#salvadore doom

[weirdlookindog]

Crypt of Creatures #3 - Gredown, Australia, June 1977.

Cover art by Salvador Fabá.

[silversiren1101]

At The End - OCKiss24 Salvadore x Minovae

I managed to find time to actually participate in a writing event! We can thank my new ADHD meds for that I'm sure. Anyway, this first is featuring my Minovae and @dmagedgoods Salvadore, who I have long cherished their relationship as much as it's fascinated me. They're what could have been and what could never be. I'm so happy with how this came out - please know I cried multiple times while writing it!

Violet eyes looked out over the city below and beyond the marble balustrade. Smoke rose from nearly every main plaza and thoroughfare, and even what seemed to be the most innocuous of alleyways as well as the highest parapets. For the first in some many decades, nay, a century, even, there was no cause for alarm from this. It wasn’t demons ravaging the last line of defense in this nation that both was and wasn’t, but now could be. The war hadn’t reached here, Nerosyan, the capital, because the war was over.

The Knight Commander had done it. Knight Commander Salvadore had closed the Worldwound. Where no other could, and it hadn’t been for lack of trying, but for all so much bloodsoaked and desperate failure, the war had finally ended.

And by a poncy, arrogant noble with a stick up his ass to rival even Iomedae’s.

Miracles, it seemed, weren’t in so short supply as the name of this age had made it seem.

Minovae sighed deeply looking out over the city with its night sky filled with smoke for the first time not from war but from celebration, her tail listlessly hanging off the edge between the balusters. Bonfires beat back the darkness, and she realized then that the smell and sight was what was making her stomach clench and eyes rimmed with wet. How much like home it was, poor battered and stripped Westcrown, whose nightly pyres weren’t out of any cause for celebration but to beat back the shadow-beasts that stalked her streets once the sun set and feared the light.

A home she knew she’d never see again.

The ache in her mind from Thrune’s brand told her as much. She’d never make it as far as Westcrown once she crossed the border of homeland. They’d take her back to Egorian, where the beginning of this end began, and they’d put the loose end that she was to close once and for all. It was coming. Soon. She knew it was. They might even be ready to disappear her as soon as she stepped from Nerosyan’s walls.

The thought only reinforced that emptiness that pervaded her. She had nothing left to fight for, anyway. Even more, she’d fought alongside heroes. She’d helped do the impossible. The Crusades were over, and she’d played no small part in it. Even the fact she wore this evening not her armor, its weight heavy and familiar comfort, but finery, felt strange. So much of her existence had been defined by steel and blood and blade and shield, and now it was drawing to a close not in the middle of a craggy field that smelled of iron, but on the night of celebration, in a gala hosted by literal royalty.  

The liquor in her glass burned comfortingly as she took another sip. ‘As strong as you have’, she’d told the man, who’d grinned and reached under the bar for something so old and dusty she hadn’t been able to catch the label. It did the trick, vapors stinging her nose and warming her throat and gut better than anything she’d had in years, and she reminded herself to thank him before she left for the night.

“Ah, here you are.”

She would have started had her senses not been dulled by drink—truthfully, this was her fifth glass. The clink of the ice as she’d knocked it back had disguised his footsteps, she surmised. He had no reason to sneak up on her tonight, and he walked with all the confidence and bravado his station and title presumed on his behalf at nearly all times.

“Here I am…”, she flicked her gaze to the corner as he came to the balcony balustrade, leaning against it, mindful of her tail where it trailed across the marble. Those icy blues locked onto hers and held that gaze firm. She might have thought it a challenge, or some type of implied order as he was oft to give, had his lips not been lightly tugged ever so upwards at their corners into a smile that was, by all accounts, warm. She stared at those lips perhaps a moment too long, before continuing. “Though I’m not sure it is really you, Sal, with such an expression on that face.”

He took no offense to the diminutive of his name. Not with her, at least. But she did note the quirk in his brow; inquisitive.

“My dear, it is a night for celebration, if you have not noticed.

“And so even the great Salvadore can afford himself a smile? I see”, she smirked.

It felt bitter. Even as happy as she truly was for him, for all of them, the emptiness of her future had tainted this night before it had even began. She quickly returned her gaze to the bottom of the glass cradled between her fingers, dangling over the edge of open air above the city below.

A heavy beat of silence passed. She knew without meeting that gaze again that he was aware something was weighing on her. He was one of the few she’d ever met that matched her ability to read nearly anyone, no matter how inscrutable.

“You should go back inside, you know. It is a night for celebration, after all”, she used his own words, hoping it would rub him wrong enough to just make him leave. “I’m sure they’ll be wondering where the man of the evening is.”

But, she knew the copious drink had taken her off her game tonight. Normally she could handle him as she did other nobles, though certainly not lightly–he’d ever been one of her most difficult rivals. Even admitting as such had rankled her, but now, here, she could only think of the term fondly. She internally cursed the sweet heat cloying her thoughts.

“Without you? Without whom this would not be possible? No, my dear, your absence has been noticeable enough. You have spent enough time endearing the night air with your appearance, when it would be much better spent on the unworthy eyes back inside.”

She snorted at that. Shook her head. “Are you saying I look nice?”

“Is that such a surprise? You look beautiful. It is a crime that the first time I have seen you in a dress, you’ve spent most of it hiding away.”

It was true. She’d been present for the opening ceremonies, of course. She’d even started the night just as lively and bright as nearly everyone else, dancing one or two waltzes with their friends—then, someone had asked her what she would do next, after all this was done.

And the brand seared into her mind had started to ache.

She swallowed down a sigh, not wanting him to hear. Her tail, heavy, almost languidly, pulled itself back up from the plummet she wanted to take before them and instead squished the air like shoulders would a shrug.

“You could have always ordered me into a dress, if you were so desperate to see it.”

“It would not have looked half as radiant on you than one donned willingly. I can see there was truth to your stories. Any lesser man in there would crumple before you, if you had your heart set on crushing theirs.”

Had he always been this funny, she wondered. No, it was the alcohol working in his favor. Still, she chuckled. Heat licked to the skin beneath her scaled cheeks. She knew she must’ve looked much like a watermelon then–those green-tinted opals sitting in a sea of red.

“Alright, alright. Need I tattle to Daeran with how much you’re trying to butter me up?” 

It was an empty threat and joke, they both knew. The only thing Daeran would be mad at was that he was not here to see and hear this for himself. 

“When I left, he was last doing what I expected you  to be doing all evening. Dancing the night away, breaking those hearts with each hand he trades for another.”

“I’m glad he’s enjoying himself. It’s just… louder in there than I remember…”, she answered wistfully. “I’m not used to being around so many people again. At least, not in a war camp… without my armor.”

