#i thought it was interesting to put objects in another “universe” where they don't belong. like a crossover but not quite

[bluescribble]

little miss "I will isolate myself because I think I am too dangerous in nature" vs little miss "all my other selves are inferior and I am the best therefore I will stay with you"

have the uncolored version because I think it looks nice too lol

[cami-stuffs]

Pushing Towards You

Chapter 2: Old Friends Reunite

Calista hasn't heard from Larissa after leaving her a message. She couldn't decide if she was disappointed or relieved. She truly believed Larissa would be interested in Ártemis. On the other hand, seeing her again would bring back too many long-forgotten feelings.

Deciding to let it be, Calista gave a hand to Gaia and Ártemis on their packing and kept the ignored message away from her mind. 

"Mum, can you use your telekinesis to help me pack? I'm already exhausted." Ártemis said signing.

"For a girl who goes often to the gym, you got tired fast, huh? But I see you. It slipped my mind how packing could be tedious." Calista admitted. "Just tell me what goes where, and we'll make it fast."

And there they went. Putting each object inside a box and then labeling it. Calista made the most effort, guided by the other two. At the end of the day, they had all their essential belongings packed and were set to leave the next morning. 

Ártemis was moving her eyes through the boxes, and Calista could tell the girl was worried. 

"What's up, kid? What are you pondering?" Calista asked, trying to read Ártemis mind.

"It just feels odd to leave this place. And I feel like I'm abandoning you and choosing Mumma G over you." Ártemis confessed. 

"Nonsense. There is no such thing as choosing one on behalf of the other." Calista hugged Ártemis. "I gonna miss you. A lot! We've never been apart since you were on my belly. But I understand you have to go. Nevermore will help you find your path, you'll make friends, and you'll learn about your powers. Besides, I feel much better thinking Gaia will be there for you. And you know that I'll be here for you anytime, for anything. All you have to do is call me." Calista tightened the hug. "Don't worry about me. Think about your future."

At this moment, Gaia broke into the apartment, bringing their last meal together. 

"Girls, I brought us pizza!... Hey, what happened?" She just caught Calista and Ártemis hugging each other. 

"Ártemis was just being emotional about leaving me here by myself." Calista resumed the conversation. 

"Oohhh... Well, I wouldn't say I like that idea either. But who knows, Temis, we convince her to stay with us in Vermont." Gaia winked to Ártemis. "I bet she can be a pharmacist there." Gaia grinned.

"Gaia, please! Do not make it harder. You know I'm a professor at the University, and the new term is about to begin." Calista said, frustrated. 

"Hey... I'm just kidding. I know you have your duties. But girls can dream, right?" Gaia sought for Ártemis support. 

"Yeah, mum. Pharmacists are needed everywhere, including in Vermont." Ártemis joined the chorus. 

"Okay, you too. That's it. Let's eat and go to bed. We have a long way ahead of us tomorrow." Calista decided not to argue any longer. But it kept her wondering, what if they needed a pharmacist nearby  Nevermore? Would she leave her job as a professor and adventure herself in another area of her profession for her daughter? 

Gaia was expected at Nevermore on Monday. So they decided to leave early on Friday and enjoy their time together on the road. The trip could be made in just one day if they drive all day. But they were not in a hurry, so they stayed in a hotel and resumed the trip on Saturday morning. 

Calista rented an apartment in Jericho, a city in the surroundings of Nevermore. They would stay there until Gaia and Ártemis were comfortable at school, and then Calista would be by herself again. They approached the city on Saturday evening. 

"It's great that you could find a place here in Jericho. Otherwise, we would have to come from Burlington." Gaia pointed out. "Well, it's not far away, but being in Jericho would save us some time."

"Yeah...Curiously, It was easy to find a vacant place here. More than I thought, I should say. And it's in downtown, which makes it more strange. Jericho was never a city where one could find available habitation easily." Calista remembered their time visiting the city while in school.

They parked in front of the building, and Ártemis realized the city was too quiet.

"Is it always like this?" She asked her mums.

"That's what I was talking about. It's quieter than normal. Well...It's Saturday evening in the middle of school vacations. I expected to see more people on the streets." Calista answered.

"We'll find out about it later. Let's go up and make ourselves at home, shall we?" Gaia encouraged the other two. 

