A lighthearted comedy featuring only one disemboweling. Fun for the whole family.
It seriously isn't even clear why it's called Cold Moon. The moon is like barely in it. Nothing is cold--it's in Florida. WHAT THE HELL GUYS.
The 101 arc ends with lots and lots of mood slime and a little stream-crossing for good measure.
Moulin Rouge meets Seven in Dickensian London, and it's less fun than it sounds.
More werewolf dismemberments. Er, dismemberments BY werewolves. Not OF werewolves. That would be dumb. You're dumb.
I always thought Holtzmann's ghost-blasting guns were dumb. This proves it. I WIN AT GHOSTBUSTING.
Mae Cymru yn awesome. I had to use Google Translate for that, so you should too. (Hint: it means Wales is awesome.)
Busting, as it were, continues to make all of us feel rather pleasant indeed.
The only thing scary about this book is that it exists at all.
Mormama? More like Less-is-mormama, amirite?
A pretty decent sequel you didn't know you wanted to a film you might not remember not hating.
The 'Busters meet the 'Busters, finally, and it's worth the wait.
What IDW has done for Ghostbustersis almost undone by this lame marketing tie-in.
You guys, seriously, bustin' makes me feel so damned good.
What could be more metal than Satan forcing someone to murder? (Nothing. Nothing could be more metal than that.)
The Blackcoat's Daughter is a spooky, quiet dance with the devil.
The devil likes deep dish and Da Bears in this novel of possession and vigilantism.
Angry Scholar pays a visit to the Savageland.
Angry Scholar takes a bite out of Cannibal. (It's a bit nutty.)
Do you like maggots? Hope you like maggots!
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