He knew all about her past navigating through galas and parties much like these. She’d told him as such, how she used to stalk her prey on their own grounds, playing their own game; the Hellknight who’d eschew her armor for a dress and weapon for an invitation to dance, luring the guilty in with honey only to bring them to the guillotine all the same.

She only hoped he’d accept the excuse. Just telling him the truth would kill her. Him, possibly, too. Literally. The last thing she wanted on her record before she went to the Boneyard was taking down the angelic hero who’d ended the Crusades in a blackened, infernal blaze of her brand detonating.

“It has quieted some. The wine has seen to that, and most have had their choices in dance.”

She hummed. “Then surely my presence isn’t that missed.”

“On the contrary”—a shift of movement caught her attention. She looked back up from her glass toward him once more, and found a hand, fingers lightly curled upward, extended in invitation towards her.

“This entire Crusade, you have bragged about your prowess on the dance floor and told me of your greatest triumphs taking down ‘arrogant blowhard fops of my caliber,’”—she felt a rush of even hotter flame to her cheeks and a rattle shook her tail as he’d remembered one of the rants she’d gone on after particularly pissing her off—“, and yet, I have yet to see it for myself. I insist: would you have but a single dance with me, Lady Minovae?”

She stared. First, at his hand, those tan fingers extended invitingly. By all accounts they should be as rough and calloused as hers, and yet they looked untouched by the horrors of the war they’d both fought through, side by side. His nails were perfectly cut and filed, and shone beneath the moonlight. Hells, she swore there was a light glow emanating from it, but she had no idea if it was just from how bright the moon was, or because of the angelic power coursing through him. It looked warm, despite him being a dhampir.

And then her gaze shifted upward, to the rest of him. His blue eyes had narrowed, warm, inviting, despite how piercingly cold their color was. She noticed then that the night had gotten to his usual perfectly manicured and groomed self. Some hairs had fallen from his typical neat style, wayward curls—curls!—teasing his forehead and giving him an almost roguish appeal that made her breath catch. For once, he looked real. He looked mortal. At this, his highest point in power, literally touched by the Heavens and the Abyss alike, Salvadore looked more like a living, breathing, touchable person than at any other point in which she’d known him. He didn’t rise in her that distrust and disgust that normally appeared when she lay eyes upon a noble, even with him dressed in the brightest white and gold finery she’d ever seen.

He looked… 

Warm. Handsome. Inviting. Mortal. An ally. A friend. Something more. Her breath caught for a moment. She found herself staring at his lips again, sitting above his chiseled chin and jawline. Had they always looked so… soft? He was doing that soft smile again, confident and controlled, but welcoming. The kind that made you let down your guard, of which the whiskey clouding her thoughts certainly wasn’t helping.

“A good kisser?”, she snorted derisively. “I didn’t know they taught you how to kiss in noble school. I certainly don’t know where else you would’ve learned given how insufferable you are. Unless that mysterious ‘mentor’ of yours taught you that, too.”

Salvadore only made a low noise in the back of his throat, confident and knowing. The look he shot her was much the same. “You are welcome to a demonstration, if you need the proof, my lady knight, Arangeir.”

Her boisterous laugh was all the answer he needed: never in a million years.

She remembered the moment in a sudden flash like it was yesterday. She couldn’t even remember what had triggered that conversation, but she certainly remembered the tease and invitation now. It hadn’t been a million years, but she wouldn’t get a million years. Sal might. He and Daeran together. But she wouldn’t. She might not even get a week. Daeran would forgive her for this, she knew… and well, if he didn’t, she supposed she wouldn’t be around long to suffer it.

“…A dance?”, she licked her lips, suddenly feeling overly warm, overly flushed. Her dress exposed much of her back and shoulders, letting her feathers and scales breathe , and only went to about her mid-thigh regardless. Still, she felt hot. She felt stupid, too, but did it matter? “You can have your dance, if I can have something in return.”

That piqued his curiosity. Salvadore drew his hand back slightly, if only because he’d straightened his posture. His head tilted, and a brow raised. Something glinted in his eye. Concern? She didn’t care.

“Do you remember months ago… You claimed to be a good kisser. I didn’t believe you. What if I told you I still don’t?”

Her pulse was racing now. She could feel it thud-thud-thudding in her chest. It got even worse as realization dawned upon him.

She half expected a slap; he was a taken man now, after all. He might have even just turned around and gone back inside, which, fine. For the moment, though, he only stared at her. She could tell he was trying to decipher why she was asking for this now, why in the Hells now? Could she blame him? Of course not, he had no idea the severity of the truth, of just how little time she had left to do what she wanted and be a little crazy before everything ended.

What she didn’t expect was for those fingers to return. Closer. Curled under her chin.

She gasped lightly, hotly, as Salvadore clasped her jaw. Those hands were cold, as she thought, but the feel of that icy chill across her flushed skin felt almost like healing magic dancing across wounds, knitting them closed. 

Her tail vibrated anxiously, filled with so much energy where it had lain dead before. She could feel her feathers rising from neck to tail tip, fluffing up in that way that made her look like an alarmed cat.

Their eyes held each others’, and his additionally held a question. 

Now or never.

“You promised a demonstration”, she merely answered.

He needed no other reassurance.

Their height difference made it more difficult than it should have been, but Salvadore had been only truthful in his claims. He knew exactly what to do.

A hand pressed to the flat of her back, directly over the strip of feathers running down her spine and scales surrounding them—now running icily themselves trying to cool her down. She briefly wondered if he even noticed with the chill in his own hands, but let it drift away as soon as it had come. He pressed her close and up, bidding her to her toes as he himself confidently arched downward.

Soft. They were soft. How funny it was, she thought, that such iron and coldness could come from those lips only for them to be so damn soft. Softer than hers. Theirs pressed against the other, and her eyes slipped closed upon the gentle impact. She mapped them in the darkness behind her eyelids, each and every crease, the cupid’s bow, the feel of his breath across her face.

When had she last been kissed? She didn’t remember. Wetness rimmed her eyes again. She didn’t even love him. Love had escaped her at every turn, snatched away always and viciously by circumstance. All she could think of was the emptiness, of what hadn’t been and what she’d never had. His lips right then, for only this brief moment, were filling that yawning void. It was a piece that didn’t fit in this puzzle. Not perfectly. But for a moment, it was filled.

Then pressing. Then prodding. Further still, he took it, and she went rigid in shock before melting as his tongue breached what should have been where this had ended. It brought with it the taste of wine, luxurious and more opulent than any her salary would have spared. Something in her found it funny that for as much as she’d always tormented him about her dislike of fine wines, he’d still found a way to share a glass with her.

