#marvel u.k.

[frazerbrown-producer]

PUT ON 3-D GLASSES NOW!

Amongst the recent Marvel U.K. deep dive I found these cool OVERKILL cards.

I loved these things and thought they were long gone.

Work by Bryan Hitch, Gary Frank, Gary Erskine and many more.

John Freeman of DOWN THE TUBES wrote a great article about them:

“Back in the early 1990s, some fantastic trading cards were given away in three early issues of Marvel UK’s Overkill, which I edited, featuring art by Gary Frank, some of the cards inked by Cam Smith.

These cards feature Hell’s Angel (later, Dark Angel), The Guide, Algernon Crowe, Colonel Tigon Liger, Master Key, Misha, Motormouth, Killpower, Death’s Head, Tuck, Purge and Digitek.

Many Marvel UK fans will have no doubt come across these images in various places online before, conjuring up, perhaps, fond memories of the debut of Death’s Head II in Overkill #12 – 14 in 1992, his arrival further enhanced by fantastic covers by Mark Harrison and Steve Sampson.”

You can read the full thing here: https://downthetubes.net/1990s-marvel-uk-nostalgia-the-first-overkill-trading-cards/

The 3D cards by BRYAN HITCH are particularly cool.

I got the whole lot signed at UKCAC ‘92 as wee bairn. The reason I have so many DEATH’S HEAD 2 cards is he was my favourite, plus it was a ‘hot book’ in the speculator market, so I figured I’d retire on the money made from selling these in the future. We all know how that bubble turned out.

Fun times

[tomoleary]

Steve Stiles Titans #23 DPS Iron Man Marvel U.K. (1976) Source

[contentabnormal]

The fearful fortieth issue of We Belong Dead magazine featuring cover art by Content Abnormal contributor Josh Ryals is now available! This issue is a Dracula Special celebrating the centennial of Hamilton Deane's Dracula play being performed for the first time on stage in Derby, England. This issue is also dedicated to the late great David J. Skal.

Links to where you may order We Belong Dead #40 HERE

[comicwaren]

From Spider-Man Vol. 4 #007, “Spider-Genesis”

Art by Mark Bagley, John Dell, Andrew Hennessy and Edgar Delgado

Written by Dan Slott

[comicbooksaregood]

Marvel Super-Heroes (UK)

Volume: 1

Issue: 388

Graveyard Shift

Writer: Alan Moore

Penciler: Alan Davis

Inker: Alan Davis

Cover: Frank Miller, Bob McLeod

Marvel UK

[gothic-aesthetic-gal]

Old Scars (Part 1)

Ledger!joker x reader

Fem!reader is kidnapped by the joker and his henchmen while just trying to get a moment's reprieve from her boring, soul-destroying job ✨️

Tw: I mean, we all saw TDK, right? I'd say this is on the same level/rating. Kidnapping, violence, mentions of minor characters (not J) being misogynist/threatening SA, reference to past traumatic injury. Beyond this i'm not sure, i'll update these when I write more.

P.s. I live in the U.K. and have tried to use language that fits being an American in Gotham city, but there will definitely be some words I haven't caught that may be UK specific. 😅

🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏

I stared despairingly at the huge stack of paperwork my line manager had just slapped down on my desk. I sighed and bit the inside of my cheek. None of my male co-workers had to deal with her extra work. This was such bullshit.

"Ah, you are a life saver, (y/n). What would I do without you?"

Her own work, probably, I thought to myself, sighing in exasperation as she left me to my souless cubicle.

By the time i'd finished up, it was getting cold out. After taking a detour to try and stave off the inevitable return to my shitty apartment, I found myself in front of a particularly expensive shop. My feet were aching from the heels my backwards regional manager insisted on the female admin staff wearing and my head hurt from the tight bun my hair was scraped into. His smirk was etched into my brain, as were his vile words on his latest visit.

"You're a very attractive young lady, even with your face like that. Your body makes up for it."

I felt pure rage rising up again at the memory. It was the way he'd said it as though he truly believed it was a compliment. The laughter of my coworkers rang in my ears. To them it was all a big joke and I was just too uptight to appreciate it.

What I wouldn't give to see them all humbled one day... but that was pure fantasy - and I knew it. I wondered what he'd buy with his overinflated christmas bonus this time, while we were all given a meeting to explain why they couldn't justify a minor pay rise to ease the cost of living crisis in Gotham.

