#to be clear i absolutely also need to do studies especially for my non rendered style and growth is always important and i do have gaps

[fantastic-mr-corvid]

Timing my work for comms has made me realize that im actually really fast at drawing portraits [Yippie!] but also that my main obstruction to making better drawings is spending more time on them and i just dont have the spoons at the moment. Which unfortunately isnt something i can just do studies about...

[cyn-00]

Moreid one shot, 14 - "this thing"

Season 2, episode 12 "Profiler, profiled" (the one where Carl Buford is arrested for murdering one of the kids from the Youth Center of Chicago South Side, so the whole story about him being a pedophile rapist - and Derek being one of his victims as a kid - comes up. I wanna point out that originally I think only Gideon and Hotch discover Derek's direct involvement in this, but for the sake of this fic we'll pretend Reid does, too)

@tastefulancientwhispers asked me to tag her if I ever wrote a fic based on this scene :) so here I am. I shamelessly abused of italics in this one, heh

Also, I have a long-ish DISCLAIMER to make, that applies to all my works and not only this one. I think it's important to address that in this fic I won't mention the topic illustrated in the episode: this work mostly revolves around the famous line "Derek talks about you", said by Derek's sister to Spencer. My purpose was to write a "light" awkward/fluffy fic - almost love confession if you will - avoiding to focus on Derek's history of abuse. I think that's too delicate and serious of a topic for me to try and describe it merely through Derek's words/thoughts; especially considering that I should "filter" this narrative to fit my actual, sole scope of rendering Morgan + Reid's relationship. I actually HAVE focused more overtly on the Buford arc before, in my One shot 8, referencing a much late episode, but I hope I managed to dissuade anyone who read it from thinking that my intent was to romanticize the sexual abuse Derek suffered. Even though I admittedly enjoy reading fics based on the abused/care-taker trope, I still think it's risky to treat such topics if the writer's purpose isn't to convey some sort of "moral". Which is exactly why I'm always reluctant to treat directly and in depth Morgan's trauma as well as Reid's drug addiction: I haven't experienced either of these things, hence I don't think I'd be able to illustrate them properly and without triggering anyone who might be sensitive to said topics. Thank you if you dedicated your time to reading this intro, I hope the message is clear and of easy understanding :) <3

Read it on AO3

-------------

"Derek talks about you."

Reid couldn't stop replaying that phrase in his head, in an endless loop.

In the exact moment Sarah had said that, his immediate reaction had been to smile - like a total idiot, by the way - but now that everything was over and Spencer had the time to think about it, he couldn't help but wonder what she meant.

"Talk" how? "Talk" doesn't mean anything. It just means SAYING things, PRONOUNCING words. Did he say good stuff? Or did he make fun of him? Why did she feel the need to let him know that Morgan "talked" about him? He must've talked about Emily too, sometimes, but Sarah didn't say "Derek talks about both of you ".

He hadn't had the time to deepen the topic because as soon as he replied - "he does??" : again, a complete moron - Emily interrupted them to, righteously, get back to the actual subject: Carl Buford.

The second Reid remembered about it, all those dumb questions wandering in his head vanished. Poof. How could he keep obsessing about that stupid phrase while Morgan was going through what he was going through? Derek had trusted him enough to tell only him, besides Hotch and Gideon, and what was Spencer doing? Thinking about "Derek talks about you". He probably had MENTIONED him, or said, like: "oh you know there's this kid in my unit, socially awkward, total nerd, only thing he does is read like 20 books a da-"

-

"Reid?"

Emily's voice came loud like a train crushing into his ear drums. Spencer winced in his swivel chair.

"Mh?" he mumbled, looking up at her.

"...are you gonna go home or you're planning to keep working?" she asked him, jokingly.

"Yeah, no, I- I mean, yes I'm going home, no I have no intention to keep working, trust me..." he replied distractedly, checking his watch. It was 9:30 pm: not even that late...so why was she asking? Spencer had the sudden impression that she wanted something, and THAT was just a lame excuse to start a conversation.

"I was just double checking an e-mail I had to send." he continued, noticing that she wasn't even wearing her coat, neither had her bag in hand. She could've studied the scene better.

"Oh- yeah...your computer is off but, whatevs" she shrugged, pointing at the black desktop. He could've studied his scene better, too.

He looked at where she was pointing for a second, then stood up and grabbed his satchel.

"I know I was uhm...just, thinking about a thing " he said, understanding why literally everybody labeled him as a bad liar. Still, he didn't wanna spit it all out.

"A thing ?" she echoed him, raising her brows.

"Yes, a-" Reid interrupted himself before he had even decided how to phrase the thing to keep it vague enough. He saw Morgan get out of Hotch's office and heading quickly toward the sliding doors of the bullpen, with his head down.

"...a thing. Gotta go, see you tomorrow!" he said in a rush, quickly walking in Derek's direction without making it too obvious that he was basically running toward him.

-

"Spencer! Wait- wait a second." she said grabbing his arm from behind, after he'd only got 15 ft far.

He turned around, frowning.

"I, uhm, I don't think he's in the mood to...talk ? right now..." Emily said softly, with an awkward smile on her face.

"You know?" she added, tilting her head, hoping that she wouldn't have to explain further.

Spencer gulped, adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose. She was right, and if only she'd known the whole story, she would've been even righter. If there's even such a thing as being more right than...right.

"Yes, I- I know, but I wasn't planning on talking about... about that, I just have to ask him this... thing." he replied slightly embarrassed, looking down at the floor.

"Is the 'thing' you wanna ask him the same 'thing' you were thinking about earlier?"

"...yes" he answered almost murmuring, like it was some kind of secret - which is what it was still supposed to be, to her: a secret. Because, in the end, he hadn't even TOLD her, so how did she KNOW? How did she do that? Emily always did that. Fuck.

"And is this 'thing' what I think it is?" she pried, lowering her voice to the same volume of Spencer's.

"I...I don't know?" he replied, only not to give her the satisfaction of receiving the millionth "yes". But the answer was: yes.

"Then go, ask him the 'thing'. " Emily concluded, nodding her chin in the elevator's direction.

Spencer leveled his eyes with hers, gladly noticing a reassuring look of complicity appear on her face.

He nodded, smiling at her in a silly way before turning around.

-

Spencer quickly headed toward the elevator, hoping Derek hadn't got too far in the meantime - or, even worse: had already started his car.

He saw the elevator doors closing.

"Wait! Hold it!" he shouted, speaking to whoever was inside it.

He ran, jumping in between the doors.

Morgan was inside. Of course. What the hell was he still doing there? Did...did he wait for him? No, that was impossible and way too optimistic. He'd probably bumped into Penelope, who had kept him talking in the hallway for an amount of time nearing a decade.

They stared at each other for a solid 20 seconds, gaping, while the doors closed behind Spencer's back, leaving them alone - luckily.