At the end. Of everything.

[doomrichards]

DOCTOR DOOM & REED RICHARDS argue semantics. From Doctor Doom (2019) #9

[crisisofinfinitemultiverses]

Dr Doom 1 (2019) by Christopher Cantwell & Salvador Larroca

Cover: Mike Deodato JR (variant)

[ungoliantschilde]

some Salvador Larocca artwork in black and white.

[comicbooksaregood]

House of M

Volume: 1

Issue: 7

Variant Cover: Salvador Larroca

Marvel

[gbfmi1]

happy easter

[facts-i-just-made-up]

"Grand Moth Tarkin" was a death's-head hawkmoth spotted in south Italy in 1978.

Death's-head hawkmoths are known for their skull-like markings, which have appeared in art by Salvador Dalí and films like Silence of the Lambs. In 1978, a year after the release of Star Wars, this moth was seen by a fan and noted to have markings reminiscent of Peter Cushing, who appeared in the film as Grand Moff Tarkin.

Much like its namesake on the doomed Death Star, the moth refused to leave the tree while it was being chopped down and is presumed to have died during the construction on Via Nazionale SS92.

[aletterinthenameofsanity]

Art References for Chapter Two of underneath the sunrise (show where your love lies)

(somehow this one got SO LONG. my bad. in my defense, have some paintings and a few artifacts from my Archaeology of Death class)

Portrait of Madame X, John Singer Sargent, 1884

"There, standing in front of him, as shocking as the unveiling of the Portrait of Madame X on an unsuspecting Paris, are Edwin Payne and Charles Rowland."

On the Terrace at Sèvres, Marie Bracquemond, 1880

"For his final seminar paper, Monty wrote about Marie Bracquemond. About her paintings and the light that entered through all corners of the space. About the way that she, among all her peers, captured the feelings of her subjects, lonely and lovely in the bright outdoor light.

Monty remembers something she said about Impressionism, about how it produced “not only a new, but a very useful way of looking at things. It is as though all at once a window opens and the sun and air enter your house in torrents."

And god, he shouldn’t have let it happen, but that is Charles and Edwin for him. The sun and the air. The relief in the middle of winter."

Grave Goods of Queen Puabi (A Few Selected from Tomb PG 300)

"Monty should be able to keep his resolve. He should be able to be stubborn. He should be able to hold firm, to last, to endure like grave goods in Queen Puabi’s tomb."

The Last Supper, Tintoretto, 1592-1594

"There is some source of light in the background, behind their heads, but it’s dark out the windows so the light haloes dark hair like Tintoretto’s wet dream.

And maybe Monty’s at the Last Supper. Maybe there are only two apostles at the table framed in holy light. Maybe he’s Judas, about to doom a lover with a kiss."

Sunflowers, Van Gogh, 1888

“God, it has never been about me not wanting you. I’ve always wanted you two. Since that first game, since I saw the two of you together, all Van-Gogh-sunflowers-bright.”

Autumn Lane, Thomas Kinkade

"Monty isn’t Cinderella. He isn’t a Thomas Kinkade subject, pastoral, pastel, and perfect. He has no ball to go to and no princes to come and save him. He has nothing to do but sluggishly pull sweatpants and an old t-shirt on over clammy, goosebump-ridden skin and slip under the Persistence of Memory blanket Niko got him for Christmas last year."

Persistence of Memory, Salvador Dali, 1931

"Monty isn’t Cinderella. He isn’t a Thomas Kinkade subject, pastoral, pastel, and perfect. He has no ball to go to and no princes to come and save him. He has nothing to do but sluggishly pull sweatpants and an old t-shirt on over clammy, goosebump-ridden skin and slip under the Persistence of Memory blanket Niko got him for Christmas last year."

The Swing, Fragonard, 1767-8

"And Monty nods. "I think," he says, "I can start to believe that."

Emphasis on start, of course, but it's enough to make Edwin and Charles both smile at him, Charles raising Monty's knuckles to kiss them giddily like he's the boy in a Fragonard painting, excited by the glimpse of a lady's ankle."

Starry Night over the Rhône, Van Gogh, 1888

"All of these things do. It's quiet. The world is still. But it doesn't feel as empty as normal. Some measure of warmth and light has followed Charles Rowland and Edwin Payne from their apartment and into Monty’s, soft and bright and welcoming as the Van Gogh's stars above the Rhône."

@deadboy-edwin @icecreambrownies @anonymousbooknerd-universe @ashildrs

@tragedy-machine @just-existing-as-you-do-blog @orpheusetude @mj-irvine-selby

@pappelsiin @itsbitmxdinhere @rexrevri @sweet-like-h0ney-lavender @saffirez

@the-ipre @sunnylemonss @days-light @agentearthling @helltechnicality

@sethlost @catboy-cabin @secretlyafiveheadeddragon @vyther15

@anything-thats-rock-and-roll @queen-of-hobgobblers @every-moment-a-different-sound

@nix-nihili @mellxncollie @tumblerislovetumblerislife @lemurafraidofthunder

@likemmmcookies @wr0temyway0ut @thelakeswillbreakourfall

@fenristheulv

[doyouremem8erme]

interstellar / a softer world / richard siken / butterflies rising / taylor swift / andrea gibson / inanotheruniverse / amie kaufman / emery allen / philip pullman / magneatio / v.w. / 5000letters / homer / a softer world / salvador plascencia / eduardsaverin7 / philip pullman / the scary jokes / hadestown / mitski / sappho / sleeping at last / first aid kit / marina tsvetaeva / courtney peppernell / american football / lightsabercody

not soulmates (destined romantic pairings waiting for you) but soulmates (inherently connected on a fundamental level but built from the ground up and torn back down and desperately reaching for one another but doomed in every way to be kept separate by their predestined fates)

[augustheart]

DC Pride 2023 Tribute to Rachel Pollack

This is a transcription of the text that appears at the end of DC Pride, written by a variety of authors in memory of trailblazing writer Rachel Pollack. I've done my best to copy everything exactly as it was written, and I apologize for any errors. It's over 3,000 words, so I'm going to put it under a cut outside of the foreword. The rest of the tributes are in plain text and not italicized except in places where they were by the original authors.

(If you would like a PDF of the following transcription, one is available here.)

“On April 7, 2023, the legendary writer and Tarot expert Rachel Pollack passed at age 77. Her work for DC's Vertigo imprint—including the celebrated Vertigo Tarot deck and a long run on Doom Patrol that was a deep influence on the property's recent HBO Max series—was profoundly meaningful for generations of comics fans. She was a trailblazing trans woman in comics and sci-fi communities that were frequently male-dominated, and her lifelong love of both superheroes in particular and the comics medium in general allowed her to confidently turn their storytelling tropes inside out, truly queering her comics in every sense of the word.

