#and I wish with the force of a hundred stars that someone in dc cares enough about her

[teleportationmagic]

There was a tumble post I read on Pinterest a long time ago that put out one method for character writing - that instead of assigning characters strengths and weaknesses, to instead give them character traits and see how that played out positively and negatively. I really do love this as a writing guideline, and I suspect that's also why I love Steph so much - because in her story, every single aspect of her both bites and saves her.

Her rage is often framed as wildfire - she threatens to kill people when she loses herself to that desire for things to be right, coming from a fierce desire to protect people, protect children, that have noone else to be angry on their behalf. She's desperate, and it's why she puts on the costume in the first place, it's how she meets Tim and Cass and Bruce, and its in the midst of that desperation where each of them find her lacking, critically. She can be completely bullheaded, which leads to her keep trying to be a vigilante again and again and again - with Robin, it kills her. As Batgirl, it's what finally allows her to come into her own, to help people without being doubted. She's straightforward, she can miss the obvious, she's tries so hard to make up for her mistakes, she can get blinded trying to prove herself, she knows how to make real connections and can be so hurt when she feels that those relationships aren't what she wanted. She's messy through and through, and for all that she can still find her way through triumphs and adversary, with a smile on the other side.

[xpedropascal]

To Be So Lonely [Maxwell Lord x Reader] Part Two

Summary: After being struck by a family tragedy, Maxwell Lord finds his legacy in taking over his father’s business, Black Gold Cooperative. Cold and shut-off from the world around him, he decides he does not have time for anything other than his work and cares only about pushing his company to success – but how difficult does that become for him when you enter his life as a ghost from the past?

Pairing: Maxwell Lord x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.6k

WARNINGS: stalker-ish behaviour, mild sex reference

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FOUR [coming soon!]

MASTERLIST

KO-FI

AUTHOR’S NOTE: yay! chapter two! :) flashbacks can be identified through use of italics. To Be So Lonely will have themes of hurt/comfort, angst, fluff etc. i plan on it being a whole exciting ride. there will be connections to the DCEU and certain characters will making an appearance... however, for story-telling purposes, this will be in an alternate universe to Wonder Woman 1984 just because the movie has yet to be released. the main bulk of the story will be set in the 80s, with the occasional childhood flashbacks. please let me know if you want to be added onto a tag list!

♡♡♡ TWO ♡♡♡

Gotham was a bustling city, and practically lead by none other than Bruce Wayne, CEO of Wayne Enterprises and on-going rival to Maxwell Lord. Wayne Enterprises, as an international conglomerate, was taking the world by storm under Bruce’s reign. He had shares in railway, aerospace, technology, food, and more recently; oil. Much like any other successful CEO, Bruce Wayne would do anything to see his business thrive, but at the moment, he had his eye on something very particular. He was a man with a plan. Bruce Wayne was fearless, but he knew when to be concerned, as across the country, Maxwell Lord led the biggest oil extraction company, Black Gold Cooperative.

“Mr Wayne,” his assistant, Gemma, dropped a file on his desk. A file with your name on. “Everything is here, as requested.”

Bruce Wayne flicked through your file momentarily, taking in the glossy images of you that he’d had someone take on your route to work. The file contained everything about you. From your date of birth and address, to your national security number. “Excellent,” Bruce smiled. “I will have Jeeves drive me to…” he pulled out a map that highlighted the route you took from home to work. “…Cocoa Coffee.”

“I believe she finishes at eighteen hundred hours, sir.” Gemma piped in. Bruce checked the time on his wrist watch and cursed under his breath before standing up and grabbing his coat.

“I best be on my way then.”

A lot had happened since the days you spent living in the Lord family guest house. You were now, a lot older – a young adult with ambition, but stuck working as a part-time barista in one of Gotham’s favourite coffee shops, Cocoa Coffee. You and your mother had returned to Gotham four years after moving to DC; and looking back, your time spent with the Lord family had been tainted by the day you were forced to leave.

