#National Comics

[inhousearchive]

A DC Comics house-ad running throughout titles with a cover date of June 1966, featuring their infamous go-go checks -- likely the work of editorial director Irwin Donenfeld.

[thebestcomicbookpanels]

Quicksilver in National Comics #57

[cgbcomics]

[somewherefornow]

JAY GARRICK/THE FLASH & TERRY SLOANE/MR. TERRIFIC in JSA RETURNS (1999) NATIONAL COMICS #1

[momachan]

"Who was the baseball team that defiantly challenged the World's Champion Jets to a World's Series Games? No man on Earth knew-- for the mistery "nine" wouldn't even be seen!"

The Brave And The Bold (1955-1983) #45. Strange Sport Stories. "Challenge Of The Headless Baseball Team!"

[paintermagazine]

Kick Ass Policewoman!

‘Sally O’Neil’ (National Comics)

(1940 - 1949)

[comic-covers]

(1941)

[comicsart3]

I have blogged fairly recently on Sally O’Neil Policewoman, so forgive me, but I just had to post this page from another of her adventures simply because it is almost extraordinary in its depiction of determined female power. A uniformed Sally not only rescues a hapless kidnapped playboy but captures the two thugs involved in one of the most humiliating ways I can think of (knocked out, dropped head first in a barrel and then rolled out of the front door, anyone?). To say Sally was one of the most uncompromising of the Golden Age heroines would be doing this tough policewoman a disservice. I will feature Sally again in her incarnation as a plain clothes NYPD detective at some point in the future.

The page is from the Sally O’Neil adventure Madman of the Mansion, published in National Comics #20 (February 1942).

Source: comicbookplus

[ufonaut]

I agreed, thinking I wouldn't stay long. A month or two. Little did I know that fate was going to play an unexpected trick on me. I walked out twenty-two years later. There's been a lot of guessing why. They were all wrong. What lulled me was that I had complete freedom. I answered to no one. They never knew what I was going to come out with in the books I edited.

Robert Kanigher on his time at DC Comics in Alter Ego (1999) #2

[mudwerks]

(via Bully Says: Comics Oughta Be Fun!)

from "Bike-Ology," Bendix Corporation advertisement in National Comics #43 (Quality, August 1944), creators uncredited and unknown

wait what

[inhousearchive]

House-ad for the ‘big six’ National Comics/All-American Comics titles from April 1941.

[tomoleary]

Alex Kotsky covers National Comics 34-39 featuring Uncle Sam and Buddy.

Kotsky recreated the cover for 38 in the 70s.

[cgbcomics]

[panel-on-point]

National Comics, #42 (1944) art by Bill Quakenbush (featuring Quicksilver)

[demaparbat-hp]

The Perfect Prince

[bruciemilf]

Okay. But when Bruce discovers Talia knew Jason was alive? That she knew his child was the man under the red hood. His boy.

Oh.

Jason’s met and memorized every facet of Bruce Wayne. He knows Bruce by the way his eyes melt when he looks at him, to the hard lines of his cowl. He knows where Bruce starts and Batman ends.

When Bruce rips off his cowl to give her the deepest glare Jason’s ever seen, he’s reminded there’s no difference. Fear hits his stomach when he swallows,

“Hey, old man, don’t fucking blame HER. She has NO obligation to you—“

Bruce’s eyes are unblinking, wide, jumping from her frozen form to him. And Jason’s suddenly 10 again, running from hungry stray dogs cornering him in a place with no exit.

Bruce’s voice is shadow and whisper, “Quiet.”

“…Okay.”

“Damian,” he rasps, pointing at the small figure with dark hair and green eyes, who looks at neither of them. He looks at Talia. Jason thinks it’s fair. He’s never seen her scared, either. “Car. Cave. Stay. “

There’s something incredibly bitter in Jason when he just does. Doesn’t ask. Doesn’t rebel. He wants to, with every fiber and matter and crumb in his body. And his body says no.

He grabs Damian like he’s an angry cat, not the small assassin he knew since he was born. He doesn’t look back. He doesn’t want to, he realizes.

“Did you know?” Bruce asks, such a deadly calm to him, too calm for the winter in his eyes. Talia would’ve preferred a blade to the neck.

She can’t meet his eye. Almost like if she doesn’t face his hatred, his disapproval, his disappointment, it doesn’t count. “I did. “

“…Whatever you do,” she’d take it as pity if he didn’t sound repulsed , “you’re still his daughter.”