The twinkling lights of the high end window displays were a beautiful contrast to the bleary grey outside, and after another hellish day in the purgatory which was the cubicle farm, my heart warmed a little. Everything in the store was definitely well out of my meagre price range, but the inner child in me was drawn in to look at all the pretty evening dresses and jewellery. I shrugged to myself, figuring there's never any harm in window-shopping and a little indulgent fantasy. Even if I could afford any of the opulent dresses, half of them were really ball gowns, and what events was I ever invited to where you'd need a dress like that? No, those sort of parties were for Gotham's social elite - charity fundraisers, galas and that sort of thing, no doubt.

I was half expecting a staff member to immediately spot me in my regular civilian garb and herd me back out of the door like a stray dog but they seemed to be dealing with a particularly difficult customer at the tills. She was waving her arms around and pulling a "do you know who my husband is?".

I stifled a laugh at the image of her, in her ridiculous fur coat shouting frantically and looking like she was about to give herself a anyeurism, if the prominent vein on her forehead was anything to go by. I turned away from her soap operatics and back to the rails of clothes in front of me. I gently touched the fabrics, marvelling at the softness of the richest velvet. Gazing at cool silk like rippling water; nothing like the cheap imitation the rest of us were accustomed to. I got drawn into my own little world imagining who might wear each dress and for what occasion.

"Can I help you with something?"

The voice pulled out the rug on my little escape instantly. I felt anxiety rising in my chest but resolved not to panic completely.

"Oh, I was just browsing..." I said, faking the best dismissive tone I could.

"You're sure, I'd be more than happy to help. Do you want to try anything?" She pressed, a friendly tone rather than the suspicion I had anticipated.

Perhaps my work suit was giving a higher-end impression than I had realised... or maybe she was new here.

"This one is particularly lovely, don't you think?" She gestured to the garment I unknowingly had a hand on, pausing as she'd approached. She wasn't wrong, it was a rich purple, ridiculous really, with layers and layers of tule skirting, but somehow the fine cut and quality of the fabric, and the detailing made it look classy rather than like something a teenager might pick out as their prom dress.

When was I ever going to get the chance to try on a literal ball gown? I decided to play into it, after all, I could always say I needed to go away and review my options. They couldn't make me buy it.

"It is lovely," I murmured.

"Do you want to try it on?"

"If it isn't too much trouble..."

Before I knew it, I was being whisked into a dressing room. The shop girl came whirling in with the dress and began unfastening it for me.

"Shoe size?" She asked briskly.

I hurriedly blurted out my answer and she dashed back onto the floor.

I kicked off my uncomfortable work heels and removed my blazer, skirt and scarf. Somehow I felt even more like an imposter standing there in just my undergarments and a pair of tights. I hurriedly pulled the dress up and held it in place. Before I knew it, she'd returned and began fastening me up at the back.

I gasped, both from the air being pushed out of my lungs as she cinched the hidden corsetry, and in awe at what I saw in the mirror. I had never had particularly wonderful self-image, but since the accident, I'd really shrunk into the background. I had always been shy, but i'd become a total wallflower these days. I hated the public-facing parts of my job - if it was telephone or email correspondence, people couldn't react in their myriad shitty ways to my facial scarring, but sometimes I was on front desk duty. Those were the worst days for me.

She made a minor adjustment to my hair, pulling a few strands loose around my face. To my surprise, she hesitated as she saw my scars up close, but didn't recoil, or pull more hair out to try and hide them. Her delicate fingers lingered for a moment, hovering above where my eyebrow was split into three by the forks of red lightning which were still deeply scored into my skin. I had mostly made my peace with it, but it was other peoples' reactions to my face that caused me the most pain. The grimaces, the staring, looking startled, regarding me with pity, strangers asking me what happened, it could all just be too damn much some days. It was a rare and beautiful thing to have someone not react negatively in some way.

I knew I was lucky to still be in the land of the living, and that I was in remarkable shape considering what happened that day, but it had left an inescapable mark. I anxiously ran my fingers over my temple, over the metal plate holding my skull together somewhere beneath the skin. She pulled her own hand back away slowly.

"You look beautiful, miss," she smiled with a genuine warmth that made me begin to believe it. It seemed as though she could sense my sudden swell of insecurity.