♡

Every day was the same. You would come home from school and throw your bag on the sofa before changing into your play shoes and heading out to the gardens to see Maxwell. For him, it was similar. At 4PM sharp, he would drop whatever he was doing to come see you. His mother hated you, that much was obvious. Naomi Lord constantly scolded her son for playing with you. “The Lord family do not associate with people like that,” she would tell Maxwell. But he didn’t care. He was your best friend and you were his only friend. He went from wanting to be a successful businessman like his father, to wanting to be as free-spirited and happy as you. You inspired him and made him feel like a better person.

On the evening of Maxwell’s sixteenth birthday, you had something special planned. You wanted to lay with him in the gardens and show him the beauty of star gazing while you stuffed your faces with cake and told each other the craziest imaginative stories. At 4PM sharp, no different to usual, you slung your bag down on the sofa and slid your feet into your play shoes, and just as you were about to leave the guest house, your mother extended her arm across the front door, stopping you in your tracks.

“Sweetheart,” your mother said sadly. “Maxwell can’t play with you today.” You looked up at your mother, doe-eyed and confused. Your mother had never stopped you from playing with Maxwell. Before you could question her, she opened her mouth again. “I’ve lost my job.”

Your jaw dropped. “You- what- mom… what happened?”

Your mom shook her head, avoiding eye contact. “I’ve packed all your things. We need to leave right now.”

If you’re mother wasn’t prepared to tell you why she had been fired, the least she could do was allow you to see your best friend once more on his sixteenth birthday. “At least let me say goodbye to Max-“

“No you can’t.” Your mother’s voice grew stern. You knew, in that moment, something serious happened. “We are leaving, now.”

“But Max-“

Your mother raised her voice, barking your name angrily, and making you flinch. The tension in the room could be cut with a knife. “Something awful has happened, and Maxwell… I just know the poor boy will have a lot on his plate right now. More than anyone could ever imagine. You and I… we might not have much, but we’re lucky.” Your mother’s tone of voice softened. She was clearly sad. But you became increasingly frustrated at her secrecy and not allowing you to say a final farewell to your best friend.

The sky fell dark fast, and as you left the guest house with your bags and walked down the drive way, Lord Manor was busier than you had ever seen before. An ambulance, police cars, vans from not only local news stations, but national news stations too. Flashing lights blinding you from the paparazzi cameras. Your mother dragged you into the shadows, ensuring the press didn’t see you both leave. You couldn’t help but stare, and walked on your tip-toes, trying to look over the heads and see what was going on.

There, standing outside the front door of Lord Manor was Naomi Lord and her sixteen year old son, Maxwell. Naomi was sobbing into a silk handkerchief, her hair no longer in perfect curls and her makeup smudged with tears. Standing forward slightly, all suited up, was Maxwell Lord IV. On his sixteenth birthday.

You knew this would be the last time you saw your best friend; but you wished you hadn’t seen him at all. All colour was drained out of his skin and he stood there, frozen. You whispered his name to yourself as your mother dragged you to the gates, and you felt tears brim your eyes. You didn’t want to leave him. Not without a goodbye. Maxwell looked sick. Despite dressed in one of his best designer suits, hair perfectly styled – he looked ghostly. The closer you got to the gate, the more you heard paparazzi endeavour him with questions. But it was so loud and overwhelming you could barely make out what they were saying. Gone, was the happy smiley boy you played with in the gardens. It may have been Maxwell’s sixteenth birthday, but that day marked the end of his youth. No more time for games.

♡

“Life is good, but it can be better… I’m Maxwell Lord and for a low monthly fee…” Hearing his name snapped you out of your daydreams. You looked over at the small television in the corner of the staff room, your co-worker, Theresa, smacking it with her hands in frustration.

“Remote not working again?” You sighed, putting a hand on your hip and watching her struggle to change the channel. You couldn’t help but smile as she let out an exasperated groan.

“Welcome to Black Gold Cooperative! The world’s first oil company run for the people, by the people. You can own a piece of the most lucrative industry in the world. And every time we strike gold, you strike gold.” You felt your lips twist in disgust at how artificial your childhood friend was sounding. You couldn’t even bare to look at him. His face was everywhere.

