#while they deal with the aftermath of everything that happened in Many Misfortunes and Dangerous Secrets

[anooonwrites]

“Shirabu Kenjirou, we are not adopting a kid together just because you’re broken-hearted!” Kawanishi Taichi exclaims. “For fuck’s sake if I knew you would be this bad, I should have locked you in a room with Semi-senpai back in high school until you made out.”

“Watch your language!” Shirabu hisses as he covers the young boy’s ears. Then to the boy he says with a saccharine sweet voice, “Made up. He meant to say made up. I had a fight with my senpai a long time ago. But it’s all good now.”

au: or kawanishi taichi just wants to survive the days as they come, while shirabu kenjirou has shit taste in men. and together they get into a little chaos. but unfortunately the chaos they get into might not be as innocuous as they both initially thought.

MISFORTUNES EXTRA: KAWANISHI TAICHI AND THE STORIES WE DON’T TELL OUR YOUNG

[dragonflymage]

How to Deal With Unrequited Love as an INFP

For an INFP personality type, nothing is more thrilling than the prospect of falling in love. However, INFPs often find themselves in the unfortunate situation of a love that is unreciprocated. This situation can occur not just once but a number of times. INFPs may find themselves in the ugly paradox of wanting more than ever to experience the ultimate romance but feeling unable to make the necessary move for their dream to become reality. Or when they finally summon the courage to unveil their true feelings, they experience rejection.

For the INFPs of the world who have suffered from this curse, this article is dedicated to you, offering some tricks of the trade on how to deal, and providing a cheeky spell to make it all seem worthwhile. If you’re not an INFP, fear not! This may also apply to any true romantic whose heart has been savagely broken.

Usually the tale begins like this: you’re somewhere doing something required of you, and a special someone magically catches your attention. This is a big deal because it does not occur every day. You may eagerly return to this fated place again and again on the promise of finding yourself in contact with this person. When the two of you do talk again, you experience butterflies from their subtle glances. Then you spend hours secretly analyzing your conversation, and you replay your favorite interactions—each time gaining a new delicate piece of information in the hope of unlocking their true intentions.

So you do what any person does when they’ve got a crush. Except for you, the INFP, this can easily verge on a sweet, innocent obsession. This obsession is dangerous territory. When we INFPs have crushes, we unconsciously assign so much meaning to this person, because of our dominant function, Introverted Feeling (Fi). We become too involved in all the possibilities, due to our Extroverted Intuition (Ne). We let our imaginations fill in the blanks. We can fall in love with someone we barely even know.

And how do we decide to deal with our undying l’amour for this person? Maybe we spill all the contents of our heart to them, only to receive a shaky, “No thank you.” Maybe we pine silently from afar, deciding to let destiny do all the work, only to find that your love was just not meant to be. The tale then concludes with the vicious struggle to actually get over this person. Instead of a peaceful melancholy ending, we are left at war with ourselves and what’s left of our self-confidence. We may obsess until we find a new object of infatuation.

We have the power to alleviate this cycle if we can figure out what really happened here. The “I” in INFP might as well stand for introspective, as this is the inevitable aftermath of an unrequited love. It’s so tempting to wallow on why you have been struck with such misfortune. Which is why this is where it can go horribly wrong, because this is when we can get stuck. Yes, we idealized, and yes, only afterwards did we realize this fact. Yes, maybe some self-repair is in order, but how much? While introspecting, it’s easy to become enraptured in the confusion of our idealism—how much of this was real and how much of this was made up? We relentlessly question everything about ourselves, and these questions can often be negative and purposeless. Am I destined to be alone forever? Am I too shy? Was I boring? Am I too awkward?

Without any clear reason for an actual or perceived rejection, our self-esteem plummets to the deepest lengths. Usually we try to justify the situation as a way to get over the person once and for all, which never works. Our support group of select friends and family plays a huge role in this stage, with clichéd sayings of comfort involving “more fish in the sea” and the like. These unlucky few will hear you retell and reanalyze the ordeal over and over until they can’t take it anymore. Inevitably, our negative questions reach a new low. Oh man…what is wrong with me? Why am I so obsessed with this? Is there anything I can do to prevent this from happening again?!

How to Prevent This From Happening Again

1. Understand the difference between a crush, limerence, and love. To put it simply: a crush is a short infatuation, while limerence is a longer, stronger state of infatuation that’s usually characterized by obsession. Love can have many interpretations, but reciprocated feelings of appreciation are an established requirement. It’s necessary to recognize the difference between these states because we often become so caught up in the excitement of romance that we quickly rush to hibernate into every fantasy our mind can create. Understandable, since it can be tough for us introverts to find someone worthy of our appreciation. But awareness is important, and a start.