The shop girl was young, couldn't be more than sevetneen or eighteen, and I prayed that she somehow retained her gentleness in a city as ugly as Gotham.

"Thank you," I said, tearing up a little.

The dress itself was surprisingly lightweight and not like some kind of Victorian horror complete with a hoop skirt. Instead, it looked quite modern, and had a lot of volume in the skirt due to the layers of tulle fabric, which meant that you could still dance with ease. I did a little twirl for good measure, watching how it flowed and moved around my form. The shop girl smiled at my childlike delight.

Unfortunately, my elation was shattered in an instant. A chorus of screams and panicked shouts, followed by a spray of gunfire hit us like a slap to the face. The shop girl's eyes widened in confusion and panic, and I grasped onto her arm to steady myself. We strained our ears, trying to make out what exactly was happening. My brain was struggling to make the jump from the moment I had just been experiencing to the very real danger we were now thrust into.

After a couple of agonising seconds, there was another round of shots, and I heard a gruff male voice shout;

"Everybody get down!"

"Try to stay calm," I whispered, my own voice shaking.

I herded us into the corner of the booth and desperately gestured for her to undo the corset, not wanting to have to run for my life in the stupid dress. I could hear crashing and footsteps, as though the place was being ransacked and bit the inside of my cheek as the girl shakily tried to loosen the cord for me.

"Check in the back, we don't want anyone calling the cops!" came a voice which sounded unsettlingly close by.

Suddenly, someone burst through the door into the dressing room. We froze, praying whoever it was, wouldn't round the corner, but sadly it was too late. The scraping metallic sound of the curtains of each booth being flung aside echoed around the room. I counted each one, feeling as though my heart had stopped beating altogether, sick with anticipation. They were going left to right, and would reach us soon enough.

Our curtain was torn to the side, and an enormous man stood in the light. The shop girl let out a yelp of terror as she huddled behind me with her head in her hands.

"Found two hideaways!" He yelled out, lurching forward to grab at us.

In a blind panic, my body blocking him from the terrified girl behind me, I kicked and struck out like a feral street cat stuck in a trap. A few connected with him but I was ultimately no match for the man towering over us.

"Quit struggling you stupid bitch," he spat, striking me across the face.

Dazed, and with my eye stinging already, I felt another pair of hands grasp me and haul me out into the open. The barrel of a gun was quickly jammed into the small of my back.

"Stop causing trouble if you want to live," he hissed.

A third figure appeared and roughly forced the girl to her feet as well.

"This one looks so scared she might piss herself," he chuckled.

"Leave her the fuck alone," I muttered through gritted teeth.

"Ooo, you got a mouth on you, huh, rich girl?" Said the one holding me at gunpoint.

"Mm the boss ain't gonna like that, maybe we should gag her," one of his companions snorted.

"Nah, leave it. I wanna see what he does if she gives him any back talk," crowed the third one.

They marched us out onto the marble of the shop floor. Both shoes had come off the moment i'd started to struggle against our attackers and the tiling felt cold as ice beneath my unsteady feet. I saw that there were three other men holding up the cashiers and the handful of customers as they huddled together in one corner.

"Look what we found in the back," announced the biggest of the three men, shoving us forward.

It was only then that I noticed everyone's attention seemed to be drawn to one man, a man who I couldn't yet see, on account of him facing away from us as he nonchalantly rifled through the nearest rack of clothing.

He was a fairly tall man, perhaps a little over six feet, wearing a long coat. It was well in need of a wash, covered in dust and ashy, yet still obviously purple in colour - though perhaps not the vibrant purple it once was. His hair could best be described as messy; a straggly mop of green waves, with his natural brown hair showing through at the roots and in patches throughout. His body language was odd, the way he held himself, with his shoulders hunched, unsettled me.

As he turned around, to see what his henchmen had brought in, I felt a pang of total despair. I recognised his streaky painted face from a recent news broadcast, and I knew instantly that we were in deep trouble. This was the man they called 'the joker'. I could hear the poor shop girl sobbing behind me somewhere, barely hiding her sheer terror.

"Ah more guests for our little party," he exclaimed, his voice and intonation seeming as erratic as his physical movements.

"What you want us to do with them, boss?" Grunted the shorter goon to my left.

"Put them with the others," he gestured, stalking forward.

I turned to watch as he approached the shop girl, my heart in my throat.

