some cruel words. "I get the feeling that everyone is downplaying the seriousness of this situation."

"We're all approaching this with the necessary commitment," you replied, though it wasn't entirely true. Allen had every right to fear for his life, but each of you honestly doubted anything would happen to him during this exhibition. If the threat had been real... Hotch probably wouldn't have sent you. "Believe me, we understand the gravity of the situation..."

"Really? Even the letters I've been getting? The content of them?"

You knew about the threats sent by an unknown sender, but you hadn't delved into what exactly they contained. Seeing you hesitate to answer, Allen scoffed.

"You're fucking great at your job, no doubt. So let me fill you in. They come every day. Every fucking day. And I read every single one of them. You know, I've even started seeing a pattern. First, they beg me. Then they threaten to fucking kill me. Smash my face into the ground, beat me to death with a metal rod, rip out my ribs, douse me in gasoline, and set me on fire..." He paused, dramatically scratching his chin. "Oh, almost forgot. They're going to peel the skin off my back. Then there's a day off. No letter comes. The next day, they apologize. I don’t know if this psycho has some extreme split personality or... or... I have no fucking idea. The cops said, get this, it's normal. 'Cause I’m a public figure."

"They brushed it off?" you asked, slightly shaken.

No matter how famous he was, threats were still threats.

He shrugged. He was trying to speak with a voice full of dismissive irony, but it wasn’t working. He stumbled, taking breaks to swallow. Though he had treated you like a complete jerk earlier, you were starting to understand.

“First off, until someone broke into my house and tried to drag me out of bed and take me…God knows where. Probably if I hadn’t had a dog…” he trailed off, glancing back out the window. You’d arrived at the museum, where the exhibition was to be held, but Allen hesitated to get out of the car. “This guy is nuts, whoever he is. I don’t know what to expect from him. He wants to kill me, kidnap me, torture me? Or maybe he’ll just settle for shooting me from a distance like I’m some goddamn Kennedy?”

“That doesn’t really sound like him,” you said in a calming tone. “He tried to kidnap you from your house, why would he suddenly attack you in a public place…”

“My fiancée is pregnant,” he suddenly blurted out.

You blinked, unsure how to respond to the sudden confession.

“Congratulations?”

“For her safety, I sent her very, very far away, somewhere she shouldn’t be in any danger,” he continued, completely ignoring your words. “And though her and the baby’s well-being is my top priority… I also need to take care of myself. I need to make it to their birth…and longer, of course. But that’s why I’m afraid to even go out to the damn store for milk, and that’s why I was so pissed off when I found out they assigned me a woman who, no offense, looks like she wouldn’t know how to hold a gun.”

You instinctively scoffed at his last comment, though it was hard to stay particularly mad at him, knowing everything he was going through. An awkward silence fell between you, heavy and laden, during which the two of you simply stared at each other. It hit you that you were responsible not only for his safety but also for ensuring that someone’s fiancé and future father would make it home.

“We should get going,” you said, nodding toward the museum. Still, you couldn’t help but feel a certain tension at the thought of leaving the car. You shook your head slightly, trying to dispel it. “And just so we’re clear, I do know how to handle a gun—more than you’d think. But for your sake, you better hope we don’t have to put that to the test.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed the corner of his mouth twitch.

"Well then, onward, assistant. Tell me, how much do you know about neurotechnology?"

Well, by the end of this day, you were definitely going to know a lot more. Together with Allen, you crossed the threshold of the museum. Its decor clashed with the theme of the exhibition, but apparently, they hadn’t managed to secure a better location. 

The interior layout was harmonious—rounded arches were supported by symmetrically arranged marble columns, and the dominant shades were gold and royal red.

Your destination was the exhibition hall, circular in shape, where mahogany tables served as display stations for various prototypes in the fields of medicine, neurobiology, and informatics. In other parts of the building, there were tall, arched windows, but this particular room had none. No natural light entered; all illumination was generated by lamps that, to their credit, mimicked the natural diffusion of sunlight quite effectively.

Among the displays were an interactive brain map and various projects still in development but aimed at assisting people with disabilities.

You observed all of this with interest while simultaneously listening to your companion’s impromptu lecture on the human brain (apparently, talking helped him calm down). At the same time, you were closely monitoring the crowd around you.

True multitasking.

The exhibition was open to everyone; no one was checking who entered the venue. Although you counted three security guards in the room—dressed in simple black suits and mostly tasked with ensuring that no one tried to steal anything—there was a subtle air of unease hanging in the atmosphere. If Allen’s suspicions were correct, the person intent on ending his life could be one of these faces. To your surprise, however, he suddenly seemed far less concerned about it than you were.

“You don’t have to follow me around like a shadow,” he said, leaning toward you to make himself heard over the murmur of surrounding conversations. A familiar face with a loud, bright red tie waved at him and began making their way over. “Just don’t take your eyes off me, no matter what. And keep an eye out for anyone suspicious—whatever that means to you. Hey, man!”

He greeted his acquaintance with a friendly handshake. Following his instructions, you took a small step back, deciding to take a short stroll among the exhibits. But after barely two steps, your finger went to the discreet earpiece hidden under your hair.

“Are you there, my lovely nerds?” you asked with a playful smile, knowing they couldn’t see it but imagining their reactions.

“At your service!” Garcia responded enthusiastically, and you could almost picture her saluting on the other end.

“And what about Mr. Smartass? Did he get bored and wander off to study the reproductive habits of ants?”

“I heard that!” he replied, summoned by his new nickname. “Such gratitude for letting you borrow my jacket.”

“Speaking of the jacket,” you continued, “I found a candy in the pocket. How thoughtful of you to leave me a little sweet treat.” You weren’t joking; there really was a candy inside. You inspected the wrapper and frowned. “Marzipan? Ugh. Do you have the taste buds of my grandma?”

"To what I know, I haven't had a taste bud transplant. Especially not from anyone's grandmother," he replied nonchalantly. "And as for those ants..."

"Sorry to interrupt, my darlings, but I have a few questions about the sound quality of these new microphones..."

True to her word, Garcia began asking you how well you could hear them and instructed you to lower your voice to a whisper and then raise it sharply. Some sort of test or whatever. You did it all patiently while staring at the red-haired mop at the station across from you. Allen seemed pretty relaxed now, probably realizing nothing was going to happen to him.

"Okay, now do the sound like a chicken. I mean the noise."

"What?"

"You know, cluck."

"Pen, is this really necessary?"

"Yes, sweetie. I need to check something else. Last thing, I swear. Scout’s honor."

You sighed, looking around at the people nearby. Few were paying attention to you, you were just one face in the crowd. God, for something like this, you could ask for a raise.

"Exactly, honey. Just louder," Garcia asked.

You rolled your eyes and tried again to make the chicken sound. An older couple glanced at you, their eyes wide with horror.

"Alright, enough," you muttered, embarrassed, into the earpiece, quickly moving to a different spot.

And then you heard the pair on the other side literally choking with laughter.

"I fucking hate you guys," you said. "I hate you. Especially you, Penelope. Give me Reid on the mic, from now on I'm only talking to him."

Another burst of laughter from the woman. You clenched your jaw. And as if that weren’t enough…

 "Did you want to hear me, little chick?" Reid asked politely.

“I should’ve gouged your eye out with a chopstick when I had the chance,” you hissed into the phone, a little too loudly, drawing a few curious glances. You were supposed to be watching for suspicious people, but it turned out you were acting the most suspicious of all…

“Did you catch what she said?” Reid addressed Penelope. “I only heard clucking.”

“Ha-ha,” you rolled your eyes.

For fifteen minutes, you had to endure such jokes. You seriously began to worry that they’d never get tired of it, but finally, after a quarter of an hour of psychological torture, they fell silent. You kept a sharp eye on your surroundings.

“By the way,” you began, still a bit offended by the chicken joke. “You guys should regret not being here to see these inventions. Perfect for you, nerds.”

“Well, actually, we can see them,” Reid’s voice came through the earpiece, sounding very clear, clearly taking the whole mic for himself. “Garcia grabbed footage from the cameras inside the room.”

“So you can see me? This whole time?”

 “Yep. And we saw that terrified couple who ran as far away from you as they could as soon as you started clucking like a chicken. Poor souls.”

You ignored the comment and began scanning the room for the cameras. When you found them, you scratched your forehead with your middle finger.

“Can you see this too?”

“I can see how much fun you’re having,” he scoffed. “Are you going to include that in your report?”

“Exactly. Right under your name, framed with a glittery little heart. Any other requests?” Not waiting for his response, you added, “By the way, how do I look in your jacket? Does it fit me well?”

"I think so. I mean, the blazer is incredibly well-tailored. And of good quality. It’s impossible for it to look bad on anyone." He paused for a moment, and his voice grew more serious. "How’s it going? Have you noticed anything suspicious? Still feeling stressed?"

"Not anymore," you admitted, speaking the truth. Even though the exhibition had just started and was supposed to last about another hour, you felt like you had passed some milestone where nothing could go wrong anymore. "But of course, I’m still keeping an eye out. I had a little chat with Allen…"

"I heard," Reid acknowledged. "Very interesting lecture on the human brain, I must admit."

You let out a small laugh.

"I talked to Allen earlier. Still in the car. After what he told me, I don’t think he's a paranoiac. The guy is just really worried about his safety. And not just his.”

A moment of silence fell on both sides.

"Speaking of Allen, he's heading your way," he informed you, likely watching the feed from the cameras. "I guess I'll hear from you later then. I mean, I’ll be hearing you the whole time, just not the other way around. Unless you want me to constantly broadcast about ant reproduction?"

"Sorry, Reid, but I’ll pass. Maybe some other time," you chuckled, noticing the engineer approaching. As he walked, he bumped into a man in the crowd and exchanged a quick apology. You used that moment to add something else, a bit impulsively. "And what about this? Do you see this?"

You pressed the inside of your hand to your lips before unfolding it, sending a kiss toward one of the cameras. Reid was silent as Allen drew closer.

"I see it," he finally admitted, quieter. You regretted not being able to see his expression, it was unusually hard for you to picture it at that particular moment. Was he smiling? "And I like it a lot more than what you showed me earlier."

You turned your back to the camera so he wouldn’t see you smile. It only hit you afterward that he probably saw it anyway, just from a different angle.

"I see you're enjoying the exhibition," Allen said, standing in front of you with his hands in his pockets. He had stopped pretending to be the classy guy and fully embraced his more laid-back side. "So, uh, sorry, but I think I'd rather head out now."

Worried, you discreetly glanced around.

"Did something happen? Did someone stare at you weirdly, do something...?"

He shook his head, a negative gesture.

"Nothing like that. I just saw what I needed to see. Check it off the list, I’m ready to leave..."

After his words, an absolute darkness fell.

Absolute darkness, in the truest sense of the word. The exhibition hall had no windows. When the lights went out, it felt as if someone had tied a cloth tightly over your eyes. Yet, like a fool, you kept looking around, as if moving your head could somehow tear through the blackness enveloping you, freeing you from the growing panic that was slowly flooding your senses.

“Garcia, what’s up with the cameras?” Reid’s voice sounded in your ear. He was confused, not yet frightened. He didn’t know what was happening yet. None of you did.

The people around you, of course, were also surprised by the sudden blackout. A few muffled gasps echoed, one or two squeals, a smattering of curses. But there were no screams, no one tearing at their throats or blindly bolting forward, trampling others in the process. That came later.

Exactly four seconds after the first gunshot rang out.

Before, the world seemed to freeze in place; everyone’s breaths were trapped in their lungs, unwilling to escape, even out of curiosity. Your body lunged forward as if trying to flee, but it quickly dawned on you that there was nowhere to run. Where had the shot come from? Who had fired it? Was someone hurt?

Something—or rather, someone’s hand—clamped painfully around your wrist. Instinctively, you tried to pull free, letting out a sound somewhere between a growl and a garbled cry.

“It’s me,” Allen choked out, his voice trembling. You couldn’t see his silhouette, but you knew the blood had drained from his face. “What the fuck... what the fuck is happen—”

The second shot rang out, closer and sharper than the first. Chaos erupted in the room. Screams, so hysterical they drowned out the voices coming through your earpiece, filled the air. Something struck you hard, sending you stumbling as pain radiated through your shoulder. It was an empty kind of pain—something you felt and yet didn’t. You realized it must have been one of the panicked people charging blindly through the dark.

“Here,” you commanded, your mind snapping briefly into clarity. In your mind’s eye, you pictured the layout of the room before the lights went out. The corner of the hall, the wooden table behind you, where one of the prototypes had been displayed.

You slipped under the table, dragging Allen with you. He groaned as his head hit the underside of the furniture.

You were so utterly disoriented that it felt as though your own name was echoing on a loop inside your head. It took you a moment to realize it wasn’t just your mind playing tricks—it was someone’s voice, growing more familiar with each passing second.

The third gunshot.

Allen choked on his breath, his hand still gripping your wrist so tightly you feared it might snap—yet you didn’t register it as pain, merely as a sensation. The two of you crouched beneath the table, facing each other, teetering on the edge of succumbing to the abyss of panic.

Reid spoke your name again, faintly, as though he were far too close to the microphone. As though leaning in would somehow make you hear him better—make you respond.

“I’m here,” you managed to stammer, the first thing that came to your mind.

"Thank God, I thought..." he sighed, suddenly stopping, as if realizing it wasn't yet time for relief. "Are you... are you hurt?"

"My arm."

You didn't know why those words escaped your lips. Maybe because, although your mind was too occupied with trying to figure out the situation to focus on something like pain, your body couldn’t ignore the fact that it felt it. Against your will, you let out a hiss and finally pulled your hand out of Allen's grip.

"You've been shot? We... we can't see anything, do you have anything to stop the bleeding, maybe use my jacket..."

"I don't know what's happening, we've completely lost access to the camera feed, someone must have turned them all off, just like the power... Reid, immediately notify Hotch, he needs to know something's wrong..."

On the other side, chaos erupted, comparable to the one surrounding you. Penelope was aggressively pressing the keyboard keys, Reid was rushing between a phone conversation with Hotch and throwing random phrases at you like stay where you are or how's your arm?

But was staying put the right decision? Wasn't it just waiting for the person responsible for starting this... massacre to come for you? On the other hand, how were you supposed to escape? In complete darkness? You had a weapon... but what good was it if you couldn't see anything? A sound of resigned sobbing escaped you.

And then, suddenly, right before your eyes, Allen’s red hair materialized, his fingers pressed into his skull as if he wanted to tear it apart himself. You both looked into each other's eyes. Visibility returned.

“We have light,” you said, though it didn’t loosen the grip on your chest.

“What?” Penelope sputtered, confused. “We still can’t see anything, the cameras are still…”

Allen let out a choked cry. You followed his gaze. Just before your hiding spot, a pair of leather shoes stopped.

“Get out,” commanded a male voice. You lifted your head. Above you stood a man with dark facial hair and a submachine gun, looking like an extension of his broad shoulder. You immediately noticed, besides the weapon, he was also carrying a black sports bag slung over his shoulder. Both of you were too disoriented and terrified to follow the order. “I said, fuckin’ get out and against the wall, I won’t repeat myself.”

Like animals herded into a pen, you followed his instructions to the designated spot. The entire crowd inside gathered against one of the blood-red walls of the room, some pressing their backs against it as if that embrace would ensure their safety...

“What’s going on there now?” Reid asked. “We still don’t have a feed... I can hear you breathing,” he blurted out unexpectedly.

You realized that your breath had indeed become heavy and loud. It dawned on you that you hadn’t gone through any extensive training on how to handle a situation like this; you were useless...

“Just...damn it, I know it’s easier for me to say, but try not to panic, okay? Whatever’s going on... panic will only make it worse. You need to focus, please. Can you do that? Breathe? Slowly, like I’m doing now?”

Your hands clenched around the fabric of his jacket, feeling it under your fingers. Closing your eyes, you could almost imagine him standing right in front of you, in this very building, speaking those words. It helped calm you down, at least enough for your mind to stay somewhat communicative...

“Good. Very...very good. Now, can you describe what’s happening over there?”

You knew that every piece of information you passed on would be worth its weight in gold. You tightened your grip on the fabric of Reid's jacket and began scanning your surroundings.

“One shooter. He’s herding us... all of us, against one of the walls and... stuffing prototypes into the bag, every one he can get his hands on,” you reported, describing everything you’d seen. “It looks like a robbery.”

“Just one?” Reid asked. “What were those shots? Someone... got hurt?”

You were about to deny it when your attention was drawn to a bloodstain spreading across the marble floor at the opposite corner of the room. Allen nudged you, pointing to something else—a body lying motionless.

“Guards. He... he killed all the guards,” you recognized them by their uniforms, the words barely escaping your throat. So, he hadn’t hesitated to kill, not one of those inexperienced types with any moral inhibitions. Trying to make sense of everything happening around you, you pressed your hand to your forehead. “But... but how could he see them in this darkness...”

“Night vision,” Allen interrupted suddenly, his previously hunched figure straightening as he realized it.

You found the man busy with the theft and controlling the area. He was quite solidly built, you could compare him to Derek. And, as the engineer had observed, around his neck hung a device for seeing in the dark.

“The police have arrived outside the museum, but they won’t go inside as long as you’re trapped with him. They don’t want anyone to get hurt,” Penelope informed you, then let out a soft, wheezing breath, as if she was trying to calm herself down. “Sweetheart, the whole team is on their way too. From now on, you’re our informant…”

“Is Christopher Allen among you?” A commanding voice suddenly cut through the sheet of panic blanketing the room, drawing everyone’s attention. It belonged to a truly imposing man with a shaved head and a forehead lined with wrinkles that seemed to stem more from exhaustion than age. But by far, the most significant detail about him was the submachine gun he held in his hands.

Two. There were two shooters.

Your focus shifted to the man standing right in front of you, as if delivering some kind of speech. At first, you didn’t even register what he’d asked. He repeated the question quickly and impatiently, and you froze. Not that you’d been particularly active before, but in that moment, all your bodily functions seemed to shut down completely. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at Allen—not even for a fleeting glance.

“Christopher Allen. Biotech engineer. He should be here,” the man continued, scanning the faces in front of him almost desperately, searching for the one he needed. He sounded almost... distraught? That broken expression, teetering on the edge of tears and madness, starkly contrasted with his militaristic physique.

Suddenly, his accomplice appeared, tugging at his arm.

“Jesus, give it a rest. We need to get out of here. The car’s waiting for us, remember?”

He shoved the smaller man with a force befitting his build, sending him staggering backward.

“I’m not leaving until I talk to him!” he declared with furious determination. “Christopher Allen…”

“You’ve gotta be shitting me…”

“Allen…”

His eyes scanned the surroundings until they landed on the two of you. You felt someone lightly wrap their fingers around your forearm, gripping it almost instinctively. It wasn’t a strong or painful hold, but rather one born of genuine fear, seeking protection. Protection that, from the start, had been your responsibility to provide. Yet now, standing face to face with two armed assailants, with lifeless bodies lying in pools of blood in the same room…you felt the crushing weight of an obligation you were physically incapable of fulfilling, creating a storm of chaos within your mind.

Allen must have been fooling himself into thinking he could blend into the crowd and remain unnoticed. Even as everyone’s gaze began to focus on him, urgently and with some unspoken hope, he stubbornly stood still. Or was he simply paralyzed by fear?

For the first time since he was called out, you looked at him. His eyes conveyed one thing: a simple message. It was him. The man who had been sending him threats, the one who had broken into his house. You furrowed your brows, this whole situation was becoming incomprehensible. He cared so much about kidnapping the engineer that he had organized the heist at the exhibition where he was supposed to be?

 “Come here. I need to talk to you, you… you need to do something for me.”

Once again, in your ears, you heard the description of the tortures that were mentioned in the letter.

"You have to do this," you said very softly, almost a whisper. "We can't let him get angry. Do you hear me?"

 It seemed like your words weren’t reaching him at all. You nervously glanced at the gunmen, hoping that the command you had given hadn’t raised any suspicion or made them think you were trying to outsmart them, deceive them in some way. Slowly, but with deep remorse, you loosened Allen’s grip on your forearm. His chest wasn’t rising, as if he weren’t breathing. But then his gaze shifted, not to you, but to the people around you, to the ones standing in fear, waiting for his reaction. Something in his face shifted, then he took a step forward.

“Slowly,” you instructed.

It seemed like the best solution. Unsub knew that the person he was looking for was among you, he had identified him without any difficulty. Allen couldn’t hide or escape, all that was left for him was to comply with the orders, for his own sake and for everyone else's. It was also important that he stalled for time. You hoped that as soon as your team arrived, they’d be able to come up with something. Maybe they were already there, working to make contact with the shooters and free you all, alive and unharmed.

At the same time, someone called your name.

"Report in."

It was Hotch. At the sound of his stoic voice, a fleeting wave of relief washed over you. You even parted your lips to answer when you realized the second gunman was staring at you. The room fell into absolute silence as Allen slowly approached them. You shouldn’t reveal that you were with the FBI or any other agency—that was a basic rule…

 "Listen to me carefully now," the unsub spat, placing one of his massive hands on Allen's shoulder, causing him to almost buckle under the forceful touch. Someone behind you let out a muffled cry. "You need to remove it from me, do you understand?"

"Shit," his partner muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. He was holding a bag with the stolen equipment, constantly glancing toward the exit. You wondered if he had anything to do with the threats sent to Allen. "Shit, we need to get the hell out of here before the cops completely block our escape. We don't have time for your fucking delusions!"

