#effie edits

[translatemunson]

let me keep you company • love-struck

chapter nine of love-struck — fic navigation

a/n: double update because y'all deserve it! thank you for all the love and support on this series! my asks and request are always open for love-struck related messages!

tag list (lmk if you wanna be tagged on future updates!): @live-love-be-unique@kenseverything

next chapter: yes, and?

[angelscrucify]

[inkskinned]

no, actually, where is the whimsy?

my ex had a best friend named larry who asked me once: what do you think comes after irony?

we were at the bar where larry worked. it was a quiet night, and he'd hopped over to sit with us on the patron side. i swirled the lemon around my limoncello martini.

earnest positivity, i said, while my ex said, art self-destructs.

i stared at my ex. he stared at me.

his argument was the cinemasins argument: look how bad media is becoming! look at the loopholes and the dumb shit!

it was roughly 2011. galaxy print was still in. at the time, i had a favorite shirt that was a wolf howling at the moon. it got ripped in half in the wash and i honestly still mourn it. i dressed like effie stonem, because everyone did. and irony was the name of the thing. men liked MLP "ironically." the internet liked the kind of crass, "anti-mainstream" vibes of things like fuck romance, touch my butt and buy me pizza. we put cats in sunglasses everywhere, which was because we only liked things in irony.

and media had the same vibe in it: anti-hero white men would be "hard to love" and then storm off the scene. nobody was just earnestly trying to save the world: they were jaded, angry, unoriginal. mad you even asked them to try to help.

my ex ends up not being wrong. cinemasins becomes super popular. a lot of people start viewing media with this lens that is the cruelest, most jaded depiction. it's wrong for your character to have unexplained powers, even if the entire movie is about how strange it is she has unexplained powers - that is still considered a "loophole." characters make thoughtless, panicked choices? loophole. characters are actually kind people, despite hardship? loophole. features a woman doing literally anything without assistance? loophole. movies become hyper-aware of scrutiny, and now irony rules the media.

which means you go to a movie, and the character has to turn to the screen and say "beats me!!" or one of the side characters has to have some kind of quip like "are you seriously telling me that you think this is normal?" because nothing can happen in earnest. like a sitcom laugh track, we now anticipate the fourth-wall break: the moment that the media acknowledges it is telling a story. the media has to apologize for itself, or else someone like my ex rolls their eyes.

but here's the thing: i wasn't wrong either.

the difference might be that i am (and always have been) so soft-hearted that any crack in the light of this world will spear me into the ground. and i was the poet in the relationship. (he thought that was the same thing as being naïve and stupid). i was making things daily. i knew how all of us artists are driven by some strange desire to evolve. he notably liked to critique art, not to create it.

so yes, i've made things that are bitter and angry and even ironic. i've made long, sharp poems with all capital letters, and i've made poems about how the silence stretches out like a song. someone wrote once that we will spend our whole lives just circling the place we grew up. i think it's more that we spend our whole lives trying to remake a home. i think it's that as we age, it becomes less exciting to build the castle on the beach - we become aware of erosion, of windforce. we realize what we really want is to come home to our dog, castle or not.

and while art in the foreground is mired in white male violence and irony, and aggression, and not taking anything seriously - i don't think that's true of all art. i think more and more artists are leaning in to the things we love. the world has changed so much. they have taken so many things from us. the only thing we have left is love. at the bottom of the moving box - all we get is the faint sense that we have to appreciate what little we've got. i can't enjoy this stuff ironically anymore: what room do i have for irony? if it makes me happy, that is an amazing thing. there are so few happy places left for me. i want to be happy because of how leaves shiver beside each other like nestling birds. i want to be happy because of the color pink, and how magenta doesn't exist. i have spent so much of this life suffering, i have earned my right to a gentle ending. if nothing matters, i get to assign meaning to the nothing. i get to create meaning. i am an artist first and foremost, which means creation is my thing.

where is the whimsy? wherever i fucking put it. because if this is my last fucking chance to do any good in this world - i want to do it earnestly. i want to write things that make you happy. that make people feel heard and seen. what comes after irony has to be positivity.

it was close to my 21st birthday. in 7 years, i would end up writing a book about this relationship, which is hopefully coming out somewhere around May 2024. i come back to this bar scene in my memories a lot. i keep thinking of how pale my ex was. the look that crossed his face. how i looked back at him. how for a moment, both of us couldn't recognize the other person. like the gulf between us was a suddenly wide and cavernous thing. like we were alien to each other. he never took my opinion seriously, and he always seemed surprised whenever his manic-pixie-dream-girl ever broke free of the plot. like in the whole time we were together, i wasn't human enough.

this knowledge: where he said nothing comes after, my only instinct was what comes after is love.