They did find out what was going on in the small city. Ártemis was craving Chinese food but was too tired to go out. So they asked for food delivery, and the deliveryman brought the news.

"Hey, good evening. Here is your order. The charge is in the receipt." The boy said. 

"Oh, Thank you. I'll take your money." Calista answered the door. "Here, keep the change."

"Oh, thanks. I can see you just moved in." He said, looking at the unpacked boxes. "Guess people are finally coming back, huh? That bear story and the death of the mayor scared people out." He said like it was old news. 

"I'm sorry, but what are all those rumors?" Calista was intrigued. 

"We had a bear on the loose, it seems. Some people got hurt. Some people died. Our former mayor, Noble Walker, was killed. People thought that the students of the outcast school were involved, but the school was also attacked. Their Principal was hospitalized." It looked to Calista that the boy was eager to tell this story for someone new. "Eventually, they caught the bear, and the attacks stopped. And here we are, back to normal life. Well...enjoy your meal and your staying at Jericho. Bye!" He stepped away, satisfied with the gossiping service.

"How odd all this story is.", Calista said out loud.

"What story, mum?" Ártemis asked halfway through a bite.

"That boy just told me about a bear on the loose in Jericho who killed their former mayor. He said even the Nevermore principal was hurt." Calista summed up. "Gaia, I thought the headmaster interviewed you."

"Deputy headmaster, now that you mentioned. He said something about the headmaster being in recovery." Gaia recalled the conversation.

"Well...I guess we'll find out more about it on Monday." Calista concluded. "Let's eat, then."

They spent their Sunday resting in the apartment and walking around Jericho. To the delight of Ártemis, they went to the famous café and bakery of the city, The Weathervane. And there, of course, they had the second-best hot chocolate Ártemis has ever tasted. The first one was Calista's, according to her. Gaia and Calista were not amazed by the place since they had spent much of their free time going to Nevermore. Yet, to Ártemis, it was all new and exciting. 

During the day, Calista experimented with controversial feelings. Being back in Jericho brought some nostalgic memories. It also reminded her that Larissa still didn't answer her call. The next day, she would return to the place where she had beautiful moments and bad ones, and now, she was leaving her daughter there for the girl to have her remembrances.

Monday morning came, and they couldn't tell who was more nervous. They wake up earlier than necessary, and the agony extends more than it should. Finally, they head to Nevermore to meet with the Principal.

And there it was. That magnificent building appeared in front of them. The Nevermore Academy was more than a school facility. It was much like a Castle. Wings, rooms, halls, yards... That old architecture. It all came at once and flooded Calista and Gaia's hearts joyfully. Ártemis was astonished by all that structure. 

They went straight to the Principal's office and met with an assistant. She led them into the room, saying the Principal would meet them momentarily. All three missed the sign on the door that said the Principal's name.

"It looks a lot different from what I could remember. " Gaia said, looking around. "I used to visit her a lot, you know." She said, smiling at Ártemis.

"Yeah, mumma G was a troublemaker back in her time," Calista said.

"What about you, mum?" Ártemis asked Calista curiously. 

"Mumma C has always been a teacher's pet. Playing by the rules." Gaia said playfully.

"I was not!" Calista feigned indignation, putting the hand on her chest. "Let's say I was good at hide and seek." Calista blushed.

"Ohhhh....mumma C. I wanna know all about this lat..." Ártemis was interrupted by someone entering the room.

"I am sorry for keeping you waiting. Some issues demanded my attention." An English scent filled the office.

Calista knew that voice. She knew it very well. But it couldn't be her, could it? She turned around to see what the source was. And there was no mistake. There she stood. Larissa Weems, with all her greatness. All that height became higher with those heels she was wearing. That blonde hair, almost silver, in her tight up-do. The lips with red lipsticks and a bright smile. And those blue marble eyes. Calista has forgotten how those eyes could be hypnotizing. She could feel a force pushing her towards Larissa just to look inside those eyes. And then...the moment was over. People were talking in the room, and Calista forced herself to keep up.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 3

[damianacottstudio3]

Research/Readings

Olender, J. (2015). Art and cultural institutions as social extensions of personal self-identity. Avant, 65-68.

