#albert dorne

[helioscopepdx]

Preparatory pencil drawing by Albert Dorne, founder of the Famous Artists School. Zoom in and explore that great draftsmanship!

[stevelieber]

Take a moment to look at this pencil drawing by the great midcentury illustrator Albert Dorne. It's probably a preparatory sketch for a commercial illustration. The solidity! Those gestures! That drapery!

[troquets]

Albert Dorne, Au Foster, 1951.

[tomoleary]

Albert Dorne

[heysawbones]

somebody please return albert dorne from the grave so that I may study under him

as you can see, our spirits are already Pals. thank you in advance, friendly necromancers

[thejazzera]

Albert Dorne, Baker's Chocolate, 1933

Scanned from Taschen's "All-American Ads of the 30s".

[whateverbringsyouthroughthenight]

Albert Dorne

[balu8]

Albert Dorne

[portfollies]

[vintagetvstars]

CLOSED! Preliminary Hot Vintage TV Men List

Alright folks! We have one week left on submissions for the Hot Vintage TV Men's Bracket! As promised here is a list of all the Hot Vintage TV Men who have been submitted and passed our preliminary eligibility checks. There are a handful of guys on this list and one or two not on it that we are currently still debating on so reminder that this list is not final and subject to change.

Currently we have 231 Hot Vintage TV Men!

Also in advance of the competition I'd like to remind anyone submitting propaganda for someone that starred in a show that aired only partially during our timeframe or was under 18 for a part of a shows filming, to please make sure you are only submitting propaganda that is from within our timeframe and when the actor was 18 years or older. This is also just good to keep in mind in general as several people submitted actors for shows that aren't eligible for our tournament either because it was outside our time period or in one case the actor was underaged for the entirety of the show (though many were eligible for other shows they were submitted for). We do our best to screen for these things but sometimes it's hard to tell or it’s a show we don't personally know well enough so we appreciate help from y'all letting us know if you do catch anything.