“Remove…?” the baffled engineer repeated, completely thrown off.

“The chip. The one inside me. Right here, on the back of my neck.” The man jabbed a finger at the spot. “Someone has to cut it out of me. You work with brains—you must know how to do it. He’s controlling me, watching my thoughts… I saw an interview with you once. I know you’re the only one who can do this…”

The man’s words devolved into a stream of incoherent rambling. Allen had no idea how to respond, and silence stretched on the other end of the phone. Meanwhile, the second gunman tried once again to persuade his partner to escape, but this only triggered an explosive burst of rage that made everyone around them shrink in fear.

“Shut up, or I’ll blow your head off too!” the man shouted. “I’ve waited too long for this. I don’t give a damn about all that crap you stole. I don’t care if they catch me. He’s going to cut out that chip!”

“What chip?” Allen finally managed to stammer. “I don’t understand…”

“The chip the government implanted in me to control me! That’s why no hospital will remove it—they’re all under government control! Only you can do it!”

“The unsub is delusional, that much is clear,” Reid’s voice suddenly crackled in your earpiece, catching you by surprise. He must have made it from Penelope’s office to the museum—where he joined Hotch and the rest of the team—at an impressive speed. “The reality he’s constructed is starting to blur with actual reality, which makes him extremely dangerous. Just from the tone of his speech, you can tell he’s emotionally unbalanced and on the brink of a breakdown. Unfortunately, this means his actions could be erratic and violent, with a strong tendency toward escalation.”

"What can I do?" you whispered as quietly as possible, taking advantage of the commotion in the center of the room.

"Are you there? Can you speak safely?" he asked, exhaling a breath of trapped air. "I mean... What you can do, first and foremost, is stay cautious. Don’t say or do anything that could provoke him further," he instructed, his tone turning focused and determined to provide you with as much guidance as possible. You nodded almost imperceptibly as you listened, as if he could see you. At some point, your fingers began nervously clutching the fabric of his blazer again, a small, unconscious tic.

"Don’t confront his delusions—or rather, don’t outright deny them. Try not to introduce any new elements either, to avoid deepening his paranoia, alright? That could put you in even greater danger..."

"Above all, try to redirect his anger away from Allen and the other hostages," Hotch cut in. "We’re working on a way to get inside. You just need to buy us some time."

Buy some time, it was easy for him to say, you thought with sudden frustration. What exactly could you do? It was incredibly hard to make any decisions when you were fully aware that their consequences could result in the death of an innocent person—or people.

Allen was still in front of the unsub, gripped tightly by the gun-wielding man, slightly shaking his head from side to side, clearly overwhelmed by the situation.

"But... but how am I supposed to get the chip out, do you really believe the government..."

"He doesn’t have the right tools," you interrupted, taking a step forward to draw the shooters’ attention to you. You raised your hands in a gesture of surrender as soon as you found yourself in the second man’s line of sight. You were scared of the direction Allen was heading in—after all, Reid had told you not to deny his delusions. Though you weren’t sure it was the right approach, you tried to make eye contact with the unsub. You had a feeling that he might only fully understand what you were trying to convey if you did.

Everyone was looking at you now. Nervously, you swallowed before speaking again.

"If you want him to remove the chip from your body... you’ll need at least a scalpel. Well, and if it was implanted by the government... that might not be enough?"

To your surprise, the second attacker spoke up.

"She's right, Erick, we don't have anything like that. Leave him, we need to get out of here... though fuck, it probably doesn't matter anymore, I wonder if the police have already caught our driver..."

You hoped that the team had heard this and started looking for suspicious vehicles in the area. Erick, or rather the unsub, began to stare intensely at you, analyzing what you'd said.

"Keep it up," Reid said. "It looks like you’ve planted some doubt in his mind about his own plan. You can keep going in that direction, just please, please, be careful..."

"Reid," Hotch admonished him.

You took a deep breath, your mind was working so fast that it was starting to go blank. You had to say something more before it consumed you entirely.

"But... but I'm sure that if you had met under different circumstances, outside the museum, he would have been able to extract the chip..."

"No! I've waited too long, I can't stand having this crap under my skin for another minute! He'll take it out now, or he won't leave here!"

Allen's raised hands trembled at those words.

"How can we communicate with the police? Is there a phone here?" he asked his companion.

"Are you fucking out of your mind..."

"They'll bring us the equipment. A scalpel. They won't have a choice, or I'll shoot them all, one by one."

"We should focus on how to get out of here..."

"I DON'T CARE ABOUT THAT!" the unsub roared at him. Fueled by this outburst, he shoved Allen away so forcefully that the man fell to the floor. The startled man took a step back, unable to hide his fear. It was clear who had the final say in this duo. Erick was not only physically larger, most likely more ruthless, but above all, incredibly unpredictable. Without looking at you, he issued an order.

"Everyone sit against the wall, you too." Allen awkwardly got to his feet and almost ran to the indicated spot.

You didn't want to sit, to put yourself in an even more vulnerable position. But when a man with a submachine gun and a completely deranged gleam in his eyes is standing in front of you, you don't have much of a choice. Slowly, you sat down on the floor, surrounded by all these terrified people.

You studied the faces of everyone around you—scientists and random people who had ended up here simply because they were intrigued by the exhibit's theme. And that innocent curiosity had led them into such a hopeless situation, where each breath, drawn into trembling lungs, could prove to be the final one. What terrified you was the fact that the only thing distinguishing you from them was the tiny microphone pinned to your clothes and the earpiece in your ear.

The woman sitting next to you, so close that your elbows were touching, looked as though she was about to faint. Without hesitation, you offered her your hand, which she took with no resistance. In situations like that, the escape from fear was desperately sought wherever it could be found—even among strangers.

“What’s happening in there now?” Hotch asked.

You explained the situation to him as clearly and logically as possible, correcting anything they might have missed due to their lack of actual insight into what was happening inside the museum. The woman beside you looked at you strangely, smudged mascara around her eyes.

“Please don’t worry,” you whispered, making sure none of the attackers could hear you. Though maybe you shouldn’t have, you felt you needed to reveal yourself to her, to help her survive the nightmare she had found herself in. “I’m... a federal agent. I have contact with the team outside, they’re working on how to get us out of here.”

You didn’t know if those words had particularly soothed her fear—just as you spoke them, Allen practically pressed himself against you, trying to whisper something into your ear.

“Give me your gun,” he practically ordered.

You looked at him with your eyebrows raised in shock. No words were needed. Your face clearly expressed one big what?

He looked like one of those people going on and on about a newly invented device they had been working on for years, staying up every night. In his eyes was a comparable crazy but incredibly self-assured gleam.

“I know you have it, but you won’t use it. Because you're scared. And I don’t blame you!” he quickly added, moving slightly away from you. Still, your faces were tilted toward each other in a conspiratorial whisper.

“But listen to me. He cares about me, right? Or rather, he cares that I get the nonexistent chip from him. He won’t hurt me when I get closer, he’s too desperate, in his eyes, I’m his only chance…”

“You must have lost your mind,” you said through clenched teeth. Was he really willing to take such a risk and play the hero when he and his fiancée were expecting a child? “And what about the other guy, huh? Do you think he’ll just stand there calmly when...?”

“Then I’ll shoot him first. I used to go to the shooting range, I was pretty good at it. The other one will be too scared to hurt me, and then I...”

“Absolutely not,” Reid interjected.

You snorted.

“As if I would even consider it…” you muttered. Looking at Allen, you tapped your forehead. “No way. You’re not risking your life on such a stupid plan where everything could go wrong…”

“Do you think I’m asking for your opinion?” he hissed, clutching his head in desperation. “The answer is no. I’m just saying, give me your gun. Where is it?”

As he said this, he grabbed the fabric of your blazer, searching under it for what he so desperately wanted. You tried to catch his hand, but he trapped it in his grip, digging through the layers of your clothes, under your skirt. You jerked your whole body in an attempt to break free.

“Leave me alone, they’ll notice us soon…”

“What’s he doing?” Reid asked sharply. Although he couldn’t see what was happening, his voice was not only confused, but also clearly worried, maybe even angry.

“Just give it to me, what the hell does it hurt…”

His hand, despite your resistance, finally reached the grip of your gun, slightly sliding it out from beneath your skirt. You shot a quick glance toward the attackers, still engrossed in their conversation—or rather, argument. Terrified by the thought that they might notice what Allen was pulling from under your clothing, you instinctively swung at his face, causing his head to snap back with a muffled cry of pain.

“What language do I need to speak for you to understand? What you’re planning is idiotic,” you said, your words flowing together with a surprisingly calm yet furious ease. You struggled to keep your voice low, feeling as though shouting might make him grasp it faster. But that wasn’t an option. “You’d risk not only your life but everyone else’s,” you said, gesturing toward what you now had no choice but to call the hostages. “And no one wants to die because of some brainless idiot with a hero complex.”

After you hit him, Allen backed away to a distance that no longer invaded your personal space. With your breath quickened, you adjusted the position of the gun, suddenly panicked that it might fall out during his attempt to grab it against your will. Despite yourself, a strange feeling overcame you. Out of everyone—of all the people trapped in the museum—you were the only one with even minimal knowledge of what to do in this situation, the only one with outside communication to the police, and, most importantly... a weapon. And yet, with that arsenal at your disposal, you were doing embarrassingly little to improve the situation.

Your jaw tightened at the thought, your fists clutching the fabric of your blazer so hard that your knuckles turned white. It was astonishing how much that small action helped you regain your composure. Not just the feel of the fabric but also... the scent. You could almost imagine you weren’t entirely alone in this. And though you wouldn’t trade places with Reid or anyone else from the team for anything, you couldn’t shake the feeling they would handle this far better than you were.

And speaking of Reid...

"Are you okay?" he asked again, his tone much softer than before.

"I'm fine," you tried to give your voice a casual, almost dismissive tone, though you doubted you fully succeeded in masking the tension. You let out a helpless scoff in an attempt to lighten it. "I mean, fine as much as one can be fine in this situation..."

You trailed off, and he hesitated before replying.

"Hang in there, okay?" he said, so quietly you thought you might have misheard. It made you wonder if it was because he didn’t want anyone else to overhear what he was saying into the mic. If that were the case, was it because he didn’t want anyone accusing him of chatting with you when he should be doing something more important? Or maybe, he just didn’t want this simple yet anxious message to reach unwelcome ears and lose its sense of privacy. You heard him swallow. "We’ll get you all out of there soon. Garcia got the phone number of one of the attackers, the delusional one—his name’s Erick Larson, by the way. If he has it on him..."

As if on cue, the sound of an incoming call rang out. They stopped talking, and the surprised man reached into his pocket.

"What are you going to do? Negotiate?" you asked.

"Hotch is going to talk to him. The main goal is to get the hostages released."

The word hostage sounded so strange to you; you couldn’t connect it to your situation. A hostage didn’t have a gun tucked under their clothing or communicate with an FBI team through an earpiece. Those people, holding each other's hands in fear and huddled on the floor, were the hostages. Not you.

"Can you stay on the line?" the words slipped out before you could stop them. "Just, I don’t know... tell me how it really is with those ants or something." You squeezed your eyes shut as a wave of embarrassment crashed over you. You were acting like a scared child who needed a bedtime story to forget the monster under the bed. "Forget it, that’s stupid. You’ve probably got your hands full. Focus on helping us, on the negotiations."

"I'm still on the line," he reassured you, even before the echo of your last words faded. "And I’ll stay on it the whole time. And since talking to you might help you not lose your mind in there... well, I guess that counts as helping all of you. The information you’ve given us, everything you’ve told us... you’re playing a crucial role in all of this."

"I don’t think so. I could be doing so much more."

"Like what, something that idiot was planning?" he asked, stressing the word idiot. "Please, don’t even think about it. You’re doing exactly what’s needed. You’re not sticking your neck out, you’re staying in contact with us. You’re calming the others down, like that woman. That... that’s heroism, not blindly rushing at two armed men."

Moved by his words, you weakly smiled. You’d forgotten again that he couldn’t see you, or maybe it was just automatic.

"Stop, I’m going to blush. But... but thank you, Reid."

"You don’t need to thank me. Oh, he picked up..."

And indeed, Erik pressed the phone to his ear, probably realizing that it was the police trying to make contact. You fixed your gaze on him.

A completely new stage of the robbery was beginning, one on which everything depended—negotiations.

*

Spencer had never had a particular obsession with control. 

In the vast majority of crisis situations, all he needed was a deep understanding of the causes and course of events. A thorough analysis of what had happened so far, drawing conclusions based on that, and then coming up with possible solutions, each with its pros and cons, which he also had to consider.

It involved emotionally distancing himself from the situation and relying on advice from his trusty friend—logic. And when he was guided by that cold logic, he didn’t feel the need to actively participate in what was happening around him or take any direct control. But in that particular moment—ever since he had heard the first shot coming from inside the museum, shortly after losing access to the cameras—he was almost losing his mind over how little he could do. Powerlessness was the first blow, the fact that her life, and others', depended on a man with probable schizophrenia, driven by dangerous delusions, the second, much stronger one.

As with every hostage situation, a makeshift operations camp was set up outside the building, where all necessary units gathered. Garcia stayed at her post, but he saw no other option but to go there personally. The rest of the team quickly gathered, and Hotch arrived so fast it seemed like he lived just around the corner. After all, there was a member of his team inside, the one he had sent there, never expecting such a turn of events. The two perpetrators, who were working together, seemed to have two completely different goals. One, apparently, was persuaded to go along with a simple robbery and escape. The second, Erick, however, had a different, more complicated desire from the start. He wanted Allen, who was supposed to extract a non-existent chip from his body, allegedly implanted by the government.

Allen. He spoke that name with an incomprehensible bitterness and disdain. He was disgusted by his thoughtlessness, pure stupidity. Though he was familiar with his achievements in the field of neurotechnology, he couldn't call him a scientist, really not anything other than an idiot. And it was all because he had nearly put her and everyone else in danger, because he pressured her so much that she had to defend herself by striking him in the face. He remembered how once they had slept in the same bed, so small that they almost fell off it and were forced to lie literally on top of each other. By accident, he had jabbed her with his elbow in the ribs, and before he could even whisper an apology, she hit him with such force that he lost his breath. He hoped Allen had taken an even harder blow.

He forced himself back to reality, as everyone gathered around Hotch, who was leaning over the phone. The unsub had answered, and the discussion began.

"We'll deliver what you need. All the equipment. But first, you must release the innocent people inside and promise you won't hurt anyone else. Not Allen, or anyone."

They argued, a lot. Of course, they wanted him to let everyone go, which was, realistically, impossible. Eventually, the number sixteen was agreed upon, a little more than half of the people present.

Through the microphone clipped to her clothes, they could hear him pointing at the people who were to be released. The second perpetrator seemed to have completely given in to his paranoid companion, and stopped trying to convince him to escape. He must have realized it was already too late for that.

“You’re the one who’s leaving,” he said, his words very clear, suggesting he was standing very close to her, pointing at her.

Spencer straightened up, a sudden rush of premature relief washing over him. Premature—that was the key word.

“No,” she protested sharply. “No, let her go instead of me. She’s older and not feeling well. I should stay…”

He pressed the microphone to his mouth, trying to talk her out of it.

“Do what they say, resisting might make him angry…”

“No, Reid, she’s right,” Hotch interrupted him. Spencer looked at his boss in surprise, shaking his head in confusion. Instead of explaining his decision to him, Hotch turned to her.

“You have to do everything you can to stay inside. You’re our only source of information, our access to what’s happening in there.”

“Hotch…”

Someone, JJ, placed a hand on his shoulder, stopping him from protesting further. It dawned on him that they were right, but... it was hard for him to accept. It was true that, as an FBI agent, part of her duty sometimes meant risking her life for the greater good. Still, this decision made his hands ball into fists, and he had to take a deep breath to steady himself. Suddenly, it struck him that if an unfamiliar agent, not a member of the BAU, not his friend, and someone who hadn’t shared a bed with him when his fear of the dark grew stronger, were in the same situation... he would have agreed with Hotch without hesitation.

“I told you to leave, so you leave. There’s gotta be sixteen people, or they won’t bring it to me, goddammit.”

“So let someone else go…” She cut off abruptly, a rustling sound echoing through the air, as if— as if he tugged at her clothes. Spencer almost spoke again but stopped herself. The same thought had crossed Hotch’s face, he saw it. 

“Seriously, this will be better. I... I can help with removing the chip...”

“Allen has to do it.”

“Yes, but…” her voice grew more desperate, trying to come up with something more, an excuse to fulfill her duty.

“Oh, what don’t you understand, you stupid bitch…”

Spencer anticipated the sudden outburst of aggression, he had felt it building for a while. Though the unsub was unpredictable, his anger rose and fell within mere seconds, Spencer knew it was all heading in that direction. So, he squeezed his eyes shut just before the horrible, dull thud rang out, followed by a muffled cry of pain. Then the sound was drowned out by a rush, something like a thud, and he could only guess that she had fallen to the floor.

He didn't open his eyes, but something pricked at his chest. He knew that if he looked at Hotch, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from giving him a big, i told you so. It wasn’t even about being right—he didn’t care about that, not at that moment. What mattered to him was that nothing happened to her, and that was exactly what had just happened.

No one from the team said a word, though Derek turned his gaze away from the speaker, his expression one of discomfort, like someone averting their eyes from an unpleasant scene. Hotch stared at some fixed point ahead, his face unreadable, before leaning into the microphone just as—

“What the hell is this?!” the unsub suddenly screamed. “A gun? Why the hell does she have a gun on her?!”

Reid’s eyes shot open as he nearly dropped to his knees by the microphone, as if somehow that could help. The weapon must have slipped out when she fell, sliding free from where it had been concealed beneath her clothes…

He noticed Elle nervously biting her thumb, her face pale as a sheet. He read the same grim, terrified realization on her face that had already taken root in everyone’s minds. She was burned. Her cover as the assistant was completely blown.

“He can’t find out she’s FBI,” Gideon declared, leaning heavily against the edge of the table. “He’s a paranoid maniac who thinks the government is after him. If he realizes a federal agent has been in there the entire time…”

“Wait!” the second attacker spoke up. He had long since given up and was now quietly following his partner’s orders. “I heard the hostages talking... something about there being someone from the FBI among them, someone who’s in contact with the cops. I thought they were just talking crap, but...”

“How does he know that?” JJ asked, her lips slightly parted in shock.

“She told one of the women,” Spencer blurted out, though it felt like the words came from someone else. Some part of him—still detached from the full realization of what her exposure meant—clung to the fragments of logic not yet consumed by his nerves. “To calm her down... but that woman must have passed it on to someone else.”

“FBI?” the unsub repeated, almost in a daze. “Fucking FBI?”

The sound of something slamming echoed sharply—an explosion of frustration and shock. Every pained whimper, every labored breath she took, reached Spencer with cruel clarity, amplified by that damned new microphone clipped to her chest, capturing every sound in merciless detail.

He wanted to cover his ears, to block it out, but he couldn’t. His lower lip trembled, caught between screaming or vomiting the moment he opened his mouth. 

Covering his ears would have been a selfish gesture, one that would only bring relief to him. She didn’t have that option; all that was left for her was to endure, as he assumed, the next kicks...

He lowered his head, not looking at the others, not wanting to see their equally helpless expressions. And although he hated himself for even thinking about it, he took two steps to move away. To escape from this place, from these sounds. Because he simply couldn’t bear them.

However, he didn’t get far; he staggered as if drunk and had to grab the table tightly to keep from falling. JJ, in some protective impulse that she probably wasn’t even aware of, reached out her hand, wanting to touch his shoulder, but he pushed her away.

“I’m calling him,” Hotch announced, immediately moving into action. “Maybe that’ll stop him…”

“Check if she has a microphone on her. If she’s with the FBI, she could have been spying on us the whole time,” suggested the second attacker, in a strangely satisfied tone. He was probably some sadistic bastard who enjoyed this turn of events.

This caused Erik to stop his attack. He completely ignored the incoming call. She took a breath, inhaling deeply, though it clearly caused her pain.

“She has…”

The unsub’s voice became very clear, he must have located the microphone and then disconnected it from her clothing, carefully watching him.

“We need to go in, we have to do something,” Elle said desperately, but it didn’t stir anyone else. 

Yes, they needed to do something, but... what? Going in meant putting the hostages at risk, and their survival was the priority.

"I knew the government was spying on me," Erick muttered to himself, the microphone had probably slipped from his hand and fallen to the ground. "Not just with the chip, but they also sent that fucking..." He kicked her. "...agent."

"Give it to me," Spencer requested, exhaling with a resigned hiss. He was, of course, referring to the microphone. She still had the earpiece in; she could hear him. He didn’t yet know what he intended to say. Maybe he’d ask her to stay strong? Assure her that it would all be over soon? Would that even count as a lie if he had no real certainty they could take any action to save her? Or was this one of those morally gray situations where a lie was better than the truth?

Without protest, someone handed the microphone to him, practically shoving it into his hands.

But then they lost the connection.

The unsub must have destroyed it, stomping the microphone underfoot.

And before it happened—before the static filled the line—a gunshot rang out.