i liked this article particularly this sentence " Intentionality is realized when the object is grasped with all its aspects and the viewer makes personal sense of it"

another bit i found interesting was "Our self-identity, which is based on perceptual experiences but immersed in cultural entanglements, relates to artworks that have the same basic phenomenological structure: a physical appearance bearing a multitude of cultural meanings and dependencies."

essentially what i understood from all this was that the statement suggests our self-identity and the way we perceive and interpret artworks are fundamentally similar

they both are shaped by our sensory experiences

This relationship highlights the connection of personal perception and cultural context in art

im not too sure on this but what if i were to experiment with this like further on or next semester

Thor, M. C. (2017, November). The reciprocal city: Performing solidarity—Mediating space through street art and graffiti. International Communication Gazette.

what i found interesting about this article was the debate about the similarity and differences between Graffiti art and Street art

i liked this statement about a potential difference between the two "It is understandable by passers-by and often communicates explicit messages, sometimes with an explicit political character. It informs the viewer of the intended meaning using explicit visual cues, and occasionally with text. "

i like that it kind of gives a distinction between the two. it portrays graffiti art as a sort of club, where you can only appreciate it when you understand what it seen from the tag where as street art gives a more "easy" way of interpreting

"Writing a tag on a wall is a spatial and aesthetic intervention but decoding it as something other than vandalism is equally political." i like this statement, it kind of opens my mind into the graffiti art and street art realm i guess. it kind of shows me that there kind of is a clear distinction between the two but also doesn't i guess ignore or put down graffiti art (tags).

Marcin Rogal (MrArtPride)

he makes these pop art style paintings

i kind of want to make stuff like this maybe

i found him on instagram and thought that his works were pretty good, and visually enticing

i like that he merges these different figures and themes to create a cohesive piece

i think with this artist specifically, i just like his art like what he makes

its like placing things in places that they do not belong i guess, i kind of like that you know like imagine placing a kaws character on the Mona Lisa like the two don't match but it might look good or work even

i think maybe i like it because it has some relation to my personal beliefs or something along those lines( like being out of place) but also i like that he comments on capitalism and like a consumer driven society

Will Blood:

i like that he uses cartoon characters and gives them this human aspect to it(skeleton)

His art is characterized by meticulous attention to detail, streamlined minimalism, and a distinctive approach that combines fantasy with a hint of the grotesque​

its like a aesthetic and charming piece but the skeleton sort of gives it this uneasy feeling

i don't know it kind of reminds me of puppets and their puppet masters

id like to explore this, but do it in a way where its different. maybe i can take aspects from his process and try and develop or adopt them into my own practice

i mean i like the cartoon figures but im not sure if id recreate them in my own practice

im still not sure

Sarah H. Awad, B. W. (2017). Street Art of Resistance. Aalborg University Aalborg, Denmark: Springer International Publishing.

i liked this book chapter about "Art and Social Change: The Role of Creativity and Wonder"

i know its speaks about the activism side more but it mentions street art as one of the "activist art"(like activism form of creative expression) , it says that street art is directly linked to change within society and community

"It is a space where reality becomes multiple and malleable, at least as experienced in art."

this was a sentence from the chapter it i don't know to me it kinda means like it creates this other universe where they morph reality within their art

i know i don't really explore the activism side, unless my works have underlying political themes which i think they don't i would like to explore this morphed universe, well i think i do a bit ?

i don't know it was a good read

definitely open a new avenue i could explore however i am not sure if i would go a more activist route maybe i do already? not too sure on that though

[greycappedjester]

Hi I'm so sorry I'm just too shy to ask this on ao3 but I was wondering: how is Slade's relationship with Dick? I don't mind them as a ship in general but in the story sometimes I feel like Slade gets too close to Dick and I thought if there was something platonic on his side? I'm sure you wouldn't do that in the story that's why I'm asking if it's only on Slade's side. Sorry if this is a stupid question lol. Maybe it's just because I've read sl/adedick fics before. ^^D

Nah, I’ve actually been waiting for someone to ask about that. So....it’s complicated and will take awhile to explain so I’m putting it under a Read More before I get too long winded with my character headcanons:

This is going to get soooooo long, lol, so feel free to skim. Warning for Gotham in general and Gotham being naturally a bad place for kid vigilantes to grow up in. Also because this explanation gets somewhat dark in character interpretation....