“Every time we strike gold, you strike gold,” you badly mimicked his iconic line. It was the company slogan. Rolling your eyes, you walked out of the staff room and to the front-of-house. You heard Theresa throw the remote in frustration and suddenly, Maxwell Lord shut up. You smiled as Theresa followed you behind the bar. At least she had managed to turn the television off.

“You really don’t like him, do you?” Theresa asked almost rhetorically. It was true, you didn’t like Maxwell Lord. Simply because he wasn’t the little boy you played with in the gardens of Lord Manor. You knew you shouldn’t have held resentment. Everyone changes as they get older – but Maxwell Lord was just so easy to hate. Max’s carefree spirit died the day you left, and the smarmy salesman Maxwell Lord IV was not someone you cared for. For months after you moved back to Gotham, you waited for some kind of communication from Max. But nothing. And it became clear that Maxwell was happy enough to throw away the four year friendship you had shared together. Your silence prompted Theresa to continue. “He’s handsome though, in a way.” You spluttered at her sudden confession and Theresa just laughed. “Rich…powerful…” she went on.

“He’s an asshole.” You stated, as blunt as ever.

“You know him?” Theresa quizzed. “Hmm?”

“No but-“ You stopped yourself. “I know enough about him.”

“His fiancée is a lucky gal,” Theresa sighed, and you found yourself completely taken aback.

“Wait. Fiancée?” There was no way.

“Do you even read People Magazine?” Theresa scoffed, shaking her head as if this was common knowledge. You spent every living day trying to avoid Maxwell Lord after the way he and his family had hurt you and your mother. But of course, his presence followed you everywhere. Whether it be his enormous head hanging over the highway on bulletin boards or his infomercials that were broadcasted on every channel, at the same time, every evening.

“You got this information from a tabloid?” You rolled your eyes.

“Why do you find it so hard to believe that Maxwell Lord has a fiancée?” Theresa made a point. Sure, Maxwell Lord was charming… but in a cold, sick and twisted kind of way.

You took a deep breath. “I don’t it’s just-“

“Oh shoot, look at the time! I gotta pick the kids up from school. They’re at an arts club, you see. Would you mind tidying and closing the shop tonight?” Theresa gasped, although it wasn’t as much a question as it was a statement. She thrusted a sweeping brush into your arms and in a frenzy, was out of the coffee shop within a minute.

It was the hottest summer you could ever remember. Golden rays of sunlight beamed through the large windows, the heat making your hair stick to your forehead as you puffed your cheeks out. Tiredly, you loosened the ribbon that was holding together your apron and continued to sweep the floor and wipe down the tables. It had been a long day, but the end of the month meant you were getting your pay check. Just as you were about to close-up Cocoa Coffee, you heard the bell jingle as the front door opened.

“Oh I’m sorry we’re clo-“ you said before stopping and taking in the sight that was Bruce Wayne. If Theresa was still here, she would’ve lost her mind. Not quite Maxwell Lord, but another rich businessman; seemingly, just her type. The CEO of Wayne Enterprises. He was a black silhouette, standing in front of the setting sun, but despite being hidden by a casted shadow, you could recognise him anywhere. During your time at Lord Manor, you had grown up hearing a lot about the Wayne family. You froze, staring at him with anti-bacterial spray in one hand and a cloth in the other. Bruce took a step forward, grinning at you. “Mr- Mr Wayne…” you found yourself stumbling over your words. “How may I help you?”

“I’ve been watching you for some time now,” Bruce said darkly, breaking any distance between you both. You looked up at the businessman feeling somewhat intimidated. “You’re the girl who has been making my lattes every day for two years.” Like the flick of a light switch, his tone of voice changed to be more cheery, but you were still taken off-guard.

“I- I have? I’ve never seen you before.” You replied, bewilderment dripping from your tongue. Sure, you had seen Bruce Wayne make headlines but you had never seen him in real life before. “I mean. I’ve seen you. On uh, Forbes right? Front page?”