Spence found himself sitting on a chair. Not that he’d blacked out in the literal sense, but one moment he was standing upright, and the next he was slumped onto the seat—probably the only chair in their makeshift camp across from the museum. It was one of those folding chairs made of black metal and unbelievably uncomfortable. For some reason, their look always reminded him of golf courses in the blazing sun. Sometimes they’d be there… wait, why the hell was he thinking about chairs?

Disoriented, he lifted his gaze. Derek was pacing back and forth, his hands on his head, while Elle and JJ were nowhere in sight. Hotch stood in front of him, turned slightly to the side, eyes fixed on the ground, a phone pressed to his ear. His rolled-up sleeves exposed tense veins on his forearms, his hands clenched into fists.

“You killed a hostage,” Hotch said the moment the attacker picked up. Hearing the words spoken aloud, the gunshot echoed again in Spencer’s mind. He flinched, though he hadn’t the first time it happened for real.

It really happened. This wasn’t some hysterical thought creeping into your mind when someone you care about is late to a meeting and doesn’t pick up their phone, the kind of thought where your brain starts whispering that something terrible must have happened. It wasn’t a dream either, nor a nightmare blending with reality. And it wasn’t some devastating novel, a climactic moment designed to shatter the reader’s heart into pieces.

This

really

happened.

"I’ll remind you of the terms of our agreement," Hotch continued. His tone was usually sharp, leaving no room for argument. But now, having just lost a member of his team and addressing the person responsible for it, his words didn’t just cut—they sliced. Spencer fixed his gaze on him, unable to comprehend how Hotch could remain so composed in the moment. He himself…

“You don’t harm anyone else, and in return, we provide you with the necessary tools. Shooting that innocent person…”

How did it come to this—that the person who, just that morning, ordered Chinese food with him to calm her nerves; who had teasingly told him to clip the microphone onto her, leaving him flustered; whose sweet scent of hair lingered so strongly in his senses that he had to hold his breath just to focus; who, one moment, could make him laugh until tears blurred his vision, and the next, worry so deeply about her that he felt feverish with concern; who listened, truly listened, even when he had grown tired of his own voice; who helped him discover pieces of himself he hadn’t known were there; who revealed, day after day, some new and enchanting fragment of her soul; and whose laughter made him want to capture its melody, bottle it, and keep it for eternity—was now reduced to the cold, detached phrase an innocent person shot dead?

He realized his mind had become entirely consumed with replaying those moments. Thanks to his eidetic memory, each recollection was painfully vivid, yet at the same time—perhaps due to the awareness of what came next—filled with a paralyzing void. Detached from reality, he wasn’t even listening to the ongoing negotiations, only snapping back when the shadow of someone’s figure fell over him.

“Spencer,” Gideon called his name, alternating between looking at him with concern and averting his gaze, as if unable to bear the shattered expression on his face. “Did you hear what Hotch said?”

He couldn’t bring himself to shake his head, though he doubted it was necessary. Rarely did something fail to interest him, especially something Hotch had said, but whatever it was, it had landed firmly in that narrow category. After all, what could Hotch possibly have said? That he’d reached an agreement with the murderer, who would now release eighteen hostages instead of sixteen? Or perhaps, in an act of twisted mercy, he’d declared that once they brought the requested items, the killer would allow one person to go inside and retrieve her body?

He had seen many bodies with gunshot wounds to the head in his life. A vision of her with similar injuries haunted him, so vivid and detailed that he closed his eyes in an attempt to escape it. But the moment he did, the image only grew stronger, searing itself into his mind with unbearable clarity.

"He wants you to go inside pretending to be a surgeon. That’s what the unsub is asking for in exchange for the hostages. Your task would be to fake removing a chip from his body, pulling off one of your magic tricks," Gideon explained matter-of-factly, though his expression betrayed a certain doubt about the plan. He suddenly fell silent, hesitation creeping into his voice. "If you can’t do it… this isn’t an order, kid. No one will blame you if you say no."

“We didn’t know it would be such a terrible mistake,” Gideon said quietly.

“Well, that’s the thing about mistakes,” he scoffed bitterly. “You don’t usually realize you’re making them. But you should be able to predict them, especially when someone’s…” His voice broke, and he looked away, his anger momentarily crumbling into something rawer.

Even though he had lashed out at Gideon, the older man didn’t react with anger. Instead, he stared at Spencer with a calm, almost sorrowful expression. When Spencer stood, he felt the weight of Gideon’s hand resting on his numb shoulder.

“I’ll do it,” he declared after a moment.

There was no fear in his voice, no visible sign of stress. Under different circumstances, he’d likely have been unraveling, nerves fraying at the thought of entering the building with the task of saving her. But now…now all he wanted was to stand face-to-face with the man inside. More specifically, next to his neck. With a scalpel in hand.

There was no time to waste. He practiced his sleight of hand trick—making the chip suddenly appear in his palm—a few times. It had been a while since he’d done it, but even so, it came off flawlessly every time. He clenched the small device tightly in his hand and, before he knew it, found himself standing at the foot of the museum steps.

The doors opened, and the first hostages began to emerge. Their reactions followed the same pattern. First came the shock—the struggle to process that they were truly stepping outside again, alive. Then, as they began to accept it, their terrified, hesitant steps turned into a relieved jog, and their eyes brimmed with tears of gratitude.

Spencer stopped, his gaze fixed on the faces of random strangers as they rushed past. Somewhere, deep down, he held onto a foolish, fleeting hope that she might appear in those doors as well. She didn’t, of course.

But if she had… he thought, his chest tightening at the mere idea. If she had, he wasn’t sure he’d ever stop being thankful. Not necessarily to God, but to everything—every twist of fate—that had brought her back.

He had seen the interior of the building on the camera footage and had managed to memorize it. He knew exactly where to head to meet the unsub. The unsub was standing right in the center of the room. Spencer knew there had to be a second shooter somewhere, but he was afraid to look around. If his gaze happened to land on her, not only would his chip trick fail, but he was also certain he’d never be able to shake the image from his mind. It would embed itself in every cell of his brain, one after the other.

He focused all his attention on him, on Erik. He turned to him trustingly, showing the spot on his neck where he believed the chip was located. Everything about his posture radiated the peak of madness. His voice and expression oscillated between hope, desperation, paranoia, and much more that could be listed.

Spencer tried to concentrate on the chip in his hand, not on the scalpel in his other hand. He knew it would be incredibly foolish, but as he was so close to this man's throat, he couldn’t stop thinking about it. He realized that the only thing holding him back was the awareness that the second shooter was likely keeping him in their sights. It was almost certain; he didn’t need to look around to know that. But as soon as the blade touched the man’s skin at the back of his neck, his gaze, against his will, began searching. He looked at the wall where the remaining hostages were gathered, the ones who hadn’t made it into the lucky sixteen. He didn’t find the shooter.

But he found her. If he weren’t wearing his glasses, he might have assumed he’d mistaken her for some other woman. He could only blame his brain and possible hallucinations... but before he could entertain those thoughts, one simple sentence took over his mind.

She was there. Blood dripping from her nose, clothes torn, curled up on the ground among the rest of the hostages, but she was there. She was there, alive.

*

When you stood up for that woman, a brief struggle broke out between you and the unsub. He ordered you to go outside, but the voice in your ear told you to stay inside at all costs. Unsure of what to do, you started mumbling excuses and explanations, leading to an argument... during which he swung his weapon at you, aiming for your face.

As you fell, your weapon—clumsily shoved into your clothing after an argument with Allen—slipped out. And then things escalated rapidly.

Upon learning you were with the FBI, the unsub went into his usual paranoid frenzy. He dropped the microphone he had taken from you, and the heavy kicks of his leather boots landed on your body, on your ribs, on your back. You could barely keep up with protecting yourself, as the blows kept coming faster and faster.

And in that moment, something happened that probably saved your life. But at the same time, it cost another man and his family everything.

Allen sprang at the second attacker, who was almost hypnotized by the injuries being inflicted on you. He seized the moment of distraction, yanking the weapon from his hand and turning it against its owner. You remembered the fleeting look of triumph on his face as he aimed it at Erik. And then, the look of confusion when he was overtaken and the bullets tore through his body.

Somewhere in that moment, your microphone must have been destroyed, leaving you without contact with the team. And without it... you were just like any other hostage. Beaten, forced to stem the blood running from your nose with your blazer. You remembered glancing at it, running your finger over the fabric soaked in crimson, and thinking you'd have to wash it before returning it to Reid. Then, the hopeless realization hit you that maybe you wouldn’t get the chance to do that, and helpless tears filled your eyes for the first time.

It was strange that the unsub decided to spare you. Was it the incoming phone call that distracted him? Or perhaps the death of Allen? Was he the reason for this whole attack? You weren’t sure, maybe both at once. But you managed to return to your spot against the wall, where the other hostages had moved as far away as they could from the two lifeless bodies lying in a pool of blood.

Behind your back, the unsub was arguing with the police, probably Hotch. You weren’t paying attention to their negotiations, instead kneeling beside Allen. Completely staining your clothes, you reached for his hand. His eyes were wide open, his chest... maybe rising slightly, or maybe it was just your perception. In any case, you didn’t grab him to check his pulse, to see if there was anything that could be done to save him. You knew there wasn’t. You took his hand in a gesture of gratitude for everything, filled with sincere and deep compassion, despite everything that had happened between you. Maybe he turned out to be a jerk in that one, crisis situation where it’s normal for people to lose their minds. But what mattered was what kind of man he was in everyday, calm conditions. What kind of friend, fiancé, father he was.

You froze in place, staring at his face, his messy red hair. You snapped back to reality only when you realized the unsub was releasing the hostages. You weren’t part of that group. He didn’t look at you, or Allen, or his dead accomplice, as if you didn’t exist. The people were let out of the building, and then…

You nearly jumped to your feet at the sight of Reid, but the sharp pain in your ribs stopped you. Instead, you stared at him, confused as to why he’d gotten himself into such a messed-up situation alone. No one was with him, and you couldn’t even tell if he was carrying a weapon. Why was he taking such a risk? Couldn’t they have sent someone else?

Although your gaze bored into him, asking without words, he stubbornly avoided looking at you. It took a while, but then it hit you—he’d probably been told to hide the fact that you knew each other. He was pretending to be a surgeon, you realized.

You watched in shock as the unsub dropped his weapon and turned his back to Reid, begging him quietly to remove the chip from his body.

Before Reid touched the scalpel to his neck, he looked straight at you. You couldn’t read the expression on his face, but you knew there was a lot going on. It was a long moment of eye contact, which he broke to get to work. Focused, brow furrowed.

You shook your head in disbelief when he really pulled the tiny device from his body. Wait, so what? It had really been there all along? The unsub wasn’t a paranoid delusional?

At the sight of the chip, Erik staggered with a mix of hysterical joy and relief, and after a moment, he literally collapsed to his knees, burying his face in his hands. His body was shaken by sobs as he muttered his thanks. He was... absolutely harmless. The hostages took advantage of his vulnerability, using the opportunity to silently leave the museum. You found yourself among them, even helping those who, due to shock, struggled to move. How? With your injuries? You had no idea.

You pointed one woman toward the ambulance waiting outside the building, ready to take any injured hostages. Around you, sounds echoed, people were running in all directions. A sense of disconnection and disbelief washed over you, as if you couldn’t quite grasp that it was all over.

You turned around, sensing someone's presence behind you.

The first thing you noticed was that Spencer was still wearing his blue rubber gloves. Strange, but the first thing that came to your mind was to focus on that detail. You even opened your mouth to speak, but stopped when he gently cupped your face in both of his hands. As if you were a fragile relic, he tilted his head slightly from side to side, almost as though he was trying to deny the fact that you were standing before him.

"As if you saw a ghost," you whispered, a faint smile appearing on your face.

Taking advantage of the fact that he was leaning toward you, you pressed your forehead against his. With your eyes still open, you saw his eyelids tremble. When he closed them, you caught sight of that single tear beginning to form beneath them.

*

"Reid," you said, as he and the rest of the team were heading towards the exit. All heads turned in your direction, but you only cared about that one. "Can we talk?"

He opened his mouth, seemingly surprised by the request, but then swallowed and nodded.

"Sure. If... just, sure."

You couldn't help but let out a small laugh. Since your rib injuries were numerous, you had to be taken to the hospital for an X-ray. Your face wasn’t looking too good either. Only a few hours had passed since everything happened, and all your wounds were fresh and painful. After taking a decent amount of painkillers, you felt a bit like you were floating. You were sitting on the hospital bed, your legs resting on the floor as if on a bench. You made space beside you, and although he hesitated for a moment, he sat right next to you, so close your shoulders almost touched.

What you wanted to say, everything you felt, was hard to put into words. So you spent a few minutes in silence, during which you concluded that the simpler, the better.

"Thank you, Reid."

His dark eyes narrowed slightly, and he shook his head dismissively.

"Thank you? For what? I should be thanking you."

You knew this would happen. That he would downplay what he did, and it would be incredibly hard for you to express all the gratitude you felt towards him.

"For what? For everything," you stated briefly. He was preparing a response, but you beat him to it. You even raised a finger decisively, signaling for a moment of silence. You had a lot to say. "Not just for pretending to be a surgeon and getting into that museum. And don't shrug it off like it was a small thing! You saved those people."

"Maybe a little, but…"

"But that's not all. You were… you were with me the whole time. You kept talking to me the entire time…"

"Just like everyone else…"

"Everyone else gave me orders. Told me what to do to survive and what not to do. And of course, I'm incredibly grateful to them—if it weren't for them, I would have probably pissed off that unsub after less than fifteen minutes and we'd all be dead by now."

Reid flinched when you said that. Maybe you should hold off on such words, while the whole situation was still so fresh.

"You... you kept asking how I was feeling, talking to me, just... your voice, the fact that I had you on the other end, it helped me not panic. When, at the very beginning, you asked me to breathe with you..."

You shook your head, holding back the involuntary recollection of that moment, that memory when you were still trapped in that building with two armed men. Helpless and lost, clutching his jacket with all your strength. 

You realized with growing difficulty that you were holding back tears.

Reid had been listening to you quietly the whole time, but suddenly, he lowered his gaze. His hand found yours, hesitated for a moment, then gently grasped it. You immediately squeezed it tightly. Something came to your mind.

"And what did you want to thank me for?" you asked, referring to when he interrupted you the first time.

"It's not... I don't have as much to say as you do," he confessed, circling the topic more than addressing it directly. He still hadn't let go of your hand, and as he thought, his thumb seemed to absentmindedly stroke its surface.

"Wow," you murmured. "I never expected Spencer Reid to say something like that in my presence, but here we are. So?"

He smiled for a moment at your comment. However, that expression quickly gave way to a more serious one, carrying with it the unburied remnants of the horror you had both endured just a few hours ago.

"Just for you being alive," he said. Your brows furrowed slightly when you heard that. It wasn't what you expected. "For a while... when you were still inside, and your mic was destroyed..." With a sigh, he tilted his head back, holding back from returning to that moment. It couldn't have been easy for him, referring to exactly the moment that caused him pain. "We heard a gunshot. Everyone thought it was you.  That's why... that's why I just wanted to thank you for that."

Given that you had absolutely no control over it, those were the strangest thanks anyone had ever given you. But still, they squeezed your heart like no others ever had.

You leaned in to place a kiss on his cheek.

taglist: @she-wont-miss @mggslover @nyeddleblog @dylanobrienswife0420 @wmoony

@heddgie @khxna @marauder-exe-old @yujyujj @charleyreid @kitty-kai @sp3ncelle @pleasantwitchgarden @beesin03 @misserabella @re1dsb1xch

[only-johnny-deppp]

Johnny Depp, through the lens of Christophe d’Yvoire (and himself), 22 years ago, on January 7, 2000, somewhere in the Hauts-de-France region, northern France.

> “Johnny Depp by Johnny Depp”: The story behind this photoshoot:  

On the morning of January 7, 2000, a little bit tired Johnny Depp, after two days of intensive meetings with journalists all around Europe, the premiere of his latest movie  “Sleepy Hollow”, and still recovering from a fever of 40°c a week earlier, was ready to leave the city on board of the Eurostar train from London to Paris for more press conferences and a series of interviews before the French premiere of “Sleepy Hollow”.

During the 3 hour travel, Johnny was interviewed for the French “Studio Magazine” and talked about his life, career and “Sleepy Hollow” and also talked about his love in different areas, such as acting (Marlon Brando, Buster Keaton, Lon Chaney and Tim Burton), Arts (Harry Houdini), writing (Hunter S. Thompson, Antonin Artaud, C. M. Cioran and Allen Ginsberg), Books (The Temptation to Exist), Personal Life (Vanessa Paradis, tattoos , Paris and The Viper Room), Music (Marilyn Manson, Charles Trenet, Bob Dylan, Iggy Pop, Chuck E. Weiss and his desire to record a new album with his band “P”) and even a statue he bought in New York a few years ago.

The photos above were taken in the middle of the travel to fill the space silence between their talk and were taken as soon the train crossed the Channel Tunnel and entered in France. Johnny took the camera on the table, photographed himself (Yes, Johnny took a selfie) and draw over them. The photos were released one month later on the French “Studio Magazine” in February 2000, which features a portrait of himself (made during the filming of “Ninth Gate”) on the cover and 31 PAGES dedicated exclusively to Johnny Depp, featuring a long interview, paintings and photos taken by Johnny and a personal message to Lily-Rose and Vanessa Paradis.

During the travel, Johnny were so comfortable that even opened his backpack to show what’s inside. He had: * A small text, taken from a book, that he used to read regularly from William Saroyan. * Several small notebooks and sketchbooks that used as a journal, to make sketches (there was a page with portraits of Serge Gainsbourg drawn in pencil), and scribble notes (He even read a passage which he tells the story of the first time he went to a bar, ordered a whiskey in a strong French accent and the bartender who didn’t recognize him, replied in English if he wanted ice)   * A small box containing some photos of his original paintings (Tim Burton, a boot, himself, his band “P” and Antonin Artaud). Johnny personally took the photos for them to see and publish on the magazine. * and a Mac notebook, where he showed a text for Jean-Michel Basquiat, dozens of portraits of Serge Gainsbourg and Antonin Artaud, and a photo taken during the filming of “Sleepy Hollow” when he was arrested in London, which a  friend emailed him. Johnny also revealed that he used to hate that photo, but now it makes him laugh.

[batmanonthecover]

JUSTICE LEAGUE OF AMERICA #29 - August 1964

Cover Art: Mike Sekowsky

CRISIS ON EARTH THREE

Script: Gardner Fox

Art: Mike Sekowsky (Pencils), Bernard Sachs (Inks), Gaspar Saladino (Letters)

Characters:  Justice Society of America [Hawkman [Carter Hall] (Earth-2); Black Canary [Dinah Drake Lance] (Earth-2); Dr. Fate [Kent Nelson; Nabu] (Earth-2); Dr. Mid-Nite [Charles McNider] (Earth-2); Starman [Ted Knight] (Earth-2); The Flash [Jay Garrick] (Earth-2); Atom [Al Pratt] (Earth-2); Green Lantern [Alan Scott] (Earth-2)]; Crime Syndicate of America [Power Ring (Earth-3, introduction); Johnny Quick (Earth-3, introduction); Owlman (Earth-3, introduction); Superwoman (Earth-3, introduction); Ultraman (Earth-3, introduction)]; Justice League of America [The Flash [Barry Allen] (Earth-1); Wonder Woman [Diana Prince] (Earth-1); Superman [Clark Kent; Kal-El] (Earth-1); Batman (Earth-1); Green Lantern [Hal Jordan] (Earth-1); Aquaman (Earth-1); Martian Manhunter [J'onn J'onzz] (Earth-1); Snapper Carr (Earth-1)]; Christopher Columbus (Earth-3, cameo); Abraham Lincoln (Earth-3, cameo); President John Wilkes Booth (Earth-3, cameo); George Washington (Earth-3, cameo); General Cornwallis (Earth-3, cameo)

Synopsis: The Crime Syndicate is so bored of life on their Earth as supreme villains, designated as Earth-3, that they come to the JLA's Earth for a new challenge after Ultraman accidentally discovers it when exposed to Green Kryptonite (which gives him a new power with every exposure to it). Just as it looks like the JLA has the upper hand, the Crime Syndicate teleports them to Earth-3, where they have the advantage. To secure a level battlefield the Crime Syndicate plans to go to the Earth-2 and eliminate the JSA.