Bonus short story at the end after a really long post.

-------

Alright, so first, I feel like I should mention again that I never watched the Teen Titans animated show past maybe the first two episodes and the movie my friends wanted me to watch that I don’t really remember. (I meant to watch that show, just never got around to it). I say this because I heard that the Teen Titans TV show portrayed the Dick and Deathstroke relationship much differently in a way that’s cool and fine but not something I can see myself really wanting to write about. I know their relationship more from comics where Dick was already an adult (albeit a young adult) when he first met Slade. 

So. Back to my After the Fall of Olympus universe and yeah, I’m slowly getting to my answer. The thing is....the story is entirely in Dick’s POV right now.

And Dick’s absolutely terrible at reading and picking up any form of affection others have for him. He understands it abstractly (he knows people care) but when assessing, he critically underestimates it if he remembers to account for it at all. This goes even worse with people he’s closer to--which is why it took him forever to realize why Jason actually did want to stay with him at the manor and why he still has no idea Barbara is in love with him. Even Kory who was really, really direct about liking him, it took him years to fully emotionally process and respond to that. He’s getting better...but remembering his own value (in others eyes) isn’t something he’s overwhelming good at doing.

My headcanon, he is abnormally good at reading people and picking up basic sexual attraction. He’s good at telling when he’s being flirted with or when people are attracted to him and, honestly, Dick’s charismatic and instinctively a flirt, too.With that, partly from growing up in Gotham with its weird and supremely dark villains, I think Dick very much divorces the two concepts of romantic attraction and sexual flirting in his mind--he’s aware they can go together, obviously with Kory--but he doesn’t naturally pair them as other people probably would. It’s also part of why he just doesn’t get the level of concern Tim has about Catalina.

Okay, back to my point.

The way I write Slade and Dick’s relationship is actually mostly done off screen. But, I think Slade started with approval of Dick’s skills and potential in a clinical/objective view, growing respect and interest (personal but not at all romantic) in him as a person, and much more recently in the story (as in that last conversation he had in Ch. 18), I think Slade realized he has some legitimate attraction and cares a lot about Dick in a way that’s probably romantic.

Slade also is very, very aware immediately that he’s not going to do anything with that and, in a way, doesn’t want to because Dick ever responding to that would be jeopardizing his relationship with his family, his team, his view of his morals (which are so integral to Dick) in a way that would be exceptionally out of character and concerning coming from Dick. In other words, something happening would be a lot more terrifying than nothing happening and Slade cares.

For Dick, it’s a lot more simple. He does not have any romantic feelings there. He does in a somewhat analytical, unconscious way recognize that Slade’s probably attracted to him (probably before Slade noticed honestly) but he’s....well, kind of used to that at some level. More so, Dick doesn’t connect it to emotional care and--like with everyone else--vastly underestimates that Slade does care about him in a way that’s actually pretty selfless for a mercenary. For a romance, your guess is absolutely right, it’s not going to go anywhere in this series but I wanted the undertones and implications to be there in the final third of the story

....But, that’s also more of a later/recent development in that relationship. For most of the story that’s posted so far, Slade sees his relationship with Dick as a lot of respect and even care but not as romantic in any way. I can promise no romantic undertones at all until Dick was already in his 20s because I really, really am not interested in writing underage. (for those curious about Slade’s age in the story, I think of him as mid-20s in his introduction in Year 3 and pretty early 30s here to Dick’s early 20s)

Above everything, they respect each other and would be almost friends if that were possible.

The team and his family doesn’t know any of this.

Anyway, that was long, so here’s a bonus short story from Slade’s view. I write a lot of After the Fall of Olympus short stories in other charcter’s views that I’m not planning on posting until After the Fall of Olympus.

This one’s between Year 5 and 6 and is titled “October 7th”:

-------

It’s October 7th, almost two in the morning, and Slade’s camped out in a somehow still standing bombed out apartment in a no-name village in the middle of a war-torn country.

He’s not exactly expecting visitors.

There’s a knock on the apartment door.

Slade cocks his gun and puts two rounds in the door before, for good measure, adding matching ones on either side of the frame.

He has two seconds to let himself pretend that’s the end of it before the door knob turns to the unmistakable sound of a skilled lock pick. 

Fuck, he’s too tired for this shit today. 