List below the cut

Preliminary Hot Vintage TV Men List

Dick Van Dyke

Alan Alda

Hugh Laurie

Peter Falk

Adam West

Donnie Wahlberg

Kevin McDonald

Scott Thompson

David Duchovny

Henry Winkler

Leonard Nimoy

Scott Bakula

James Garner

Tom Selleck

Dave Foley

John Astin

Joe Lando

Patrick Troughton

William Shatner

DeForest Kelley

Michael Ontkean

Russell Johnson

Kyle MacLachlan

Bruce McCulloch

William Hopper

George Clooney

Jeffrey Combs

Michael Horse

Mark McKinney

Jensen Ackles

Alejandro Rey

Mitch Pileggi

David Cassidy

Jeremy Brett

Anthony Head

George Takei

David Selby

Rod Serling

Paul Gross

Desi Arnaz

Tom Baker

Richard Dean Anderson

David Keith McCallum

Richard Chamberlain

Charles Shaughnessy

David James Elliot

Vincent Van Patten

Darren E. Burrows

David Hyde Pierce

Randolph Mantooth

Ricardo Montalban

Gene Anthony Ray

William Hartnell

Patrick McGoohan

René Auberjonois

Alexander Siddig

Reece Shearsmith

Michael T. Weiss

William Shockley

Spencer Rochfort

Danny John-Jules

David Hasselhoff

Conner Trinneer

Patrick Stewart

Jonathan Frakes

Paolo Montalban

Scott Patterson

Armin Shimerman

Anthony Andrews

David Schwimmer

Blair Underwood

Sylvester McCoy

Andrew Robinson

Pierce Brosnan

Thorsten Kaye

Anthony Starke

Darren McGavin

Clint Eastwood

Joseph Marcell

Michael Vartan

Richard Ayoade

George Maharis

Michael J. Fox

Dwayne Hickman

John de Lancie

Andre Braugher

Robert Carlyle

Dean Stockwell

Matthew Perry

Robert Fuller

Michael Hurst

Dana Ashbrook

Jonathan Frid

Dirk Benedict

Martin Milner

Demond Wilson

Robert Conrad

Telly Savalas

Peter Davison

Michael Praed

Jason Bateman

David Tennant

Brian Blessed

Miguel Ferrer

Micky Dolenz

Wayne Rogers

Mike Farrell

Michael Dorn

Cesar Romero

Eddie Albert

Nate Richert

Nicholas Lea

Brent Spiner

Dick Gautier

John Corbett

Jeremy Irons

David Suchet

Raymond Burr

LeVar Burton

David Wenham

Clint Walker

Larry Hagman

John Goodman

Matt LeBlanc

Tom Smothers

Erik Estrada

Jeremy Sisto

Colm Meaney

Stephen Fry

Ted Bessell

Ron Perlman

Luke Halpin

Ted Cassidy

Kevin Sorbo

John Cleese

Colin Firth

Colin Baker

Fred Rogers

Ben Browder

Keir Dullea

Randy Boone

Kent McCord

Jimmy Smits

Mark Lenard

Jon Pertwee

Fred Grandy

Mark Hamill

Ted Danson

Adam Brody

Noah Wiley

Eric Close

Lee Majors

Jamie Farr

Tony Danza

Kabir Bedi

Seth Green

Rik Mayall

Hal Linden

Diego Luna

Peter Tork

Sean Bean

Sam Neill

Eric Idle

Ted Lange

John Shea

Ron Glass

Tony Dow

Mr. T

John Hurt

Avery Brooks 

Billy Dee Williams 

James Marsters 

Robert Vaughn 

Kevin Smith 

Davy Jones 

Luke Perry 

Robert Duncan McNeill 

Simon MacCorkindale 

Keith Hamilton Cobb 

Chad Michael Murray 

James Earl Jones 

Bruce Boxleitner 

Timothy Olyphant 

Andreas Katsulas 

Valentine Pelka 

Peter Wingfield 

Sebastian Cabot 

Michael Nesmith 

Timothy Dalton 

Michael Shanks 

Joshua Jackson 

Michael O’Hare 

Robert Beltran 

Simon Williams 

Paul Johannson 

Daniel Dae Kim 

David Boreanaz 

Boris Karloff 

Robert Wagner 

Brandon Quinn  

Walter Koenig 

Richard Hatch 

Christian Kane  

Francis Capra  

Nathan Fillion 

John Forsythe 

Patrick Duffy 

Tony Shalhoub 

Ioan Gruffudd 

Garrett Wang  

Joe Flanigan  

Rider Strong  

Michael Tylo 

Bruce Willis 

Skeet Ulrich  

Jeff Conaway 

Paul McGann 

Scott Cohen 

Mario Lopez  

Martin Kove 

John Stamos 

Judd Hirsch 

Johnny Depp 

Tom Welling 

Matt Bomer 

Grant show 

David Soul  

Bob Crane  

Tim Russ 

Rob Lowe 

Neil Patrick Harris 

[sunspearesque]

‘Tis You, My Great Love

Summary: I've been betrothed to fear since the mists of memory, “the bride of despair,” they named me. And there, by the shore, you found me… sorrow veiling my face, and wounds blooming like tulips in my hands. But lo, you, my great love, now stand, lifting the veil and bidding my fears depart with each tender kiss. “Stay,” I say, “stay for all eternity.”