2. Try to control your ability to obsess: this is a hard one, folks. Now that you’re aware that you might be crush-ing or limerence-ing someone, you can call upon the strength of self-discipline to not get super crazy obsessed. There’s no easy way to do this. Distractions help, so engage in hobbies, school, your job—anything that prevents you from daydreaming about this person all day. The easiest way to accomplish this is distance. Stay away from this person if you can, at least for a little while, preferably before you start planning your imaginary proposal.

3. Be brave. And flirt. Flirting might not be an obvious strength of ours, but we can be uniquely charming. Not communicating that you are interested is a sure fire way to end up crushed. Try to muster up the courage to do your version of flirting. Maybe smile and hold eye contact for more than a millisecond. Even better, ask them on a date. Life is short, and this will prevent you from wasting mental effort pining away for them. If you’ve flirted in the past only to end up with unrequited love, applaud yourself and never give up.

4. Believe you are worthy of being loved. Yes, it is sappy and a challenge, but self-love is critical for reciprocal love and happiness. Self-loathing is where we often end up after the dream doesn’t come true. It’s one of our biggest struggles. Everyone has flaws and imperfections, so choose not to lose faith in yourself. For every fault, find something you truly appreciate about yourself. Seek a journal, a trusted friend, or a therapist to help you with this if you find yourself continuously struggling with self-esteem.

What to Do If It Happens Again

1. Take time to heal. Sometimes we can be so disappointed that it’s almost like your whole world was obliterated. Sometimes people we confide in can make our situation out to be nothing, because to them, it resulted in nothing. Make sure that you unload to the right people, and make sure you make time for yourself to cope. Nature walks and meditation can be extremely helpful when navigating sad emotions. Sweet treats do their part too.

2. Hope is still your best friend. It’s safe to say that endless optimism is a trait of the INFP. But sometimes our hidden cynicism can win. Don’t lose faith in love. No matter how many times unrequited love may occur in your life, you will eventually find someone you love who loves you back. Be patient, and accomplish amazing things in the mean time.

3. Logic is your even better best friend. This is a prime time to learn from your situation. Though it’s not second nature, we can develop the skill of rational thinking, even when our feelings have flooded our brain. Maybe you’ll learn to not read into potential signs as much. Or how to not overanalyze. Logic can help deter you from wallowing and obsessing even more, and may also help you in getting over the person. It can be pivotal for self-improvement without blaming yourself too severely.

4. Seek to understand your relationship with vulnerability. Shame goes hand in hand when experiencing unrequited love. We can feel foolish for falling for someone who doesn’t feel the same way. Fear of rejection and of being vulnerable can often be held responsible for our struggles in communication at times. The more we aim for self-growth in this area, the more we can develop skills to properly express how we feel in order to get into a relationship and to maintain a relationship.

Lastly, here is the cheeky spell mentioned earlier:

Though we might be prone to unrequited love, take heart in knowing that you have the ability to fall so deeply in this delicious feeling. That you delight in it. It can have some unfortunate circumstances, it might not provoke the healthiest of behaviors at times, and it can lead to utter heartbreak. But there is a privilege in feeling all those addicting emotions of love. This tendency often fuels our desires and passions in life when we love other things that aren’t love itself. And even when we fall into the trap of unrequited love, it inevitably teaches us so much about ourselves—things we need to learn for success in later triumphs of romance.

“Reciprocal love, such as I envisage it, is a system of mirrors which reflects for me, under the thousand angles that the unknown can take for me, the faithful image of the one I love, always more surprising in her divining of my own desire and more gilded with life.” —André Breton, Mad Love (source)

[local-gonk-droid-union]

Aftermath - A Percival Graves One-Shot

Summary : After Percival Graves was found by the MACUSA and finally freed from captivity, he attempts to walk back into his former life like nothing had happened.

Word count : 2320

Status : One-Shot although I might write a sequel if I feel inspired

Warnings : mentions of torture, nothing too graphic tbh I���m weak af, panic attack, Percival’s a butthead yadda yadda

@thegaypumpingthroughyourveins I thought that maybe you’d be interested, even if I took so freaking long to write it

Also please remember that I’m not a native english speaker, and therefore doing my best to produce a piece of writing that is enjoyable to read. It might not be free of mistakes, so please forgive me for any of them.

 As soon as the healers deemed him healthy enough, Percival Graves left the hospital. He could not bear the pitying looks of the nurses and the quiet sympathy in the doctor’s voice anymore. Never had he been a man to be looked down on with this teeth-gritting, infuriating compassion.

 “Poor man, look at him, held captive by the most dangerous dark wizard of our time, replaced by him while he was left to rot, wounded as he was. What a pity and a shame, there was nothing he could do.” Merlin, he could hear that in every mouth, read it in every glance thrown his way and he hated it. How dared they think of him as some weaker, less-capable idiot who had the misfortune to be faced with something he could not overcome, how dared they even imagine for a second that they had any right to feel sorry for him. He was a strong, prideful man and he did not require anybody’s help for anything further that the treatment of his physical wounds. He had been through worse, he knew it, and now that this usurper, this criminal was locked down in a cell, he would take back his job within the MACUSA’s administration, and things would go as smoothly as they used to.