"And who do we have here?" He asked, in a tone mimicking gentleness, which was even more unsettling than his usual, more sinister way of talking.

"S-sarah," she choked out between sobs.

"S-sarah? What's wrong s-sarah? Are you s-scared?" He cooed, practically circling her like a big cat.

I felt sick watching him toy with her, and anger began to rise in my chest. Sarah nodded defeatedly.

"Please don't hurt me," she whimpered, unable to look him in the eyes.

"Oh now why would you think we are gonna do that?" He exclaimed.

She didn't seem to know how to answer.

"Just do everything we ask, and some of you will live," he grinned patting her on the head, "put her with the rest," he gestured dramatically to the others in the corner.

His goons did as he asked and shifted her to where the others were cowering in the corner. I bit my tongue as his attention now shifted to me.

"My my, what a pretty dress, I love the colour," he purred, barely three strides away from me now.

I said nothing, hoping he would somehow just lose interest. There was still the largest goon stood beside me, pistol jammed into my lower spine so I didn't want to antagonise either of them.

He got close enough to reach out and touch me, pulling off one of his leather gloves with his teeth. The red painted smile, already smeared and smudged, left its mark on his finger tips with the clumsiness of his action. I was trying very hard to keep a steady breath, refusing to panic as I knew it would only worsen my situation.

"What's the matter? Are you shy?" He asked, that fake empathetic tone creeping in again.

"No, I just don't find that a hostage situation lends itself to free and easy conversation," I snapped back, unable to suppress my anger fully.

He tilted his head to the side, a glint in his dark brown eyes as they searched my face, scanning, analysing. In defiance, I stared right back.

In my struggle with his henchmen, my face had become half obscured by the hair which had come loose from my bun, and my hands being behind my back, I had not been able to move it out of the way.

Suddenly breaking his stillness, he reached inside his coat pocket and withdrew a knife. The switch blade swung open with a characteristic clack. I bit my tongue even harder to try and subdue my panic.

He reached out his ungloved hand to rougly grasp my face. Everything within me was screaming to struggle free, to run for the hills, but I was stuck. I'd be shot down before I made it two steps, I knew that.

"You are beautiful," he mused, " tell me, does this," he moved the knife barely an inch from my face, "does this, scare you?"

I grimaced, unable to stop myself from recoiling at his skin touching my own.

"Do you ever wonder what life is like for the ugly?" He asked, flatly.

Undeterred by my shrinking away from his touch, he roughly used his fingers to comb my fallen hair back away from my face. Once the curtain of hair was lifted, my scars were revealed, and his face took on a curious, unreadable riot of emotion for a split-second.

"What's the matter, am I not as beautiful as you thought?" I muttered sarcastically, wanting to pre-empt his inevitable mockery.

He clearly liked to pick people apart, to try and tap into their biggest fears, so it seemed a sure thing that he would have plenty to say about my face. This only made me all the more dumbfounded when he put away the knife and his grasp on my face melted into something altogether tender.

His fingertips gently brushed over the deep valleys of my old wounds as though he was trying to read my story. I felt him follow the fork from my hairline at my temple all the way down, bridging my eye, down my cheek to the point mid way along the lefthand side of my jaw where it ended. As he did so, I saw for the first time up close his own grisly scars which formed a sort of permanent smile. The makeup he applied over the top made it harder to see from afar just how extensive they were. I knew from my own experience that the wounds had been more than skin deep, into deep muscle tissue. You could tell by how raised and pitted they were.

The man holding me at gunpoint seemed not to have picked up on this sudden change of pace, as he had plenty to say, even if the joker didn't.

"I shoulda warned you, she's a butterface," he chuckled, "you should do the other side to match, I already made a start," he gestured to the split eyebrow and puffy eye he'd given me on my good side.

The joker's body language rapidly changed again. I felt him tense up, even in his fingers against my cheek. It was as though every fibre in his body was taught suddenly, like he was a rubber band about to snap. His eyes seemed to darken, his irises almost like black pools against the black paint encircling them. I was suddenly very afraid.

He looked down at my face with an air of detachement, his tongue flicking against the inner corner of his lip.

"Would you excuse me for a second, doll?" He grinned, before his smile dropped flat again the moment he straightened up to full height.

"Give me the gun," he comanded of his goon.

"But boss..." the burly man protested, before removing it from my back and reluctantly handing it over.