[venusplanetofloveee]

Skins (2007) - Pilot episode.

[obriy]

The Hunger Games: Mockingjay – Part 1 — dir. Francis Lawrence

[nightmarereverie]

[deadringers2023]

@gifhungergames event ◈ day four: favorite character ↳ Effie Trinket (in/sp/o)

[killmymind]

barricade!Louis at Morriña Festival!

[atelierlili]

CONGRATS FATHER ON THE NEW BOOK LITERALLY SAVED MY LIFE. CAN'T WAIT FOR THE TRUAMA <3

EVERYONE ENJOY YOUNG HAYMITCH <3333

If he comes out white in the movies. I will cope with this ;w; </3 You can find Mentor Haymitch here. Speedpaint under the cut!!

[1kiss4nea]

[crabtreee]

MURDOCH MYSTERIES — 18x03 “What the Dickens?!”

[translatemunson]

too polite to do it • love-struck

chapter five of love-struck — fic navigation

“Hey,” Spencer said before you could even process what was happening.

“Hi, Spencer. If this is about the case reports, I’m gonna leave everything at your desk tomorrow,” you explained, looking at your laptop’s screen, working on those said reports.

“It’s not about that.” He sounded tired and a little bit out of breath, but that's none of your business. “Can we talk?”

“Sure,” you didn’t want to sound uncertain, but your voice betrayed you. You’ve gone almost two weeks of barely any talk with him — unless it was about the case you were working on —, you were starting to lose hope about, well, everything.

After a weekend at Spencer’s apartment, comforting him regarding all the situation with his mom’s health, you were surely way beyond the walls he had built to protect himself. But the second he pushed you away, for no apparent reason, you knew you misjudged the situation. Maybe his mother was worse, and it was his right to not share more about it, but you showed you cared and were there to help him. So you took a step back and gave him space, waiting for him to reach out.

And maybe it was your worst mistake, because he settled for the work relationship all over again, not even spilling facts about your favourite tea, or the book you were reading, or the city you were going to stay for the case. You couldn’t say you felt like an old case, forgotten under piles of urgent matters, but it felt odd because, if you knew, you wouldn't have turned the status of relationship papers to Hotch a few weeks ago.

“I can hear you thinking all the way over here, Spence.” You put the laptop aside and stared at the wall.

“Sorry, I-hm, I was thinking about the best way to start this. And I don’t think there’s a good reason for what I did the last few days, so it’s best if I start with I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I pushed you aside,” his words poured from his mouth. “So, yeah, I’m sorry.”

“Ok.” You could picture him, the four green walls around him, on the other side of the city. Too distant for your liking, but maybe that was bound to happen. And everything else was nothing but a dream. “It’s ok, I get it. I just- sorry, I can’t do this right now. Can’t do this over the phone.”

“I’m downstairs,” he blunted. “But I get it if you don’t wanna see me right now. Just tell me when and where, and I’ll be there.”

“If you’re gonna break my heart, let’s just get over with it, shall we?”

“You’re wrong.”

“That you’re gonna break my heart? Of course you won’t, you’re too polite to do it, so I did it myself.” You walked to your front door, phone pressed against your ear, but already imagining the man outside, waiting.

You unlocked the door, seeing Spencer in his work clothes, the FBI badge still hung on his belt. The uneven hair and blank expression threw you in two different directions: how could he sound torn, look like he hasn't slept for ages, but still have a pretty face so hard to read?

“Hello, Spencer,” your voice was cold as the weather outside. You turned off your phone and stepped aside to let him in. You closed the door behind you, and he didn’t go too far from you.

“Statistically, when you state something, you’re 89% percent right, which is a pretty high number, but with an IQ of 159, it’s expected. However, this time you’re wrong.” His hands gripped the satchel bag strap nervously. “Of all the probabilities, I’m not here to break your heart.”

“So why does it feel like that?” You stared at the ceiling, blinking so you could delay the tears. “Not gonna say you’re inexperienced in relationships as a plausible excuse for what you did because that’s bullshit. You’ve read all these books about anything and everything, and still you decided that I’m not allowed to see you at your worst.”