Spencer figured the unsteadiness of his breathing wasn't due to the "run" anymore. He gave up on trying to slow it down, and decided he was going to speak up first, since Derek still looked frozen like an ice cube. Maybe he was annoyed by Spencer's presence, and he just wanted to avoid starting a conversation to make the interaction as quick as possible and finally go hom-

-

"R- Reid" Derek's thorough and slightly hoarse voice broke the silence.

"I was kinda looking for you, earlier. Gave up at a certain point." he added, smiling a bit. He looked... embarrassed? Was that even possible? For Derek Morgan to be embarrassed?

Spencer swallowed nervously, flattered. "Me too, actually."

Derek opened his mouth like he wanted to say something first, before the other could continue. But he got interrupted by the doors opening up again behind Spencer.

He pointed at the empty lobby with his finger, seeing that Reid hadn't even noticed they'd arrived at ground floor already.

Spencer turned around. They got out and he stopped 3 ft from the elevator, standing still, fiddling nervously with his hands. Was Derek expecting him to follow him or something? Were they gonna talk the next day? Or was he supposed to drop the topic forever because time was up?

Derek, who had got ahead in the meantime, turned around.

"You comin?" he asked, non-chalantly.

"Uhm, yeah- where?" Spencer replied, finally taking jogging steps forward to reach him, feeling like the marble floor was starting to sink under the soles of his Converses from standing there for so long.

"I'll give you a ride home. I don't know how you take the subway every fucking day." Derek replied, snorting.

Spencer smiled back, shyly.

"...thanks" he mumbled, looking down at his feet while walking outside with him, their arms only a couple of inches from touching.

-

They stayed silent until they arrived to the car. When they did, Derek stopped before either of them could get in.

"Listen, uh, I- I hope you're not gonna ask me stuff about... about Buford because honestly I can't take anymore pity-faces. Especially yours." he said in a deep tone.

"Nonono, no, absolutely not- I mean, if you ever wanna talk about it I'm here but I'm not- I don't wanna pressure you or anything." Spencer answered defensively, feeling his heartbeat racing. He wondered what he meant by "especially yours". Was his pity-face more annoying than the others'? Apparently, saying indecipherable phrases that made Reid go paranoid was a Morgans' family thing.

He saw Morgan nodding uncomfortably. Reid gazed silently at him for a bit, taking a careful look of him as a whole. He didn't look good- well, what the hell, of course he looked good, but he didn't look ok. He seemed exhausted and quite anxious - understandably. Nobody had ever seen him like that, and honestly it freaked Spencer out a little. The first thing that popped into his mind, was that such behavior was partially his fault; hence, he spoke up, trying to put a halt to it.

"You know what, I'm- it's late, actually, and you look like you need to stay alone for a while so, I'm just gonna take the subway it's no big dea-"

"No, kid, can you just- can you just stay ? Please..." Derek interrupted him, grabbing his thin wrist before he could get any further.

Spencer's heart warmed up. He eyed down at Derek's grip, unprepared to how even such a faint touch was sending goosebumps all over his arm. Much to his relief, not one but two layers of clothing - shirt AND jacket - hid that reaction from the other man's sight.

"Alright." Reid nodded after a bit, not because he was undecided, but because he was trying to get a hold of said goosebumps. He raised his gaze again to smile idiotically at him.

Derek grinned back apologetically, before ultimately making his way around the car to get in the driver's seat.

-

"So, I heard that you and Prentiss were the ones who had to go talk to my family, am I right?" he asked, with a tone and a way of phrasing the question that was nothing short of a desperate attempt to make it sound low-key and casual. Especially since he chose to say it while opening the car door. Like it didn't matter that much, or at least not enough to say it once he'd be sitting down comfortably. Unfortunately for him, Spencer picked up on all of that.

"Yeah!" Spencer answered, a little too enthusiastically for one who was trying with all his strength not to give the impression that he wanted to talk exactly about that, that he basically read his mind. Unfortunately for him, Derek picked up on those kind of things too - after all, they were paid to do it. To understand behavior. At times they forgot how much more difficult that made their mutual interactions, as well as more authentic.

Derek smiled to himself a little bit and started the car.

"So, how were they?" he asked teasingly, knowing that even if Spencer thought they were the worst people in the world, he would've never told him so. His heart was too pure.

"They're really nice. And they care a lot about you. You're lucky like that..." Spencer replied lowering his voice, revealing a slightly melancholic inflection.

Derek catched a glimpse of him while driving. He knew he wasn't referring to his mom, but to his dad. And he knew there was a big difference between how he lost his own dad and how Spencer lost his: Derek's father died. Spencer's father purposely left him: grabbed his shit, got on his feet, walked away from his wife and son. How a father could do that, was something that Derek would never understand.

"The cake was good, wasn't it?" he asked after a few seconds of heavy silence, trying to lift up the mood.

Spencer finally shifted his eyes to look at him. "Yeah, definitely" he answered, and Derek's mission could be considered accomplished, as a sweet smile appeared on his colleague's face; sweeter than that cake they were talking about - yes, Morgan thought about such comparison. He could've compared it with another million sweet things: caramel like his eyes; honey like his hair under the sunlight; strawberry like the color of his lips... Oh. Dammit.

"I wanna ask you a thing, though..." the sweet voice of the man object of his current fantasies gently snapped Derek out of his thoughts.

"What's that?" Derek asked, hiding the fact that he was shitting his pants wondering what Spencer's question could possibly be.

Spencer nervously played with the buckle of his leather bag, resting on his lap.

"Your sisters, both of them they- they immediately recognized me." he stayed vague. " "Doctor Reid" " he added making the 'quote' gesture with his fingers, smiling self-complacently.

"Well, yeah, we've been working together for...2 years or something, right?" Derek kept the dumb-play going, as if he hadn't basically been keeping count since.

"...2 years and 18 days to be precise...but anyway," Spencer paused to clear his voice. "Sarah, she specifically said that...uhm...that you talk about me. She- she said: 'Derek talks about you'."

Morgan abruptly hit the brakes of his car to stop at a red light that he noticed at the last second, distracted by what Reid had just said, making him wince.

"Wow. Well- fuck, my sisters really don't how to shut their mouths, do they?" he said, laughing a bit nervously.

"Well they- they didn't say anything- I mean, they just said that you "talk" about me but I'm guessing you talk about all of us, of cours-"

"No, Spencer. She meant a specific thing." Morgan interrupted him softly, parking his car. Yes: they'd already arrived at Reid's place.

After a long silence, during which Reid's face remained stuck in a confused scowl, Morgan turned off the car. He sighed, before turning slightly to his right to stare into Reid's hazelnut-hued eyes. Talking to him while driving was easier, because he couldn't look at that face of his. But now that he could, it got x10 times more difficult.