A/N: hello hello beautiful friends!!! i wrote this piece while feeling extremely sentimental and sappy after a conversation about motherhood with my best friend.. i was contemplating motherhood, marriage, and intimacy in general, but then tried to imagine how that would translate to Nala's and Oberyn's relationship.. so, this fic is mainly fluff with a sprinkle of smut :3 and lots of poetic dreams… hope you enjoy it! <3

Pairing: Oberyn Martell × OFC from WoV

Rating: E (18+ only)

Content: established relationship (marriage); talks of motherhood; fear of loss and abandonment; fear of motherhood; talks of dreams; pregnancy; childbirth; fluff on steroids with a sprinkle of smut; dad!oberyn (my favorite oberyn to write); brief p in v sex; oral (m!receiving); breeding kink

WC: 2.6K

Read on AO3 • moodboard

“Love me so strongly that the echoes come to me here, at night, in the hours of insomnia, where I am waiting for you. I kiss you, I kiss you madly.” — Albert Camus to Maria Casares, Correspondence, January 9, 1950

His breath, slow and warm, caressed her neck as he nestled closer. His arms, like bands of fire, encircled her soft belly. With a grip as tight as the grasp of a man fearing the loss of paradise slipping through his fingers, he held her close, as if she might vanish like the elusive dream of Eden he chased in his sleep. Just when he thought he could taste its waters, they turned to fire, scorching his throat and consuming him in flames, jolting him awake from his slumber. Yet now, she mused, he sleeps peacefully.

She traced her finger over the scar adorning his shoulder, much like the marks she bore on her own body from bearing their son—for when love leaves its mark upon us, not even the shadow of fear can erase it.

Her fingers deftly threaded through his raven locks, prompting a soft hum from him as she pressed a tender kiss upon his brow. Never before had she known such serenity, as sleep gently stole her away in his arms.

—

The sun, basking in its warm and inviting glow, reached its luminous tendrils into the chambers of their castle. The soft sounds of nature at dawn whispered promises of new beginnings. These beginnings ushered in healing and prosperity to souls who had yearned for the clasp of death for so long, forgetting how to revel in life's joys and surrender to its tender embrace.

Life in Dorne, akin to a nurturing mother, a goddess, a woman… the dunes of sand beneath their calloused feet, and the blazing sun in the sky, stood as an impregnable fortress of strength akin to Nymeria, their burning star. She was the mother of both land and people, her warmth forging indomitable resolve within her children. She is the sun—their sun blazing fiercely, instilling in them an unyielding grit against any rival, yet within their hearts lay a gentle warmth that embraced love as steadfastly as a sacred oath.

And like the sun and the earth and Nymeria, Nala harbored the urges of motherhood within her, which was a concept that she held in reverence, yet it also stirred a deep sense of dread within her. She longed for the life burgeoning deep inside of her, for a part of herself to wander this realm and embrace life under her vigilant care and unwavering devotion. However, she couldn't shake the haunting memory of how motherhood had claimed her own mother's life, how she harbored guilt for the tragic fate her mother endured.

If only I hadn't been, she might have fled the castle and escaped her dire end...

This lingering wound within her soul was the sole reason she had shunned the idea of bearing children until she met him.

He, adorned in all his splendor, tended to her wounded soul the very instant he professed his love to her, at a time when he himself was most in need of solace. This bastion of a man, generous, gracious, and gallant, freely bestowed his love, protection, and tenderness, even amidst the shadows of his wrath and vengeance.

For you, my great love, I ache with an unbearable keenness, feeling the wounds within me slowly mend, sewn shut with the thread of your love—a needle of devotion stitching together my injured being. Though painful, it is an insatiable need, a piercing sting I have yearned for throughout the passing years. It closes the chasm within me, that gaping void where the winds of despair and sorrow once freely roamed, leaving me as naught but a specter, undeserving of love, joy, or autonomy.

Your love, my great love, is what ignited within me a hunger for life after an endless fast of fear—fear of loss and abandonment. Your love bestowed upon me the strength to embrace love once more, despite the inevitable sacrifices. Did you know that you visited me in my dreams? You kissed me with such tenderness and held me close. “I was adrift,” I told you, my voice laden with fear, “take me..” I whispered, “Take me with you.”

When she pledged herself to him in marriage, she knew she needed to fear no one beneath the gaze of Gods and men. With him by her side, no rivals could breach her defenses; even in death, his spirit would haunt any who dared to harm her through all Seven Hells and beyond.