 The first day back proved him wrong. As he walked up the stairs to the elevators, he could feel stares falling on him one by one, people turning to look at him as he made his way through, mindless chatter going quiet and faint whispers travelling through the air. Was it the barely closed gash along his jaw, bruised with purple and black that called the employees’ attention? The faint limp in his right leg, although he did his best to stand straight and tall? Obviously not, after all, he was no idiot. He could see that god-forsaken empathy in their eyes, and the shameful way they would stop their conversation with their neighbours when he looked over them. He had always been well-known within the hierarchy, for his status and abilities and while he did impress people before, it was a whole new kind of intention he was getting there. Still, he did not say anything, kept his pace controlled as he reached the elevator. He was not fleeing, he assured himself, there was nothing to run from.

 “Department of Magical Law Enforcement”, he told the old, wrinkled house elf as soon as he stepped into the cabin, and his voice did not sound as steady as he wished it had.

 Thankfully, he made his way into his office without crossing anybody’s path. It felt strange sitting in this chair again, knowing that the usurper had been there, pretending to be him while everyone saw nothing. Grindelwald, under the whole of MACUSA’s nose and nobody noticed a thing. If he had to be honest with himself, Graves felt… disappointed, somehow. When he had been taken captive at first, when Grindelwald came to him to rip out some of his hair, when it had dawned on him what his intention was, he had sneered at him with confidence that his foolish plan would never work, that people would see and know immediately that this was not him. He had truly been certain that it would not take long for them to notice that something was afoot. After all, he had worked with some of them for years, they knew him well, didn’t they? Hope had worn thinner with each day that passed, and he had lost his initial bravado and with realisation came resignation. And somehow, it had been a truth harder to bear than the wounds upon his body. Even if he was a stern man and while it was nearly impossible for him to maintain and entertain a friendship within the bounds of work, the people who worked for and with him he knew well enough to appreciate and give them some importance to him.  

 This was a train of thoughts he didn’t wish to dwell on, and thankfully, a knock on his door tore him away from it. When he called out for the person to enter, he was a bit surprised to see Porpentina Goldstein. He was about to question the reason for her presence within the Aurors’ offices but quickly recalled. Right. She has been rehabilitated. Things had changed while he wasn’t here, no surprise. When she asked for some files about suspect underground trades linked to a goblin gang of some sort, it took him a good five minutes to find it. Everything was out of place, piles gathered in corners of his desk unevenly, so unlike the organisation he was used to, and he had to dive deep into his drawers to finally fish out the documents.

 All the while, Goldstein had stood there, probably unsure if she should offer help, and when he crossed her eyes as he handed her the papers, he could see her soften a bit, a hint of that gut-wrenching compassion meddled with sadness gleaming in her brown eyes.

 She left immediately, thankfully, the genuine urge having risen to yell at her to leave him alone he did not need this patronising disgusting sympathy as if he was hurt and broken he was not a victim to feel bad for he was fine fine fine fine he had so much worse before than a few broken bones and bruises so much worse and now he is healed now so he is FINE.

 There were tremors in his right hand, the tensing of his jaw and his balled fists that told a different story, dark bags caused by sleepless nights that spoke for a truth he forced himself to ignore. “Take some time for yourself” had said the doctor, as if he didn’t know that Graves had a job, responsibilities, things to do and places to be. “Take some rest if you need to.” had insisted President Pickery, as if she wasn’t aware that his office needed him to function properly, that he was behind on so many cases. Ridiculous, he had thought. He did not need rest, now that he was finally out of the usurper’s grasp, he needed to settle again in this environment once so familiar but now full of awkwardly misplaced little details. It was absurd for anyone to try to have him slack off when he was now fully able to function properly, having spent an unnecessary amount of time in the hospital already.

 The rest of the morning went by without further events other than the upsetting amount of documents taken care of by his usurper that he needed to read and re-approve. His lunch consisted of nothing more than the apple he had slipped into his pocket the same morning, having no time to go take his meal anywhere else, not fancying a break now that he was finally getting some work done. Also, he hadn’t been very hungry of late, but he figured the rather unappetizing food he had been forced to eat while he recovered had disgusted him from aliments as a whole. He would eat when he was hungry, no big deal. He also found it a bit harder to focus for a long period of time given that everything was out of its right place.

 At around three in the afternoon, a polite knock of the door startled him out of his work-induced focus. He tried to pretend that he had not immediately reached for his wand, heartbeat erratic,  as he finally called out for the person to enter. The wrinkled, familiar face of Miss Potts, the department’s secretary slid into view.