Batman story #1,046

[marvel-dc-art]

Spider-Man: Reptilian Rage #1 (2019) pencil & ink by Christopher Allen color by Rachelle Rosenberg

[heroicadventurists]

2020 Eisner Award Nominees

Best Short Story

“Hot Comb,” by Ebony Flowers, in Hot Comb (Drawn & Quarterly)

“How to Draw a Horse,” by Emma Hunsinger, The New Yorker, https://www.newyorker.com/humor/daily-shouts/how-to-draw-a-horse

“The Menopause,” by Mira Jacob, The Believer, https://believermag.com/the-menopause/

“You’re Not Going to Believe What I’m About to Tell You,” by Matthew Inman, The Oatmeal, https://theoatmeal.com/comics/believe

“Who Gets Called an ‘Unfit’ Mother?” by Miriam Libicki, The Nib, https://thenib.com/who-gets-called-an-unfit-mother/

Best Single Issue/One-Shot

Coin-Op No. 8: Infatuation, by Peter and Maria Hoey (Coin-Op Books)

The Freak, by Matt Lesniewski (AdHouse)

Minotäar, by Lissa Treiman (Shortbox)

Our Favorite Thing Is My Favorite Thing Is Monsters, by Emil Ferris (Fantagraphics)

Sobek, by James Stokoe (Shortbox)

Best Continuing Series

Bitter Root, by David Walker, Chuck Brown, and Sanford Greene (Image)

Criminal, by Ed Brubaker and Sean Phillips (Image)

Crowded, by Christopher Sebela, Ro Stein, and Ted Brandt (Image)

Daredevil, by Chip Zdarsky and Marco Checchetto (Marvel)

The Dreaming, by Simon Spurrier, Bilquis Evely et al. (DC)

Immortal Hulk, by Al Ewing, Joe Bennett, and Ruy José et al. (Marvel)

Best Limited Series

Ascender, by Jeff Lemire and Dustin Nguyen (Image)

Ghost Tree, by Bobby Curnow and Simon Gane (IDW)

Little Bird by Darcy Van Poelgeest and Ian Bertram (Image)

Naomi by Brian Michael Bendis, David Walker, and Jamal Campbell (DC)

Sentient, by Jeff Lemire and Gabriel Walta (TKO)

Best New Series

Doctor Doom, by Christopher Cantwell and Salvador Larocca (Marvel)

Invisible Kingdom, by G. Willow Wilson and Christian Ward (Berger Books/Dark Horse)

Once & Future, by Kieron Gillen and Dan Mora (BOOM! Studios)

Something Is Killing the Children, by James Tynion IV and Werther Dell’Edera (BOOM! Studios)

Undiscovered Country, by Scott Snyder, Charles Soule, Giuseppe Camuncoli, and Daniele Orlandini (Image)

Best Publication for Kids

Akissi: More Tales of Mischief, by Marguerite Abouet and Mathieu Sapin (Flying Eye/Nobrow)

Dog Man: For Whom the Ball Rolls, by Dav Pilkey (Scholastic Graphix)

Guts, by Raina Telgemeier (Scholastic Graphix)

New Kid, by Jerry Craft (Quill Tree/HarperCollins)

This Was Our Pact, by Ryan Andrews (First Second/Macmillan)

The Wolf in Underpants, by Wilfrid Lupano, Mayana Itoïz, and Paul Cauuet (Graphic Universe/Lerner Publishing Group)

Best Publication for Teens

Harley Quinn: Breaking Glass, by Mariko Tamaki and Steve Pugh (DC)

Hot Comb, by Ebony Flowers (Drawn & Quarterly)

Kiss Number 8, by Colleen AF Venable and Ellen T. Crenshaw (First Second/Macmillan)

Laura Dean Keeps Breaking Up with Me, by Mariko Tamaki and Rosemary Valero-O'Connell (First Second/Macmillan)

Penny Nichols, by MK Reed, Greg Means, and Matt Wiegle (Top Shelf)

Best Humor Publication  

Anatomy of Authors, by Dave Kellett (SheldonComics.com)

Death Wins a Goldfish, by Brian Rea (Chronicle Books)

Minotäar, by Lissa Treiman (Shortbox)

Sobek, by James Stokoe (Shortbox)

The Way of the Househusband, vol. 1, by Kousuke Oono, translation by Sheldon Drzka (VIZ Media)

Wondermark: Friends You Can Ride On, by David Malki (Wondermark)

Best Anthology

ABC of Typography, by David Rault, translation by Edward Gauvin (SelfMade Hero)

Baltic Comics Anthology š! #34-37, edited by David Schilter, Sanita Muižniece et al. (kuš!)

Drawing Power: Women’s Stories of Sexual Violence, Harassment, and Survival, edited by Diane Noomin (Abrams)

Kramer’s Ergot #10, edited by Sammy Harkham (Fantagraphics)

The Nib #2–4, edited by Matt Bors (Nib)

Best Reality-Based Work

Good Talk: A Memoir in Conversations, by Mira Jacob (One World/Random House)

Grass, by Keum Suk Gendry-Kim, translation by Janet Hong (Drawn & Quarterly)

Kid Gloves: Nine Months of Careful Chaos, by Lucy Knisley (First Second/Macmillan)

Moonbound: Apollo 11 and the Dream of Spaceflight, by Jonathan Fetter-Vorm (Hill & Wang)

My Solo Exchange Diary, vol. 2 (sequel to My Lesbian Experience with Loneliness), by Nagata Kabi, translation by Jocelyne Allen (Seven Seas)

They Called Us Enemy, by George Takei, Justin Eisinger, Steven Scott, and Harmony Becker (Top Shelf)

Best Graphic Album—New

Are You Listening? by Tillie Walden (First Second/Macmillan)

Bezimena, by Nina Bunjevac (Fantagraphics)

BTTM FDRS, by Ezra Claytan Daniels and Ben Passmore (Fantagraphics)

Life on the Moon, by Robert Grossman (Yoe Books/IDW)

New World, by David Jesus Vignolli (Archaia/BOOM!)

Reincarnation Stories, by Kim Deitch (Fantagraphics)

Best Graphic Album—Reprint

Bad Weekend by Ed Brubaker and Sean Phillips (Image)

Clyde Fans, by Seth (Drawn & Quarterly)

Cover, vol. 1, by Brian Michael Bendis and David Mack (DC/Jinxworld)

Glenn Ganges: The River at Night, by Kevin Huizenga (Drawn & Quarterly)

LaGuardia, by Nnedi Okorafor and Tana Ford (Berger Books/Dark Horse)

Rusty Brown, by Chris Ware (Pantheon)

Best Adaptation from Another Medium

Giraffes on Horseback Salad: Salvador Dali, the Marx Brothers, and the Strangest Movie Never Made, by Josh Frank, Tim Hedecker, and Manuela Pertega (Quirk Books)

The Giver, by Lois Lowry, adapted by P. Craig Russell, (HMH Books for Young Readers)

The Handmaid’s Tale: The Graphic Novel, by Margaret Atwood, adapted by Renee Nault (Nan A. Talese)

HP Lovecraft’s At the Mountains of Madness, vols. 1–2, adapted by Gou Tanabe, translation by Zack Davisson (Dark Horse Manga)

The Seventh Voyage, by Stanislaw Lem, adapted by Jon J Muth, translation by Michael Kandel (Scholastic Graphix)

Snow, Glass, Apples, by Neil Gaiman and Colleen Doran (Dark Horse Books)

Best U.S. Edition of International Material

Diabolical Summer, by Thierry Smolderen and Alexandre Clerisse, translation by Edward Gauvin (IDW)

Gramercy Park, by Timothée de Fombelle and Christian Cailleaux, translation by Edward Gauvin (EuroComics/IDW)

The House, by Paco Roca, translation by Andrea Rosenberg (Fantagraphics)

Maggy Garrisson, by Lewis Trondheim and Stéphane Oiry, translation by Emma Wilson (SelfMadeHero)

Stay, by Lewis Trondheim and Hubert Chevillard, translation by Mike Kennedy (Magnetic Press)

Wrath of Fantômas, by Olivier Bocquet and Julie Rocheleau, translation by Edward Gauvin (Titan)

Best U.S. Edition of International Material—Asia

BEASTARS, by Paru Itagaki, translation by Tomo Kimura (VIZ Media)

Cats of the Louvre, by Taiyo Matsumoto, translation by Michael Arias (VIZ Media)

Grass, by Keum Suk Gendry-Kim, translation by Janet Hong (Drawn & Quarterly)

Magic Knight Rayearth 25th Anniversary Edition, by CLAMP, translation by Melissa Tanaka (Kodansha)

The Poe Clan, by Moto Hagio, translation by Rachel Thorn (Fantagraphics)

Witch Hat Atelier, by Kamome Shirahama, translation by Stephen Kohler (Kodansha)

Best Archival Collection/Project—Strips

Cham: The Best Comic Strips and Graphic Novelettes, 1839–1862, by David Kunzle (University Press of Mississippi)

Ed Leffingwell’s Little Joe, by Harold Gray, edited by Peter Maresca and Sammy Harkham (Sunday Press Books)

The George Herriman Library: Krazy & Ignatz 1916–1918, edited by R.J. Casey (Fantagraphics)

Krazy Kat: The Complete Color Sundays, by George Herriman, edited by Alexander Braun (TASCHEN)

Madness in Crowds: The Teeming Mind of Harrison Cady, by Violet and Denis Kitchen (Beehive Books)

Pogo, Vol. 6: Clean as a Weasel, by Walt Kelly, edited by Mark Evanier and Eric Reynolds (Fantagraphics)

Best Archival Collection/Project—Comic Books

Alay-Oop, by William Gropper (New York Review Comics)

The Complete Crepax, vol. 5: American Stories, edited by Kristy Valenti (Fantagraphics)

Jack Kirby’s Dingbat Love, edited by John Morrow (TwoMorrows)

Moonshadow: The Definitive Edition, by J. M. DeMatteis, Jon J Muth, George Pratt, Kent Williams, and others (Dark Horse Books)

Stan Sakai’s Usagi Yojimbo: The Complete Grasscutter Artist Select, by Stan Sakai, edited by Scott Dunbier (IDW)

That Miyoko Asagaya Feeling, by Shinichi Abe, translation by Ryan Holmberg, edited by Mitsuhiro Asakawa (Black Hook Press)

Best Writer

Bobby Curnow, Ghost Tree (IDW)

MK Reed and Greg Means, Penny Nichols (Top Shelf)

Mariko Tamaki, Harley Quinn: Breaking Glass (DC); Laura Dean Keeps Breaking Up with Me (First Second/Macmillan); Archie (Archie)

Lewis Trondheim, Stay (Magnetic Press); Maggy Garrisson (SelfMadeHero)

G. Willow Wilson, Invisible Kingdom (Berger Books/Dark Horse); Ms. Marvel (Marvel)

Chip Zdarsky, White Trees (Image); Daredevil, Spider-Man: Life Story (Marvel); Afterlift (comiXology Originals)

Best Writer/Artist

Nina Bunjevac, Bezimena (Fantagraphics)

Mira Jacob, Good Talk (Random House); “The Menopause” in The Believer (June 1, 2019)

Keum Suk Gendry-Kim, Grass (Drawn & Quarterly)

James Stokoe, Sobek (Shortbox)

Raina Telgemeier, Guts (Scholastic Graphix)

Tillie Walden, Are You Listening? (First Second/Macmillan)

Best Penciller/Inker or Penciller/Inker Team

Ian Bertram, Little Bird (Image)

Colleen Doran, Snow, Glass, Apples (Dark Horse)

Bilquis Evely, The Dreaming (DC)

Simon Gane, Ghost Tree (IDW)

Steve Pugh, Harley Quinn: Breaking Glass (DC)

Rosemary Valero-O'Connell, Laura Dean Keeps Breaking Up with Me (First Second/Macmillan)

Best Painter/Digital Artist

Didier Cassegrain, Black Water Lilies (Europe Comics)

Alexandre Clarisse, Diabolical Summer (IDW)

David Mack, Cover (DC)

Léa Mazé, Elma, A Bear’s Life, vol. 1: The Great Journey (Europe Comics)

Julie Rocheleau, Wrath of Fantômas (Titan)

Christian Ward, Invisible Kingdom (Berger Books/Dark Horse)

Best Cover Artist

Jen Bartel, Blackbird  (Image Comics)

Francesco Francavilla, Archie, Archie 1955, Archie Vs. Predator II, Cosmo (Archie)

David Mack, American Gods, Fight Club 3 (Dark Horse); Cover (DC)

Emma Rios, Pretty Deadly (Image)

Julian Totino Tedesco, Daredevil (Marvel)

Christian Ward, Machine Gun Wizards (Dark Horse), Invisible Kingdom (Berger Books/Dark Horse)

Best Coloring

Lorena Alvarez, Hicotea (Nobrow)

Jean-Francois Beaulieu, Middlewest, Outpost Zero (Image)

Matt Hollingsworth, Batman: Curse of the White Knight, Batman White Knight Presents Von Freeze (DC); Little Bird, November (Image)

Molly Mendoza, Skip (Nobrow)

Dave Stewart, Black Hammer, B.P.R.D.: The Devil You Know, Hellboy and the BPRD (Dark Horse); Gideon Falls (Image); Silver Surfer Black, Spider-Man (Marvel)

Best Lettering

Deron Bennett, Batgirl, Green Arrow, Justice League, Martian Manhunter (DC); Canto (IDW); Assassin Nation, Excellence (Skybound/Image); To Drink and To Eat, vol. 1 (Lion Forge); Resonant (Vault)

Jim Campbell, Black Badge, Coda (BOOM Studios); Giant Days, Lumberjanes: The Shape of Friendship (BOOM Box!); Rocko’s Modern Afterlife  (KaBOOM!); At the End of Your Tether (Lion Forge); Blade Runner 2019 (Titan); Mall, The Plot, Wasted Space (Vault)

Clayton Cowles, Aquaman, Batman, Batman and the Outsiders, Heroes in Crisis, Superman: Up in the Sky, Superman’s Pal Jimmy Olsen (DC); Bitter Root, Pretty Deadly, Moonstruck, Redlands, The Wicked + The Divine (Image); Reaver  (Skybound/Image); Daredevil, Ghost-Spider, Silver Surfer Black, Superior Spider-Man, Venom (Marvel)

Emilie Plateau, Colored: The Unsung Life of Claudette Colvin (Europe Comics)

Stan Sakai, Usagi Yojimbo (IDW)

Tillie Walden, Are You Listening? (First Second/Macmillan)

Best Comics-Related Periodical/Journalism

Comic Riffs blog, by Michael Cavna with David Betancourt, www.washingtonpost.com/entertainment/comics/

The Comics Journal, edited by Gary Groth, RJ Casey, and Kristy Valenti (Fantagraphics)

Hogan’s Alley, edited by Tom Heintjes (Hogan’s Alley)

Inks: The Journal of the Comics Studies Society, edited by Qiana Whitted (Ohio State University Press)

LAAB Magazine, vol. 4: This Was Your Life, edited by Ronald Wimberly and Josh O’Neill (Beehive Books)

Women Write About Comics, edited by Nola Pfau and Wendy Browne, www.WomenWriteAboutComics.com

Best Comics-Related Book

The Art of Nothing: 25 Years of Mutts and the Art of Patrick McDonnell (Abrams)

The Book of Weirdo, by Jon B. Cooke (Last Gasp)

Grunt: The Art and Unpublished Comics of James Stokoe (Dark Horse)

Logo a Gogo: Branding Pop Culture, by Rian Hughes (Korero Press)

Making Comics, by Lynda Barry (Drawn & Quarterly)

Screwball! The Cartoonists Who Made the Funnies Funny, by Paul Tumey (Library of American Comics/IDW)

Best Academic/Scholarly Work

The Art of Pere Joan: Space, Landscape, and Comics Form, by Benjamin Fraser (University of Texas Press)

The Comics of Rutu Modan: War, Love, and Secrets, by Kevin Haworth (University Press of Mississippi)

EC Comics: Race, Shock, and Social Protest, by Qiana Whitted (Rutgers University Press)

The Peanuts Papers: Writers and Cartoonists on Charlie Brown, Snoopy & the Gang, and the Meaning of Life, edited by Andrew Blauner (Library of America)

Producing Mass Entertainment: The Serial Life of the Yellow Kid, by Christina Meyer (Ohio State University Press)

Women’s Manga in Asia and Beyond: Uniting Different Cultures and Identities, edited by Fusami Ogi et al. (Palgrave Macmillan)

Best Publication Design

Grunt: The Art and Unpublished Comics of James Stokoe, designed by Ethan Kimberling (Dark Horse)

Krazy Kat: The Complete Color Sundays, by George Herriman, designed by Anna-Tina Kessler (TASCHEN)

Logo a Gogo, designed by Rian Hughes (Korero Press)

Madness in Crowds: The Teeming Mind of Harrison Cady, designed by Paul Kopple and Alex Bruce (Beehive Books)

Making Comics, designed by Lynda Barry (Drawn & Quarterly)

Rusty Brown, designed by Chris Ware (Pantheon)

Best Digital Comic

Afterlift, by Chip Zdarsky and Jason Loo (comiXology Originals)

Black Water Lilies, by Michel Bussi, adapted by Frédéric Duval and Didier Cassegrain, translated by Edward Gauvin (Europe Comics)

Colored: The Unsung Life of Claudette Colvin, by Tania de Montaigne, adapted by Emilie Plateau, translated by Montana Kane (Europe Comics)

Elma, A Bear’s Life, vol. 1: The Great Journey, by Ingrid Chabbert and Léa Mazé, translated by Jenny Aufiery (Europe Comics)

Mare Internum, by Der-shing Helmer (comiXology; gumroad.com/l/MIPDF)

Tales from Behind the Window, by Edanur Kuntman, translated by Cem Ulgen (Europe Comics)

Best Webcomic

Cabramatta, by Matt Huynh, http://believermag.com/cabramatta/

Chuckwagon at the End of the World, by Erik Lundy, https://hollowlegcomics.tumblr.com/chuckwagon

The Eyes, by Javi de Castro, https://www.javidecastro.com/theeyes

Fried Rice Comic, by Erica Eng, https://friedricecomic.tumblr.com

reMIND, by Jason Brubaker, https://is.gd/T7rafM

Third Shift Society, by Meredith Moriarty, https://www.webtoons.com/en/supernatural/third-shift-society/list?title_no=1703

[smashpages]

Winners announced for the 2019 Eisner Awards

The winners were announced last night for the 2019 Will Eisner Comic Industry Awards.

Tom King and Mitch Gerads, partners on the Mister Miracle series from DC, took home five awards between them. John Allison’s Giant Days and The Prince and the Dressmaker by Jen Wang also took home multiple awards.

The Eisner Awards also inducted 10 people into the Hall of Fame last night: the judges chose Jim Aparo, June Tarpé Mills, Dave Stevens and Morrie Turner, while voters chose José Luis García-López, Jenette Kahn, Paul Levitz, Wendy and Richard Pini, and Bill Sienkiewicz to join the class of 2019.

Other awards given out last night included the The Bill Finger Excellence In Comic Book Writing Award, which was presented to Mike Friedrich and the late E. Nelson Bridwell, and the Russ Manning Most Promising Newcomer Award, which went to Lorena Alvarez.

The 2019 recipients of the Bob Clampett Humanitarian Award were Edgardo Miranda-Rodriguez, for his work on Ricanstruction: Reminiscing & Rebuilding Puerto Rico, and comic artist Tula Lotay, AKA Lisa Wood, for creating the UK-based Thought Bubble Festival. And La Revisteria Comics in Argentina won the Will Eisner Spirit of Comics Retailer Award.

You can see all the Eisner winners below, in bold.

Best Short Story

“Get Naked in Barcelona,” by Steven T. Seagle and Emei Olivia Burrell, in Get Naked (Image)

“The Ghastlygun Tinies,” by Matt Cohen and Marc Palm, in MAD magazine #4 (DC)

“Here I Am,” by Shaun Tan, in I Feel Machine (SelfMadeHero)

“Life During Interesting Times,” by Mike Dawson (The Nib), https://thenib.com/greatest-generation-interesting-times

“Supply Chains,” by Peter and Maria Hoey, in Coin-Op #7 (Coin-Op Books)

“The Talk of the Saints,” by Tom King and Jason Fabok, in Swamp Thing Winter Special (DC)

Best Single Issue/One-Shot

Beneath the Dead Oak Tree, by Emily Carroll (ShortBox)

Black Hammer: Cthu-Louise, by Jeff Lemire and Emi Lenox (Dark Horse)

No Better Words, by Carolyn Nowak (Silver Sprocket)

Peter Parker: The Spectacular Spider-Man #310, by Chip Zdarsky (Marvel)

The Terrible Elisabeth Dumn Against the Devils In Suits, by Arabson, translated by James Robinson (IHQ Studio/ Image)

Best Continuing Series

Batman, by Tom King et al. (DC)

Black Hammer: Age of Doom, by Jeff Lemire, Dean Ormston, and Rich Tommaso (Dark Horse)

Gasolina, by Sean Mackiewicz and Niko Walter (Skybound/Image)

Giant Days, by John Allison, Max Sarin, and Julaa Madrigal (BOOM! Box)

The Immortal Hulk, by Al Ewing, Joe Bennett, and Ruy José (Marvel)

Runaways, by Rainbow Rowell and Kris Anka (Marvel)

Best Limited Series

Batman: White Knight, by Sean Murphy (DC)

Eternity Girl, by Magdalene Visaggio and Sonny Liew (Vertigo/DC)

Exit Stage Left: The Snagglepuss Chronicles, by Mark Russell, Mike Feehan, and Mark Morales (DC)

Mister Miracle, by Tom King and Mitch Gerads (DC)

X-Men: Grand Design: Second Genesis, by Ed Piskor (Marvel)

Best New Series

Bitter Root, by David Walker, Chuck Brown, and Sanford Green (Image)

Crowded, by Christopher Sebela, Ro Stein, and Ted Brandt (Image)

Gideon Falls, by Jeff Lemire and Andrea Sorrentino (Image)

Isola, by Brenden Fletcher and Karl Kerschl (Image)

Man-Eaters, by Chelsea Cain and Kate Niemczyk (Image)

Skyward, by Joe Henderson and Lee Garbett (Image)

Best Publication for Early Readers (up to age 8)

Johnny Boo and the Ice Cream Computer, by James Kochalka (Top Shelf/IDW)

Petals, by Gustavo Borges (KaBOOM!)