There was a deafening crack and the smell of gunpowder filled my nostrils as my ears rang. Some of the hostages cried out in fear and for a moment I thought he must have shot me. I stumbled on the stupid dress, falling to the floor with a crash, dazed, my ears still ringing as I rolled onto my side, preparing for my seemingly imminent death.

Unexpectedly, my vision began to clear and the ringing dimmed down enough that I could try to collect my thoughts. I became aware of another figure in front of me on the floor. Someone was roughly pulling me upwards, trying to get me back on my feet.

"Up you get!"

Suddenly, I managed to re-engage my muscles enough to stand, swaying on legs that felt like jelly.

"There you go, see? You're fine," came a low voice to my left, practically right into my ear. I blinked hard as I began to make sense of what had just happened.

The joker shifted so that he was stood in front of me again, and gripped a hand under my jaw so that he could look me in the face. He turned my somewhat vacant face this way and that, as though he was checking I was still in there.

"Whoops! Probably should've told you to stick your fingers in your ears," he wheezed with laughter, releasing my face and waving the gun around casually.

My lingering confusion was cleared up when I realised the other figure on the floor was his own man. The others looked on, some unfased, some clearly very uncomfortable at this sudden decision to remove him from the equation entirely. He had shot him point blank, I couldn't bring myself to believe that it was in reaction to his insults. Surely this was just some kind of mind game going far beyond my comprehension... I didn't feel reasurred, I definitely didn't feel flattered, if anything it just showed the true unpredictability of the psychopath in front of me.

"Right, now that minor... detour is over, I want you all to stay calm, while we execute out little plan," he comanded, gesturing to the hostages.

Two of his men forced grenades into peoples shaking hands, pulling the pins so that they were forced to hold on to them, or risk them detonating. They produced a roll of duct tape and wound it around each pair of hands, so there was no chance of them tossing the grenades away from the group either. The others continued to stuff duffle bags full with the cash from the registers, and the jewellery from the display cases. I cursed the slow response time of the GCPD, although there was never a gurantee that their arrival wouldn't cause more of a bloodbath, since so many of them liked to shoot first and ask questions later. They had far too lenient of a threshold for 'collateral damage'.

I was expecting to be forcibly handed my own grenade, but instead the joker gestured to me. The way in which he waved me over was completely antithetical to the situation unfolding around us; it was so casual, as though we were long-time friends. Not seeing another choice, I gingerly approached him, and he, losing patience, roughly grabbed me by the arm and yanked me closer to him.

"These lovely people can stay here, but, uh, you..." he lingered on the word looking me up and down, as he taped my hands together in front of my body, "you, are coming along for the ride".

"Why?!" Was all I managed to get out as he shoved me roughly toward the front of the store.

He laughed, sending a fresh chill down my spine.

"Well, we have an opening, consider yourself the newest member of our operation," he said in a congratulatory tone.

Before I could respond at all, my head reeling in total panic, I was being tugged out of the door with my arms feeling like they were going to pop out of the sockets.

[collapsedsquid]

In the U.K., the Health Security Agency recently raised its threat level to 4 out of 6, the stage immediately before large-scale human outbreaks. In Europe, countries are proactively vaccinating dairy and poultry workers against infection, with 15 nations already securing a total of 40 million doses through the European Commission. In the United States, despite having a stockpile of those vaccines, we are not distributing them, instead focusing on standing up voluntary supplies of seasonal flu vaccines to frontline workers. (The hope is that this will prevent animal infections of human flu that might aid in the further mutation of H5N1.) The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention has cited the low number of cases to justify its inaction, but it has also moved remarkably slowly to promote the kind of widespread surveillance testing that could actually identify cases. Only recently has the agency begun to mobilize real funding for a testing push, after a period of months in which various federal groups batted around responsibility and ultimate authority like a hot potato. And as was the case early in the Covid-19 pandemic, the C.D.C.’s preferred test for bird flu “has issues.” Three months into the outbreak, only 45 people had even been tested; six weeks later, the total number of people tested had grown only to “230+.” [...] Most farms aren’t supplying N95 masks, goggles or aprons to protect workers, either, and when Amy Maxmen of KFF News surveyed farm workers to ask why they weren’t getting tested, “no one had heard of bird flu, never mind gotten P.P.E. or offers of tests,” she reported. “One said they don’t get much from their employers, not even water. If they call in sick, they worry about getting fired.” Last month, a crew was deployed to slow the spread of the disease by killing every last chicken of 1.78 million on a large Colorado farm where H5N1 had broken out and six of the workers contracted the virus, partly because the gear they’d been provided was hard to use in the punishing 104-degree heat. In June, Robert Redfield, former director of the C.D.C., echoed many epidemiologists in predicting that “it’s not a question of if, it’s more of a question of when we will have a bird flu pandemic.” In July, Brown’s Jennifer Nuzzo warned that the steady beat of new cases “screams at us that this virus is not going away.” Tulio de Oliveira, a bioinformatician who studies global disease surveillance, marveled that the American effort to track the spread of the disease was absolutely amateurish and the country’s apparent indifference “unbelievable.”