"She didn't say it to Emily, or both. She said it to you. Am I right?" Morgan was shamelessly giving up, gradually crumbling under the look the other was giving him.

Spencer nodded.

"...did you wonder why ?" he didn't wanna say it. God, he DID NOT wanna say it.

"Yes, I- I did, but honestly the only good answer I could come up with was that Emily hasn't been in the unit as long as I have so...I don't know, we still don't know her that well...?" Spencer replied, stuttering.

"That, too." Derek paused. He was thinking about a proper way to say it without freaking Spencer out. He didn't wanna say "it's because I like you", since he wasn't sure he did. Well, of course he LIKED him, but he still hadn't quite figured out if he liked him in that way.

Plus, he'd obviously noticed that Spencer, too, felt something...different. He was sure neither of them had a clue of what to do with it; on the other hand, he was also sure he had to give him a hint, one way or another. To make sure Reid understood that he wasn't imagining it, that there was something different. Even though that "something" didn't have a name yet. Maybe it would, some day.

After thinking for a long time, during which Spencer respectfully stayed silent, the "right" words found their way into Derek's mind, brooming away the dust that had been weighing down on his courage to say them all along.

"A'ight. 3 or 4 months ago I spent a weekend with my family. I don't know if you remember that I didn't come to get drinks with you guys cause I had to leave early in the morning." he started. Spencer nodded - of course he remembered. Dumb question.

"Ok so, one day I was... talking about you with them at dinner, I'm not sure what I was saying, honestly...but after a while Desirée said a thing that made me think." Derek paused, leaning closer to Spencer to make sure he listened carefully.

"She said, quote unquote: 'you know how you always say that Reid gets excited when he rambles about statistics? Well, that's kinda what you do when you talk about him...It's like, he's YOUR statistics'."

Spencer kept looking quietly into Derek's black eyes, without blinking once.

"She... s- she said that?" he then asked, just to be, you know, sure that he wasn't dreaming.

"Mhmh." Derek nodded shortly. "I remember it like it was yesterday. Guess some of that memory of yours must have rubbed off on me, huh?" he grinned brightly.

The burning shade of red staining Spencer's cheeks didn't but spread further, even if he had to bite back a: "that's not possible, Morgan; it doesn't work like that."

Derek continued. "When she said it, at first I thought she was fucking around, but then it's like...it opened my eyes. I- I don't know. I guess I don't even notice when I do it." he shook his head and stared blankly at an undefined spot outside, as if trying to clear his thoughts.

"...just like when we have to stop you from throwing up random statistics that literally nobody asked for." Morgan concluded cocking his head, with a playful and affectionate smile.

Reid giggled, now feeling his whole face on fire and his heart hammering into his ears. He was speechless. For once.

Derek gently placed his warm hand on the back of Spencer's neck, while the other man kept looking down at his bag, biting his bottom lip so hard he thought it could bleed.

"Do you talk about me to your mom?" Derek asked after a while, almost whispering. He kept his eyes glued on Spencer, even though he had clearly no intention of looking back at him any time soon. He wanted to catch every inch of his facial reaction.

"Should I be prepared for her telling me 'Spencer talks about you' if I ever meet her?" he kept the volume of his voice low, starting to stroke Spencer's neck with his thumb and smiling when he saw faint shivers appear on his skin.

"...m- maybe" Spencer answered, not wanting to reveal that literally 70% of the things he told his mom involved him, of which 40% were specifically about him.

Spencer managed to find a crumb of courage to shift his look and finally return Derek's gaze. But as soon as his so-fucking-handsome face reached his sight, along with that way his pupils were staring into him - a way he couldn't quite decipher but didn't mind, after all - he had to jerk his eyes away immediately, or else his heart would've burst out of his ribcage.

Hence, he decided to quickly and distractedly check his watch.

"I- I should probably go now..." he said. He didn't say it because he wanted to - oh, he SO didn't want to go - he just, had to. He didn't wanna ruin things. He wanted to keep that moment fixated into his memory just like it was, hoping many others like that one would come in the future.

"Yeah, you should..." Derek said, shifting farther from him in his seat and taking his hand off of Spencer's soft neck. It was so hard, to stop touching him, it seemed like when you try to split apart two magnets too strongly attracted to one another.

-

Spencer got out of the car, closing the door behind his back. He turned around and bent to look at Derek from outside.

"Wait!" he squealed, tapping his knuckles against the glass.

Derek, who had already started the car, pulled down the window to hear him better, looking at him confused. "Forgot something?"

"No! No, well- yes. I wanted to ask you one more thing." he paused, scrunching his nose. "What did you mean when you said that- that you can't take especially my pity-face?"

Derek bit his bottom lip. "Nothing too hard to understand." he said, with an enigmatic tone. Now, Spencer was the one looking confused.

"It's just way more painful to handle. Cause it's a much prettier face than the others'."

Spencer looked down, chuckling and nodding like he meant to say: 'oh, yeah, that. Of course.'

"See ya tomorrow, Pretty Boy." Derek said in the end, winking and rolling the window back up to finally leave.

-

Spencer was left there, standing and freezing cold, not knowing what to do with himself.

His phone buzzed into the pocket of his pants, giving him something else to concentrate on, something that wasn't that face, or that voice, or that smile, or that hand on his neck...something that wasn't related to Derek Morgan.

It was a text. From... Emily:

"So how'd the 'thing' go?" Duh. Of course it had to be the umpteenth thing related to Derek Morgan.

He smiled at the screen of his phone. Once again: like a complete idiot.

[mksc77]

30 for Christmas prompts, thanks

Thanks so much for the ask, anon, sorry this took so long!  I’ve tweaked canon a little bit for Chain Reaction :)

30--”Ugh, I’ve caught a cold.”

On the Saturday after Thanksgiving, Sharon sat at the kitchen table with a stack of Christmas cards to mail out. Christmastime often made her miss Emily's and Ricky's younger days, but she had to admit that writing a short message and signing cards was much less of a hassle than getting them ready for pictures and dealing with them moaning and groaning about it. She got a tissue from the Kleenex box beside her and blew her nose, grateful when the tea kettle on the stove whistled. Andy had just had a cold and had whined incessantly about it for over a week, but it wasn't nearly as bad as his antics had made it out to be. After adding honey, cinnamon, and a little lemon juice to her steaming mug, she got back to her Christmas cards.

A few minutes later, Ricky came in. He and Andy had been tasked with buying the Christmas tree that morning. Sharon sipped her tea. "Where's Andy?"

"He's going next door to ask John to help us bring in the tree."

Sharon narrowed her eyes. "Why will that require three of you—never mind. I don't want to know."

Ricky shrugged. "You'll find out soon enough."

It wasn't long before the three men were dragging in the tree. And kept dragging several moments after a normal-sized tree should've been through the door. "Andy, what the hell?!" Sharon couldn't help exclaiming. She followed them into the living room, her eyes widening as the tree nearly reached the fifteen-foot ceiling. "Andy!"