“Geeze, Slade, what if I’d been an innocent civilian?”

Slade’s hand stills on the gun in surprise then consideration before slowly slipping it back into the holster. 

“Kid,” he greets. “There’s no innocent civilians left around here. ‘Specially ones that can make it to my door without me hearing any footsteps.”

“I’ve been working on that.” Dick says, walking into the apartment. He isn’t even wearing his uniform, just plain black military style clothes with the lower half of his face covered by a piece of cloth. He pushes it down and smiles as he presses the door shut behind him. “You did tell me to get better, after all.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t have,” he mutters without much heat. “You getting better almost left me out of a job.”

Dick rolls his eyes. “Please, as if both of us don’t know Luthor could’ve gotten out of those charges in months. If the Light didn’t erase them for him, anyway.”

Slade shrugs. Maybe another time, he’d find the energy to banter back. But not today. Never today.

“Why are you here, Dick? How’d you find me?”

The smile slides off of Dick’s face, leaving behind those far too heavy eyes to belong to an eighteen year old.

“You know I have your file, Slade.” Dick clears his throat. “I know what day it is.”

….Fuck.

It’s not like he expected anything else. Not since the moment he saw the kid. But, still...he doesn’t want to deal with this. Doesn’t want to deal with anything. Today, he just wants to crawl back into the worst, most deserted corner of the world he can find until the hours creep passed and he can find the energy to move.

Instead, he glares. “Good for you. Now get the fuck out, kid.”

Dick grimaces but shakes his head. “Not until you answer a question for me.”

Slade groans and, for a handful of seconds, honestly contemplates just killing him, considers it in a way that he hasn’t since before he even met the kid, back when he was first handed a file by a practically no name organization called H.I.V.E.

He’d regret it later. Sure. He has too much he wants to see out of the kid to kill him in a shitty, dusty apartment. But, that regret would come later. Later, once this day had finally passed.

That alone is almost enough to have him reaching for his gun. Almost

“Grayson,” he finally grounds out, “if you know what day it is, you know I’m not exactly inclined to play our game of hero and villain right now. You want information, find someone else.”

“Good, I’m not here to play either. Only problem is I can’t ask anyone else, you're the only one who knows the answer.” Dick lowers himself to sit on the floor across from him, like a particularly stupid mouse in front of a viper.

And then, he looks up and his eyes are too steady to belong to prey.

“Here’s the question: Do you really want to be alone today, Slade?”

The breath catches in Slade’s`lungs, harsher than if the kid had just punched him.

He pushes the reaction down, already knowing it’s too late, and says in the steadiest voice he can manage, “Yes.”

Dick stares at him, unmoving. “I don’t believe you.”

The air around them is too tight, too burning, and Slade’s being pushed down under it to suffocate. 

He can’t fight it, so he takes it and pushes it back into anger. “The fuck, kid! What do you know?  You said you have my file, yeah? How long have you had it? Because I’m betting you’ve had it since we first met!” He lunges forward. “So, why are you here now, Dick? What makes this year so special? What’s made you decide to pretend to care now? Because whatever it is, kid, I can promise you, I’m not worth it. So, leave!”

By the end, he’s gripping Dick’s shirt, pulling it tighter until the collar has to be digging painfully into his neck. 

Dick doesn’t look away. “No.”

Slade doesn’t look away either. “You know I really think I might kill you right now.”

“You won’t.”

 One of Slade’s hands moves until it’s pressing into the kid’s neck. A single sharp twist and he could snap it. “So sure?”

Dick nods.

“And why’s that?”

“Because I brought your favorite whiskey.”

A brown bag is pressed into Slade’s ribs and the man feels something rising in his chest that could possibly be laughter if it was some other time.

He drops the kid.

He takes the bag.

“Pretty sure heroes aren’t supposed to be contributing to alcoholism, kid.” He gestures to a half empty bottle of much cheaper stuff beside him.

Dick coughs, rubbing at his throat. “Please. With your metahuman metabolism, I bet you can barely feel it for an hour.”

“Depends how much I drink,” Slade counters, eyeing the bottle. “How’d you know my favorite?”

Dick shrugs. “Gotta keep some secrets to myself.”

He fishes out a spare shot glass from somewhere in the black folds of his outfit and pours a small glass for himself. 