Peter & Ernesto: A Tale of Two Sloths, by Graham Annable (First Second)

This Is a Taco! By Andrew Cangelose and Josh Shipley (CubHouse/Lion Forge)

Tiger Vs. Nightmare, by Emily Tetri (First Second)

Best Publication for Kids (ages 9–12)

Aquicorn Cove, by Katie O’Neill (Oni)

Be Prepared, by Vera Brosgol (First Second)

The Cardboard Kingdom, by Chad Sell (Knopf/Random House Children’s Books)

Crush, by Svetlana Chmakova (JY/Yen Press)

The Divided Earth, by Faith Erin Hicks (First Second)

Best Publication for Teens (ages 13–17)

All Summer Long, by Hope Larson (Farrar Straus Giroux)

Gumballs, by Erin Nations (Top Shelf/IDW)

Middlewest, by Skottie Young and Jorge Corona (Image)

Norroway, Book 1: The Black Bull of Norroway, by Cat Seaton and Kit Seaton (Image)

The Prince and the Dressmaker, by Jen Wang (First Second)

Watersnakes, by Tony Sandoval, translated by Lucas Marangon (Magnetic/Lion Forge)

Best Humor Publication

Get Naked, by Steven T. Seagle et al. (Image)

Giant Days, by John Allison, Max Sarin, and Julia Madrigal (BOOM! Box)

MAD magazine, edited by Bill Morrison (DC)

A Perfect Failure: Fanta Bukowski 3, by Noah Van Sciver (Fantagraphics)

Woman World, by Aminder Dhaliwal (Drawn & Quarterly)

Best Anthology

Femme Magnifique: 50 Magnificent Women Who Changed the World, edited by Shelly Bond (Black Crown/IDW)

Puerto Rico Strong, edited by Marco Lopez, Desiree Rodriguez, Hazel Newlevant, Derek Ruiz, and Neil Schwartz (Lion Forge)

Twisted Romance, edited by Alex de Campi (Image)

Where We Live: A Benefit for the Survivors in Las Vegas, edited by Will Dennis, curated by J. H. Williams III and Wendy Wright-Williams (Image)

Best Reality-Based Work

All the Answers: A Graphic Memoir, by Michael Kupperman (Gallery 13)

All the Sad Songs, by Summer Pierre (Retrofit/Big Planet)

Is This Guy For Real? The Unbelievable Andy Kaufman, by Box Brown (First Second)

Monk! by Youssef Daoudi (First Second)

One Dirty Tree, by Noah Van Sciver (Uncivilized Books)

Best Graphic Album—New

Bad Girls, by Alex de Campi and Victor Santos (Gallery 13)

Come Again, by Nate Powell (Top Shelf/IDW)

Green Lantern: Earth One Vol. 1, by Corinna Bechko and Gabriel Hardman (DC)

Homunculus, by Joe Sparrow (ShortBox)

My Heroes Have Always Been Junkies, by Ed Brubaker and Sean Phillips (Image)

Sabrina, by Nick Drnaso (Drawn & Quarterly)

Best Graphic Album—Reprint

Berlin, by Jason Lutes (Drawn & Quarterly)

Girl Town, by Carolyn Nowak (Top Shelf/IDW)

Upgrade Soul, by Ezra Claytan Daniels (Lion Forge)

The Vision hardcover, by Tom King, Gabriel Hernandez Walta, and Michael Walsh (Marvel)

Young Frances, by Hartley Lin (AdHouse Books)

Best Adaptation from Another Medium

Anne Frank’s Diary: The Graphic Adaptation, adapted by Ari Folman and David Polonsky (Pantheon)

“Frankenstein” by Mary Shelley, in Frankenstein: Junji Ito Story Collection, adapted by Junji Ito, translated by Jocelyne Allen (VIZ Media)

Out in the Open by Jesús Carraso, adapted by Javi Rey, translated by Lawrence Schimel (SelfMadeHero)

Speak: The Graphic Novel, by Laurie Halse Anderson and Emily Carroll (Farrar Straus Giroux)

To Build a Fire: Based on Jack London’s Classic Story, by Chabouté (Gallery 13)

Best U.S. Edition of International Material

About Betty’s Boob, by Vero Cazot and Julie Rocheleau, translated by Edward Gauvin (Archaia/BOOM!)

Brazen: Rebel Ladies Who Rocked the World, by Pénélope Bagieu (First Second)

Herakles Book 1, by Edouard Cour, translated by Jeremy Melloul (Magnetic/Lion Forge)

Niourk, by Stefan Wul and Olivier Vatine, translated by Brandon Kander and Diana Schutz (Dark Horse)

A Sea of Love, by Wilfrid Lupano and Grégory Panaccione (Magnetic/Lion Forge)

Best U.S. Edition of International Material—Asia

Abara: Complete Deluxe Edition, by Tsutomu Nihei, translated by Sheldon Drzka (VIZ Media)

Dead Dead Demon’s Dededede Destruction, by Inio Asano, translated by John Werry (VIZ Media)

Laid-Back Camp, by Afro, translated by Amber Tamosaitis (Yen Press)

My Beijing: Four Stories of Everyday Wonder, by Nie Jun, translated by Edward Gauvin (Graphic Universe/Lerner)

Tokyo Tarareba Girls, by Akiko Higashimura (Kodansha)

Best Archival Collection/Project—Strips

Pogo, vol. 5: Out of This World At Home, by Walt Kelly, edited by Mark Evanier and Eric Reynolds (Fantagraphics)

Sky Masters of the Space Force: The Complete Sunday Strips in Color (1959–1960), by Jack Kirby, Wally Wood et al., edited by Ferran Delgado (Amigo Comics)

Star Wars: Classic Newspaper Strips, vol. 3, by Archie Goodwin and Al Williamson, edited by Dean Mullaney (Library of American Comics/IDW)

The Temple of Silence: Forgotten Words and Worlds of Herbert Crowley, by Justin Duerr (Beehive Books

Thimble Theatre and the Pre-Popeye Comics of E. C. Segar, edited by Peter Maresca (Sunday Press)

Best Archival Collection/Project—Comic Books

Action Comics: 80 Years of Superman Deluxe Edition, edited by Paul Levitz (DC)

Bill Sienkiewicz’s Mutants and Moon Knights… And Assassins… Artifact Edition, edited by Scott Dunbier (IDW)

Dirty Plotte: The Complete Julie Doucet (Drawn & Quarterly)

Madman Quarter Century Shindig, by Mike Allred, edited by Chris Ryall (IDW)

Terry Moore’s Strangers in Paradise Gallery Edition, edited by Joseph Melchior and Bob Chapman (Abstract Studio/Graphitti Designs)

Will Eisner’s A Contract with God: Curator’s Collection, edited by John Lind (Kitchen Sink/Dark Horse)

Best Writer

Alex de Campi, Bad Girls (Gallery 13); Twisted Romance (Image)

Tom King, Batman, Mister Miracle, Heroes in Crisis, Swamp Thing Winter Special (DC)

Jeff Lemire, Black Hammer: Age of Doom, Doctor Star & the Kingdom of Lost Tomorrows, Quantum Age (Dark Horse); Descender, Gideon Falls, Royal City (Image)

Mark Russell, Exit Stage Left: The Snagglepuss Chronicles, Green Lantern/Huckleberry Hound, Lex Luthor/Porky Pig (DC); Lone Ranger (Dynamite)

Kelly Thompson, Nancy Drew (Dynamite); Hawkeye, Jessica Jones, Mr. & Mrs. X, Rogue & Gambit, Uncanny X-Men, West Coast Avengers (Marvel)

Chip Zdarsky, Peter Parker: The Spectacular Spider-Man, Marvel Two-in-One (Marvel)

Best Writer/Artist

Sophie Campbell, Wet Moon (Oni)

Nick Drnaso, Sabrina (Drawn & Quarterly)

David Lapham, Lodger (Black Crown/IDW); Stray Bullets (Image)

Nate Powell, Come Again (Top Shelf/IDW)

Tony Sandoval, Watersnakes (Magnetic/Lion Forge)

Jen Wang, The Prince and the Dressmaker (First Second)

Best Penciller/Inker or Penciller/Inker Team

Matías Bergara, Coda (BOOM!)

Mitch Gerads, Mister Miracle (DC)

Karl Kerschl, Isola (Image)

Sonny Liew, Eternity Girl (Vertigo/DC)

Sean Phillips, Kill or Be Killed, My Heroes Have Always Been Junkies (Image)

Yanick Paquette, Wonder Woman Earth One, vol. 2 (DC)

Best Painter/Multimedia Artist (interior art)

Lee Bermejo, Batman: Damned (DC)

Carita Lupatelli, Izuna Book 2 (Humanoids)

Dustin Nguyen, Descender (Image)

Gregory Panaccione, A Sea of Love (Magnetic/Lion Forge)

Tony Sandoval, Watersnakes (Magnetic/Lion Forge)

Best Cover Artist (for multiple covers)

Jen Bartel, Blackbird (Image); Submerged (Vault)

Nick Derington, Mister Miracle (DC)

Karl Kerschl, Isola (Image)

Joshua Middleton, Batgirl and Aquaman variants (DC)

Julian Tedesco, Hawkeye, Life of Captain Marvel (Marvel)

Best Coloring

Jordie Bellaire, Batgirl, Batman (DC); The Divided Earth (First Second); Days of Hate, Dead Hand, Head Lopper, Redlands (Image); Shuri, Doctor Strange (Marvel)

Tamra Bonvillain, Alien 3 (Dark Horse); Batman, Doom Patrol (DC); Moon Girl and Devil Dinosaur, Multiple Man (Marvel)

Nathan Fairbairn, Batman, Batgirl, Birds of Prey, Wonder Woman Earth One, vol. 2 (DC); Die!Die!Die! (Image)

Matt Hollingsworth, Batman: White Knight (DC): Seven to Eternity, Wytches (Image)

Matt Wilson, Black Cloud, Paper Girls, The Wicked + The Divine (Image); The Mighty Thor, Runaways (Marvel)

Best Lettering

David Aja, Seeds (Berger Books/Dark Horse)

Jim Campbell, Breathless, Calexit, Gravetrancers, Snap Flash Hustle, Survival Fetish, The Wilds (Black Mask); Abbott, Alice: Dream to Dream, Black Badge, Clueless, Coda, Fence, Firefly, Giant Days, Grass Kings, Lumberjanes: The Infernal Compass, Low Road West, Sparrowhawk (BOOM); Angelic (Image); Wasted Space (Vault)

Alex de Campi, Bad Girls (Gallery 13); Twisted Romance (Image)

Jared Fletcher, Batman: Damned (DC); The Gravediggers Union, Moonshine, Paper Girls, Southern Bastards (Image)

Todd Klein— Black Hammer: Age of Doom, Neil Gaiman’s A Study in Emerald (Dark Horse); Batman: White Night (DC); Eternity Girl, Books of Magic (Vertigo/DC); The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen: The Tempest (Top Shelf/IDW)

Best Comics-Related Periodical/ Journalism

Note: There was a tie in this category

Back Issue, edited by Michael Eury (TwoMorrows)

The Columbus Scribbler, edited by Brian Canini, columbusscribbler.com

Comicosity, edited by Aaron Long and Matt Santori,  www.comicosity.com

LAAB Magazine #0: Dark Matter, edited by Ronald Wimberley and Josh O’Neill (Beehive Books)

PanelxPanel magazine, edited by Hassan Otsmane-Elhaou, panelxpanel.com

Best Comics-Related Book

Comic Book Implosion: An Oral History of DC Comics Circa 1978, by Keith Dallas and John Wells (TwoMorrows)

Drawn to Purpose: American Women Illustrators and Cartoonists, by Martha H. Kennedy (University Press of Mississippi)

The League of Regrettable Sidekicks, by Jon Morris (Quirk Books)

Mike Grell: Life Is Drawing Without an Eraser, by Dewey Cassell with Jeff Messer (TwoMorrows)

Yoshitaka Amano: The Illustrated Biography—Beyond the Fantasy, by Florent Gorges, translated by Laure Dupont and Annie Gullion (Dark Horse)

Best Academic/Scholarly Work

Between Pen and Pixel: Comics, Materiality, and the Book of the Future, by Aaron Kashtan (Ohio State University Press)

Breaking the Frames: Populism and Prestige in Comics Studies, by Marc Singer (University of Texas Press)

The Goat-Getters: Jack Johnson, the Fight of the Century, and How a Bunch of Raucous Cartoonists Reinvented Comics, by Eddie Campbell (Library of American Comics/IDW/Ohio State University Press)

Incorrigibles and Innocents, by Lara Saguisag (Rutgers Univeristy Press)

Sweet Little C*nt: The Graphic Work of Julie Doucet, by Anne Elizabeth Moore (Uncivilized Books)

Best Publication Design

A Sea of Love, designed by Wilfrid Lupano, Grégory Panaccione, and Mike Kennedy (Magnetic/Lion Forge)

The Stan Lee Story Collector’s Edition, designed by Josh Baker (Taschen)

The Temple of Silence: Forgotten Worlds of Herbert Crowley, designed by Paul Kepple and Max Vandenberg (Beehive Books)

Terry Moore’s Strangers in Paradise Gallery Edition, designed by Josh Beatman/Brainchild Studios/NYC (Abstract Studio/Graphitti Designs)

Will Eisner’s A Contract with God: Curator’s Collection, designed by John Lind (Kitchen Sink/Dark Horse)

Best Digital Comic

Aztec Empire, by Paul Guinan, Anina Bennett, and David Hahn, www.bigredhair.com/books/Aztec-empire/

The Führer and the Tramp, by Sean McArdle, Jon Judy, and Dexter Wee, http://thefuhrerandthetramp.com/

The Journey, by Pablo Leon (Rewire), https://rewire.news/article/2018/01/08/rewire-exclusive-comic-journey/

The Stone King, by Kel McDonald and Tyler Crook (comiXology Originals)  https://cmxl.gy/Stone-King

Umami, by Ken Niimura (Panel Syndicate), http://panelsyndicate.com/comics/umami

Best Webcomic

The Contradictions, by Sophie Yanow, www.thecontradictions.com

Lavender Jack, by Dan Schkade (WEBTOON), https://www.webtoons.com/en/thriller/lavender-jack/list?title_no=1410&page=1

Let’s Play, by Mongie (WEBTOON), https://www.webtoons.com/en/romance/letsplay/list?title_no=1218&page=1

Lore Olympus, by Rachel Smythe, (WEBTOON), https://www.webtoons.com/en/romance/lore-olympus/list?title_no=1320&page=1

Tiger, Tiger, by Petra Erika Nordlund, (Hiveworks) http://www.tigertigercomic.com/

[witch-of-time-and-letters]

Fantasieherz, schöner Verstand. Pt XVIII Veröffentlichung.

Beowulf: The Monsters and the Critics

As well as his fiction, Tolkien was also a leading author of academic literary criticism. His seminal 1936 lecture, later published as an article, revolutionized the treatment of the Anglo-Saxon epic Beowulf by literary critics. The essay remains highly influential in the study of Old English literature to this day. Beowulf is one of the most significant influences upon Tolkien's later fiction, with major details of both The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings being adapted from the poem. The piece reveals many of the aspects of Beowulf which Tolkien found most inspiring, most prominently the role of monsters in literature, particularly that of the dragon which appears in the final third of the poem:

As for the poem, one dragon, however hot, does not make a summer, or a host; and a man might well exchange for one good dragon what he would not sell for a wilderness. And dragons, real dragons, essential both to the machinery and the ideas of a poem or tale, are actually rare.

Children's books and other short works

In addition to his mythopoeic compositions, Tolkien enjoyed inventing fantasy stories to entertain his children. He wrote annual Christmas letters from Father Christmasfor them, building up a series of short stories (later compiled and published as The Father Christmas Letters). Other works included Mr. Bliss and Roverandom (for children), and Leaf by Niggle (part of Tree and Leaf), The Adventures of Tom Bombadil, Smith of Wootton Major and Farmer Giles of Ham. Roverandom and Smith of Wootton Major, like The Hobbit, borrowed ideas from his legendarium.

The Hobbit

Tolkien never expected his stories to become popular, but by sheer accident a book called The Hobbit, which he had written some years before for his own children, came in 1936 to the attention of Susan Dagnall, an employee of the London publishing firm George Allen & Unwin, who persuaded Tolkien to submit it for publication. When it was published a year later, the book attracted adult readers as well as children, and it became popular enough for the publishers to ask Tolkien to produce a sequel.

The Lord of the Rings

The request for a sequel prompted Tolkien to begin what would become his most famous work: the epic novel The Lord of the Rings (originally published in three volumes 1954–1955). Tolkien spent more than ten years writing the primary narrative and appendices for The Lord of the Rings, during which time he received the constant support of the Inklings, in particular his closest friend C. S. Lewis, the author of The Chronicles of Narnia. Both The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings are set against the background of The Silmarillion, but in a time long after it.

Tolkien at first intended The Lord of the Rings to be a children's tale in the style of The Hobbit, but it quickly grew darker and more serious in the writing.[159] Though a direct sequel to The Hobbit, it addressed an older audience, drawing on the immense backstory of Beleriand that Tolkien had constructed in previous years, and which eventually saw posthumous publication in The Silmarillion and other volumes. Tolkien's influence weighs heavily on the fantasy genre that grew up after the success of The Lord of the Rings.

The Lord of the Rings became immensely popular in the 1960s and has remained so ever since, ranking as one of the most popular works of fiction of the 20th century, judged by both sales and reader surveys. In the 2003 "Big Read" survey conducted by the BBC, The Lord of the Rings was found to be the UK's "Best-loved Novel". Australians voted The Lord of the Rings "My Favourite Book" in a 2004 survey conducted by the Australian ABC. In a 1999 poll of Amazon.com customers, The Lord of the Rings was judged to be their favourite "book of the millennium". In 2002 Tolkien was voted the 92nd "greatest Briton" in a poll conducted by the BBC, and in 2004 he was voted 35th in the SABC3's Great South Africans, the only person to appear in both lists. His popularity is not limited to the English-speaking world: in a 2004 poll inspired by the UK's "Big Read" survey, about 250,000 Germans found The Lord of the Rings to be their favourite work of literature.

Posthumous publications

The Silmarillion

Tolkien wrote a brief "Sketch of the Mythology", which included the tales of Beren and Lúthien and of Túrin; and that sketch eventually evolved into the Quenta Silmarillion, an epic history that Tolkien started three times but never published. Tolkien desperately hoped to publish it along with The Lord of the Rings, but publishers (both Allen & Unwin and Collins) declined. Moreover, printing costs were very high in 1950s Britain, requiring The Lord of the Rings to be published in three volumes. The story of this continuous redrafting is told in the posthumous series The History of Middle-earth, edited by Tolkien's son, Christopher Tolkien. From around 1936, Tolkien began to extend this framework to include the tale of The Fall of Númenor, which was inspired by the legend of Atlantis.

Tolkien had appointed his son Christopher to be his literary executor, and he (with assistance from Guy Gavriel Kay, later a well-known fantasy author in his own right) organized some of this material into a single coherent volume, published as The Silmarillion in 1977. It received the Locus Award for Best Fantasy novel in 1978.

Unfinished Tales

and

The History of Middle-earth

In 1980, Christopher Tolkien published a collection of more fragmentary material, under the title Unfinished Tales of Númenor and Middle-earth. In subsequent years (1983–1996), he published a large amount of the remaining unpublished materials, together with notes and extensive commentary, in a series of twelve volumes called The History of Middle-earth. They contain unfinished, abandoned, alternative, and outright contradictory accounts, since they were always a work in progress for Tolkien and he only rarely settled on a definitive version for any of the stories. There is not complete consistency between The Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit, the two most closely related works, because Tolkien never fully integrated all their traditions into each other. He commented in 1965, while editing The Hobbit for a third edition, that he would have preferred to completely rewrite the book because of the style of its prose.

Mr. Bliss

One of Tolkien's least-known short works is the children's storybook Mr. Bliss, published in 1982. It tells the story of Mr. Bliss and his first ride in his new motor-car. Many adventures follow: encounters with bears, angry neighbours, irate shopkeepers, and assorted collisions. The story was inspired by Tolkien's own vehicular mishaps with his first car, purchased in 1932. The bears were based on toy bears owned by Tolkien's sons. Tolkien was both author and illustrator of the book. He submitted it to his publishers as a balm to readers who were hungry for more from him after the success of The Hobbit. The lavish ink and coloured-pencil illustrations would have made production costs prohibitively expensive. Tolkien agreed to redraw the pictures in a simpler style, but then found he did not have time to do so. The book was published in 1982 as a facsimile of Tolkien's difficult-to-read illustrated manuscript, with a typeset transcription on each facing page.

The Children of Húrin

More recently, in 2007, The Children of Húrin was published by HarperCollins (in the UK and Canada) and Houghton Mifflin (in the US). The novel tells the story of Túrin Turambar and his sister Nienor, children of Húrin Thalion. The material was compiled by Christopher Tolkien from The Silmarillion, Unfinished Tales, The History of Middle-earth, and unpublished manuscripts.

The Legend of Sigurd and Gudrún

The Legend of Sigurd and Gudrún, which was released worldwide on 5 May 2009 by HarperCollins and Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, retells the legend of Sigurd and the fall of the Niflungs from Germanic mythology. It is a narrative poem composed in alliterative verse and is modelled after the Old Norse poetry of the Elder Edda. Christopher Tolkien supplied copious notes and commentary upon his father's work.