Her pine needle-covered husband looked over at her as he started unwrapping the string from around the tree, all innocence. "What?"

"This is enormous!"

"Yeah, well, we thought-"

"Uh, you need to work on your first-person pronouns, Andy. There was no we," Ricky interrupted. "I told you Mom was going to lose her mind."

"Fine. I thought last year's tree looked tiny in here-"

"It was ten feet!" Sharon moved closer to the tree. This one had to be at least twelve or thirteen. The lowest branches were as high as her knees.

Rusty came in from his bedroom, where he'd been studying for upcoming exams all morning. "What is all the commotion?!...Holy crap, that's a big ass tree."

Sharon nodded at Andy. "Clark Griswold here thought last year's was too small."

Rusty looked over at her when she sneezed. "Oh, god, Mom, are you sick? Stay the hell away from me, I can't get sick before finals!"

Andy glanced at her. "Yeah, you don't look so great."

"Ugh, I've caught a cold." Sharon gave Andy a pointed look. "Your cold."

Andy grinned. "Hey, is it my fault you couldn't stop kissing me?"

Sharon nodded. "It's absolutely your fault for being so damn cute." She looped her arm through his and tilted her chin up to kiss him.

"It's a good thing we haven't eaten lunch yet," Ricky muttered. "It would've just come right back up."

"It's like they try to gross us out," Rusty agreed. "Just be glad you don't have to be here much when this place is a clusterfuck of mistletoe. Andy puts it everywhere. The tradition is to kiss under the mistletoe, not make out, but try telling them that."

Ricky grimaced. "You have my sympathies."

Sharon rolled her eyes and started back to the kitchen. "I'll cook lunch," Andy offered. He looked back at Ricky and Rusty. "After we make a pit stop under the mistletoe."

"I never thought I'd say this, but I can't wait to get back to studying," Rusty grumbled. "Next year, I'm hiding that damn mistletoe."

Sharon sat back down at the kitchen table and continued with her Christmas cards while Andy pulled ingredients out of the refrigerator. "I'll make the Margaret Flynn cure-all," he promised, still sounding a little congested, himself. "But I'm not so sure you can pin this on me. If you had what I had, you wouldn't be writing Christmas cards right now. You'd be in bed."

Sharon rolled her eyes. "It's the same thing, Andy, I'm just not the same baby that you are about a little cold."

Andy looked wounded. "It was not a little cold!"

Sharon placed her pen on the table and sipped her tea. The sniffles and mistletoe reminded her of a certain Christmas a few years ago. Rusty had recently pointed out that she and Andy were "dating," and neither of them were sure how they felt about that revelation. The "non-dates" had slowed down, and they weren't sure how to act around each other. After a couple of weeks of thinking about it, Sharon was coming around to the idea, but Andy had taken a couple of steps back. Rusty was also experiencing rejection, and they had commiserated about it after they'd finally solved the case. Rusty didn't know the specifics with Andy, but she'd been frustrated enough to generally vent a little that evening over burgers. She also felt a little dejected that he was back to calling her 'Sharon,' but she wasn't about to bring that up. She'd never thought much about the possibility, but hearing him referring to her as 'Mom' in front of Jeff, the guy he liked, had sounded so natural and warmed her heart. And, god, Jack had been such an ass, basically guilting her about Christmas through the damn interview camera. That had just been the beginning of another headache, and she hadn't been happy with Emily and Ricky for keeping that from her. Especially since they were able to leave town soon after but left Rusty in the middle of the aftermath.

That evening, Nicole and Dean dropped their boys off to spend the night, and Emily, Emmett, and Marie came over for dinner. While they were eating, Marie dropped her fork on the floor and looked over the side of the high chair. "Fuck!" Sharon's eyes widened as the other adults tried not to laugh, and she was soon trying to suppress laughter herself.

Six-year-old Logan and four-year-old Alex were thankfully engaged in their own conversation and didn't notice, but it didn't get past anyone else. The table exploded with laughter, and Emmett finally composed himself first. "Honey, that's not a nice word, so don't say it again, okay?"

Marie gave him a disbelieving look and glanced around the table until her eyes landed on Sharon, then pointed a chubby finger in her direction. "Gammy said it!"

Mocking looks of reproach from the other adults were immediately directed at Sharon. "She's repeating everything we say, now, you have to be careful," Andy chided, in a perfect imitation of Sharon to the rest of them. She'd been getting onto everyone else about cussing in front of Marie for months now.

"This is too funny," Ricky added. "Mom breaking any kind of rule is hilarious enough, but it's the best when she breaks her own."

Emily laughed. "When Marie repeats what she heard her dear Gammy say and gets kicked out of daycare, clear your schedule, Mom, because you'll have a new job."

Sharon rolled her eyes, remembering exactly when she'd gotten busted. "This wouldn't be an issue if someone would put the toilet seat back down every now and then," she muttered in Andy's direction.

Once dinner was over and the kitchen was clean, Sharon started her kids' Christmas playlist while the kids and grandkids poked through her ornament collection and started hanging them on the tree. She would definitely be going behind them and rearranging many of them later, but they were having a good time. The younger ones were, anyway, the older ones weren't so keen on this task. The Glee soundtrack had provided some good, upbeat, kid-pleasing songs, and they bounced around to We Need a Little Christmas as they strategically placed their ornaments. Well, Marie was doing a little more of just watching the others than decorating, which she needed help with, but it worked. Sharon missed Ricky's comment that it didn't feel like Christmas without 'Mom being an ornament Nazi,' but she did notice when she wasn't satisfied with one of his ornament placements. "No, not there, Ricky."

Not surprised, Ricky pointed his finger torward her. "There. Now it's Christmas."

Ignoring him, Sharon lay against Andy on the couch, humming softly as he draped a blanket over her and kissed her forehead. "You don't feel warm, so you definitely can't blame me for this," he informed her. "It can't be the same thing."

Sharon rolled her eyes. "You never had a fever, either." Like a child, he'd claimed that her hand had to be wrong sometimes and insisted on using the thermometer, although it had rendered the same result.

"No, I think we just need a new thermometer," Andy insisted. He stroked his fingers through her hair. "This song reminds me of the Santa murders from a few years ago. But I like this version of it better, I've gotta admit." He'd never wanted to hear Johnny Mathis again after watching the security tape from the flash mob so many times. "Except I was the one with the cold then."

Sharon nodded. "I was just thinking about that earlier. And then you passed it to me after an impromptu rendezvous under the mistletoe after the makeshift Christmas party."

Andy shrugged. "Or, you could've just gotten it from being in close quarters during the case. Provenza caught it from me, too, but I swear it had nothing to do with mistletoe."

Sharon laughed. "There's an image I could've gone without. But I like my version of how I caught it from you better, at least I got a kiss out of it. A good one, might I add."