You told me once, do you recall? As we strolled the shores, my steps were heavy with dread or joy, or perhaps it was the dread of the joy that awaited me. I struggle to remember the last time genuine happiness graced my soul before that day. When the sweet taste of happiness touched my sorrow-laden lips, I froze in place, wary that this cruel existence might snatch it away, as it so often does.

You whispered to me, my great love, your love with such fervor, you told me how it frightened you, unable to resist the pull of our inevitable fate. “How could I?” you pondered, “You are inescapable.” You told me that sorrow is the price of love; to shun one is to forsake the other. Yet, you vowed not to evade me, you kissed me and swore to me that you would not allow my love to elude your grasp.

You told me how I melt into your dreams, whisking you away in my embrace mere seconds before the phantom hands could encircle your throat. Those same hands, which once tormented you each night, wrenching you from slumber, now find themselves impotent against your newfound peace. You impute to me your salvation, though I doubted my own. You rekindled a dormant tenderness within me, long thought doused by the harshness of life. ‘tis you, my great love, who rescued me… It was not I who saved you, but you who saved me.

She recalled a day they spent amidst the Water Gardens, a few moons past:

Reclining upon the grass, the soothing melody of a nearby water fountain lulled her into a serene state of repose. The laughter of Dorea and Loreza filled her ears, joyfully engaged in play with their father. Nala shut her eyes, savoring this heartening moment with those she holds most dear.

“W–Wait, papa, wait,” Dorea uttered between pants, attempting to conceal her sweet giggles. “I heard Arianne say that you engage in battles,” she inquired, her small hand resting on her waist as she sought to extract the truth from him.

“Yes, I do,” Oberyn replied, seated on the grass, attempting to catch his breath after chasing them all morning. “Why would Arianne tell you that?” He narrowed his eyes at his daughter, intrigued by the smirk that widened before Loreza jumped on his back, encircling his neck and hanging from it, ambushing him. “Papa, fight!”

Nala opened her eyes to witness the victorious father, besieged by little hands and tiny feet, playfully striking his stomach and chest, surrounded by laughter that compelled him to yield, lying flat on his back.

Dorea brandished a stick of wood, pointing it at his face, and murmured, “Surrender!” with a broad, toothy grin. Loreza, seizing the opportunity, delivered a playful punch to his soft middle. “I surrender, my lady, I surrender!” he exclaimed with feigned fear and defeat, eliciting more giggles from Loreza. “Have mercy on this old man, my lady, please!” he continued, jesting while maintaining his scared demeanor.

“Loreza,” Dorea commanded with a stern expression, feigning seriousness, “this soldier will join our army,” attempting a deep, authoritative voice. At that moment, Oberyn stealthily swept them both from their feet and hoisted them onto his shoulders, prompting a chorus of screams and laughter. “You shall never trust your enemy, girls,” he declared, his voice playfully admonishing.

Her faith in his paternal prowess never wavered, evidenced by his eight resilient daughters. He showered them with love and fierceness to such an extent that Nala's own heart ached with longing to bear his child—a primal yearning that twisted within her.

Each time he lay with her, she offered fervent prayers to the Gods, beseeching them, “Grant this union fruitfulness, let it take, let life flourish abundantly within me.”

When the soft stirrings of life within her ignited a radiant glow from deep within, his love grew even more tender, gentle, and expansive; even greater than the swell of her stomach. She marveled at the dichotomy of this fierce and dreaded man seeping such tenderness. How could hands, once stained with the blood of his foes and weathered by battle, now caress her with such delicate care, as if she were the most delicate of petals?

“Tell me,” he panted as he thrust into her, “Tell me how much you love me, Nala.”

“I do,” she said, her words strained with pleasure, melding into a moan, “I do, my viper, I adore you.”