Slade raises an eyebrow. “Last time I checked, you’re still 18, kid.”

Dick gives him an incredulous look in return. “Last time I checked, this place doesn’t have a drinking age...or a government, actually.”

Slade hums, amused, using a larger glass for himself. “True, but thought you’d be following the laws of your own birth city a little closer, hero. Gotham’s still at 21...on the record at least.”

“Technically, Gotham’s not my birth city.” Dick snorts and takes the shot. 

Slade tilts his head. “Where were you born?”

Dick pauses, thinking, before offering a sheepish smile. “You know….I actually have no idea. Somewhere in Europe, probably? I came early, the circus was still on tour. One of the lion tamers helped deliver me, used to be a doctor.”

“Always a surprise, kid,” Slade shakes his head, draining his glass. Tasting it in his mouth and pretending it’s enough to wash away the ash.

The next words come before he can stop them.  “...Adeline always wanted two kids.”

Dick goes quiet.

“Of course,” Slade says to his glass and fuck it, just fuck it,  “turns out we didn’t even get the one. Turns out I didn’t get either my wife or my son.”

Fuck, he hates October 7th.

He reaches for the whiskey, ignoring how his hand shakes. “Addy was a soldier, you know? A good one. Of all the stupid fucking ways she could go, I never thought it’d be childbirth. Maybe I should have. Always knew I’d kill her somehow.”

“You didn’t kill her, Slade,” Dick says softly.

“Sure. Whatever,” he agrees, too tired to argue. It’s not as if he hasn’t heard every variation sometime or another. It’s just right now, he can’t quite bring himself to debate about the cause when the end of it’s always going to be the same.

Dick drops the subject and the relief that Slade feels  is immense enough that it’s close to gratitude.

“What was your son’s name?”

“Grant. We were going to name him Grant.” He takes another sip. “If we had another one, we were going to name him Joseph. Or Rose for a girl.”

“Those are good names.”

He shrugs. “Doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does.”

Slade doesn’t answer, looking up to eye the kid over his drink. Dick sees it, holding up his own glass in acknowledgement before knocking it back.

“Why are you here, kid,” Slade asks again. “We’re not friends, pretty far fucking from it last time I checked.”

“I’ve got my reasons,” he answers calmly.

“If you’re here to make your usual sales pitch about the virtues of heroism, I really will kill you. Whiskey or not.”

Dick shakes his head. “....is it so hard to believe I just didn’t think you should be alone?”

Slade thinks his skepticism is loud enough without him needing the words.

The look Dick gives him is steady in return. “Think what you want to, Slade, I know what grief feels like. It’s a poison. It’ll kill you unless you find a way to drain it.” 

Dick looks down at his own glass and Slade gets the feeling the kid’s no longer talking about just Slade. It’s still a tossup whether he means himself or the Bat.

Either way, Slade makes sure his next smirk is particularly pointed. “And, look at you. Tracking me all the way down here to try and save my tortured soul. Such a hero.”

“Oh, shut up,” Dick says with an eye roll, pouring himself another drink

Slade cocks his head. “Speaking of, don’t all the good little heroes have school right about now.”

Dick looks up, almost sheepish. “I’m ditching my classes. Don’t tell my brothers, I’m still trying to be a good influence.”

Slade snorts and takes a particularly long swig.

A good influence. As if a single one of his stupid, fucking team doesn’t think the fricking sun shines out of the kid’s ass.

Fuck. What is Slade even doing? Sitting in a run down apartment in the middle of a warzone drinking whiskey with a too trusting kid a decade younger and that he probably should have killed years ago.

But, then, it’s always been exceedingly difficult for him to do what he should---what’s the sane and logical thing--when it comes to Dick Grayson. And, one day--when he doesn’t have the burn of booze sitting in his gut and his chest doesn’t ache like he’s been shot--Slade’s going to take a hard look at why that is.

For now, he’ll just leave it like he usually does. The kid’s too interesting to die yet. 

Dick eyes his shot glass, contemplatively. “This whiskey’s way too overpriced, Slade. It’s practically aged vodka.”

Slade finishes his off steadily. “Shows you have little taste, Grayson.”

Dick laughs and slides the bottle over. “I brought another one anyway.”

....Far, far too interesting.