December 24, 2014

After the case was wrapped up, Sharon was in her office, going over some paperwork before heading home. It was hard to concentrate, both from the sadness of not being at home with her children and from the recent revelation of Provenza's new relationship. She smiled, despite herself, remembering how she'd had to forcefully gesture for her team of elite detectives to leave the murder room after Patrice showed up like they were a bunch of gossip-hungry teenagers. She looked up when she heard a knock at her door and invited Andy inside. He told her a little bit about the end of the case and paused. "You know, if you can't make it home for the holidays, maybe home can come to you." Confused, she got up and followed him to the break room. He opened the door for her. "Merry Christmas."

Sharon's eyes lit up when the first thing she noticed was her old Christmas village. It wasn't arranged exactly like she usually did it, but it was close enough. She did notice a small green gift box adorned with holly berries with her name on it tucked neatly in the snow, and her curiosity got the best of her. She smiled when she opened the gift and found a small angel. The mystery of the sender was solved when Andy appeared beside her. "Merry Christmas!"

Sharon turned and gently tugged at his tie, wishing it was suspenders instead, but anyway, then quickly pulled her hand back before anyone else saw. "Andy! Thank you. You didn't need to get me anything."

"Yeah, well, I saw it and couldn't help but think of you."

They shared a long gaze and might've kissed right then and there if everyone else hadn't been around, but Emily and Rusty, seeming to be in the midst of a heated discussion in the hall, caught her eye. All three of her children had appeared to be up to something, a fact she'd picked up on despite the fact that she regrettably hadn't spent much time with them in the last couple of days. "Excuse me." She still wasn't convinced that they weren't hiding something from her, and she felt like she’d gotten so close to breaking Rusty, but Emily's announcement about being a soloist the next year was exciting enough for her to push it to the back of her mind for the time being and enjoy the rest of the party.

A little while later, everything was cleaned up, and everyone was leaving. After promising her children that she wasn't far behind them, Sharon went to her office to gather the remaining paperwork from the case and straighten up her office from the last couple of days of chaos. The Christmas decorations would stay up for a while. She was never in a hurry for Christmas to be over, especially now that she'd worked for most of Christmas, and the Catholic tradition of leaving Christmas decor up until Epiphany was one she didn't complain about. She looked around the murder room for a few moments before going to the break room to make sure none of her dishes or anything else from the condo had been left behind. She was surprised when Andy was still there. "Hey, I thought you were gone."

Andy shrugged. "I'm not seeing Nicole and her family until tomorrow, and Provenza and I usually spend Christmas Eve together when we don't have to work. He's with Patrice now, so I'm not exactly in a huge hurry to get home."

Sharon gave him a sad smile. "I'm glad you'll get to see some of your family tomorrow. You should probably get some rest, anyway, you've sounded a little congested since yesterday." Things had been different between them for the last couple of weeks, but she could sense a little bit of normalcy creeping back. She noticed the mistletoe above them, and an idea came to her. She didn't know if it was Christmas or what, but she'd been toying with the idea of moving past the friendship stage with Andy since the night they went to The Nutcracker. She just wasn't sure how Andy felt about it, but the electricity that seemed to be between them felt right. "Thanks again for my gift," she added, hoping to pick up where they left off at the party. The long gaze returned, and Sharon's heart fluttered when Andy's face started to move closer to hers. He seemed to think better of it and leaned back again, and her heart sank just as quickly.

"I, uh, don't want to give you my cold," Andy explained, unable to make himself look away from her.

Sharon looked up in a pointed gesture. "Well, you know how I am about rules, and I'm even more strict about Christmas ones. You're going to have to do better than that."

Andy's hesitation must have been more about not knowing whether she wanted to than about him not wanting to, because he didn't waste any time. "Well, I am a diligent rule-follower."

Sharon forced herself not to roll her eyes and choked down a disbelieving laugh as she cautiously slipped her arms around his waist and closed the space between them. She liked the closeness and complied as Andy tilted her chin up and kissed her. It was slow and tender, but not without passion, and she felt stirrings in her that she hadn't felt in a while. Her mind raced with the complications that came along with a relationship with her subordinate, but she forced herself to push those thoughts aside and enjoy the ride for now.

A complaint from Ricky pulled Sharon from her thoughts. "I still can't believe you threw away my pinecone elves. They were the essence of Christmas."

Sharon rolled her eyes. "How many times do I have to tell you that they were falling apart?"

"A lot more times than you should have to tell an adult," Rusty answered. "Don't worry, Ricky, Harry, Sam, Franklin, Scotty, and Twinkles are in pinecone heaven, I'm sure."

Even after Ricky and Andy had surrounded the tree with ornaments as far up as they could reach, the top half was still massively empty. "A stepstool should be required for the angel at the top, not to decorate the top half," Sharon said. "I refuse to have a half-empty tree, and how are we supposed to get the lights around the whole thing?" They had a pretty large stepstool, but she wasn't sure that it would suffice.

"We'll figure it out," Andy assured her.

True to his word, the tree was fully decorated some time later. Sharon had to admit that she liked the large tree, but Andy didn't need to know that just yet. Emily and Emmett left with a nearly-asleep Marie soon after, and Logan and Alex were starting to look drowsy, too. "All right, boys, I think it's about bedtime," Sharon announced. They didn't protest, and Sharon guided four-year-old Alex to the bathroom to help him with his bath and get him ready for bed. Once both boys were in their pajamas and tucked in, Sharon and Andy curled up in the recliner in the living room. With Rusty intending to get up early to study the next morning and Ricky having an early flight, they both said goodnight and went to their bedrooms earlier than normal. With a piano version of Hark the Herald Angels Sing playing in the background, Sharon lay on Andy's shoulder and enjoyed the Christmas monstrosity in front of them. The pine scent was strong and filled the room, even wafting into nearby parts of the house. After another mug of tea laced with cold-soothing ingredients her grandmother had sworn by and a dose of NyQuil, Sharon was ready for bed, herself.

Andy wasn't tired yet, but he got in bed and read while Sharon was still in the bathroom. When she crawled into bed beside him in one of her warmer nightgowns, it was more obvious that she wasn't feeling well without her makeup. Andy softly kissed her and absently ran his fingers through her hair as she lay on his shoulder. "Tell me when you want me to turn off the lamp."

"S'fine," Sharon mumbled, the cold medicine clearly kicking in. She usually didn't like for anyone to be touching her while she slept at night, much to Andy's dismay, but she was asleep against him just a couple of minutes later. Andy straightened the covers over her and kissed the top of her head. "I love you."

[ganymedesclock]

Hi! I know a lot of people in the SU fandom think White Diamond is the one who shattered Pink Diamond, like, in a very round-about way and with the help of Rose Quartz, but what I don't get is why the Crewniverse hasn't introduced her if she's a main villain. She's had 0 screen time. That's not very good writing---usually, main villains show up right off the bat. They're clear goals to beat, especially in children's shows. What do you think?