[mrs-stans]

Sebastian Stan Scolds “Hypocrite” Trump at ‘The Apprentice’ U.K. Premiere: “Do You Really Trust This Person to Lead a Country?”

Stan, who portrays Donald Trump in Ali Abbasi's new movie, was asked whether this film debuting so close to the U.S. election could sway voters: "He's been trying to censor this movie, and at the same time, he claims he acknowledges free speech. I can't think of anything more hypocritical."

BY LILY FORD

Sebastian Stan has branded former U.S. president Donald Trump a hypocrite who has attempted to “censor” his new movie, The Apprentice.

The Marvel actor spoke at the BFI London Film Festival premiere of Ali Abbasi’s movie about Trump’s rise to power in 1970s and ’80s New York — in which he stars as the real estate mogul-turned-Republican politician — with the teachings of mentor Roy Cohn (played by Jeremy Strong) guiding him on his ascension.

The cast and crew, including Stan, Strong, Abbasi and screenwriter Gabriel Sherman, appeared on the red carpet at the BFI’s Royal Festival Hall in the U.K. capital.

When asked whether this film debuting so close to the U.S. election could sway voters, Stan told The Hollywood Reporter: “I don’t know, but what I do hope is that people, regardless of their opinion, are curious enough to try to dig deeper. Because I think we’re living in a world where it’s so easy to be handed an opinion everywhere you turn. And I know a lot of people love social media, and that’s where they go for information and for things. You’re being told what to think. You’re being told what to do.”

But, the Marvel star continued, “If you have any inkling of interest, go and really ask yourself: ‘Who is this man? Do you really know? Do you really trust this person to lead a country?’ He’s been trying to censor this movie, and at the same time, he claims that he acknowledges free speech … I can’t think of anything more hypocritical. So at the end of the day, it’s about him as a character. Forget the politics and just go in there and use your instinct and ask yourself: Do you trust this man? That’s what the movie is about.”

The feature film opened in roughly 1,700 theaters across the U.S. last weekend after its debut in Cannes and pulled in an anemic $1.6 million in its first weekend. Trump lashed out against the film after the numbers came in.

“A FAKE and CLASSLESS Movie written about me, called, The Apprentice (Do they even have the right to use that name without approval?), will hopefully “bomb.” It’s a cheap, defamatory and politically disgusting hatchet job, put out right before the 2024 Presidential Election, to try and hurt the Greatest Political Movement in the History of our Country,” Trump wrote in a post on Truth Social.

Sherman told THR: “It’s not surprising [that Trump lashed out]… You’ve seen the film, the first lesson that Roy Cohn teaches him is: attack, attack, attack. So Trump hasn’t seen the movie, but he’s clearly following the rules that are in the movie.”

Sherman also said part of the inspiration for this film was to show Trump as carrying on Cohn’s legacy, as sources who worked on the 2016 Trump campaign told him the businessman was just “using Roy’s lessons.”

The Apprentice received rave reviews and an 8-minute standing ovation after its Cannes Film Festival premiere in May.

[soleminisanction]

@mzminola I saw your tags on this post:

#you all have so many names #is this because of DC eating Fawcett, or a tiff with Marvel Comics, or several reasons??? #everything I learn about the Shazam Fawcett City fam makes me more interested

And immediately got excited because I happen to know this story and I think it's fun. It's one of the more interesting nuances of comics industry skullduggery out there.