As she entered the throes of labor, he sat steadfastly behind her, his legs parted to rest on her sides supporting her back against his chest, his words of praise gently murmured into her ear. Amidst his curses at the Gods, he avidly wished to shoulder her pain, to bear it in her stead. 

When they were greeted by the piercing cries of the fruit of their love—a child, glorious and perfect in every way, red and squealing, a reflection of his father in demeanor, soul, and visage—she cradled him in her arms, while Oberyn enveloped them both in his protective embrace.

Their eyes locked upon the tiny, fragile form before them, and as a rare tear escaped his forbearing facade, she reached out to brush it from his cheek. With a tender whisper, she said, “Look, my love, he bears your likeness.”

She reclined upon her side, nursing their son at her breast, nestled between herself and Oberyn. His gaze lingered upon the tender scene, his eyes laden with unspoken emotions that he dared not voice, lest tears betray him.

Do you remember, my great love? Do you remember how the fear wilted, its head bowed in shame? The fear that once gripped me, releasing my hand as it gazed upon you with eyes filled with dread.

“Fret not,” you whispered to me while I sat in sorrow by your side. Though you lay in a deep slumber for days, your voice broke through the darkness just when I feared I might never hear it again. When all semblance of peace metamorphosed into a looming specter, jeering at me, taunting my joy and desperation. “Oh, you naive child,” it sneered with a voice steeped in bitterness. “I am no child,” I retorted, yet I felt the weight of my old fears returning. “You never learn,” it spat, before your voice shielded me from impending despair. You whispered, “Fret not,” and I believed you, my great love, as I always do.

And now look... Look at him... How can one lay bare their heart to the world, a heart with little hands and tiny feet, and not fret?

—

Gently opening her eyes, she sensed the chill of the empty space beside her—a void she cursed and despised. Rising slowly from her slumber, she beheld him: bare-chested, glorious, as beautiful as a man can be, cradling their son in his arms.

Their embrace enveloped them in warmth, their skins melding as one, while the soft cooing of their child resonated faintly in the chamber's silence. Amidst the peaceful atmosphere, punctuated only by the hushed footsteps of her husband and the tender sounds of their boy, her heart pounded within her chest like a Sand Steed galloping across the Dornish plains, threatening to burst forth. The love she felt surged within her, surpassing all expectations, growing fiercer, more profound—unbearable. It was a love that dissolved her fears like the northern snows beneath the scorching sun.

In the treasured instants shared with his children, Oberyn found solace in moments where the chaos of the world faded into oblivion. Each time they gathered around him, their youthful spirits ignited a spark of joy within him, particularly in those tender early years when they sought refuge in their father's arms. Yet, amidst this warmth, a pang of sorrow lingered as he gazed upon his son, his thoughts drifting to memories of his nephew Aegon, the son of his sweet sister Elia.

He couldn't help but imagine how Aegon might have flourished had fate been kinder to him or his sister or their mother. A gentle touch from Nala drew him back from his sorrowful reverie, and as he turned to meet her tender smile, he leaned in to press a soft kiss upon her lips, mindful not to disturb the slumbering child cradled in his embrace.

“Why did you not awaken me, my love?” Nala murmured, her gaze tenderly fixed upon their son.

“I wished for you to rest,” he replied softly, his eyes warm as they met hers, before he moved to lay their child gently in his crib, nestling him into the plush bedding.

Returning to their bed, he settled himself against the sturdy wooden frame, patting the mattress beside him, inviting her to join him. She approached, crawling between his legs, prompting a raised brow and a smirk from him. “And what might you be doing?” he inquired.

“I long to savor you,” she declared simply, positioned between his spread legs and deftly undoing his breeches.

“And your wounds, my love?” he gently reminded her. “You are not fully healed yet.”

“This will be my remedy,” she replied, her voice hoarse and tinged with sleep and yearning, almost on the edge of a whine.