In the months before her passing, the editors of DC Pride were speaking to Rachel about writing a new story for this very issue, and her enthusiasm for the project was boundless, as she planned to return to her themes of the superhero and the secret identity, of the "kink" of costumes, and of the revelatory freedom that she found in these characters. Unfortunately, just as work was set to begin on the script, completing it became impossible for her. In the absence of that last great work, but with gratitude for the incredible stories she did give us, we've opted to turn the pages we reserved for Rachel's story over to her friends, and to the fans whose lives she changed, to share their memories of her.”

—Unspecified Author or Editor

“I met Rachel Pollack in 1985, at a convention, where I was interviewing her about Salvador Dali’s Tarot, and then I met her again a couple of days later at the Milford Science Fiction Writers’ Conference, and we became friends fast. She was smart and funny, she was a brilliant writer, and she was the first person I’d met who knew more than I did about obscure Jewish mythology.

She told me off for writing a line of dialogue. ‘But that’s the only thing in the whole story that’s actually true,’ I told her, and she explained that art truth and reality truth were two very different things. And I knew she was right.

I don’t know how much I learned about writing, but listening to Rachel and Gwyneth Jones and John Clute and Lisa Tuttle and the rest of them, I learned so much about reading, and what I learned would change me as a writer.

Rachel was my friend. I had never met a person who had transitioned before and I had so many questions and, patiently, she answered all of them. She decided I needed to know Roz Kaveney, and Roz and I have been friends for decades now.

In 1988 I was writing Books of Magic and knew I needed a Tarot reading in the comic. Rachel was in London, and I asked her what the reading should be. She took me out to buy a Tarot deck that spoke to me, and I saw what happened when Rachel Pollack walked into a Tarot shop. It was a little like what happened when The Beatles went on Ed Sullivan. And then she gave me a beautiful reading of four cards, which encapsulated the whole of the story I was trying to tell.

She won the Arthur C. Clarke Award in 1989 for Unquenchable Fire, and I read it and suspected Rachel was creating her own school of fiction, her own brand of magical realism.

We argued, gently, about Wanda’s fate in A Game of You, and Rachel did what I wish everyone who had an argument about art would do, which is she took what she wanted to say and put it into a comic. Tom Peyer had asked her to write Doom Patrol after Grant Morrison left, and she did a remarkable job. I loved the delirious joy of her comics, the magic and the sense of fun, in Doom Patrol and in the comics that followed Doom Patrol.

I was thrilled to see Rachel when I moved to Upstate New York, and then I didn’t see her for years. I did that thing where you think you’re in touch with your friend, but really you’re just on social media at the same times. I was stuck out of the country during COVID, and Rachel had cancer. I was thrilled when I returned to hear that she had beaten the cancer, and then I was going to see her and she hadn’t beaten the cancer. A whole new cancer had turned up on the day she had beaten the first one.

I got to see Rachel more in the past few months than I had in the previous few years. She was as funny as ever, as sharp and as wise. I got to know her wife, Zoe, and to appreciate their love. I got to tell her bad Jewish jokes that, I suspect, I’d probably first heard from her. ‘Everywhere I went, people said ‘Look at the schmuck on the camel!’’ Some people die well—not necessarily bravely, necessarily, but gently and wisely and kind. Rachel was going to be one of those. She asked me to come to her funeral, and I said that I would.

Her funeral, several months later, was in the sunshine. It was filled with friends of hers from comics, from fiction, from Tarot, from writing, from teaching, from family, from the world, and Rachel lay above the grave on a wooden plank, wrapped in white winding sheet. We said true things about her, and we were funny and honest and there was so much love, and then we shoveled the earth on her, and cried, and said our goodbyes.

I’ve never met anyone like her. I’m glad she was my friend.”

—Neil Gaiman

“Rachel Pollack and I had the same favorite comic book—why, Doom Patrol, of course—and for a while she was its writer and I was its editor. She followed Grant Morrison, whose name was big and growing even then, and for years it seemed like Grant’s era might totally eclipse hers in memory. But DC released her Doom Patrol omnibus in 2022, and in the process unwrapped the radiation-proof bandages from her work, exposing the piercing and radiant appreciation that so many fans felt for it. On top of that, this year Dennis Culver and Chris Burnham, the creators of the excellent Unstoppable Doom Patrol, paid a moving in-story tribute to Rachel’s cast of broken-but-healing heroes.

I’m glad she got to see the omnibus, and I’m grateful for the chance it gave us to relive her perceptive, ironic, unsettling, and revelatory run. It was known for being strange and surreal, but there was so much more going on. Doom Patrol had been weird before, and funny, but never quite as wise or kindly meant.

A story that I always think of when I think of Rachel featured yours truly. At the end of my time as an editor—I had decided I wanted to write full-time—I called the creators I worked with to let them know I was leaving. Most of them, quite understandably, reacted with some implied variation of ‘What’s going to happen to me?’ It made me start to think I was being horrible and selfish. But when I called Rachel and nervously told her what I had decided, there was a silence, and then she said, ‘Quitting is good for the soul.’”

—Tom Peyer

“I met Rachel Pollack in the late ‘90s at WisCon, the feminist science fiction convention where we were both guests. It was the first day of the con, and they were introducing all the guests. I had read Rachel’s Doom Patrol comics and at least one of her books, Unquenchable Fire, and was excited about meeting her. She must have felt the same about me, because when the introductions were over, we headed straight toward each other as though we’d been magnetized, and we became friends immediately.

We lived on opposite sides of the continent, so we didn’t get to see each other that often, but thank the Goddess for email. I visited Rachel’s house once and she visited mine once. Her house was nicer. She took me to visit Hyde Park, Franklin Roosevelt’s old home, now a historic site—we were both FDR fans—and I taught her a Yiddish World War II song. We were both into our Jewishness, but from different angles. Rachel was interested in the mystic side, and I was into Yiddishkeit. Rachel had a bat mitzvah, and I studied Yiddish.

Rachel and I discovered we had the same birthday—August 17, which we shared with Mae West and Davy Crockett. So we sent each other birthday cards that also included happy birthday wishes to Mae and Davy.

I knew Rachel had written many books on the Tarot, so when one day I found a complete set of Tarot cards lying in the street, I decided the Goddess wanted her to have them, and I sent them to her on our birthday. After that, the Goddess would put out Tarot cards for me to find almost every year, often just in time for Rachel’s birthday presents. In return, she sent two Tarot cards that she had drawn for me when I was being treated for cancer. (I’m cancer free now!) I saved them and put them away safely—somewhere.