Couple of thoughts about this.

One: I don’t think anyone but Rose was responsible for what happened. Pretty much because Rose has absolutely nothing to gain from taking the fall for any Diamond.

Two: Probably because the Diamonds are not main villains, or any kind of villains. The writers of the show have been very explicit about that. They occupy stereotypically villainous roles but that does not make them villains. Kind of like how Steven occupies a stereotypical role usually given to a bumbling idealist who eventually learns how to do everything the way of his mentors but with a unique and endearing twist, which he hasn’t done at all.

If you stop thinking of the Diamonds as stereotypical villains, and the plot as a straight railroad to ultimately end up with Steven punching all of the Diamonds in their gems, killing them immediately, then suddenly a lot of alleged inconsistencies in the writing actually make perfect sense. Because this was pretty blatantly from the start never supposed to be that kind of story.

Something I always stand by here is that the first half of season 1- Gem Glow to Ocean Gem- was intended to stand alone in case they couldn’t get CN to back the rest of the show.

During that time, there was no antagonistic figure who was not rendered sympathetic. This includes Lars (Lars And The Cool Kids already highlights the doubt and insecurity that plague him as a character), this includes the corrupted Gems (Monster Buddy and driven home further in Ocean Gem)

And it includes Lapis.

In that microcosm of the series, we see some important bookends. This half-season starts with Steven’s first, involuntary, unreliable summoning of his shield. It ends with Steven willing his shield into existence deliberately and voluntarily for the first time. It starts with the defeat of Steven’s first corrupted Gem and ends with his first facing a non-corrupted Gem antagonist, who Steven pointedly refuses to fight and obstinately pursues a peaceful solution with.

Lapis was the prototype final boss of Steven Universe. She was handled, and presented, ultimately, as a sympathetic figure. What she wanted was reasonable and perfectly understandable. What she was doing to try and get to that reasonable end was not, and Steven very effectively navigated that: “I know that home is important to you, and I want to help you get that. I don’t want to make you give up on that, but, also, my planet and my home needs the ocean back. Can we talk and put our heads together on this? I’m sure there’s a way for you to go home without taking the ocean, because it looks like taking the ocean hasn’t even gotten you what you want.”

And Steven was right, and they did find another way, combining resources that neither of them had alone (Lapis’s wings, Steven’s healing powers), and Lapis undoes the harm done by her prior actions.

This is basically, exactly what the show seems to be setting us up for with the Diamonds.

Think about it. The Diamonds’ actual goals are understandable. They want the Gems as a species to not die. Very reasonable. They are also grieving a loss. Once again- very reasonable! Basically the entire show has had an underlying case study in all of the myriad ways grief can absolutely mess you up as a person, and how long, and hard, it can be to put yourself back together again. Pink Diamond to Homeworld is exactly what Rose was to the Crystal Gems- safety and stability and support now suddenly lost to them. “They’re a mess without her guidance.”

What’s not understandable about the Diamonds is their means that they are trying to act on these reasonable goals. It’s basically doing everything Lapis’s theft of the ocean is: they’re hurting others, and they’re ultimately failing to actually fix any of their problems.

Even if the Cluster blew up Earth, none of the Diamonds would feel better. Peridot even points out that wasting Earth’s potential as a colony would make Homeworld’s resource starvation worse.

And it doesn’t even touch some of their major problems. Lapis stealing the ocean ostensibly tries to get her home, but fails at that, and doesn’t address her cracked gem. The Diamonds trying to hunt down Rose Quartz and execute her ostensibly tries to get closure for Pink, but fails at that, and doesn’t address the Gems’ unsustainable parasitism- or that they’re crumbling away without it.

We’re not supposed to hate the Diamonds, and hang a picture of them on the wall to remind us of everything we should despise. Steven is not supposed to be focusing on the Diamonds and drilling himself to defeat them. Pretty implicitly, with the device from Lion 2 that seems covered in White’s motifs, that’s exactly what Rose was doing.

And Rose, in many ways, didn’t succeed. She delayed things but she didn’t really solve any of her problems.

Getting a little bit back to your point directly: this is why I can believe, exactly that so much of the Diamonds and their situation is in the dark for us.

Because this is not a game to see how rotten the Diamonds are and hunt them down.

This is a game where the winning move is to understand the Diamonds’ situations in a way that helps them get to their understandable goals of closure and prosperity while taking them away from the harmful, destructive methods that are failing to get them there.

In that sense, the curious differences between Blue Diamond past and present, the exact nature of what is a Diamond’s duty, the fate of Pink Diamond, the absence of White- these are the formidable adversaries for our hero. Because they’re shrouded in mysteries, and unraveling these mysteries and understanding them is integral to Steven being able to actually win this game. And Crewniverse isn’t going to make it easy by giving us any insight into the Diamonds we don’t need right at that moment.

This isn’t an adventure story about one hero killing his way through stronger and stronger enemies.

This is a mystery story where all of Steven’s progress comes from untangling the messy, complex, and intensely emotionally charged landscape of the past- with regards to Earth, Homeworld, the Diamonds, Rose, and what personal role he has in all of this.

[trendyelle]