According to Christopher Tolkien, it is no longer possible to trace the exact date of the work's composition. On the basis of circumstantial evidence, he suggests that it dates from the 1930s. In his foreword he wrote, "He scarcely ever (to my knowledge) referred to them. For my part, I cannot recall any conversation with him on the subject until very near the end of his life, when he spoke of them to me, and tried unsuccessfully to find them." In a 1967 letter to W. H. Auden, Tolkien wrote,

Thank you for your wonderful effort in translating and reorganising The Song of the Sibyl. In return again I hope to send you, if I can lay my hands on it (I hope it isn't lost), a thing I did many years ago when trying to learn the art of writing alliterative poetry: an attempt to unify the lays about the Völsungs from the Elder Edda, written in the old eight-line fornyrðislag stanza.

The Fall of Arthur

The Fall of Arthur, published on 23 May 2013, is a long narrative poem composed by Tolkien in the early-1930s. It is alliterative, extending to almost 1,000 lines imitating the Old English Beowulf metre in Modern English. Though inspired by high medieval Arthurian fiction, the historical setting of the poem is during the Post-Roman Migration Period, both in form (using Germanic verse) and in content, showing Arthur as a British warlord fighting the Saxon invasion, while it avoids the high medieval aspects of the Arthurian cycle (such as the Grail, and the courtly setting); the poem begins with a British "counter-invasion" to the Saxon lands (Arthur eastward in arms purposed).

Beowulf: A Translation and Commentary

Beowulf: A Translation and Commentary, published on 22 May 2014, is a prose translation of the early medieval epic poem Beowulf from Old English to modern English. Translated by Tolkien from 1920 to 1926, it was edited by his son Christopher. The translation is followed by over 200 pages of commentary on the poem; this commentary was the basis of Tolkien's acclaimed 1936 lecture "Beowulf: The Monsters and the Critics".[171] The book also includes the previously unpublished "Sellic Spell" and two versions of "The Lay of Beowulf". The former is a fantasy piece on Beowulf's biographical background, while the latter is a poem on the Beowulf theme.

The Story of Kullervo

The Story of Kullervo, first published in Tolkien Studies in 2010 and reissued with additional material in 2015, is a retelling of a 19th-century Finnish poem. It was written in 1915 while Tolkien was studying at Oxford.

Beren and Lúthien

The Tale of Beren and Lúthien is one of the oldest and most often revised in Tolkien's legendarium. The story is one of three contained within The Silmarillion which Tolkien believed to warrant their own long-form narratives. It was published as a standalone book, edited by Christopher Tolkien, under the title Beren and Lúthien in 2017.

The Fall of Gondolin

The Fall of Gondolin is a tale of a beautiful, mysterious city destroyed by dark forces, which Tolkien called "the first real story" of Middle-earth, was published on 30 August 2018 as a standalone book, edited by Christopher Tolkien and illustrated by Alan Lee.

[julia-highstorms]

The Girl With The Leopard Print Coat (Damien x OC (Ellie)) - NSFW

Summary: A sketchbook, punk music and a leopard print coat were everything that Damien Nazario remembered of that night.

Author’s note: this fanfic takes place in my “The Third Park” AU, before the events of PM, even before Damien met Allen and Nadia and Alana. This is a special part showing that Ellie was the first ‘Park cousin’ D actually met.

Copyright: Characters belong to Pixelberry Studios, only Ellie is mine. Damien is 100% human here and mine is a Male!MC named Allen. Santiago Cabrera’s, Ni Ni’s and all the gifs don’t belong to me.

Songs: 4ever by The Veronicas and Get You Alone by The Donnas are the songs that most inspired me to write this story, but I made a playlist with the songs that were playing during the rock show, songs that Ellie listened to as an emo-punk rocker girl (AKA what I listened to when I was a teenager and still listens to sometimes lol). The links for each song is in the fanfic!

Pairing: Damien x Ellie (OC)

Rating: +18 (drugs, sex and rock n’ roll)

Word count: 5260

Tagging my TTP readers: @christopher-powell @boneandfur @kennaxval @writtenbycandy @thequeenchoices @client327 @damienazariostan @never-ending-choices @walkerismychoice @laniquelovely @confessionsofabrokegirl @dangerous-capri15 @parkerattano @clarissafics @pilitella @hellomynameisdeviblaire @odetomars @cocomaxley @her-imperial-hangman-s @endlesswoods @miss-cordonia-deactivated201808 If you would like to be tagged, please, tell me!

The girl was wearing a band t-shirt, black ripped skinny jeans, a leopard print coat, combat boots and a choker with spikes that matched her rocker style. She had a straight short black hair and, despite the bang partially covering her face, Damien Nazario could see that the stranger - she probably was around 20 - was pretty. Her curious dark eyes scanned the train car as she brought the sketchbook in her hands closer to her face.

From the spot where he was standing, Damien couldn’t see what she was doing, but using his investigative skills and basing on the way she kept glancing between the people in there and her sketchbook, the man guessed that she was drawing them. She already was doing it when he entered the car.

Then, her eyes locked on his. He gave her a small grin which she responded with a coyly smirk, her cheeks getting a shade pinker. Damien concluded that he was her next target as her hand expertly moved on her sketchbook.

Eleanor Zhou was a junior at Hartfeld University and one of her favorite hobbies was drawing strangers in trains. Especially when they were dashingly gorgeous like that one.

She had just finished sketching an old lady reading a book across her seat and was looking around, wondering who she should draw next, when her eyes locked on a standing figure a few feet from her.

He had his hair cut very short, clever brown eyes, a chiseled jawline, super kissable lips and his nose and dark eyebrows brought harmony to his handsome face.

Ellie felt a heartleap when she noticed that he was already staring at her - but not in a creepy way -, curiously. The attractive stranger - he was a few years older than her, in his mid-twenties - grinned slightly, as if he was allowing her to draw him and so she did. They exchanged a few more glances and smirks, until it was her stop. The girl quickly put her sketchbook and pencil in her backpack and hopped out of the train.

She saw him looking at her one last time as she walked down the platform of the Brooklyn Bridge subway station. The train and the gorgeous stranger were soon gone.

It was October’s last Saturday night and twenty-year-old Ellie was in New York City, her favorite city in the whole world (not that she had seen much of the world, but still). Her parents had let her go there to watch the show of her favorite and obscure femme punk band, Coagurot (they would never tour near Cedar Cove, her hometown, and they weren’t known enough to go to Hartfeld), only if one of her cousins agreed to go with her.

“Yes, Mom, I’m on my way to meet Nadia, and then we’re going to the bar where the band is going to play.” - she spoke through her phone. - “No, Allen won’t go with us because he’s out on a date... I don’t know when it will end, there are a lot of other bands playing tonight and I want to listen to them too.” - she heard her mother’s concerned voice from the other side. - “Yeah, I’ll text you when we get home, but you and Dad will probably be sleeping. Don’t worry, everything’s going to be okay and I’ll be back to Hartfeld tomorrow evening. Love you too, bye.”

She ended the call and let out a relieved sigh. Her mom always worried way too much. She was just going to watch a concert with her favorite cousin (and okay, Nadia Park wasn’t exactly the most responsible person in the world, but Ellie knew that that small cinnamon bun would fight anyone to protect themselves). If her mother knew about all those parties Ellie went to in Hartfeld and what happened there…

“Oh my God, you’re here!” - Nadia squealed as she pulled her cousin into a tight hug. - “Did you find your way easily? The subway map can be a little confusing!”

“Yeah, it was all good. Thanks for letting me sleep here today, by the way.” - Eleanor entered the small studio apartment. It was a mess like always, but at least the couch was free.

“Good! I’m sorry I didn’t meet you at the station, I was too busy looking for the perfect look!” - Ellie chuckled as she put her backpack down.

“You know we’re going to a punk rock concert, right? Not a fashion show.”

“I know!” - Nadia rolled her eyes and shoved her cousin playfully. - “But I have to look the part, you know! If they find out that my favorite band is Coldplay, I’ll be massacred there! So!” - she spinned on her toes. - “Do I look like a punk princess?”

“The tutu certainly gives you a princess look and the ripped pantyhose and combat boots are punk-ish. They’re beautiful, by the way, just like mine.”

“Girl, how can you wear them everyday?! They’re so heavy!”

“I guess we just get used to them.” - she shrugged. - “Besides, they’re way easier to walk around than high heels.”

“Hey, don’t you dare say anything about my heels! You got lucky that you’re tall!” - Ellie chuckled. Nadia was always the same. - “Anyway, when will the bands start playing?”

“They will start at 10 o’clock, but I guess Coagurot will play only around midnight.”

“Then we have enough time to gossip and grab something to eat before the show!” - Nadia said, applying a heavy makeup to her pretty face. - “So, any news?”

The bar was located in Manhattan and they ate hot dogs from a street food vendor on their way there. When the two girls arrived, a band was already playing.

“Oh my God, it’s Black Flag!” - Eleanor squealed excitedly, walking through the crowd to get closer to the small stage of the place, with Nadia following her close behind.

“The guitarist is cute!” - her cousin observed, making Ellie roll her eyes.

They enjoyed the rest of the show and more two bands played before Coagurot was finally announced.

“You used to love me but now your heart is cold as ice…” - the singer sang intensely, the crowd cheering wildly. Eleanor singed along, flipping her hair around as she rocked back and forth.

Even after Coagurot had finished their set and were substituted by another band, the two cousins continued dancing into the night, energized by the electric vibe of the place.

Damien Nazario asked for his fourth beer and another shot of Bacardi of that night. Maybe if he kept drinking, the alcohol would make all that noise more bearable. He was on his favorite dive bar, he liked to go there whenever he felt like celebrating - or just drinking, to be honest - and to listen to the people who performed there. They usually were jazz bands, but that night it was happening some kind of a music festival, with a lot of punk bands taking on the small stage.

Punk wasn’t really his scene; he liked the good old rock n’ roll better.

And he knew that he could just simply go home - it was past midnight already and he had to go work early on Monday -, but he saw a certain girl with a leopard print coat in the middle of that mosh pit.

And Damien firmly believed that coincidences didn’t happen; that it was some kind of sign. What were the odds of meeting her twice in the same night?  He should go talk to her when he had the chance.

...But she still was in the middle of the crowd, dancing alone and singing along to the song, so beautiful looking like she was having the time of her life. He watched her from the bar counter, sipping on his drink.

After he finished his beer, the man decided to go outside to smoke a cigarette. He was trying to quit it, but smoking always seemed to make the time pass faster, and the girl didn’t seem to be leaving the dance floor so soon.

After two hours of uninterrupted dancing and jumping, Eleanor Zhou’s legs and her dry throat were begging for a break. She looked around, searching for Nadia - who disappeared during the pit; she still wasn’t ready to be a part of it -, when she saw her cousin in one dark corner, making out with a long haired dude. Ellie chuckled to herself as she headed to the bar counter.

The girl asked for a bottle of water when she noticed a broad shouldered and not completely stranger figure walking towards the backdoor of the bar. After she got her drink, she followed him, heading outside, which turned out to be a smoking area.

The place smelled like nicotine, pot and piss, some people smoked in groups and there were couples with their tongues down each other’s throats, but Ellie didn’t care; her eyes were locked on the lone figure leaning against the building’s wall.

It was him. The guy from the train. That was a sign. It had to be. What were the odds of meeting him twice in the same night? She simply had to talk to him now. Besides, she was leaving NYC the next day. That was her only chance to talk to him.

Taking a deep breath, she walked towards him, her heart pounding inside her chest.

Of course Damien Nazario noticed the girl with the leopard print coat approaching him, but he just kept searching for his lighter, with a cigarette on his lips.

“Uh, hey.” - she greeted him with a coyly smile. He looked up to her face. She was even more beautiful closer, with her cheeks flushed due to all that dancing and jumping around. - “I guess I saw you at the train earlier.” - he finally got to light up his cigarette.

“And I saw you.” - he grinned back at her. - “How was the drawing?”

Her smile widened slightly. She felt happy that he remembered her. And he seemed easy to talk to.

“It turned out okay. If I had the sketchbook with me here I’d show you, but I left it at home. It’s a little hard sketching on a moving car, but you were great standing still. Thanks for that.”

“It was my pleasure. I’m Damien by the way. You?”

“Ellie.” - they shook each other’s hand. His hand was big and warm and hers was smaller and softer.

“So, Ellie… I was about to offer you a drink… but I guess you’re not old enough yet, based on your drink choice.” - he pointed to the bottle of water in her left hand. He liked the sound of her laugh.

“Well, I still can’t buy myself a drink, but if you’re really willing to do that, I won’t deny it.” - he chuckled softly. She was smooth.

“You really shouldn’t be telling me this.”

“Why, are you a cop?”

“Detective.” - he quickly showed her his NYPD badge. She seemed impressed but not intimidated by it. - “I’ve been promoted recently. This is why I’m here, actually. Celebrating on my favorite bar.”

“Oh yeah, you definitely seem to be on a celebrating mood. Drinking alone and smoking on the corner.” - she mocked him. His grin widened slightly too. She was bold and sarcastic; Damien definitely liked her.

“Well, I’d be happier if there wasn’t so much noise inside.”

“It’s not noise; it’s music.” - Ellie corrected him.

“All I can hear is a lot of yelling and no melody.”

“Oh my God, don’t tell me you’re that kind of guy who considers only ‘classic rock music good’. This is such a turn off.”

“I’m not saying this… but I kind of agree with it.” - she rolled her eyes.

“And what do you consider ‘real music’, then, Mr. Detective? Which is your favorite band?”

“Dire Straits.”

“...Okay, they are good.” - she agreed with him, making Damien chuckle again. - “But that doesn’t mean that today’s music isn’t good too. They’re going to be tomorrow’s classic.”

He partially agreed with her.

“So you came here tonight for the show?” - she nodded at him, taking a sip of her water. He glanced at her rosy lips, wondering what was her taste. - “Which one?”

“Coagurot, a femme punk band from Texas. But they played like an hour ago and I’ve been enjoying the other bands too. Unlike someone.” - he decided to ignore her mockness.

“Hmm… and are you leaving any time soon?” - he saw a mischievous shine on her eyes.

“I don’t know.” - she shrugged. - “My cousin simply vanished after the mosh pit. I think she is making out with some random guy somewhere. What about you? Leaving soon?”

“I was planning on going home, but I guess I can stay a little longer.” - he scooped closer to her. Their lips were just a breath away, his thumb already brushing off the hair of her pretty face, when she suddenly pulled out, smirking mischievously.

“You know what? I guess you really should give another chance to my ‘noisy punk music’. What do you say?”

Damien knew she was playing with him. But he agreed to play her game anyway.

“Okay, sure. Why not?”

She smiled widely before shoving him back inside. He put out his halfway smoked cigarette.

“Hey! What are you doing?” - Ellie asked when Damien stopped walking suddenly.

“I told you that I would give another chance to punk music by listening to it, not by going in there.” - he pointed to the crowd jumping around like crazy right in front of the stage. The girl rolled her eyes.

“Hmm, are you scared of getting caught in the middle of a mosh pit, Mr. Detective?”

“No.” - he frowned and she knew that he clearly was lying. He was afraid of it.

“Okay, okay, we can listen from afar then.” - she said, leaning against the wall in the back of the bar, right next to him.

The listened to the edgy music in silence. Ellie bobbed her head following the rhythm of the song.

“Seriously, you have to confess that the beat is energising.”

“It certainly is… but how can someone dance to it? And by ‘dancing’ I mean using your body, not just your head.” - he kept criticising it. She rolled her eyes one more time before turning to face him.

“It’s simple; I believe we can dance to pretty much anything. All you need to do is move accordingly to the rhythm.” - and then she started throwing her head back and forth, her arms in the air, her hips swinging to the music in the right tempo. - “And feel the music.”

Damien watched the girl dancing in front of him, arousal building up inside him. He could have said that it was because of the alcohol, or because of that look in her eyes and her cheesy smile, or even the strangely sexy beat of the song that was playing, but the true was that he wanted her so fucking bad.

Without saying a single word, he suddenly pulled her in and Ellie felt herself pressed against his broad and firm chest, his arms already tight around her waist and the scent of cigarette mixed with the leather from his jacket and his perfume hitting her hard.

Her cheeks immediately got hotter and her heart beat faster, but she didn’t pulled out. In fact, she slowly looked up to his face, seeing his brown eyes darkened with lust searching for hers. She felt an exciting shiver running through her spine as he slowly leaned in and their mouths met.

To Ellie’s surprise, the kiss was incredibly gentle, but super hot at the same time. Damien’s lips lingered on hers, while his hands explored her body expertly, making her breath speed up. She deepened the kiss, throwing her arms around his shoulders, trying to get even more closer to him.

Suddenly, he changed their positions and Eleanor felt her back against the wall and Damien’s weight pressing her there, the warmth of his body enveloping her, his heart beating as fast as hers. Her head spinned and she felt so intoxicated by him as they tasted one another. It almost felt like the world had stopped around them.

She groaned softly when she felt his crotch hardening against her, and that was enough to make a heat pool between her legs too. Oh, she wanted him so bad.

They pulled apart when they needed some air, both feeling hot and bothered.

“Hey…” - Ellie murmured as Damien hid his face on her neck, softly sucking the smooth skin there, making her feel dizzier. She had no idea how long they’ve been making out, but she didn’t care.

“What?” - he asked, his thumb contouring the shape of her swollen, soft and delicious lips.

“What do you say we go somewhere a little more private?” - she proposed, a mischievous smirk already on her beautiful face.

The man grinned back.

“I’d like that. I want to get you alone and have you all on my own since we were in that train.” - he whispered in her ear, making her crave for him even more, if that was possible. He watched Eleanor biting her bottom lip seductively before guiding him through the people, her hand on his, their fingers intertwined.

As soon as they entered the restroom - they had no idea in which one they were, men’s or women’s, and if there were people around; they couldn’t care less - they stumbled together into the small stall, their mouths already tasting each other, their bodies eager for each other’s touch.

“Wait, wait.” - she whispered, stopping kissing Damien for a second. But it was really hard to keep her mind straight with his hands roaming all over her body like that. - “You have a condom, right?”

“Of course I have.” - he muttered back as he impatiently unfastened her tight skinny jeans.

“Well, it is always good to kno— oh…” - she moaned when his fingers found her sensitive core, underneath her clothes. She already was so wet and hot down there.

“Do you like this?” - he smirked, his forehead on hers, watching Ellie’s breath speeding up as he circled her clit. She nodded.

“Fuck me...” - she ordered before kissing him hard, in a way to contain her moans, fully aware that they shouldn’t make any sound. It all turned everything even more exciting.

Damien groaned when her cold hand found his stiff length, pumping it, her lips already on his neck, putting light and delirious kisses there. He felt himself getting dizzy.

When he couldn’t hold back anymore, he quickly fished a condom inside his wallet and put it on, while Eleanor took off her leopard print coat and hanged it on somewhere safe. She bought that coat with her own money from her internship and it wasn’t exactly cheap.

Suddenly, he turned her back to him, his hands already on the waistband of her jeans, sliding it down, along with her underwear, just enough for him to have access of her. Ellie hid her face on the stall wall, muffling a gasp when he slid inside her. Damien had to bit her neck to hold a moan as he filled her slowly, letting her and himself get used to the sensation of their bodies connecting. Fuck, she was so tight.

“Uh, fuck…” - she cursed when he started pressing forward and deeper insistently, his big hands gripping on the soft flesh of her hips. Again, it felt both tender and passionate. How could he do it? Make it feel almost gentle when they were fucking in a stall? That man was something else. - “This feels so good…”

“Shh, they’re going to hear us…” - he whispered on her ear, his hot breath against her skin. It felt so damn good inside her.

Arching her back, they moved together, gradually speeding up their pace, trying to contain their moans, their bodies tensing, craving for more. Ellie squirmed when one of his hands was back to that sensitive spot between her legs, bringing her close to the edge, until she felt like her whole body exploded in a million pieces. Damien let out a low curse, feeling her sex throbbing, her walls tightening around him, until he couldn’t handle it anymore and hit his own climax too.

“Holy shit…” - she murmured, feeling his weight pressing her against the stall wall and his arms still all around her, holding her tight.

After their breaths and heat gradually slowed down, he discarded the used condom away, they pulled up their jeans, sharing mischievous grins, and she put her coat back on. When they walked out of the stall, sharing another kiss, the restroom was empty, thankfully.

“Is that drink offer still up?” - Ellie asked him as they returned to the saloon, hand in hand.

“I won’t buy you anything alcoholic.” - Damien stated. She laughed but agreed that a soda was good enough.

As they waited for their drinks - a coke for her and another shot of rum for him -, the girl noticed that she had several texts and voicemails from her cousin.

“Where the fuck are you?! I couldn’t understand a single thing you were trying to say!” - Eleanor shouted on her phone, over the noise of the bar.

“Ellie! I am out… outside like in the back, you know?” - her cousin was talking in a slower pace. Fuck, was she drunk? Although Nadia was old enough to drink, she was such a lightweight. She could get drunk with a single beer.

“Yeah, I know, the smoking area. Are you alone?”

“No… I found this super nice dude… and his friends…” - she heard chuckles and giggles on the back.