 “Mister Graves, I don’t know if you have been warned, but the whole of the department is meeting right now.” Apparently, this meeting had either slipped his mind or he had simply not been told about it at all.

“Thank you, Amanda, it seems that I have forgotten. Can you remind me where it’s taking place…?”

“In Conference room number 5, sir.”

“Alright, I’ll be there, thank you for your troubles.”

 Amanda exited the room without another word, and Percival slumped back in his chair, sighing deeply and running a hand down his face. When the woman had stepped into his office, he hadn’t been able to help the sickening, sinking feeling to spread in his guts at the sight of her.

 He had been working with the woman for nearly 20 years now, every morning she did the round of every office of the department, bringing the workers coffee, tea and biscuits to their liking, always offering a bit of gentle chatter that makes one’s workplace feel a little warmer, a little less impersonal. She knew he liked his coffee black with one sugar and no milk, that he enjoyed the chestnut shortbread that the MACUSA refectory made, took care that he never overloaded himself with caffeine on bad days, carefully reminded him that taking a break to eat at lunch wasn’t going to terribly slow down his working pace and that the files would certainly not disappear in half an hour. She was probably the person he saw the most during his day, and yet she did not notice that he was gone and replaced by someone else.

 When he thought about it, she was not the only one who had been blind to his absence. All of the Aurors who worked under him, some of them he had trained himself, some others he had known since Ilvermorny; nobody saw or suspected a thing. He knew his co-workers well, he used to secretly pride himself in that, that as strict and stern as he could appear to his partners and subordinates he knew that he could put his trust in them all, as over-eager and clumsy as new recruits could be, as exhaustingly hard-headed as some of them could be, he held for them this paternal (as unprofessional as that was) sense of pride over their achievements, over the way he had seen some of them grow professionally and psychologically.

 Yet, he had to come to realize that the silly sentimentalism he harboured for these people, and this knowledge he thought he had of them was only vague and most definitely one sided. Well, maybe not one-sided, he realised. It was a professional relationship he had with his co-workers, nothing more. In truth, he knew nothing remotely personal about them, nothing intimate about their lives, their relationship status, their family. He had always kept his very own life a secret but in truth there wasn’t much for anyone to know. He came back from work to an empty flat, a cold bed, blank walls, devoid of any personal imprint, of any trace that Percival Graves was living here. It was a house, not a home. There was not much to his life aside from work but this was not the case with the rest of the office. Most of them had lives on the side, a warm place to rest their hearts at, comfort and peace.

 As for him, his only relations with other people were within the boundaries of work and nothing more. Maybe that was the reason why nobody noticed. Nobody was anywhere near close enough to him to see that he had been replaced. There was nobody for who he was just Percival and not Director Graves, head of the Magical Law Enforcement department, renowned Auror, war veteran. How could anybody notice that he had been replaced when Grindelwald had held up the same carefully built façade he had always kept up? There was no one who knew him well enough to see through his appearance, and ultimately, he had to understand the fact that he was completely and utterly alone. In the end, he had involved himself emotionally and the truth was that he was as alone here as he was in his cell back under Grindelwald’s grasp. The bitter taste of second-hand betrayal was lingering at the back of his throat like a rise of bile, sickening and choking him.

 This realisation had woken in him a cold shiver that shook his body to his very core, constricting his throat, blurring his vision. His chest felt tight, too tight for the growing magma of thoughts that burned inside of him, melting together anger, betrayal, loneliness, fear, so much fear and bitterness and oh Merlin the pain, soaring, burning through his flesh like the Cruciato curse, like the memory of abuse and torture, of Legilimency piercing his mind, breaking down his barriers and darkness, darkness swallowing him, threatening to absorb even his essence, to kill Percival Graves.

 Someone was screaming. There was something wrong, he had to go help. The sound was twisted, animalistic, surely it couldn’t be human, ridden with pain and agony. He stood up but the floor was moving, everything was shaking. The edge of his desk was close, very close, too close, and the floor was there and he was hurting and cold and so so hot and everything was closing down on him, the world swallowing him.

 ...

  It was white all around, a bit too bright for his eyes to fully accommodate. Squinting, his eyes travelled around his blank surroundings until he spotted blurred spots of colours in the vague form of a person. He was vaguely aware of the pulsing pain running in his body, following each loud beat of his heart. The blurred spot got closer, brown and blue, not clear enough for him to distinguish and a sound got to his ears, trying to overcome the steady thumping that deafened him. It vaguely sounded like President Pickery, and he caught on a few words.

“… Amanda…found you………………..panic attack………..rest now………replac……….emporarily…………CUSA….”

 He didn’t catch on anything after that, a sudden wave of exhaustion washing over him, forcing his eyes to close and his mind to drift off into peaceful slumber.