Last year a neighbor who was a collector of stuff died and left his collections to us, his neighbors, to take for free. Among all the stuff in his stuff-filled rooms was an unopened set of Tarot cards. Shortly after I found the cards, my Romani neighbors who lived around the corner put a book on Tarot out on the street, so I took that for Rachel. I mailed the book and cards to Rachel for our birthday.

For the first time, I got no answering card. I didn’t know that Rachel’s lymphoma had come back.

And somehow, it all got away from me.

Periodically, I would think, ‘Phone her—must phone Rachel,’ but something would come up and I’d forget to phone, or it would be too late to phone because of the time difference between New York and California. Damn it!

I miss you, Rachel. In our next lives, I’ll try to be a better friend.”

—Trina Robbins

“I first met Rachel Pollack when I was the assistant editor on The Sandman and she was the new Doom Patrol monthly writer. I shared an office with Tom Peyer, who was Rachel’s editor, and when Rachel swept in like a redheaded bohemian priestess, I always wound up putting aside my own work so I could chat a bit with Rachel as well. She had the rare gift of wielding her considerable expertise about comics and mythology in a way that made the person talking to her feel smarter.

After I left DC Comics to write full-time, I moved to Rhinebeck and discovered that Rachel lived there, too. We formed a small writing group that met once a week, usually in my kitchen. Always as kind as she was insightful, Rachel spent more time celebrating what worked than critiquing what didn’t. She did a lot of celebrating, of others’ writing and of her own, delighting in the words and worlds that moved through her.

She was, pre-pandemic, a frequent guest at my Passover Seder, the only person besides myself and my mother who knew all the Hebrew and all the traditional melodies. Her vast knowledge of midrash and Kabbalah made her comments more delicious than the charoset she made, and let me tell you, that was pretty damn good. 

In October, when she started to get really sick and I started to visit more frequently, often with Neil Gaiman, Rachel defied any expectation of how a dying person ought to act. She cracked Borscht Belt jokes and talked about writing and writers, and then I went with her wife, Zoe, to pick out a grave. We discussed the Tarot, which I had belatedly begun to study along with her seminal book on the subject, Seventy-Eight Degrees of Wisdom. I asked, ‘What does it mean when you get an auspicious card in a place that means it’s negative?’ ‘It means that’s what you’re struggling with,’ she replied.

I am struggling with this turn of the cards. I cannot fully fathom that she will not be sitting at our favorite local café, writing, but ready to put down her antique fountain when she sees me. Yet when I turn back to her writing, I feel her still with me: Doom Patrol Rachel, Writing Partner Rachel, Rachel of the Passover Seder, Rachel Poet, Rachel Priestess, Rachel Friend.”

—Alisa Kwitney

“Rachel Pollack loved comics.

When we first talked about comics, it was about her own. Eight years ago I asked Martha Thomases if the Doom Patrol run after Grant’s was worth checking out, as I hadn’t heard much talk of it. She said ‘Yes. Read it.’ I adored the run and reached out to Rachel via email to let her know. To my surprise, I heard back from her within 20 minutes.

Over time we talked about the comics and creators that she loved. Carl Barks and the Duck comics, particularly the characters of Huey, Dewey, and Louie, meant a great deal to her. Little Lulu was high on her list. And The Fox and the Crow inspired a whole arc of her Doom Patrol run. The works of Jack Kirby (particularly on Fantastic Four and the Fourth World saga), Steve Ditko, and Gene Colan were brought up often, as were series including Xambi and Promethea, which she revisited often. She had even reached out to Marvel back in the early ‘70s inquiring about writing opportunities, two decades before writing at DC. 

Rachel saw the inherent queerness in superhero comics back in the Silver Age. One example she would reference was “The Town That Hated Superboy!” from 1967’s Superboy #139. In it, the citizens of Smallville turn against Superboy for nearly two pages. What stood out to Rachel was how Ma and Pa Kent pretended to hate Superboy out of fear that if they didn’t, those around them might suspect that Superboy was really their adoptive son, Clark. Though taking this sequence and relating it to an idea as heavy as the violent consequences of inadvertently outing someone by simply treating them with kindness was unlikely Otto Binder’s intention, the subtext was picked up on by many queer comics readers at the time in addition to Rachel.

Through the years I got to have a greater understanding of Rachel’s unbelievable kindness as well. She saw the world as a positive place and held out hope for just about everyone. Rachel discussed how attitudes with London’s Gay Liberation Front turned against the trans community in the ‘70s, but she would also talk about how some of the same people came back around and were vocal advocates for trans rights by the ‘90s. Whereas most, understandably, would allow themselves to be bitter and resentful, Rachel’s capacity for love and compassion was too strong for that.

I was devastated knowing just how many projects Rachel had in the works and how many stories she still had to tell. But after taking time to think on it, I know that no matter how long she stayed here with us, her work would never be done. Her stories will continue through those who love her and those who haven’t found her yet but will love her just the same. 

I love talking about Rachel’s work and her kindness. I plan on doing so for the rest of my life.”

—Joe Corallo

“‘It’s so cool that you created the first trans superhero,’ a very nice person told me recently. Writing feels like stuffing a message in a bottle and lobbing it out into the open sea, so to meet someone who had caught one of my bottles and read what was inside was extremely exciting. Unfortunately, I am a nerd first and a lover of accolades second, so I had to correct them. 

Galaxy, the character I created, is not the first out trans superhero in the DC Universe. Kate Godwin, created by Rachel Pollack 30 years ago, is. Kate is important, but more than that, she’s important to me. 

I was a teenager 30 years ago. That’s also important.

There’s a lot of talk of firsts in superhero comics, most of it meaningless. Dick Grayson absolutely deserves the ‘Sensational Character Find of 1940’ label trumpeted on the cover of his first appearance, Detective Comics #38, but you don’t need to read it, even as a die-hard Robin fan.

You can’t say that about Doom Patrol #70, the first appearance of Kate Godwin. That issue changes everything. That issue changes lives. Because Kate, a kind and funny woman, with an amusing power set and questionable taste in superhero outfits, who is beautifully, unapologetically trans—Kate is the viewpoint character.

Imagine the power of that. Holding up a trans woman—a lesbian trans woman, at that!—and saying ‘This, this is who you, the reader, should identify with.’ To have a trans woman be smart and pretty and likable, and not an object of scorn or pity, or a side character. She was the hero! I can tell you from experience, that is a tough sell now.

Reading that comic in the 1990s felt like a lightning bolt from heaven.