“Alright, wait for me, I’m going there.” - Eleanor shoved the phone inside her pocket. - “I gotta go.” - she told the man standing next to her, who watched the whole exchange attentively.

“Already? Is everything okay?” - Damien asked.

“I guess. My cousin is drunk, and this means that this is my cue to go before she does something stupid.” - she put a light kiss on his cheek. - “Tonight was lovely, Mr. Detective.” - she whispered playfully on his ear before turning and walking away hurriedly.

“Ellie, wait!” - he put the money on the counter and tried to follow her, but a mosh pit started all of sudden and he almost got caught in the middle of it.

And then, the girl with the leopard print coat simply vanished in the crowd.

“Ellie!” - Nadia waved at her, surrounded by some guys. - “C’mere!” - Eleanor didn’t like the way they looked at both of them. She momentarily wished she had brought Damien with her, but she could handle them just fine.

“Nadia, it’s time to go. The last train leaves soon.” - she said, pulling her cousin closer. - “Did you smoke?” - she asked, smelling the distinctly sweet scent on her cousin’s breath.

“Hey, calm down, baby! Why the hurry?” - the long haired guy she saw earlier with Nadia said, circling them. Ellie glared at him, her hand gripping harder on Nadia’s forearm. - “Brad, give her some pot! It will make you feel all good and chill, baby!”

“No, thanks, Brad.” - she hissed, pulling her cousin out of the circle. All of the dudes seemed intimidated by her and let the girls go anyway. Thankfully all of them were too stoned to try anything. - “Did they do something to you? Did you smoke?” - Nadia giggled as she was being dragged back into the bar by her cousin.

“Juuuust a little… and, uh, it felt so amazing for a while, you know?! I felt like I could dance through the whole night…!”

“Oh my God, Nadia, you know you’re a lightweight and genuinely thought it was a good idea to smoke pot?!” - Ellie frowned disapprovingly.

She scanned the saloon, her eyes searching for a certain Mr. Detective, but he was nowhere to be seen. She mentally cursed herself; she forgot to give him her number. Maybe she would find him on Facebook or whatever later. Though he didn’t look like the type of guy who had any account on any social media. Hm, maybe on the NYPD website?

They walked out of the bar, back to the Manhattan streets.

“You worry way too much, Ellie, I feel great! Oh, do you have something to drink? My throat feels so dry!” - Nadia kept mumbling before taking a look around them, totally lost, not recognising the streets they walked through. - “Ugh, where are we going?”

“Home. If we‘re lucky, we’ll be able to take the last train.”

“Oh, okay.” - she turned to look at her cousin. - “I’ve had so much fun tonight, we should definitely do this again! And bring Allen with us next time!” - Ellie thought that it was a good idea; Allen had always been more sensible than Nadia and, if he had been there with them that night, they both would probably have been able to stop her from doing something stupid. Eleanor definitely was missing her other cousin that moment. - “Omg, he’ll be so mad when he find out how much fun we had!” - Nadia laughed hysterically for a quick second before turning to face her younger cousin. - “You had fun, right?”

“Oh, yeah.” - Ellie said as they entered the nearest subway station, unable to hide a mischievous smile as she remembered of a certain broad shouldered figure, the taste of his super kissable lips and his warmth and weight pressing her against a wall...

“Omg, I know this look! You have to tell me everything!!!”

“Later. First, let’s get you home.”

Although Damien and Ellie looked for each other after that night, both their lives turned upside down little after - he volunteered to take the case of Leon Rolph and met Alana; and around that same time, she lost her mother - and the memories of each other and that punk rock show and the bar’s restroom small stall were long forgotten from their minds.

8 years later…

Eleanor Zhou is in her bedroom, surrounded by a box filled with her memories of college times. She knows she should be helping the hired private investigator - with whom she has developed a casual relationship - in her living room, but she’s been feeling a little gloom lately with thoughts of her best friend, Lucy James, marrying that colossal misogynist asshole that is Robert Zucko. So, Ellie is looking through old pictures she took with Lucy when they were students at Hartfeld.

The woman puts the album back into the box and finds an old sketchbook. She flips the pages filled with drawings one by one - her favorite hobby back then was drawing strangers on public transport - until she stops short at a specific page, her jaw dropping open as she recognised the eyes that are staring at her.  And then, memories flow back to her mind. Memories of a small stall, punk music, kisses that tasted like nicotine and the hickey left on her neck that lasted for days.

“Holy fucking shit!” - she murmurs when she sees the handsome and (now) very known face. - “D!” - the woman jumps and sprints out of her bedroom.

Damien Nazario’s eyes scan thoughtfully Northbridge map, marking all the places where Robert Zucko seems to have a connection. The private detective was hired by Eleanor to investigate the shady pub owner and has been working on this case for a month now, but little progress has been made.

“D!” - he hears Ellie shouting, walking towards him, grinning from cheek to cheek.

“Have you found any dirt on Zucko? Any new clues?” - she stops by his side.

“Actually, no. But I found this!” - he grabs the sketchbook she extends to him.

Damien sees a portrait of himself, but years younger, with less facial hair and no dark circles under his eyes. But it definitely is him. And then, memories flow back to his mind. Memories of a small stall, noisy punk music, muffled moans and a leopard print coat.

He looks up to the woman with a wide smile on her lips standing next to him.

“Holy mother of god. You’re the girl in the rock show.” - Eleanor giggles excitedly.

“Seriously, what are the odds?! I can’t believe we actually met like, what, eight years ago?!” - she laughs as she plops down on his lap. Damien’s arms are automatically around her, although his attention still is on the sketchbook in front of them. - “I remember I kept cursing myself for a whole month for not giving you my number. I tried to locate you, but as I suspected, you didn’t have a single account on any social media! I even searched through the NYPD website, but when I found out that there were more than 50,000 employees, I gave up.” - he chuckles softly. - “To be honest, I kept waiting for you to find me somehow, since you were a detective. But you never found me and I assumed that NYPD had terrible detectives.” - he turns to look back at her.

“Hey, this isn’t fair. I’ve just had been promoted and everything I knew about you was a nickname. And how would I know that you weren’t from New York? Even detectives need more information than that.” - she laughs loudly, throwing her head backwards and her arms around his shoulders. - “And I searched for you. I looked for a punk girl and her sketchbook on every train I entered for a couple of months after that night, but I eventually gave up too. And then, I got obsessed with work.” - he frowns as he reminds of that time.

Just a few months after that brief encounter with Ellie, Damien Nazario met Alana Kusuma, and his life changed forever. And then he met Allen and Nadia and that thing with those Matches from Eros happened… that punk rock show just seemed to have happened a lifetime ago and the girl with the leopard print coat became a “whatsername”.

Eleanor notices the sudden shadow covering D’s face. Probably it has something to do with that ‘dark time’ he passed through before meeting her cousins, that Nadia had told her about.

Gently, she cups his handsome face and kisses him softly.

“Well, you found me now.” - she smirks at him. - “Seriously, I can’t believe you’re that Mr. Hot Detective guy. My mom was right, life is a crazy ride.” - he chuckles.

“Yeah, it is.” - he agrees, taking the sketchbook again and admiring his portrait one more time. Ellie snuggles closer to his embrace, resting her head on his shoulder. - “I always wondered how that drawing turned out in the end.”

“And do you like it?” - he looks back at her, a wide grin on his lips.

“A lot, yeah.” - Damien says, before leaning in and kissing her sweetly, his lips lingering on hers. And Eleanor Zhou gets the same sensation she had all those years ago when he kissed her for the first time. How it felt both tender and passionate at the same time.

“...Maybe I should make another portrait of you…” - she murmurs, feeling his big and warm hands dangerously exploring her thighs, beneath her skirt, making her heart beat slightly faster. - “Later…”

“Yeah, later. What do you say we reminisce on what we did on that stall?” - Ellie can’t hold back a laugh.

“Hell no, that thing was too small and dirty! God, the things we do when we’re young and reckless.” - Damien chuckles as she turns to face him, still sitting on his lap. - “Here is good enough.” - she grins cheesily at him, already unbuttoning his shirt. He smirks back at her.

“I guess we can take a quick break from work.”

[i-r-readcomics]

The Flash 80 Page Giant

Volume: 1 #1

The Speed of Life

Writers: Mark Waid

Pencils: Pop Mhan

Inks: Chris Ivy

Covers: Pop Mhan, Chris Ivy

Featuring: Flash (Wally West), Jay Garrick, Linda Park

Dark of the Sun

Writers: John Byrne

Pencils: John Byrne

Inks: John Byrne

Featuring: Flash (Jay Garrick), Flash (Barry Allen), The Shade

The 5,000 Rats of Bartholomew Allen

Writers: Todd Dezago

Pencils: Ethan Van Sciver

Inks: Ethan Van Sciver

Featuring: Impulse, Max Mercury, Gorilla Grodd

The Professional

Writers: Christopher Priest

Pencils: Mike Collins

Inks: Tom Palmer

Featuring: Jesse Quick, Captain Boomerang

Thunder and Lightning

Writers: Michael Jan Friedman

Pencils: Craig Rousseau

Inks: Vince Russell

Featuring: Lightning (Max Mercury), Babe Ruth

Split-Seconds

Writers: Brian Augustyn

Pencils: Oscar Jimenez

Inks: Eduardo Alfuente

Featuring: Flash (John Fox)

Your Life Is My Business

Writers: Mark Millar

Pencils: Ariel Olivetti

Inks: Ariel Olivetti

Featuring: Flash (Wally West), Mark Millar

DC

[biggoonie]

THE MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE: THE MARVEL COMICS OMNIBUS HC

Written by PETER DAVID, JOE CASEY, CHRISTOS GAGE, WILL CORONA PILGRIM, FRED VAN LENTE, CHRIS YOST, ERIC PEARSON & MORE Penciled by SEAN CHEN, RON LIM, RAMON ROSANAS, LAN MEDINA, LUKE ROSS, WELLINTON ALVES, AGUSTIN PADILLA, STEVE KURTH, MIGUEL SEPULVEDA, SZYMON KUDRANSKI, LEE FERGUSON, JORGE FORNES, CHRISTOPHER ALLEN, TODD NAUCK, J.L. GILES, ANNAPAOLA MARTELLO & MORE Celebrate the tenth anniversary of the Marvel Cinematic Universe with this complete compendium of every action-packed adaptation and exclusive comic book prelude! Relive Iron Man’s origin, the founding of the Avengers, the debut of the Guardians of the Galaxy, the superhuman Civil War, the threat of Thanos and much more — and thrill to blockbuster adventures taking place before, between and during the films you love! Collecting IRON MAN: I AM IRON MAN! #1-2, IRON MAN 2: AGENTS OF S.H.I.E.L.D., IRON MAN 2: PUBLIC IDENTITY #1-3, IRON MAN 2 ADAPTATION #1-2, THOR ADAPTATION #1-2, CAPTAIN AMERICA: FIRST VENGEANCE #1-4, CAPTAIN AMERICA: THE FIRST AVENGER ADAPTATION #1-2, AVENGERS PRELUDE: FURY’S BIG WEEK #1-4, AVENGERS: BLACK WIDOW STRIKES #1-3, AVENGERS ADAPTATION #1-2, IRON MAN 3 PRELUDE #1-2, THOR: THE DARK WORLD PRELUDE #1-2, CAPTAIN AMERICA: THE WINTER SOLDIER INFINITE COMIC, GUARDIANS OF THE GALAXY PRELUDE #1-2 and INFINITE COMIC, AVENGERS: AGE OF ULTRON PRELUDE INFINITE COMIC, ANT-MAN PRELUDE #1-2 and INFINITE COMIC, CAPTAIN AMERICA: CIVIL WAR PRELUDE #1-4 and INFINITE COMIC, DOCTOR STRANGE PRELUDE #1-2 and INFINITE COMIC, GUARDIANS OF THE GALAXY VOL. 2 PRELUDE #1-2, SPIDER-MAN: HOMECOMING PRELUDE #1-2, THOR: RAGNAROK PRELUDE #1-4, BLACK PANTHER PRELUDE #1-2, AVENGERS: INFINITY WAR PRELUDE #1-2 and ANT-MAN AND THE WASP PRELUDE #1-2. 1304 PGS./Rated T+ …$125.00 ISBN: 978-1-302-91323-6 Trim size: oversized

[starwarsnewsit]

Eisner Awards 2018: poco "Star Wars" tra le nomination

New Post has been published on http://www.starwarsnews.it/2018/04/27/eisner-awards-2018-star-wars/

Eisner Awards 2018: poco "Star Wars" tra le nomination

Eisner Awards 2018. Verrà assegnato a breve uno dei premi più importanti del panorama fumettistico. Quest’anno tra le varie nomination c’è anche qualcosa legata a Star Wars, ma veramente poco…

Eisner Awards 2018 – Tutte le nomination

Best Short Story

“Ethel Byrne,” by Cecil Castelluci and Scott Chantler, in Mine: A Celebration of Liberty and Freedom for All Benefiting Planned Parenthood (ComicMix)

“Forgotten Princess,” by Phillip Kennedy Johnson and Antonio Sandoval, in Adventure Time Comics #13 (kaboom!)

”A Life in Comics: The Graphic Adventures of Karen Green,” by Nick Sousanis, in Columbia Magazine (Summer 2017), http://magazine.columbia.edu/features/summer-2017/life-comics?page=0,0

“Small Mistakes Make Big Problems,” by Sophia Foster-Dimino, in Comics for Choice (Hazel Newlevant)

“Trans Plant,” by Megan Rose Gedris, in Enough Space for Everyone Else (Bedside Press)

Best Single Issue/One-Shot

Barbara, by Nicole Miles (ShortBox)

Hellboy: Krampusnacht, by Mike Mignola and Adam Hughes (Dark Horse)

Pope Hats #5, by Ethan Rilly (AdHouse Books)

The Spotted Stone, by Rick Veitch (Sun Comics)

What Is Left, by Rosemary Valero-O’Connell (ShortBox)

Best Continuing Series

Black Hammer, by Jeff Lemire, Dean Ormston, and David Rubín (Dark Horse)

Giant Days, by John Allison, Max Sarin, and Liz Fleming (BOOM! Box)

Hawkeye, by Kelly Thompson, Leonardo Romero, and Mike Walsh (Marvel)

Monstress, by Marjorie Liu and Sana Takeda (Image)

The Wicked + The Divine, by Kieron Gillen & Jamie McKelvie (Image)

Best Limited Series

Black Panther: World of Wakanda, by Roxane Gay, Ta-Nehisi Coates, and Alitha E. Martinez (Marvel)

Extremity, by Daniel Warren Johnson (Image/Skybound)

The Flintstones, by Mark Russell, Steve Pugh, Rick Leonardi, and Scott Hanna (DC)

Mister Miracle, by Tom King and Mitch Gerads (DC)

X-Men: Grand Design, by Ed Piskor (Marvel)

Best New Series

Black Bolt, by Saladin Ahmed and Christian Ward (Marvel)

Grass Kings, by Matt Kindt and Tyler Jenkins (BOOM! Studios)

Maestros, by Steve Skroce (Image)

Redlands, by Jordie Belaire and Vanesa Del Rey (Image)

Royal City, by Jeff Lemire (Image)

Best Publication for Early Readers (up to age 8)

Adele in Sand Land, by Claude Ponti, translated by Skeeter Grant and Françoise Mouly (Toon Books)

Arthur and the Golden Rope, by Joe Todd-Stanton (Flying Eye/Nobrow)

Egg, by Kevin Henkes (Greenwillow Books)

Good Night, Planet, by Liniers (Toon Books)

Little Tails in the Savannah, by Frederic Brrémaud and Federico Bertolucci, translated by Mike Kennedy (Lion Forge/Magnetic)

Best Publication for Kids (ages 9–12)

Bolivar, by Sean Rubin (Archaia)

Home Time (Book One): Under the River, by Campbell Whyte (Top Shelf)

Nightlights, by Lorena Alvarez (Nobrow)

The Tea Dragon Society, by Katie O’Neill (Oni)

Wallace the Brave, by Will Henry (Andrews McMeel)

Best Publication for Teens (ages 13-17)

The Dam Keeper, by Robert Kondo and Dice Tsutsumi (First Second/Tonko House)

Jane, by Aline Brosh McKenna and Ramón K. Pérez (Archaia)

Louis Undercover, by Fanny Britt and Isabelle Arsenault, translated by Christelle Morelli and Susan Ouriou (Groundwood Books/House of Anansi)

Monstress, by Marjorie Liu and Sana Takeda (Image)

Spinning, by Tillie Walden (First Second)

Best Humor Publication

Baking with Kafka, by Tom Gauld (Drawn & Quarterly)

Batman/Elmer Fudd Special #1, by Tom King, Lee Weeks, and Byron Vaughn (DC)

The Flintstones, by Mark Russell, Steve Pugh, Rick Leonardi, and Scott Hanna (DC)

Rock Candy Mountain, by Kyle Starks (Image)

Wallace the Brave, by Will Henry (Andrews McMeel)

Best Anthology

A Bunch of Jews (and Other Stuff): A Minyen Yidn, by Max B. Perlson, Trina Robbins et al. (Bedside Press)

A Castle in England, by Jamie Rhodes et al. (Nobrow)

Elements: Fire, A Comic Anthology by Creators of Color, edited by Taneka Stotts (Beyond Press)

Now #1, edited by Eric Reynolds (Fantagraphics)

The Spirit Anthology, edited by Sean Phillips (Lakes International Comic Art Festival)

Best Reality-Based Work

Audubon: On the Wings of the World, by Fabien Grolleau and Jerémie Royer, translated by Etienne Gilfillan (Nobrow)

The Best We Could Do, by Thi Bui (Abrams ComicArts)

Calamity Jane: The Calamitous Life of Martha Jane Cannary, 1852–1903, by Christian Perrissin and Matthieu Blanchin, translated by Diana Schutz and Brandon Kander (IDW)

Lennon: The New York Years, by David Foenkinos, Corbeyran, and Horne, translated by Ivanka Hahnenberger (IDW)

Spinning, by Tillie Walden (First Second)

Best Graphic Album—New

Crawl Space, by Jesse Jacobs (Koyama Press)

Eartha, by Cathy Malkasian (Fantagraphics)

My Favorite Thing Is Monsters, by Emil Ferris (Fantagraphics)

Stages of Rot, by Linnea Sterte (Peow)

The Story of Jezebel, by Elijah Brubaker (Uncivilized Books)

Best Graphic Album—Reprint

Boundless, by Jillian Tamaki (Drawn & Quarterly)

Fantagraphics Studio Edition: Black Hole by Charles Burns, edited by Eric Reynolds (Fantagraphics)

Small Favors: The Definitive Girly Porno Collection, by Colleen Coover (Oni/Limerence)

Sticks Angelica, Folk Hero, by Michael DeForge (Drawn & Quarterly)

Unreal City, by D. J. Bryant (Fantagraphics)

Best Adaptation from Another Medium

Beowulf, adapted by Santiago García and David Rubín (Image)

H. P. Lovecraft’s The Hound and Other Stories, adapted by Gou Tanabe, translated by Zack Davisson (Dark Horse)

Herman Melville’s Moby Dick, adapted by Christophe Chabouté, translated by Laure Dupont (Dark Horse)

Kindred, by Octavia Butler, adapted by Damian Duffy and John Jennings (Abrams ComicArts)

Best U.S. Edition of International Material

Audubon: On the Wings of the World, by Fabien Grolleau and Jerémie Royer, translated by Etienne Gilfillan (Nobrow)

Flight of the Raven, by Jean-Pierre Gibrat, translated by Diana Schutz and Brandon Kander (EuroComics/IDW)

FUN, by Paolo Bacilieri, translated by Jamie Richards (SelfMadeHero)

Ghost of Gaudi, by El Torres and Jesús Alonso Iglesias, translated by Esther Villardón Grande (Lion Forge/Magnetic)

The Ladies-in-Waiting, by Santiago García and Javier Olivares, translated by Erica Mena (Fantagraphics)

Run for It: Stories of Slaves Who Fought for the Freedom, by Marcelo D’Salete, translated by Andrea Rosenberg (Fantagraphics)

Best U.S. Edition of International Material—Asia

Furari, by Jiro Taniguchi, translated by Kumar Sivasubramanian (Fanfare/Ponent Mon)

Golden Kamuy, by Satoru Noda, translated by Eiji Yasuda (VIZ Media)

My Brother’s Husband, vol. 1, by Gengoroh Tagame, translated by Anne Ishii (Pantheon)

Otherworld Barbara, vol. 2, by Moto Hagio, translated by Matt Thorn (Fantagraphics)

Shiver: Junji Ito Selected Stories, by Junji Itotranslated by Jocelyne Allen (VIZ Media)

Best Archival Collection/Project—Strips

Celebrating Snoopy, by Charles M. Shulz, edited by Alexis E. Fajardo and Dorothy O’Brien (Andrews McMeel)

Crazy Quilt: Scraps and Panels on the Way to Gasoline Alley, by Frank King, edited by Peter Maresca (Sunday Press)

Foolish Questions and Other Odd Observations, by Rube Goldberg, edited by Peter Maresca and Paul C. Tumey (Sunday Press Books)

Sky Masters of the Space Force: The Complete Dailies, by Jack Kirby, Wally Wood et al., edited by Daniel Herman (Hermes Press)

Star Wars: The Classic Newspaper Strips, vol. 1, by Russ Manning et al., edited by Dean Mullaney (LOAC/IDW)