“Not this year,” Bruce sighed, and removed his sunglasses. “Some other scam artist took my place.” Immediately you felt a sense of dread, and you hoped you hadn’t done anything to piss him off. Bruce turned around and pointed to a black car with tinted windows, parked outside of the coffee shop.

“I’m sorry.” You bit your lip awkwardly. Bruce just shook his head, a light chuckle escaping his lips as he went to continue on his opening statement.

“I sit in the front seat while my assistant grabs my coffee,” Bruce explained, still pointing at the car outside, and you breathed out a little ‘ah’ whilst nodding somewhat understandably. You did not want to get on Bruce Wayne’s bad side, that’s for sure. “And I must admit, not a day has gone by where I haven’t been mesmerised by your beauty.” You felt your cheeks flush with heat at his compliment. You couldn’t help but remain silent, thus prompting Bruce to continue. “See, I’m actually a shy guy,” Bruce said, but his charm and fluency made you feel as though he wasn’t entirely being truthful. There was no way you could question the multi-billionaire. “And after a lot of persuasion from my assistant… well, I’m here to ask you out.”

You blinked, completely taken aback. You were just about to end your shift playing barista for the day when the Bruce Wayne had come into Cocoa Coffee saying all these nice things. No matter how hard you tried, you just couldn’t make sense of it all. Had he gotten the right person? He recognised you, so he really must be wanting you. So many thoughts raced through your head. Something felt off immediately, but you knew you could never deny Bruce Wayne a date. “I- uhm-“ you stumbled on your words and found Bruce looking nervous, awaiting your response. “Okay.” you accepted his proposal, and his worried frown turned into a beaming smile.

“Great!” He cheered. “I will have someone pick you up on Sunday afternoon. Don’t worry, I know where you live.”

Brushing past his comment about knowing your address, you raised a finger. “Uhm, where will we be going?”

“DC.” Those two letters made your heart sink into your chest. It had been years since you had last step foot in DC and you didn’t exactly associate the capital city with the fondest of memories. “I have business there. That’s not an issue, is it?”

Was it?

“No, of course not Mr Way- I mean Bruce.”

“Great, I will see you Sunday. Dress formal. I know the most amazing restaurant we can go to. They do the best martinis.”

♡

Maxwell Lord IV zipped up his pants and sunk into his office chair, regaining his breath. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and fixed his hair the best he could, before looking down at his secretary who was still on her hands and knees under his desk, looking up at him, waiting for his next instruction. Maxwell simply opened his desk drawer and threw her a silk cloth to wipe away the mess he had painted her face with. “Same time tomorrow.” He said, not even bothering to make eye contact with her. “Wear that same lipstick too.”

“Yes sir.” She replied, shakily standing up.

“You are free to leave now,” Maxwell told his secretary. “What do you say?”

“Th-thank you sir.”

His secretary scurried out of his office and once more, Maxwell was alone. He spun around in his chair and looked at the framed magazine cover, hanging on the wall behind him. There he was. He had made it to the front page of Forbes. Richest man in the world. He was loved. He was feared. He was Maxwell Lord IV.

♡♡♡ TAGLIST ♡♡♡

@mrschiltoncat​

[daily-dose-of-naruto]

For the 500 follower giveaway: The Walking Dead Crossover with Kankuro scenario! ❤️❤️❤️❤️

This is soo long overdue, and I hope you can forgive us for this late scenario. But I wanted to combine the idea of Kank telling an friend he had known for a long time with the Walking Dead, and it took a long time with school getting in the way. So I’m sorry, I hope this is up to par. ~Admin Shadow

Kankuro in the Walking Dead Scenario

An acrid stench of rot and death lingered in the air and clung to the walls of the cramped cell Kankuro had been given. For the fifth time he rolled over on his side trying to get comfortable, but it was hard to get cozy on a broken prison cot. 

The sound of Beth’s voice singing ‘The Parting Glass’ resonated off the walls as she attempted to lull Judith to sleep, and it was helping him immensely. He could hear Glen talking to Maggie in the cell next to him, reminding Kankuro that he wasn’t alone anymore. He was part of something bigger, a community now.