It was too powerful for my teenage self to handle. It was radioactive, and yet I would read my copy ragged to bask in its glow. I can call up its panels from memory. When I finally began my transition, many years later, I wore a lot of black tank tops and jeans, unconsciously aping Kate’s unofficial uniform. I didn’t put it together until recently, rereading those 30-year-old stories that I had imprinted upon like a baby bird. Early on, I wasn’t sure of the kind of woman I was, but clearly I knew the kind of woman I wanted people to see. Someone like Kate Godwin.

I never got the chance to meet Rachel Pollack and tell her how I had received her message in a bottle. How I had held it close to my heart until I finally found the strength to absorb its message. How she showed me I wasn’t alone, and I could be a hero, even if that just meant saving myself.

But I hear people say those words to me, having read about Galaxy. Which will have to do.

Thank you for being first, Rachel.”

—Jadzia Axelrod

[evilelitest2]

I wanted to echo a few points dimensionalrevolutionary said, as well as respond to a few things you said.

Firstly, implementing socialism without revolution has been tried before. Salvador Allende was a Marxist who was democratically elected President of Chile. As President, he began a number of programs to increase literacy, access to healthcare and employment, access to food, etc. You can look him up on your own time if you so choose. However, in 1973 a military coup forced him out of power and installed Augusto Pinochet, a dictator who killed thousands of innocents and caused many more to flee the country. This coup was backed by the United States, with Henry Kissinger saying “I don't see why we need to stand by and watch a country go communist due to the irresponsibility of its people. The issues are much too important for the Chilean voters to be left to decide for themselves.”

In Indonesia, the Communist Party operated within the framework of electoral politics and became the largest non-ruling Communist Party on the planet. In return, the Indonesian government and army conducted mass killings of communists in 1965, resulting in the deaths of around 1 million people (many of whom weren’t even Communist Party members, just wrongfully implicated). It is no coincidence that the socialist states that remain today are those that seized state power via a revolution rather than relying on electoralism. History has shown that any non-violent attempt to achieve socialism is doomed to brutal repression by the bourgeoisie.

Now to address some of your points. Your point on “Sweden’s backsliding is because it’s not diverse enough” is only looking at part of the picture. Obviously part of Sweden’s slide to the far right is due to racist and anti-immigration sentiments, this backsliding has been occurring long before that, as far back as the collapse of the USSR (which provided an incentive to keep Scandinavian workers happy, lest they be influenced by the socialists on the border). AzureScapegoat, a Swedish Marxist, has an excellent video on this through the lens of the Overton Window (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UK1Ikx6el1E).

You say that most revolutions fail, which is true, but as I pointed out above every single attempt to achieve socialism via electoralism has failed. I would rather risk a low-percentage chance at achieving socialism than try the method that has NEVER succeeded.

Setting aside the fact that Hannah Arendt, a pivotal philosopher in defining authoritarianism/totalitarianism, was a massive racist who claimed anti-racism was totalitarianism (which immediately discredits the ideology for me), every government on the planet is “authoritarian.” Liberalism is just as authoritarian, it’s just that the powers-that-be are unelected and unaccountable billionaires who can set the rules of society to their whims by pouring ungodly amounts of money into the legalized bribery that is lobbying.

Regarding your final point on trans rights, while there are some parties that have bad views on LGBT+ rights (such as the KKE in Greece), in general implying that Marxists are uniquely bad when it comes to LGBT+ rights is laughable. The USSR, a country which dissolved over 30 years ago, didn’t have excellent LGBT+ rights? That’s so crazy, I wonder how LGBT+ rights were in the United States at the same time. It’s also laughable to say that the US has better LGBT+ rights than Cuba, a country which recently passed an incredibly progressive family law by popular vote (rather than via 9 unelected judges), and which provides trans Cubans free gender-affirming care (along with their other free healthcare).

Finally, bemoaning a socialist country like China for having worse LGBT+ rights than the USA is incredibly disingenuous. Less than a century ago large parts of China were still feudal. Less than 50 years ago China was a mostly rural society of poor farmers. Expecting Global South countries which have not had the same abilities to develop due to unequal exchange (and often had bigoted law codes forced upon them by imperialist countries) is intellectually dishonest. China’s LGBT+ rights are absolutely behind the United States, but the difference is that China is improving (recently Beijing made transitioning easier and Shanghai opened several clinics for LGBT+ youths), while the USA is backsliding. I feel the trajectory is far more significant.

Again, thanks for the polite response

I'm a historian, you can assume I know who Allende is, both Chille and Indonesia are some very dark stains on US history and the nation needs to apologize for it property. That isn't really a condemnation of social democracy though, its more a condemnation of School of the Americas, like any country is going to have trouble when an imperialist state overthrows there government to force a right wing mass murdering autocrat. Now the communist states who remain today have mostly become super capitalist at this point, so I'm not sure how much of a win that is.

Your youtube friend is simplifying things a tad, after the Soviet Union fell you had backsliding in some areas but also some major progressive reforms in others, its not a clear backslide until the last few years with the anti immigration nonsense because a major schism in Swedish politics has been the fact that it is a very homogenous country. Social Democracy tends to thrive better when it has a broad diverse base to draw upon and a more intersectional foundation

No friend no, you can't just gloss over the revolutionary logistics bit, your a Marxists, you are supposed to be consequentialist about this. WHAT IS YOUR SPECIFIC PLAN. A revolution without a plan is not a revolution, its a Che Guevara tee shirt with extra steps. What is your revolutionary plan in the United States (I assume you are American). What specific revolutionary steps are you taking. Do you know how to use a gun? Do you have an organized cell? What revolutions' are you modeling yourself after? Marx himself talks about this, Revolutionaries who are stuck on the romantic image of revolutions of the past rather than the realities of revolutions in the present. My argument against revolution is that in the United States, there is no model for it working unless circumstances change dramatically, or you secretly have control of the US military

For electoralism, you get tangible results, just compromised and disappointing one. Biden as I said is a centrist hack, but even under him, the United States has move to the left more in the last three years than in the 30 years before. The reason why so many unions are going on strike right now is because of Biden's policies (though possibly unintentionally). It also prevented Trump from turning the US into a dictatorship

I used to work for the Hannah Arendt society, I know her flaws, but she isn't the only scholar on Authoritarianism. (also Marx was racist, like come on dude) Liberals are often authoritarian, which is why i'm not a liberal, I'm a social democrat. Democratic foundations however produce more stable and egalitarian states than dictatorships, dictatorships are inherently right wing, you don't need Hannah Arendt to do that.

The US did have better policies on queer issues than the USSR. Not by much, its was pretty awful, but there is a reason why you managed to get a large gay rights organizing group going in the US and that never really took off in the USSR. This is to not let the US off the hook "better than the USSR" isn't a great moral accomplishment. And to be clear, the USSR was better than any far right government, so credit where its due, but its weird to mythologize a regime that was never good on any queer rights issue.