Best Archival Collection/Project—Comic Books

Akira 35th Anniversary Edition, by Katsuhiro Otomo, edited by Haruko Hashimoto, Ajani Oloye, and Lauren Scanlan (Kodansha)

Behaving MADly, edited by Craig Yoe (Yoe Books/IDW)

The Collected Neil the Horse, by Arn Saba/Katherine Collins, edited by Andy Brown (Conundrum)

Fantagraphics Studio Edition: Jaime Hernandez, edited by Gary Groth (Fantagraphics)

Will Eisner: The Centennial Celebration, 1917-2017, by Paul Gravett, Denis Kitchen, and John Lind (Kitchen Sink/Dark Horse)

Best Writer

Tom King, Batman, Batman Annual #2, Batman/Elmer Fudd Special #1, Mister Miracle (DC)

Matt Kindt, Grass Kings (BOOM! Studios); Ether (Dark Horse); Eternity, X-O Manowar (Valiant)

Jeff Lemire, Black Hammer (Dark Horse); Descender (Image)

Marjorie Liu, Monstress (Image)

Mark Russell, The Flintstones (DC)

Best Writer/Artist

Lorena Alvarez, Night Lights (Nobrow)

Chabouté, Moby Dick (Dark Horse); Alone, The Park Bench (Gallery 13/Simon & Schuster)

Emil Ferris, My Favorite Thing Is Monsters (Fantagraphics)

Cathy Malkasian, Eartha (Fantagraphics)

Jiro Taniguchi, Furari, Louis Vuitton Travel Guide: Venice (Fanfare/Ponent Mon)

Best Penciller/Inker or Penciller/Inker Team

Isabelle Arsenault, Louis Undercover (Groundwood Books/House of Anansi)

Mitch Gerads, Mister Miracle (DC)

Gary Gianni, Hellboy: Into the Silent Sea (Dark Horse)

Ramón K. Perez, Jane (Archaia)

David Rubín, Black Hammer #9 & #12, Ether, Sherlock Frankenstein #1–3 (Dark Horse); Beowulf (Image)

Best Painter/Multimedia Artist (interior art)

Federico Bertolucci, Love: The Dinosaur, Little Tails (Lion Forge/Magnetic)

EFA, Monet: Itinerant of Light (NBM)

Jean-Pierre Gibrat, Flight of the Raven (EuroComics/IDW)

Cyril Pedrosa, Portugal (NBM)

Sana Takeda, Monstress (Image)

Best Cover Artist

Jorge Corona, No. 1 with a Bullet (Image)

Nick Derington, Mister Miracle (DC); Doom Patrol (DC Young Animal)

Brian Stelfreeze, Black Panther (Marvel)

Sana Takeda, Monstress (Image)

Julian Totino Tedesco, Hawkeye (Marvel)

Best Coloring

Emil Ferris, My Favorite Thing Is Monsters (Fantagraphics)

Mitch Gerads, Mister Miracle (DC)

Ed Piskor, X-Men: Grand Design (Marvel)

David Rubín, Ether, Black Hammer, Sherlock Frankenstein (Dark Horse); Beowulf (Image)

Dave Stewart, Black Hammer, BPRD: Devil You Know, Hellboy: Into the Silent Sea, Sherlock Frankenstein, Shaolin Cowboy (Dark Horse); Maestros (Image)

Rosemary Valero-O’Connell, What Is Left (ShortBox)

Best Lettering

Isabelle Arsenault, Louis Undercover (Groundwood Books/House of Anansi)

Clayton Cowles, Bitch Planet: Triple Feature, Redlands, The Wicked + The Divine (Image); Black Bolt, Spider-Gwen, Astonishing X-Men, Star Wars (Marvel)

Emil Ferris, My Favorite Thing Is Monsters (Fantagraphics)

Stan Sakai, Usagi Yojimbo, Groo: Slay of the Gods (Dark Horse)

John Workman, Mother Panic (DC Young Animal); Ragnorak (IDW)

Best Comics-Related Periodical/Journalism

Alter Ego, edited by Roy Thomas (TwoMorrows)

The Comics Journal, edited by Dan Nadel, Timothy Hodler, and Tucker Stone, tcj.com (Fantagraphics)

Hogan’s Alley, edited by Tom Heintjes

Jack Kirby Collector, edited by John Morrow (TwoMorrows)

PanelXPanel magazine, edited by Hassan Otsmane-Elhaou, panelxpanel.com

Best Comics-Related Book

Deconstructing the Incal by Alejandro Jodorowsky and Moebius, by Jean Annestay and Christophe Quillien (Humanoids)

How Comics Work, by Dave Gibbons and Tim Pilcher (Wellfleet Press/Quarto Group)

How to Read Nancy: The Elements of Comics in Three Easy Panels, by Paul Karasik and Mark Newgarden (Fantagraphics)

Line of Beauty: The Art of Wendy Pini, by Richard Pini (Flesk)

Monograph, by Chris Ware (Rizzoli)

To Laugh That We May Not Weep: The Life and Times of Art Young, by Glenn Bray and Frank M. Young (Fantagraphics)

Best Academic/Scholarly Work

The Comics of Charles Schulz: The Good Grief of Modern Life, edited by Jared Gardner and Ian Gordon (University Press of Mississippi)

Ethics in the Gutter: Empathy and Historical Fiction in Comics, by Kate Polak (Ohio State University Press)

Latinx Superheroes in Mainstream Comics, by Frederick Luis Aldama (University of Arizona Press)

Neon Visions: The Comics of Howard Chaykin, by Brannon Costello (LSU Press)

Picturing Childhood: Youth in Transnational Comics, edited by Mark Heimermann and Brittany Tullis (University of Texas Press)

Best Publication Design

Akira 35th Anniversary Edition, designed by Phil Balsman, Akira Saito (Veia), NORMA Editorial, and MASH•ROOM (Kodansha)

Celebrating Snoopy, designed by Spencer Williams and Julie Phillips (Andrews McMeel)

Monograph, designed by Chris Ware (Rizzoli)

My Favorite Thing Is Monsters, designed by Jacob Covey (Fantagraphics)

Will Eisner: The Centennial Celebration, 1917-2017, designed by John Lind (Kitchen Sink/Dark Horse)

Best Digital Comic

Bandette, by Paul Tobin and Colleen Coover (Monkeybrain/comiXology)

Barrier, by Brian K. Vaughan and Marcos Martin (Panel Syndicate)

The Carpet Merchant of Konstaniniyya, by Reimena Yee (reimenayee.com/the-carpet-merchant)

Contact High, by James F. Wright and Josh Eckert (gumroad.com/l/YnxSm)

Harvey Kurtzman’s Marley’s Ghost, by Harvey Kurtzman, Josh O’Neill, Shannon Wheeler, and Gideo Kendall (comiXology Originals/Kitchen, Lind & Associates)

Quince, by Sebastian Kadlecik, Kit Steinkellner, and Emma Steinkellner, translated by Valeria Tranier (Fanbase Press/comiXology)

Best Webcomic

Awaiting a Wave, by Dale Carpenter and Nate Powell, features.weather.com/us-climate-change/arkansas (The Weather Channel Digital)

Brothers Bond, by Kevin Grevioux and Ryan Benjamin, www.webtoons.com/en/action/brothers-bond/list?title_no=1191 (LINE Webtoon)

Dispatch from a Sanctuary City, by Mike Dawson, https://thenib.com/dispatch-from-a-sanctuary-city (The Nib)

The Tea Dragon Society, by Katie O’Neill, teadragonsociety.com

Welcome to the New World, by Jake Halpern and Michael Sloan, www.michaelsloan.net/welcome-to-the-new-world/ (New York Times Sunday Review)

[kierantc-blog]

DC Rebirth In Review - The Justice League

Welcome to part 3 of my DC Rebirth In Review series. DC are dropping the Rebirth branding in December and i thought i would reflect on what has and hasn’t worked in the Rebirth initiative.

To recap, you can check my previous posts, Part 1 - The Superman Family and Part 2 - The Batman Family, but in this post i’m going to be looking at the Justice League titles. To be clear though, this will be about the League specific books as well as the solo titles for the core members.

Justice League - This has probably been the most controversial of all the Rebirth books because for a lot of people the series has been nothing but a downgrade on Geoff Johns’ epic run in the New 52, and in a way they’re right. Bryan Hitch’s story telling style is all over the place but i believe the narrative he’s trying to put across is very good. It’s like having a pot of the best tea in the entire world but not being able to pour it into a cup properly. Hitch has been teasing a new Crisis event, the Forever Crisis, and who knows if that’s the way Rebirth will end or if it’s something else but it should be more exciting than it is. Also the artwork on this book has suffered massively from the bi-monthly schedule. The best talent is currently on other books and it needs to come on Justice League sooner rather than later. With Deathstroke’s Christopher Priest taking over the title soon, we’re certainly in for an increase in quality but until then, Hitch’s Justice League is worth a chance, but if you don’t like the first arc you certainly won’t like the rest. - 4/10

Justice League Of America - This book came with a lot of promise, excellent Rebirth one shots and a hero team of promise, and so far it hasn’t really delivered on it but it does show promise and improvement with every issue. Steve Orlando is a great writer, he’s doing some nice work on Supergirl and his Midnighter books have been wonderful too, but he has been slow on the narrative with this team. Right now the series is concentrating on a Rebirth mystery that came up in DC Universe Rebirth #1 with The Atom Ray Palmer sending a message to his protege Ryan Choi about a problem in the Microverse, and so far it has been good with Batman, Lobo, Ryan and Killer Frost searching for Ray. It hasn’t had the most consistent artwork but it has had some beautiful work from Jamal Campbell (Vixen Rebirth #1 & issue 7) and the legendary Ivan Reis, which make it a step above the other JL title. A must buy if you want a different kind of Justice League book. - 6.5/10

Green Lanterns - When Rebirth was announced, many people were disappointed with Sam Humphries being the writer on this book but he has changed minds emphatically with some stellar work. Writing for 2 relatively new characters in Simon Baz and Jessica Cruz isn’t easy but Humphries has made these two people into humans you can relate to and want to see succeed while also showing a lot of respect and knowledge to the Green Lantern lore of old too. The series has unfortunately suffered from some inconsistent artwork but it’s still an incredibly good read that has expanded on the mythology of the series introduced by Geoff Johns. - 8.5/10

Hal Jordan & The Green Lantern Corps - Just like with Humphries on Green Lanterns, people were disappointed to find Robert Venditti writing for Hal Jordan once again, but honestly i was hopeful as i enjoyed his post-Johns era work and thought he could get better, and it’s hard to argue against that given his run on this book. The biggest task he faced was combining a series of books into one, this series takes story beats from his previous Green Lantern book as well as Green Lantern Corps: Edge Of Oblivion, Sinestro and Omega Men and manages to combine them into one cohesive story, albeit a bit slower than some might like. My only problem with this series is the name of it, it suffers from the Birds Of Prey thing by them shoving Hal’s name on the front of it for no apparent reason. The artwork for this series is largely excellent for a bi-monthly title with Rafa Sandoval and Green Lantern veteran Ethan Van Sciver providing the bulk of the work. If you love the Lantern series you will almost certainly enjoy this one too. - 9/10

Wonder Woman - With a blockbuster movie on the horizon, the Wonder Woman series needed a big pull for Rebirth and DC more than delivered by bringing back legendary Wonder Woman writer Greg Rucka. Mixing the old with the new, Rucka uses older elements of Diana’s story and mixes them in with the New 52 elements but also deploys a unique story telling tactic by using the odd-numbered issues as a current day story and the even-numbered issues as a story titled “Year One”, a re-telling of how Diana first met Steve Trevor. The use of this type of story telling only works because of the bi-monthly schedule, otherwise it would take 12 months to tell a 6-issue story, but it works perfectly. The artwork is split between Liam Sharp on the current day story and Nicola Scott on the Year One story, and each one compliments the stories with incredibly detailed pencils. They are later joined by the excellent Bilquis Evely to round up one of the best art teams on one run. Rucka’s run on Wonder Woman ended with the culmination of both stories meeting in the middle in issue 25, and my only complaint about it was that a lot of questions were left up in the air but hopefully they will be answered soon as new writer James Robinson is living up to Rucka’s run quite handily so far. A must read for fans both old and new. - 9/10

The Flash - Written by Joshua Williamson with art by Carmine Di Giandomenico, Barry Allen witnesses a Speed Force Storm that turns random citizens of Central City into Speedsters like The Flash, and introduces the series to a new Speedster villain called Godspeed and a group known as Black Hole. While Williamson is often accused of exposition heavy writing, he also manages to make the story both easier to follow and also engaging at the same time and uses the supporting cast rather well. A later story starring Eobard Thawne AKA Reverse Flash is the highlight of the series so far, my only complaint story wise would be that Barry always seems miserable or down on his luck. Give the guy a break! The art by Di Giandomenico is rather sharp and frantic but it’s perfect for a book about a man who can run really fast. The latter half of the New 52 comic was a large disappointment for myself but Williamson and Di Giandomenico have brought the series back to prominence. There is a slow burn with the stories but i’m still engaged with them and interested as to where they might lead so that is always a positive. - 8/10

Aquaman - Of all the comics, this one feels more politicised than the others. The first 2 volumes deal with Atlanta’s relationship to the United States and how Arthur controls his kingdom, not to mention how the other members of the Justice League view him as a hero. One of the great things about this run is that it wasn’t afraid to come out of the gates quick, setting up a war between Atlantis and America with Black Manta manipulating both sides. Artwork duties are split between a group of artists such as French artist Philippe Briones, Brad Walker (Green Lantern: New Guardians) and Scot Eaton (X-Men), and they provide a similar, albeit simple style that allows for lots of action to be peppered into each issue. Aquaman is now a monthly title as opposed to a bi-monthly one but it hasn’t diminished in quality at all as it has popular artist Stjepan Sejic on art now, and together he and Dan Abnett are carving out quite the legacy under the sea. - 9.5/10

Cyborg - One of my favourite DC You books returns with a new writer in John Semper Jr. Semper is most famous for writing the animated Spider-Man series from 1994 so he’s not unfamiliar with comic book characters, but this marks his first foray into comic book writing itself and i must say, he’s doing a good job of it too. The problem with Cyborg in relation to other characters is that he doesn’t really have the supporting cast that the likes of The Flash and Batman have, so Semper has had to build him one, with new friends like Exxy the hacker and new Detroit hero The Black Narcissus. Part of the reason i like Semper’s work though is because he clearly has the Silver Age influencing him into writing big, crazy sci-fi stories. The move to a monthly has helped the book somewhat in the art department but i feel that the right artist on this book could make it a smash hit in the same way Sejic has on Aquaman. - 7.5/10

Green Arrow - Of all the Rebirth books, Green Arrow is one of only a few that kept its previous writer in the shape of Ben Percy. In Percy’s pre-Rebirth run he was accused of being a bit grim but his Rebirth series is more or less the opposite. Fan service is on display here as Dinah Lance AKA Black Canary is introduced, and for the first time since Flashpoint the romance between Oliver and Dinah is back. And that’s not the only thing as Oliver now sports his famous goatee. While the story is a bit more peppy and action orientated, Percy’s villainous Ninth Circle retain some of the grim that he had become known for but coupled with the wonderful visuals from Otto Schmidt and Juan Ferreyra the Green Arrow book finds a perfect balance that has been missing since the Lemire run in New 52. - 9.5/10

Trinity - DC took the logical step of combining both Batman/Superman and Superman/Wonder Woman into a much better Trinity series. The series, while short, so far has 2 distinct runs on it. The first is by Francis Manapul who pulls off pure magic by writing, pencilling and colouring all of his Trinity issues, the only thing he does do is the lettering. Getting back to the core of what makes the Trinity special, he opens up the past of each member to the others, allowing them to experience each other’s lives a bit more and gain a closer understanding. The second run is one revolving the idea of Trinities in DC and was started by Cullen Bunn, but now being written by Suicide Squad writer Rob Williams, involving the classic Trinity meeting the Mystic Trinity of Constantine, Deadman and Zatanna, the Dark Trinity of Red Hood, Bizarro and Artemis, and the Evil Trinity of Circe, Ra’s al Ghul and a reluctant Lex Luthor. The latter story concerns a run in with the sister of the Lazarus Pits, the Pandora Pits, which want to unleash evil on Earth. Even though both stories are different, they don’t take away from the fact that Trinity is an excellent returning series for DC, one that allows them to tell more concentrated League-centric stories without taking over the main Justice League books. It’s a must buy for Manapul’s work alone, truly a work of art. - 9/10

Conclusions

With movies coming out in the DCEU slate relating to these characters, interest in them is at an all time high and DC have done a relatively excellent job of providing interested new readers with excellent content to peruse in titles like Green Lanterns and The Flash, as well as satisfy old readers too with some excellent fan service in series like JLA and Green Arrow.

While the majority is excellent, the flagship Justice League book should really be better. Christopher Priest taking over the book provides a glimmer of light though, as the series really should be one that leads the way for the rest of the DC Universe.

Thanks for reading!

Next Up: The Young And The Violent (Teen Titans, Suicide Squad etc. lol).

[mayorgalvan]

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[doctorwhonews]

The Third Doctor - #3 - The Heralds Of Destruction Part Three

Latest Review: Writer - Paul Cornell Artist - Christopher Jones Colorist - Hi-Fi Letters  - Richard Starkings + Comicraft's Jimmy Betancourt (Alastair Lethbidge Stewart -Created By Mervyn Haisman + Henry Lincoln,appearing courtesy of Candy Jar Books -- with thanks to Hannah Haisman, Henry Lincoln,and Andy Frankham-Allen)  Editor - John Freeman Assistant Editors - Jessica Burton + Amoona Saohin Senior Designer - Andrew Leung Published November 30th 2016, TITAN COMICS Jo Grant’s mind is a fascinating place. But the Third Doctor needs to work hard to achieve some kind of progress in the fight against the metallic aliens that are threatening both Great Britain, and planet Earth itself. If he fails, he and his best friend remain trapped on the metaphysical plane of existence for all of eternity. Meanwhile the Master remains free, and a mystery emerges over just what the Second Doctor's plan involves. --- This middle issue of the miniseries effectively acts as wrapping up what seemed to be the main story, and proceeding to establish what the true narrative actually is. It perhaps lacks the overt excitement and startling visual work of issues one and two, but the closing revelation – featuring the return of a long-forgotten foe - more than makes up for it. The Third Doctor makes a partial breakthrough in managing to convince a faction of the Micro Machines to be on his side. This action that relied on tact and emotional smarts helps the UNIT forces that had been scratching their heads as they faced a standoff with these metallic creatures over in Fairford. The actual story behind what the Second Doctor is doing on Earth during the Third Doctor/UNIT years is revealed to a small extent, but with two further instalments to go, readers are left kept waiting for full answers. Once again the original Master, complete with beard and a mixture of dark and greying hair, manages to be the most arrestingly compelling character. He this time manages to impersonate the Brigadier, but the manner in which this is kept a surprise is somewhat more subtle than some other such attempts. Also, the writer has done some fine work in this ongoing story to suggest just how versatile this most dangerous of renegade Time Lords can be, when it comes to creating gadgets and managing to infiltrate supposedly top-secret organisations Humour continues to be very good here too. Cornell has proven time again with his TV scripts, novels and comic book stories how he can find the appropriate tone to make a story and its characters’ actions properly flow. I liked the way Jo triumphantly displayed a tome entitled ‘Everything I’ve Learned in the last Three Years’, which is a knowing acknowledgement of her good character development under the control of Barry Letts and Terrance Dicks. It also manages to poke a little fun at the UNIT dating confusion that close followers of the show sometimes find so controversial. There also is a well-done fight between the Master and his ‘most worthy of opponents’, as they trade off barbed witticisms and talk of the virtues of their respective “Martian Kendo” and “Mercurian Kung Fu” martial art skills. This manages to show that the Third Doctor’s love of “Venusian Aikido” has served him well in certain situations, but as a man of action he sometimes needs to up the ante. On a slightly more negative note, the art is just a touch less effective this time round. A good portion of the action is set indoors, and without the use of some creative backgrounds or alternate perspective, this leads to a few too many panels looking a little stilted. Even the sections in Jo’s mind are a little too low-key after being so striking in the previous issue, but a couple of passage at least show good use of the crystalline cave, where the Doctor negotiates with the Micro Machines' ‘hive mind’. I also cannot fathom why Mike has been made to look the way he does; being more evocative of the one-off UNIT captains that featured, until he made his debut at the start of Season 8. However this does not seriously prevent the story from working its charms, and the Third Doctor continues to be as authoritative and engaging as Jon Pertwee so consistently portrayed him on-screen. The twist that so stunningly closes the issues also manages to make sense, in terms of linking with the clues that had been carefully placed thus far. The final two ‘episodes’ look to be upping the pace, and the stakes, in truly epic fashion.. ---   BONUS: Variant covers are featured for this issue, as well as previews of Issue Four's cover and its variants. There are 'behind-the-scenes' examples of Jones' pencil and ink work for two different pages of the story. http://reviews.doctorwhonews.net/2017/03/the_third_doctor_3_the_heralds_of_destruction_part_.html?utm_source=dlvr.it&utm_medium=tumblr

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Spider-Man: Reptilian Rage #1 (2019) pencil & ink by Christopher Allen color by Rachelle Rosenberg