What To Eat For Clear Skin& What Foods Will Wreak Havoc On Your Face

If youre anything like me, someone who is a grown-up adult treats their body like a trashcan, then you recognise the daily conflict that is doing whatever the fuck off miss while also wanting to have a great mas and enormous skin. Lifes hard whether it wishes to get fucked up at Heads Ball but too ogle 100 years old in your Instagram story. Not that I would know. I did not go to Gov Ball, though I did waste the weekend going through mimosas like water and snacking enough food to get me my own TLC reality show. That being said, I want to change. I want to be a brand-new me. A better me. A me who places actual vitamins and minerals into her plan so her surface doesnt resemble the entire slice of pizza she snacked last nighttime. So heres a roster of foods you are able to avoid like an ex-boyfriend sliding into your DMs and foods you are able to embrace because theyll fasten your fucking face. Damn, Ive got bars. DONT: Feed Canned Food/ Meats Gross. As if. Like, who even snacks canned meat anymore? Other than my ex from college who had this weird infatuation with eating vienna sausages( which, in hindsight, should have been a blood-red fucking pennant that this girl was a sociopath. That and his Belk credit card that he was always boasting about ). Canned and/ or highly processed foods have a shit ton of sodium in them and makes your organization to hold on to water, which is why your face is always puffy or you have pocketed under your eyes that can be seen from space, and your acne is at World War III proportions. DO: Eat Salmon Aside from giving you a reason to pretend to be a foodie and likewise be hateful on Instagram, gobbling salmon is a sure way to get better gazing skin. Salmon is rich with omega-3 fatty battery-acids and healthy fatties. These paunches fortify cadre membranes and nourish the skin to prevent you examining fresh AF. DONT: Drink Green Juice Lol only because you regularly say shit like #FitLife and #CleanEating on your IG does not mean you know wtf is good for you, because SURPRISE all those juices youre drinking to purge your mas are actually truly fucking bad for you. Juices are sugary as hell, specially the dark-green juices which can have up to 50 grams of carbohydrate in them, which is actual sabotage when it comes to having clear scalp. ^ I suppose every fitstagrammer when the catch out they’ve been shooting liquid carbohydrate into their tabernacles bodies DO: Drink A Protein Smoothie Aside from having something to talk about with the hot teach at your gym, protein smoothies was in fact be beneficial for your surface. The more you know. Abide away from the juicer smoothies and opt for one with some protein in it. These the different types of smoothies are high in healthy fattens and wont leave your skin seeming more ratchet than your Snap story last weekend. DONT: Eat Ice Cream Okay, this one I met coming. Good-for-nothing that savours this good can be anything but destruction on your mas. And since Im not on my period rn in control of my form I predict Im open to suggestions here. Ice cream is chock-full of sugar which can shape this fun concept called advanced glycation end products which fucks up the protein in your body. Why is that important you may ask? Because the proteins it fucks with the most are the ones that keep your skin plump and springy searching. So basically gobbling ice cream is aging you.* steps into oncoming traffic* DO: Eat Dark Chocolate Dark chocolate aka the DUD of chocolates has a fuck ton of antioxidants in it, which is v good for your skin. So even though it tastes healthy and the whole period youll be wishing you were dining real chocolate with real flavor at least your skin will look good AF and protection against wrinkles and other bad shit. DONT: Drink Coffee HA HA HA HA this has to be some sort of sick parody. You want me to give up my will to live caffeine? Do you also want me to commit homicide the next time someone replies all to ministries and departments email chain? DO YOU? This one is tough for me to wrap my brain around because coffee is literally one of the only reasonableness I get out of berthed in the morning, and therefore, the reason you get to experience this twinkling personality. That tell me anything, coffee is a diuretic( bogus news Im sure !) which causes your form to lose water and your surface to get v dehydrated. Stay away from this shit if you require glowy AF skin. DO: Drink Hot Lemon Water This replacement sounds about as good as the Republicans plan for health care but thats neither here nor there. Even though the prospect of booze hot lemon liquid know it sounds as enticing as sleeping with Jonathan The Tickle Monster, its actually super are you all right. Its hydrating, full of antioxidants, and renders some much needed support efforts to your liver. Apparently, the liver is the main organ that detoxifies their own bodies and if youre full of poisons boozing on days that resolve in Y, youre more likely to break out. Sighs. And this is why we cant have neat things. DONT: Eat Bagels Okay, Im starting to feel personally victimized by such lists. Like, is person looking at my bank affirmation and be careful to ensure that I invest a great amount of my down time in coffee shops and/ or bagel browses? Because Im detecting truly assaulted rn. Apparently, bagels are the worst for your skin and can lead to a cascade of hormones aka acne breakouts for epoches.* prays this is phony report* DO: Eat Non-Processed Carbs or Oats Tbh Id preferably starve than eat something that resembles animal feed but I guess thats the cost we pay to look like the “after” girl in an acne commercial. Oats are the right kind of carbs probs because it searches miserable to eat and likewise because its high in antioxidants which weve established will not only give you clear/ glowy scalp but too combats against anti-aging. DONT: Drink Soda To absolutely no ones bombshell except my own because I refuse to read descriptions written by health professionals people who are out to destroy my joy, soda are detrimental to you. And merely because you drink diet soda doesnt mean youre safe. Because diet soda especially disrupts the necessary and healthy bacteria found in your intestine. Also drinking any kind of soda can really fuck with your scalp. Like, stimulate rosacea, eczema, and acne fuck with your skin. K. Just fuck me up rn then. Too, wtf am I supposed to order at the bar to go along with my vodka then? I cant simply suck vodka straight-out. I want to have clearer surface , not die. DO: Drink Kombucha Finally something that appears good on my Instagram story and isnt going to fuck up my scalp. About damn occasion. Basically Kombucha is good for you because its fermented, and therefore full of probiotics, which will solve all your life problems. Im paraphrasing, but still. If you miss clear scalp by the time this weekend’s brunch buns around then chug some of this and simulated like its booze something you enjoy drinking. So, in conclusion, anything that brings you rapture is likely fucking up your skin and you are able to cut it from your diet ASAP. I am feeling #blessed rn that alcohol did not do the listing, but thats predominantly because I refused to do any actual study that would demonstrate otherwise. Who says you cant induce your own destiny? Listen, if all else neglects and you have no self restrain dont wishes to sacrifice your prosperity theres always Facetune. Read more: www.betches.com http://selfhelpantiagingtips.com/what-to-eat-for-clear-skin-what-foods-will-wreak-havoc-on-your-face-3/

[nofomoartworld]

Painting on and painting off ISIS propaganda

Navine G. Khan-Dossos, Expanding and Remaining

Very few of us would have heard of Dabiq, a town of over 3000 inhabitants in northern Syria, were it not for the magazine of the same name published by Islamic State (Isis) as part of its propaganda and recruitment arsenal. The town was symbolically crucial for Isis because of a prophecy that it would one day be scene of the final victory of Muslims over non-believers. Last year, ISIL was driven out of the town by the Turkish military and Syrian rebels. The online magazine is now called Rumiyah, the Arabic word for Rome and a reference to an Islamic prophecy about the conquest of Rome.

Navine G. Khan-Dossos‘ painting series Expanding and Remaining is looking at the Dabiq magazine under a whole new perspective. Eschewing the indoctrinating articles and apocalyptic illustrations, the artist stripped back the pages of their content and laid bare the main graphic composition of its layout. The pages of the english-language PDF magazine are turned into a series of geometric panel paintings (and also turned back into a PDF format.) The colours are flat, the strokes of gouache are bold and the imprecise forms are miles away from the glossy pixelated images that characterize on-screen and printed material. All that survives from the textual content of the magazine are the titles of the paintings, each of them drawn from the magazine articles. Some innocuous, other more sinister: Demolishing The Grave of the Girl, Foreword, The Hadd of Stoning, Erasing The Legacy of a Ruined Nation II, The New Coins, etc.

Navine G. Khan-Dossos, series Expanding and Remaining, 2016

The effect of the transformation process is surprising: a sense of familiarity with the structure arises, you start seeing the edges, the imperfections and the human touch.

Several of Khan-Dossos‘s Expanding and Remaining paintings are currently on view at the Fridman gallery in New York as part of Evidentiary Realism, an exhibition that attempts to articulate a particular form of realism in art that portrays and reveals evidence from complex social systems, with prioritizing formal aspects of visual language and mediums.