She felt his cock swell and throb in her grasp, searing and already slick with desire. With gentle strokes of her hand, she evoked muffled groans from him, meeting his gaze as she whispered, “I love you beyond reckoning…”

Lowering her head to his glistening tip, she teased the slit with tiny licks, relishing every drop of his precum. His head fell back, a deep moan escaping his lips before she buried him in her mouth.

She swallowed him deeper and deeper until he was fully sheathed within her throat, his leg jerked beside her as she moved him in and out of her wet and wanting mouth. A low hum accompanied her fervent ministrations, her hand tenderly caressing his soft belly, a part of him she had adored over the years.

Pulling him from her drooling mouth to catch her breath, she panted between words, “If not for my wounds, I would not have wasted your seed anywhere but deep within my cunt,” she licked his sensitive tip, and he whimpered quietly, “taking me day and night… today and tomorrow and the day after, and spilling your seed within me over and over ‘til it takes,” she confessed before taking him again, squeezing him within her tight throat, his primal groans filling the air and filling her with an immense sense of pride at her actions.

She swallowed around him once, then twice, until she felt his warm, salty cum spurt into her eager throat, eliciting a guttural growl from him as he filled her up and came down from his climax. She withdrew his softened cock from her mouth, gathering the seeping cum from the corners of her lips before eagerly sucking her digit clean. Crawling up to lie atop him, she rested her head upon his heaving chest, pressing kisses to his golden skin. He enveloped her in his arms, holding her tightly, yearning to merge with her until they became one.

You, my great love, ‘tis you who will always reign until the end of times, in every lifetime, in every plane of existence.

[mybeingthere]

Textile design by Marion Dorn, England (c.1939), Victoria and Albert Museum.

[monkeyssalad-blog]

Less dangerous than careless talk. Don't discuss troop movements, ship sailings, war equipment by Boston Public Library Via Flickr: File name: 07_01_000043 Title: Less dangerous than careless talk. Don't discuss troop movements, ship sailings, war equipment Creator/Contributor: Dorne, Albert, 1904-1965 (artist) Created/Published: U. S. Government Printing Office Date issued: 1944 Physical description: 1 print (poster) : color Summary: Striking rattlesnake with bloody fangs. Genre: War posters Subjects: Spying; Rattlesnakes; National security Notes: U.S. Government Printing Office : 1944--O-603532; Distributed for the issuing agencies by O.W.I. Location: Boston Public Library, Print Department Rights: Rights status not evaluated

[tomoleary]

Albert Dorne (1904-1965) “Ruckus in the Park” from Famous Artist's Course (undated) Source

[worldinhishands]

Ink, Line

Albert Dorne

Austin Briggs

Shinkiro

Adam Hughes

Jack Davis

Wilfredo Torres

Graphic Design, Calligraphy

Mohammed Ehsaei

Abdelkader Arnaout

Design, Composition

Novozhilov

Dai Dunbang

HORIKWAWATARU

Yuudori

Esad Ribic

Color and Light

Edwin Aafjes

Julian Totino Tedesco

Caspar David Friedrich

[geekcavepodcast]

DC Comics Announces Oversized Special Issues and New Teams for Dawn of DC

“Wonder Woman” and “The Flash” to Celebrate 800 Issues

DC Comics is trickling out more info on the “Dawn of DC,” with new creative teams for several titles. DC Comics is also celebrating the 800th issues of Wonder Woman and The Flash with oversized special issues which will lead directing into new creative teams for those series as well.

The Dawn of DC Primer, from writer Joshua Williamson and artist Leandro Fernandez, is a free special that will reveal secrets and more for the Dawn of DC initiative. “For years, Amanda Waller has seen the heroes of the DC Universe as a dangerous threat that could lead to the end of the world. Ever since Dark Crisis on Infinite Earths, Amanda Waller has operated in the shadows to collect deadly weapons and to create an army of allies who agree with her. Now she’s forced to bring some of the worst enemies of the DC Universe an offer they can’t refuse.” (DC Comics)

The Dawn of DC Primer releases on May 16, 2023.