Cuba is a big reversals, because Castro infamously put gays into camps, but the regime has reversed itself a lot in the last 20 years. So you get one, one communist regime which genuinely got better on queer issues and got better than the capitalist states (though only after the dictators died and the state started to moderate but still). Credit where it is due

To be honest, I think you are taking a pretty patronizing attitude towards China. Even ignoring how China has had a very long homosexual tradition (again its not a Christian country) One of the entire points of communism is about "Dragging" nations in to modernity, even ignoring the problematic Hegalian framework of that, the fact is that the anti queer stuff in CHina isn't just coming from ignorant rural peasants, its from the party itself. In many ways, things got worse for queer people under Mao because the state was centralized enough to actually enforce its will more. China has made some progress in the last ten years, but the Party still to this day has not asserted Homosexuality as a human right

Also parts of the US have backslide, the Blue states have some of the best trans protections in the entire world, like its not good what is happening right now in America, but having lived abroad a lot, it can get so much worse. in the US at least, the majority of the country don't support this backslide, and while the Democrats do suck, they have not backslide as a party, if anything they have moved to be more inclusive (no where near enough though, I don't want to let them off the hook)

Finally, I tend to be much more comfortable with Marxists when they are clearly not tankies, but marxists places get so quickly infested with Tankie nonsense which inevitably leads them to repeat rightists talking points. So how the typical marxist response to the crisis in Ukraine is basically a copy/paste of Tucker's Carlson's talking points. I understand that not all Marxists are tankies, but I do think Marxism as an ideology really needs to get over the nostalgic worship of failed authoritarian states.

Cheers, fun discussion

[iwoszareba]

so that diamond ‘thoughts abt your character’ thing. I enjoy writing the clown man so every KC I feel I have decent enough grasp on gets a hot take. 

we are going with Knave as a companion bc that's the easiest option

I'm so sorry if you did not want to hear from him, some of his opinions are real garbage @dujour13 @commander-lariel @turbulentpumpkin43 @silversiren1101 @lairiend @angrygoatwoman @dmagedgoods @offsidekineticist @vulpineix @desnas @cassynite @spyridonya @undyingembers

Siavash

He is disgustingly sweet. And you think to yourself 'I can be a responsible adult and cut my sugar intake' but then you see that cookie box on the table and what are you supposed to do? Not take one? Or two? Or a dozen? I hate him. He is fun.

Lariel

She just radiates fear seemingly unprompted? Someone should get that fixed. For the sake of the crusade or something. Don't look at me, I don't know how nor am I inclined to. If the decision was up to me I would release the storm inside her to see what happens.

Zrise

He is so sour! And angry! Trying to get respect by being the meanest dog in the neighbourhood. But his bite matches his bark so it's all fine. And hey, I'm an honest fellow of honest pleasures so he can bite me any time he wants.

Ariadne

She is a hoot! Not many things in this world more exciting than a good explosion. And she provides those in spades. Surprisingly she also seems to like me? The other shoe will drop eventually I'm sure but for now I can just enjoy what we have.

Mino

I know she has chaos at her core, you can see it leak sometimes and it's glorious. But instead of indulging in it, it's like she's made an oath to try to be boring at all costs. Do you think it's Regill's influence? Can boring rub off on another person? What a terrifying thought.

Agria

This lady is on fire! Metaphorically I mean, I think she may end up burning herself, also metaphorically. But I have to admit I do enjoy watching the flames go higher (metaphorically and literally) so I'm here for it. Look at her go!

Oleander

Don't tell him this, I don't want him to start thinking I'm a possible convert but if I reeeeeeeally had to choose a god to worship it would be Lamashtu. I like to think we monster types have an understanding. Even when he is being all nice like a freak.

Salvadore

I feel like I'm supposed to hate him and I kinda do. Angel man with a stick up his ass. But then he does something unexpected and it's like: woah! Where did that come from? I'm begging you to show me more. I'm at the edge of my seat.

Theoven

Such a funny little guy! Like a cart on the path to a disaster no matter which track he picks. Honestly that's plenty enjoyable. And he has so much emotion in him, he should let loose more often! I can hardly believe he is related to Regill of all people.

Luthais

What a wet blanket of a person. Could you give us a single emotion? No? Okaaaaay I can drag something out of you but I don't think you will like it! Seriously, he is a piece of work. I get that he is doomed by the narrative but he could at least try to be funny about it.

Taro

Have you ever met someone who looks at a wild beast and thinks they can turn it into a friendly critter? I think that's how they look at me and it's extremely funny. But I can play along for a little while, why not. Watch me be the freakiest little azata.

Sparrow

She is like a box locked in a box locked in a box locked… You get the idea. I don't know what's at her core and at this point I'm not sure it's worth the effort. I'm still gonna try to get her riled up whenever possible. What else is there to do?

Kadira

It's comforting to see someone who got fucked up by Areelu just as bad. I think she should get angrier about it but hey. Good for her for having a semblance of emotional stability. Or maybe it's just an act? It would be fun to see her spiral. I mean that affectionately.

Lenarius/Leonosa

Not only is he all prim and proper but he also does not get annoyed easily. I don't know what I'm supposed to do with her! I guess I have to try harder? Really backing me into a corner here. Sigh. Maybe I should just kick back and take it easy.

[heckcareoxytwit]

A preview of Immortal Thor Annual 2024

IMMORTAL THOR ANNUAL #1

Faced with the menace of Utgard and a prophecy of his own doom, the son of Odin sought out the legendary Power Stone to aid his fight. Only two things were in his way. Firstly, the mighty CHAMPION OF THE UNIVERSE — with strength to match Thor’s own — was also questing for the stone. Secondly, the Stone is now inside a person — THE PRINCE OF POWER! PLUS, Derek Landy and Sara Pichelli continue the journey of the Death Stone Bearer and the scar it will leave on the universe!

Written by: Al Ewing Art by: David Baldeón Cover by: Salvador Larroca Page Count: 28 Pages Release Date: July 17, 2024

[3gremlins]

"el cadejo"

another entry into my mythological creatures coloring pages series (from november)!

Anyway El Cadejo is a folklore that comes from central america (mostly el salvador and guatemala but folklore moves and evolves around places, so there's all sorts of variants on it).