“Don’t say it like that.”

“Just because it’s the truth? You pushed your friends aside, you closed the door in my face, too afraid to let us help more, to let us carry a little of your pain. For a genius, you’re pretty dumb, Reid.”

You stared at him, tears pouring down your red cheeks and shaken words. His eyes were on you, but it was almost impossible to know what was going on.

“We were friends before we were lovers. If I ever showed you signs I’m not trustworthy, please just say it, ok?” You pushed him for an answer, for just a glimpse of his thoughts. “Tell me if I got it wrong, and just… just break my heart.”

Spencer took off his bag, his badge, his winter coat, like he was stripping down from that armor he wore because of what he's been through and his job. The silence never suited him, words, facts, stories filling the room before people could even doubt his skills.

“It’s not just about my mom having a few bad days with the new meds. The LA case took a toll on me because I finally realized I’m not gonna be able to protect everyone I love forever, so I had to take some time to understand that. And I needed to do that alone.” He held your face gently, stroking the tears away. “I never intended to hurt you, to push you aside for this long. And I’m really sorry for hurting you while I was thinking of ways to do the opposite. Because I want to protect you.”

You covered his hands with yours, telling him you couldn’t bear staying away. Please, don’t fade away like an old memory, you silently begged him.

“I know not even all the sorrys in the world will do, and I’m probably gonna make a thousand more mistakes, but I’ll never push you aside again. Never.”

As to confirm his intentions, he took a step closer. And then another one. He lowered his head until he was just inches away from you.

“I trust you,” he kissed your forehead. “Seeing you sad and quiet broke my heart,” one kiss on your right cheek. “You won’t ever break your heart again because I won’t let you do it to yourself,” the skin on your left cheek was damp from the tears. “And I’ll sit and let you pour your heart out after what I did, even if the truth hurts. But I deserve your anger, and I’ll prove to be worthy of your love until I’m out of ideas.”

You’d have a long road ahead, you knew that. And you were going to make mistakes, and be in the same position Spencer was. And you were gonna find your way back to him, gonna be a better person for him and for the world. Just because people were mean to you or you faced the most dangerous psychopaths and situations, it was no excuse to be like them.

“We know promises are inherently hard to keep, but I promise, Spence, I will never let you go again,” you said.

“And I promise I won’t break your heart.”

You closed your eyes, the only question you wanted to ask him before you could leave this all behind and move to a better relationship on the tip of your tongue. Spencer was great with numbers, geographical profiles, and a long list of facts he knew by heart. And you were great at analyzing people’s words, from their intonation to their commas and periods.

“You said something before.”

“I kinda said a lot of things, do you want me to repeat?” he joked, lighthearted.

“You want to protect the ones you love. Not just because it’s part of your job, but because you love them,” you dogged the question, hoping he was smart enough to pick the queues.

“And look how that ended up.”

“Once I read this really cheesy book from Alan Cohen, he said ‘When you protect yourself from pain, be sure you do not protect yourself from love’.”

It was like watching the wheels turning on his brilliant mind, but not getting far enough to hear the words that are almost slipping out of your mouth. You moved a little bit of his hair away from his face, taking in all the details slowly as you touched his face.

“I forgive you, Spence.” His warm brown eyes watched you and your every movement. “Do you wanna stay the night? I need to finish the-”

“Yes. And I’ll help you with the reports tomorrow,” he held your hands, pushing your skin closer to his, “and take you to a vintage store I found the other day. I think you’re gonna like it. And then we can go out for some Indian or Mexican food.”

“Perfect. Now come here,” you brought Spence along until you both fell on your couch.

You turned the TV on, but as soon as his hands started to move up and down your back, and your legs intertwined, you fell into a deep sleep — perhaps the best you had in weeks. His kisses were smooth and light as a feather, but they were enough to bring you back together and then screw your mind forever.

a/n: i'm not the best writer in english (i barely survive as one in my first language), but i tried my best! once again, thanks to the love of my life kay @munsonsreputation for the feedback and constant inspiration! hope y'all like it, let me know if i should bring more chapters in this format!

next chapter: wherever you stray, i follow

[mareestoermers]

KAYA SCODELARIO for Wonderland Magazine 2024

[midnightisquiet]

[holygayrightsbatman]

[snowbirdbaird]

i hate wasted potential.