Navine G. Khan-Dossos, Strange Bedfellows, from the series Expanding and Remaining, 2016

Hi Navine!Could you take us through process of obfuscating the text and revealing the underlaying visual propaganda of a magazine page like Dabiq?

I spend some time with the magazine, leafing through the pages (digitally), trying to concentrate on the layouts, where the text columns lie, where the images are placed. I tend not to read the content if I can. I used to, but I found it clouded the process of analyzing the designs. I then pull the original PDF into Photoshop and create shapes of colour over the content, to preserve the composition but lose the details. It’s the first step in the process of abstraction of the subject and towards painting. As you say, there is a process of obfuscation involved but not of censorship. The blacking out isn’t a means of muting the voice of the author of Dabiq, but to raise the volume of the designer.

How do you chose the pages you are going to intervene on? How do you select the colours, etc?

The process is intuitive as well as informative. I tend to be drawn towards pages with strong visual elements, such as graphs, strange layouts, photos with strong graphic elements, or other pages that catch my eye because of a peculiar design. I also pay attention to the subject of the article, especially if it reflects a story well know to a western audience, such as the continuing capture of John Cantlie, or the last words to camera of James Foley. These subjects are given a lot of space in the publication as it is aimed at a western readership and will know their stories from media coverage.

I work with a strict colour palette of Cyan, Magenta, Yellow, Black, Re, Green and Blue. These are the colours of print and the screen. By combining them, I try to find that grey area of the publication that is designed to be printed but only ever appears as a digital file. I then pick the closest colour to that I find on the page from my refined palette. Sometimes the combinations can be surprising and strangely revealing too.

Navine G. Khan-Dossos, If I Were The US President Today (John Cantlie) I, 2016

Navine G. Khan-Dossos, If I Were The US President Today (John Cantlie) II, 2016

How much does the result of your intervention strictly reflect what is already there and how much do add maybe, or change?

The aim of the work is to try to stay as true to the original layouts as possible. It’s a documentation as well as a painting in its own right. If I make changes, it tends to be in the colour rather than the composition. I like the journey that it takes me on if I consistently follow the lines drawn by the designer. It is like copying someone else’s hand. It challenges my senses to inhabit the work of someone else and try to translate that. If my authorship lies anywhere, it is in the language of the brushstrokes.

Navine G. Khan-Dossos, Remaining and Expanding, 2016. View in the exhibition Command: Print at NOME in Berin

I was looking at Dabiq on google images and some of the images saddened me. How did you approach the kind of content, either purely visual or textual, of Dabiq without feeling drawn into the propaganda? Without letting your artistic process be too influenced by the kind of emotional reaction the text and images may trigger?

It is a very saddening experience and also a shocking one too. I have been working with this material for a couple of years now, and it has been an ongoing process of how to manage my own personal relationship with these images. I refuse to perpetuate the content by reproducing it, which is why I concentrate on the form rather than the content. I have ways of looking at the magazines that lessen my contact with disturbing content, such as reducing the scale the PDFs so I can only see the basic forms, scrolling quickly through the issues, even sometimes blurring my vision to be able to focus on the compositions. But it is inevitable that I will see things I would rather not. But it’s part of the work, and the emotional response, the whole spectrum of feelings I go through, are part of that process. I let myself cry if I need to, be angry, confused, shocked. But I also recognize how alluring this content can be for some people and recognize that pull too. I’m not here to pass judgement, I’m here to find some way of understanding for myself, a politics and culture of violence that has been present throughout my time working as an artist since 2001. It has always been my subject.

How important are the titles of each piece? Are they mere reference to texts found in the original page or are they meant to suggest other messages and interpretations?

Each painting title is taken directly from the article title or keys words on the page. The title acts as a key to the painting. It’s there as a link to the original content, but I never suggest that it is required to dig deeper than the surface of the painting to better understand it. Everything that is necessary is there already.

Navine G. Khan-Dossos, Top Ten Al Hayat Videos, 2016

The result of your intervention on the pages is quite abstract. Which kind of meaning can the viewer extract from these works when they leave the exhibition?

I think the key to this question is the word ‘abstract’. I tend not to think of my work within this context especially in western art history. The works are absolutely based on visual references in the real world: they do not diverge from their subject matter. It is clear that the painting shows information, but that it has been rendered into blocks that retain the design but not the content. The paintings are about the nature of information itself.

What I found fascinating about the Expanding and Remaining series is that it provides us (the Western audience) with a very different, less visceral perhaps and more reflective way of looking at Isis propaganda. But do you feel that some of us might also be tempted to interpret and maybe also reduce everything as being inherently ‘political’ because of the ISIS topic, for example? Is this something that preoccupies you when it comes to communicating your work?

The work is inherently political, there is no way of side-stepping that and I wouldn’t want to. I think the issue is that painting isn’t often seen as a medium that can handle and communicate this kind of content and subject matter.

We are so used to digital content being the medium of this kind of research-based and investigative work. Painting is a tool that lets me take all of that research and transform it through an entirely different set of values; those of paint. It is not just a retelling or re-presenting of the material. It is a new form derived from that content, that exists independently of its origin.

It is less visceral, but that doesn’t make the experience of it necessarily less painful or uncomfortable. It’s just that it relies on the fact that the viewer knows what the content it already because they have been bombarded by it in the media. The politics of the work is already embedded in the mind of the viewer, with all its bias, fear and incomprehension. The paintings provide a space of recall, a place to realize how much we have already been exposed to.

Navine G. Khan-Dossos, Yilmaz, Where Is Aïcha? (from the series Studies for Sterlina), 2015

Navine G. Khan-Dossos, The Messenger and the Message (Recto), 2015

Any other upcoming work, field of research and concerns, or events you are currently working on?

As a follow-up to the work I am presenting as part of Evidentiary Realism, I will have a solo show at Fridman Gallery in April that will present the entire series of Expanding and Remaining, alongside a new series of twelve paintings called Infoesque. These new works are based on pages from Rumiyah magazine that has replaced Dabiq in recent months. The paintings focus more directly on the use of Islamic art motifs and data/statistical visualizations in the magazine, and seeing how these two forms fuse together to present an ‘authoritative’ visual language for the brand of ISIS at a time when it is undergoing heavy military losses.

I am also working on a large-scale wall painting project at the Van Abbemuseum in Eindhoven (NL) called Echo Chamber, that is based on Samantha Lewthwaite, the so-called White Widow currently in hiding in East Africa.

Thanks Navine!

Several of Navine G Khan-Dossos’s Expanding and Remaining paintings are included in Evidentiary Realism, a group show curated by Paolo Cirio and presented by NOME Gallery + Fridman Gallery. The show is at the Fridman Gallery until 31 March, 2017.

Also part of Evidentiary Realism: Proceed at Your Own Risk. Tales of dystopian food & health industries.

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