He cracked his eyes open just a little as the light of the afternoon filtered through the dirty windows. An old 1950’s pinup girl was staring him down; she had been here when Maggie had asked him to take the cell at the end of the block. He didn’t mind at all, as he stared at her plump lips, mischievous glaze and amble curves. Oh, it brought dirty thoughts to the forefront of his mind.

He quickly pushed them aside because he had a very different person that he couldn’t get out of his head. For the last few months Kankuro had developed strong feels for a member of their group – a girl he had known for quite some time. She had joined Gaara, himself and Temari early on in the apocalypse. Only in the last month had they been fortunate enough to stumble upon Rick’s group at the prison after months of being nomads barely getting by.

Kankuro couldn’t get her out of his mind, even now, as he fantasized about her beautiful features. She had thick hair that flowed down to her shoulders, but she hardly ever had it down for too long – usually it was up in a messy, disheveled bun. Her eyes had a starry look to them; they were mesmerizing and if you looked too long you might get cast under her spell. And when she wasn’t paying attention, he had been lucky enough to appraise her nice ass.

They had both been put on night guard duty, together. She had been pretty reserved the first few weeks around him, even though they had been in the same group for months. He had felt some distrust lingered like a plague, but slowly she had started laughing at his jokes and easing to his nonchalant attitude.

She had become trusting enough to even tell him her backstory. It had taken a bit, but he had coaxed out the truth – that she was a lone survivor. Her family had died all in a very short period from a hoard of walkers in the very beginning.

He couldn’t imagine what she had gone through, just the thought of losing Gaara and Temari made him physically ill. Their father had died early on in the apocalypse since he had been in Washington DC. The politicians had been some of the first to get it, and being a senator had put their father in harms way. The saddest part was it really hadn’t bothered him – their father had always been very distant and even slightly cold and corrupt because of his work in politics. It really had always been him, Temari and Gaara watching out for each other.

Everyday in this new, fucked up world was a struggle and you never knew which day was going to be your last. Especially with the impending threat of this new man that called himself The Governor. So Kankuro had been debating if saying something about how he felt to this this girl was worth it.

With the lingering threat of death always dangling above them, was it worth getting attached to someone? If she died it would just leave a numbing sting that would ache and linger and he wasn’t sure that pain was something he wanted to invite. Temari had been trying to convince him that a life without risk or love wasn’t a life at all.

He had been pretty resilient to the idea at first, but now – now he was seriously considering the possibility. The thought of remaining alone and not knowing how she felt about him was corroding away at his sanity piece by piece. Maybe he should take a chance, tell her how he felt. The worst she could do was say no, well that wasn’t the worst that could happen in an apocalypse, but still.

Kankuro rolled over on his side trying to avoid the light of day that was streaming through the gaps between the bars of his cell. He only had a few more hours to try and get some sleep before his shift, and he internally decided tonight would be the night he was going to tell her. What the hell did he have to lose?

The ground was bathed in weak moonlight, causing the dewy drops on the grass to shine like intricately placed diamonds. The sky was a black void tonight with brilliant speckles of stars, and the moon was giving the forest outside the prison a white, heavenly luster.

Rick handed over his AK to Kankuro and gave him a lukewarm smile and a pat on the arm. It wasn’t unusual for their misfit group’s leader to be brotherly.

“Keep your eyes open, with the Governor as a new threat we have to be vigilant,” Rick muttered to him, his voice remaining low so none of the new people they had recruited last week could hear them.

Kankuro gave the former sheriff a smirk. “Don’t worry, Rick. I got it covered. I won’t let anything happen on my watch.” He kept his voice cool and even, but internally he was a little anxious about being on duty with her.

Rick tipped his head to the side and nodded his approval. “Yeah, can’t be too careful. I trust you and your siblings. Gaara has been doing some good work with us, helping to fortify the gates. You guys have earned your place here.”

“It’s no problem Rick, were just doing our duties, you have nothing to worry about,” Kankuro assured him, but he couldn’t keep the pride and light arrogance out of his tone.