The Flash #800 is an oversized issue that will feature stories from writers Mark Waid, Geoff Johns, Joshua Williamson, and Jeremy Irons and artists Fernando Pasarin, Oclair Albert, Todd Nauck, Carmine Di Giandomenico, Scott Kolins, and Mike Deodato Jr.

The Flash #800, featuring a main cover by Taurin Clarke, goes on sale on June 6, 2023.

Following a preview in The Flash #800, The Flash will then get a new issue #1 for The Dawn of DC from Simon Spurrier and Mike Deodato Jr. “Wally West has never been quicker, more fulfilled, more heroic. His loving family is around him. And yet something is off. Very off. His evolving understanding of his powers has opened Wally to new avenues of sci-fi adventure, and attuned his senses to strange new ideas. Something whispers from the dark vibrations beyond the Speed Force, and as Wally experiments with creative new approaches to his powers he encounters new realms, mysterious allies and mind-shattering terrors.” (DC Comics)

The Flash #1 goes on sale in September 2023.

Wonder Woman #800 is an oversized issue that will feature the conclusion to Becky Cloonan and Michael W. Conrad’s “Whatever Happened to the Warrior of Truth?” arc. As Diana’s visions become more vivid as she is trapped in the dreams of those around her. Her life as Wonder Woman hangs in the balance as she struggles to escape. Creators with stories in Wonder Woman #800 include writers Cloonan and Conrad, and Tom King and artists Joëlle Jones, Jen Bartel, Daniel Sampere, and more.

Wonder Woman #800, featuring a main cover by Yanick Paquelle, goes on sale on June 20, 2023.

Wonder Woman’s new creative team following the 800th issue will be writer Tom King and artist Daniel Sampere. “After a mysterious Amazonian is accused of mass murder, the U.S. Congress passes The Amazon Safety Act, barring all Amazons from American soil. To carry out its new law, the government sets up the Amazon Extradition Entity (AXE) task force to remove those who don’t comply by any means necessary. In her search for the truth behind the killing, Wonder Woman now finds herself an outlaw in the world she once swore to protect.” (DC Comics) Wonder Woman #800 includes a prelude to this newest arc.

Wonder Woman #1 goes on sale in July 2023.

Steelworks, from writer Michael Dorn (voice of Steel in Superman: The Animated Series) and artist Sami Basri. John Henry Irons / Steel and Steelworks has created The Metropolis of the future. But a terrorist has Irons in their sites and has secrets that could undo everything Irons has built. “While John’s professional life is firing on all cylinders, his personal life is even better, as his on-again, off-again relationship with Lana Lang might be back on, permanently. Now he must decide whether it’s time to give up being Steel once and for all. But does John even know who he would be without his superhero identity? How does the other Steel—John’s niece, Natasha Irons—feel about his momentous decision? And does any of that matter if Steelworks crumbles around him when he lacks the superpowers to fight back?”

Steelworks #1 features a main cover by Clay Mann.

Hawkgirl, from Jadzia Axelrod and Amancay Nahuelpan, will follow Kendra Saunders / Hawkgirl’s journey after the disbanding of the Justice League. She heads to Metropolis to begin her new life. “That life is quickly interrupted by a mysterious villain with a powerful connection to the Nth Metal that makes up Hawkgirl’s wings and weapons.” (DC Comics)

Hawkgirl #1, featuring a main cover by Amancay Naheulpan and Adriano Lucas, goes on sale on July 18, 2023.

More info on “The Dawn of DC” is coming in the future.

(Images via DC Comics - “Dawn of DC” promo art, Taurin Clarke’s Cover of The Flash #800, Yanick Paquelle’s Cover of Wonder Woman #800, Clay Mann’s Cover of Steelworks #1, and Amancay Nahuelpan and Adriano Lucas’ Cover of Hawkgirl #1)