See, Captain Marvel was the most popular superhero of the 1940s, at least based on raw comic book sales; he even outsold Superman, and he was the first comic book superhero to get adapted into a film serial. And National Comics, the company that would eventually become DC, hated that, so they sued for copyright infringement on the grounds that the Cap was a blatant Superman rip-off, and they eventually won, forcing Fawcett to stop publishing Captain Marvel and his family in 1953.

Then in the 60s, when Marvel Comics came along, somebody there eventually noticed that the trademark to the name "Captain Marvel" was up for grabs, so they jumped on that with their Captain in 1967. Between Mar-Vell and his family, Monica Rambaeu, Noh-Varr and Carol Danvers, Marvel's never let that trademark slip out of their grasp in the decades since.

So when DC acquired the rights to use the original Captain Marvel and his crew, first through a license with Fawcett in 1972 and then essentially absorbing the smaller company entirety in 1992, they found themselves in the awkward legal position where they couldn't publish Cap's books under the name "Captain Marvel." They could call him that in the book, because they owned the rights to the character, but they couldn't use his name as the trademark for the series, or in any of their advertisements, and when they tried to edge around it by calling him, "Shazam! The Original Captain Marvel" they got a cease and desist.

Of course people who weren't familiar with any of this drama found it confusing that this was one of the only books in the line-up that wasn't named for its hero. So DC spent a long time through the 90s and early 00s going through different names for Captain Marvel (and to a lesser extent Mary and Junior) trying to find a name that would let people know that this was the same Very Popular Character as in the old days without tripping into Marvel's trademark lawyers.

---

Meanwhile!! Back in the 50s, over the the U.K., the small press that had been importing the Captain Marvel comics decided that, when their supply was suddenly cut off by the lawsuit, they'd recruit a local artist to just help them keep going by changing the name to a thinly veiled expy called Marvelman.

Marvelman was then revived in the 80s by Alan Moore as Miracleman, which was basically his first jaunt into the metatextual explorations of superhero comics that he'd become famous for. When he left that run it was taken over by Neil Gaiman, through whom a debate over the rights to Miracleman would eventually become central to a protracted lawsuit with Todd McFarlane over work Gaiman did on the Spawn comics.

You could probably write a pretty compelling history of the superhero comics industry just by following the trademark and copyright drama of Captain Marvel. I'm a little surprised somebody hasn't done it already tbh.

[a-man-for-hire-and-his-archives]

Disney+ Not Going Forward With ‘Nautilus’ UK Series As Part Of Cost-Cutting Content Removal

EXCLUSIVE: Nautilus, the UK live-action Captain Nemo series commissioned by Disney+ two years ago, is no longer headed to the streamer, Deadline has learned.

The decision is part of Disney’s streaming content removal plan unveiled in May, for which the company is taking an impairment charge of approximately $1.5 billion-$1.8 billion. It followed the February announcement by Disney that it intends to cut $3 billion in non-sports content spend across the company.

As part of the cost-reduction strategy, Disney’s streaming platforms, particularly flagship Disney+, have been taking a closer look on their programming with a new emphasis on content curation.

As Deadline reported exclusively Saturday, Disney+ also is not going forward with another upcoming original series, the The Spiderwick Chronicles, a U.S. live-action series adaptation of the popular children’s fantasy books.

Over the past couple of months, dozens of original series and specials were taken off Disney+ as well as Hulu, and Disney CEO Bob Iger also announced a pullback in new Marvel and Star Wars shows and movies for Disney+.

Like The Spiderwick Chronicles, which is currently being shopped by lead studios Paramount Television Studios, Nautilus has been shot; it started filming in February 2022 in Australia. Disney+ is working with the production team to find a new home for Nautilus, with meetings and screenings underway.

Nautilus was announced during the 2021 Edinburgh TV Festival along with two other new original UK series for Disney+. No other UK local originals are understood to be impacted by the content cuts.

Disney+’s UK scripted and unscripted programming pipeline includes Culprits, from J Blakeson; Jilly Cooper’s Rivals; A Thousand Blows, from Stephen Graham; Coleen Rooney’s upcoming documentary, In Vogue, from Vogue Studios and Raw; and Shardlake, based on the novels by C. J. Sansom.

The streamer also recently greenlit two new U.K. drama series, Jeff Pope’s Suspect: The Shooting of Jean Charles de Menezes, and thriller Playdate.

Based on the Jules Verne’s classic novel 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, Nautilus is a 10-part live-action adventure series about the origin story of Verne’s iconic character, Captain Nemo, and his famous submarine, The Nautilus.