Rick gave another nod and pushed passed him and headed back to the prison. The night was quiet, except for the sound of some walkers that were aimlessly grasping at the fence and shaking it.

Kankuro looked across the concrete fenced in yard to see her talking to Daryl. The bowmen was handing over a pistol and he had his normal, unreadable expression fixed on his scruffy face. Kankuro turned his back on them and decided to focus on his guard so he could get his thoughts together – he wasn’t going to back down from the challenge of telling her the truth. No, not today.

An hour passed, and Kankuro hadn’t seen anything out of the ordinary. His fingers clutched tight to the automatic rifle in his hands. His guard duty tonight had proven uneventful so far, and he wanted to keep it that way. He had been frequently stopping to think about what he was going to say when their paths crossed, but ended up just having such murky thoughts. He felt like he wasn’t getting anywhere, so he had decided this was just going to be impromptu and he would do what he normally did, which was go with the flow.

He ended up heeding Rick’s words more than he usually did, as his eyes scanned out toward the woods and along the fence with pure dedication. He felt his heart tighten in his chest as he saw something moving toward him.

His eyes trained on someone in the distance walking at him in the dark. He could just make out their outline, it was a woman, and he knew it was her. Kankuro felt the muscles in his legs tense and freeze, and suddenly the oppressively hot Georgia air became impossible to breath.

“Hey, have you seen anything yet?” She said as she approached him, her eyes sparkling in the meek moonlight.

Kankuro realized he had been gawking at her and he was quick to close his mouth. “No, I haven’t seen anything yet, but knowing my luck something will pop out.”

To his relief she chuckled softly, before replying. “Just pay attention. You can’t be too careful, especially not with that lunatic, the Governor who is out there. You never know when your last moment will be.”

“Yeah.” He agreed, and shit he was refusing to back down, he was going to do this. He sucked in a deep breath, because he was going to tell her how he felt. Kankuro had never heard his heart thunder so loudly in his ears. And this was harder now that she looked completely celestial in the moonlight.

“We’ve known each other for a while, right?” Kankuro said almost as a offhandedly comment and he felt like an idiot for saying it, but he could see her teeth glint in the full light as she unleashed a smile.

“I would say so, why?” She inquired.

“Well, you mentioned you never know when things are going to end, so I wanted to say this before my time was up.” He paused for a second before he forced the words out, and he wished he could have been smoother in his confession.

“I’ve always had a crush on you, and I was hoping you considered me someone worthy of you.” He looked directly at her, and he couldn’t fully make out her expression. “Ever since we got here, I’ve been thinking about everything we have been through and I don’t think I trust any one here more than you and my siblings, and I was hoping you felt the same about me.” He let the words out, and it felt like a dam had been let loss. He feared that her hesitation was a sign of her distaste for his words, as he waited patiently for an answer.

But after a few seconds of silence, she finally responded. “It took you long enough. You have no idea how long I’ve waited to hear those words,” her voice was hardly louder than a whisper.

She took light, uncertain steps toward him, and Kankuro was surprised when she wrapped her arms around his torso. Her arms around him felt warm, inviting and almost as if it was something he had been craving, yet unaware of.

He reciprocated by pulling her against him, fully encompassing her in his embrace. She seemed to nestle herself against his chest which made his confession worth it one hundred times over.

And that’s when she said anything so unexpected, and it made his heart sore. “This world is hell, but it’s nice to know that things might look up, with you being here.”

He wrapped his arm around the back tighter, and squeezed her. “I’ll always be here for you, I can at least promise you that.”

[jay-michaels-public-relations]

Article contributed to Five Star Arts Journal by Jay Michaels

Comic Books – like their characters – have a secret identity. The mild-mannered paper and ink funnies are also the next level of Greek tragedy or Shakespearean epic.

Comic Artists – like their characters – also have a secret identity thrust upon them. Hard-working children of immigrants throughout the sixties grabbing a job in a time when such things were scarce drew fun and fantastical stories about improbable human beings … and outer planet dwellers. These progression-of-image books have – thanks to Godlike advances in cinema and the paranoia of psychiatrists throughout the fifties and sixties have become the new da Vincis and Picassos.