(long post is long)

The myth tells of a spirit that appears in the shape of a large dog like creature with glowing eyes that appears to travelers on the road at night. If the dog is black with glowing red eyes, the traveler is doomed and will be eaten; if the dog is white with blue eyes, they'll have a safe journey. In some versions, there are two dogs- so if the white dog appears while the black dog is upon you, you will be saved (usually you're just SOL if you see the black dog). In other versions, there is only one "dog" and the color/eyes are just determined by how the spirit is feeling that day (if it's calm, it is white with blue eyes, if it's angry, black with red eyes).

Most descriptions of the dog are that it's kind of thin and tall and weird looking for a dog, so I decided to base these on coyotes (specifically the subspecies that are found in central america- they have slighter frames and slightly different features to other subspecies).

They do look like dogs at a glance until you get up close and are like OH NO THAT'S NOT A DOG*. Coyotes are also ambush pack hunters- often you'll see one coyote and it will "lure" you into the rest of the pack which matched up a little bit with some stories of the black dog "luring" travelers to their death (particularly travelers who were incapacitated in some manner).

It's also often described as having long tangles of hair along its back but a naked face- so I gave it a tendril-y mane and sort of a more sunken look to its face with some hints of skull. I wanted the black dog to feel darker but not actually be completely opaque too, so it got a lot of line work whereas the white dog got very little. They still (hopefully) look related. 

For the scene, I really wanted to try and convey an isolated area that's not that far from civilization-almost because you're so close to home, that getting waylaid by something supernatural is THAT much worse.  I also wanted it to be clearly night time but making that fun to color was a weird balance (i might tweak it when i get to the colored in version)- I ended up doing negative space inking with white on the mountains to give a little more texture to them while still keeping it a night scene. I went with the two dogs version mostly just b/c it fit what I wanted with the composition (the fear of "you're so close to home" but the also slight relief of "ah but maybe there's help on the way" and then pair it with the "but will it be in time")

this was actually suggested by my therapist, who is from el salvador and his father would tell him cautionary tales of el cadejo when he was groing up. i've been trying to expand what sorts of folklore i hit for this book (that i have been eternally working on now T.T) and he was telling me how he would have loved as a kid to see more of the tales he grew up with in more mainstream books etc.

(i really want people to feel seen and included in my work but i also don't want to overstep so i've been trying to balance that. Doing the research for this one made me really want to learn spanish b/c i found so many great folklore articles that jstor didn't have the best translations for lol).

*i'm originally from new england where we actually had coyote-wolf hybrids running amok (coywolves) and they are REALLY big and not something you'd want to meet at night when walking your dog (they also will absolutely stalk you/try to bait your dog, and they do eat pets a fair amount) so i was also pulling from that a bit. Most of the coyotes you get in socal and further south are much smaller and not terribly aggressive.

[doomrichards]

A DoomReed Recommended Reading List posted for Jan. 2023 and not exhaustive!

full text list below the cut!

DOOMREED Recommended Reading List

Doctor Doom/Mister Fantastic, Victor von Doom/Reed Richards by @doomrichards​ on tumblr, twitter, and archive of our own Updated 01/2023, originally compiled by @foeyeahboi

1960s Stan Lee & Jack Kirby: Fantastic Four #5, #10, Annual #2 1970s Marv Wolfman & Keith Pollard: Fantastic Four #196-200 1980s John Byrne: Fantastic Four #236, #260 & #288 1990s Walt Simonson: Fantastic Four #350 & #352

Tom DeFalco & Paul Ryan, et. al.: Fantastic Four #381 & Fantastic Four Unlimited #12 & Fantastic Four Unplugged #2 Jim Lee, Heroes Reborn/Return Era: Fantastic Four v2 (1997) #5-6 Captain America v2 (1997) #12 Chris Claremont, Larroca & Bogdanove: Fantastic Four vs. the X-Men #1-4 (1987) Fantastic Four v3 (1998) #25, #29-31

Mark Waid, Mike Wieringo, et. al.: Fantastic Four v3 (1998) #70 & Fantastic Four #500, #503, #507 Dwayne McDuffie, Pelletier & Jones: Fantastic Four #551-553 Fantastic Four Special, "My Dinner with Doom" Mark Millar & Bryan Hitch: Fantastic Four #558, #562

Jonathan Hickman Secret Wars Era with Epting, Deodata, Ribic, et. al.: Fantastic Four #581 - #582 FF (2010) #1-14 (omit 6, 7, 10, 11); concluding in Fantastic Four #611 New Avengers v3 (2013) #6, #7, #14 Secret Wars (2015) #2-4, #9 & Marvel 2-In-One (2017) Annual #1 for conclusion

Post-Secret Wars Era: Brian M. Bendis & Alex Maleev: Infamous Iron Man (2016) #6, #8 Chip Zdarsky, Cheung, Schiti, Dodson, et. al.: Marvel 2-In-One (2017) #4-6, Annual #1 & #11 X-Men/Fantastic Four (2020) #2-3 Dan Slott, R.B. Silva & Javier Rodriguez: Fantastic Four (2018) #25, #32 (B Story) "Duel Intentions" & #33 Christopher Cantwell & Salvador Larocca: Doctor Doom (2019) #9-10 Ryan North & Iban Coello: Fantastic Four (2022) #2

Origin Re-tellings & Variations: Books of Doom #2 Before The Fantastic Four: Reed Richards #1-3 Fantastic Four #416 (B Story) "Roads Not Taken!" Shame Itself (B story) (satire) Ultimates (Earth-1610) AU: Ultimate Fantastic Four #2, #7, #9-12, & #31-32

AU Versions / Other: Warlock (1972) #6-7 What If? (1977) #6, "What if the F.F. had different Super-Powers?" What If? (1977) #22, "What if Dr. Doom had become a Hero?" Marvel Adventures Fantastic Four #42 100th Anniversary Special: Fantastic Four GeNext United #2 Marc Spector: Moon Knight (1989) #39-40 Spider-Man & The Secret Wars #2, #4 Doctor Doom and the Masters of Evil #4 Marvel 1602 #4 Big Town #2 Earth X #2 & Universe X Special: 4 #1 Exiles (2001) #95-98 Fantastic Four: 1 2 3 4 #4 Fantastic Four: The Movie (2005) (comic adaptation) Fantastic Five (2007) #1-5 Fantastic Four 2099 (1996) #6-8 DOOM 2099 (2019) Timeless #1 (2021)

Multimedia: Fantastic Four (1994) (film) Doomgate by Jeffrey Lang (novel) Fantastic Four: World's Greatest Heroes ep. 1, 4, 17, 25 Marvel’s Wastelanders: Doom by Mark Waid et. al. (podcast) & Marvel’s Wastelanders Marvels Chapter 4 (podcast) Avengers Ultimate Alliance (video game) Marvel Superheroes Official Game Adventure: Gates of What If? by Roger Moore (RPG manual)