In this retelling, Nemo (Shazad Latif) is an Indian Prince robbed of his birth right and family, a prisoner of the East India Company and a man bent on revenge against the forces which have taken everything from him. But once he sets sail with his ragtag crew on board the awe-inspiring Nautilus, he not only battles with his enemy, he also discovers a magical underwater world.

Also starring are Georgia Flood and Thierry Frémont, with Pacharo Mzembe, Arlo Green, Tyrone Ngatai, Ling Cooper Tang, Andrew Shaw, Ashan Kumar, Céline Menville and Kayden Price rounding out the cast. Nautilus is produced by Xavier Marchand’s Moonriver Studios and Anand Tucker’s Seven Stories.

Source: Deadline

Big thank you to @longlukearnolds for head up!

[frazerbrown-producer]

I was sorting through some storage boxes recently and found some curios from the dark depths of UKCAC ‘92 including this item a ‘TOM DEFALCO’ autograph card.

I have such fond memories of that time. In fact when I started TALES FROM THE QUARANTINE I made sure to reach out to all of those folk from Marvel U.K. that were so inspiring and accommodating to 13 year old me at the con.

The passing of Paul Neary recently has sent me back down a MARVEL U.K. collection rabbit hole and I’ve unearthed some fun stuff like this card. Tom DEFALCO and Paul NEARY gave me some great portfolio advice that day, and LIAM SHARP, ANDY LANNING, GARY ERSKINE and all the other attendees signed a multitude of items. If I remember correctly they gave everything on the table away for free so I asked for multiple copies for my buddies. My poor old dad had to carry around bags of posters, badges, comics and trading cards all day. It would be our last con together before he passed. Great memories were made.

A couple of years back I considered relaunching / producing a large UKCAC revival and sought the blessing of its creators to use the name, out of respect . The original producers preferred it stay as a great memory and moment in time, and whilst it saddened me, I can absolutely see their point. It was a unique moment in time.

Spending tonight on the nostalgia Choo Choo train.

[tomoleary]

Kevin O'Neill - The Punisher #17 Marvel U.K. Original Cover Art (1989) Source

[racefortheironthrone]

Can you please explain Jessica Drew to me and how is she connected to Peter Parker and Miles Morales?

Jessica Drew is a very complicated character with a truly bizarre origin.

As I discuss here, the origin of Spider-Woman is about as nakedly commercial as you can get. In the late 1970s, Stan Lee had left Marvel Comics in favor of doing Marvel film and television development in Hollywood - and he got spooked when ABC did the Bionic Woman spinoff from the Six-Million-Dollar Man. He was afraid that Marvel didn't have the rights to the distaff equivalents of their most successful characters, so he sent word back to Marvel Comics that they had to come up with She-Hulk (because of the Lou Ferrigno show), Ms Marvel (because of the legal fight over Shazam), and indeed Spider-Woman (because of the cartoon) right away.

This rush job meant that Jessica Drew's early years are a bit...weird.

Unlike Peter Parker, Drew isn't bitten by a radioactive spider: rather, her mad scientist father decided to inject her with spider-blood in order to counter-act the radioactive poisoning his experiments had given her, and then shoved her inside the High Evolutionary's genetic accelerator at Mount Wundagore (because her dad was working there at the time).

Then Jessica was trained by HYDRA to be the perfect assassin and brain-washed her into thinking that she was an artificially-evolved spider rather than a human. Oh, and for a while Jessica's mom was HYDRA's chief assassin Viper:

Within the context of ATSV, Drew is interesting because like Miguel and Ben Reilly, she's a Spider who wasn't chosen to be bitten by a spider, but became a Spider anyway. She has some of Spidey's powers - wall-crawling, super-strength/speed/stamina/reflexes/etc., but also venom blasts like Miles, a healing factor like Wolverine, and mood-altering pheramone powers.

She doesn't usually have that much to do with Peter Parker or Miles Morales - she didn't know either of them growing up in the U.K, she doesn't have the same "canon events" as they do, the only thing they have in common is that they're all totemic avatars.

[movie-universe-org]

‘THE MARVELS’ actually has a budget of $274.8M.

However $55M of that budget was a subsidy from the U.K. meaning they only spent $219.8M.

[athelind]

RIP Greg Hildebrandt