Sadly, like their characters, these artists were always lauded for their work. their stories are the fodder of -well- comic books.

Ditko tells the story of Steve Ditko, a comic book illustrator virtually forgotten by the masses, but celebrated by comic book fans everywhere. Chronicling his rise in the comic book industry, Ditko was instrumental in Marvel’s success by co-creating two of comics most iconic characters, Spider-Man and Doctor Strange and several of DC’s silver age icons, Hawk and Dove, Shade the Changing Man, and the Creeper. Ditko also worked for virtually every other publisher of note including Warren, Charlton, Pacific, and Eclipse, co-creating other iconic characters like Mr. A, the Question and Blue Beetle. he also created some of the 1950s most startling imagery in sci-fi and fantasy comics. ironically, Spiderman was meant to be one of those fantasy one-shot characters for a comic book called Amazing Fantasy. Stan Lee, planning to cancel the poor-selling monster book, let Ditko draw one of those far-out characters for the last issue. The rest, as they say …

The Daydream Theatre and TheatreLab NYC present DITKO, a play written & directed by Lenny Schwartz on October 1 & 2 at 7:30pm Tickets: $15 in advance at Ovationtix.com and $20 at the door the location of TheatreLab is 357 WEST 36th STREET 3RD FLOOR – NEW YORK

Some actors have the honor of playing Hamlet, Romeo & Juliet, and Lear … others have a more lofty experience. Derek Laurendeau plays Steve Ditko; Dave Almeida dons a cigar for his role as Jack Kirby; Anne Bowman plays a mystic master – no, not Doctor Strange … Ayn Rand. And Geoff White takes the elevator to the floor ABOVE Mount Olympus as Stan Lee. The avengers assembled also include Samantha Acampora, Christopher Ferreira as Jerry Robinson/Dick Giordano (talk about Marvel AND DC), Mindy Britto, Emily Lamarre, and Timothy DeLisle.

At the New York Comic Con in 2010, Stan Lee entered the stage and someone from the back of the house screamed “YOU’RE A GOD, STAN”  We asked the cast … well is he? Well, are you? And what’s it like playing Gods.

Derek Laurendeau: 

To me comic books aren’t becoming a religion, they are one. As with most religions you have practices, prayers, meditations, and most of all stories that give the moral standards and practices of them. Comic books in their own way share many of these. Many people routinely make pilgrimages to the conventions or their comic book shops to share in the collective story telling of hundreds of artists and writers. The whole community (artists, editors, writers, fans, etc.) shapes these stories. The stories give us the hope and ability to cope with the world around us. The comics are also a mythology on their own. Superheroes are god like and while the stories can be bombastic, heroic adventures at the end of it all the heroes themselves are just as human as we are and through that relatability you can gain strength to overcome any difficulties. Also like most religions there are divisions that you see when stories adapt and change. Most recently the Miles Morales Spiderman comes to mind as an example of the rift that can divide comic fans.

“I feel like we’re not playing gods. Ditko, Lee, Kirby, and Robinson were humans just like us.”

They had their flaws and faults just like anyone would have. The fans may see them as these deities, but at the end of the day they were just men and women creating from their imaginations. They created these characters not knowing what would happen. The act of creation is what they knew best and by putting the work in and giving their art every bit of energy they had they made magic happen on the pages. I feel like my responsibility to the role is to show the humanness of these great people. Yes they created heroes that will not be forgotten any time soon. But Steve Ditko, Jack Kirby, Stan Lee, and Jerry Robinson all started at the same place behind a table with nothing but an idea, paper, and something to write and draw with. The truth is anyone can do what they did as long as you have passion and are committed one hundred percent to making your destiny happen. However I do feel an extra responsibility to Ditko since very little is known of him and for a lot of people seeing the show it was the first time they had ever heard of him. So i feel a duty to do my best to represent Steve as the sure minded, smart, and talented artist he was.

Geoff White, like the characters he plays (Stan Lee) was a bit more irreverent. 

Growing up in the 60’s, I was the usual comic book kid… I occasionally grabbed a Superman or Spiderman. I’ve always had a healthy respect for the art form, but as I began college and studying theatre, my focus changed and comics faded in my life Except for my many friends who  are avid collectors. But, as an Actor, I do feel the responsibility of being true to any character I portray, but obviously playing Stan in the city, next to the Comicon is a little daunting.  Fortunately, Lenny is a true Fan and an insightful Director and I truly feel the audiences will enjoy the ride as much as we do.

Dave Almeida plays another king. Jack “King” Kirby. The man attributed to some of the greatest comic book characters of all time – who never got the respect he deserved … until after his passing. 

We the public may consider these creative writers and artists “gods”, but I would guess that they just considered themselves just “working Joes”, and getting paid for their services, just like screenwriters, journalists and commercial artists did at the time. These wonderful people gave us role models without even realizing it; role models who change the minds and hearts of a post war generation and their children.

Christopher Ferreira playing two comic book legends shared his thoughts as well.

When I was in grade school at that time, comics were the safe place where social outcast bookworms could find comfort in fantastic stories about heroes and a fantasy world.  It was ours.  Now comics are everyone’s.  Now I’m the expert who pretty girls turn to to learn about this world of mythical legend.  Now I feel like the prophets of old, leading new followers to the wonderful teachings of pulp fiction legends. I absolutely feel a strong responsibility to accurately portray such legends as Jerry Robinson and Dick Giordano.  I met Jerry twice in the later years of his life at the San Diego Comic Con and I was so blown away by his intelligence, exuberant personality and humbleness.  He did so much important work to get creators the credit and recognition they deserved.  I can only imagine how he encouraged and helped Steve Ditko in his early days of coming into the comic book industry.  Jerry was such a force in the comic book industry.  So my goal in bringing him to life again onstage in this version is to show how human of a man he was.  Comic book creators are people who care about the human race, I feel.  They write stories that show the best humanity can be.  Creating heroes that they wish we all could be.    

Anne Bowman practiced philosophizing by saying this.

What comes to mind is how comic book characters are like religious icons, known all over the world. Before I did this show I didn’t realize how often I see Spider-Man in my daily life, in many places other than TV.  For example, I went to the beach with family a few weekends ago, and my friend’s five-year-old was wearing a Spider-Man t-shirt. I told him I was in a play about the man who drew Spider-Man, and his eyes got wide. I knew Spider-Man when I was his age, too. That’s pretty incredible. 

    Emily Lamarre and Mindy Britto looked up in the sky and had this to say:

Emily Lamarre: I’ve been thinking about this all day and haven’t really found an answer for this question. I’ve been an outsider to the comic book world and through Ditko I learned that Ditko was the real creator of Spider-Man. I think with why comic books are becoming a religion as people look up to these characters because they are strong, and brave. They even may pass down the stories of these characters to their children in hopes to take the lessons and ideals that they had and use them in real life. With the creators like Jack Kirby, Steve Ditko, Jerry Robinson, and Bill Finger, they created these characters and the world they live in for people to read and look up to.

Mindy Britto: To be honest, comic books are a bit of a new phenomenon for me. I feel that comic books offer an escape into another reality. Comics are always indicative of pop culture, reflecting both modern society and a new market of readers. Writers come up with religious back stories to keep the character current and provide relatability and depth. It makes sense that comic books are becoming a religion due to the complexity of the world that we live in and the desire to explore and uncover.

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JAY MICHAELS, an indie film and live event producer and promotional executive, is considered an authority on comic books and horror movies. He is the host of “Terror Talk” on the burgeoning streaming station, Terror TV. Michaels, a notable presence in the world of independent theater and film as a producer and an actor, has been charting horror and science-fiction on film and television and appraising comic books and other ephemera since 1973. He is also a judge for the Boston Sci-Fi Film Festival.

  Adventure takes four colors, two staples, and one dream Article contributed to Five Star Arts Journal by Jay Michaels Comic Books - like their characters - have a secret identity.