intjs are supposed to be badass mastermind geniuses but here i am just dorkin and yortin
Eren Jaeger: esfp
Mikasa Ackerman: istj
Armin Arlert: infj
Jean Kirschtein: estj
Connie Springer: enfp
Sasha Braus: enfj
Historia Reiss: isfj
Ymir: istp
Annie Leonhardt: intj
Reiner Braun: esfj
Bertoldt Hoover: isfp
Levi Ackerman: intj
Hanji Zoë: entp
Erwin Smith: entj
Be clear. Be painfully clear.
I can’t interpret your subtle hints disguised under the premise of politeness enough to understand what you want.
Tell me what you want.
I don’t understand. I can’t peel off your skin and see what’s in your heart. I can’t pull back the layers of your mind and read into your thoughts.
In a world that hides behind emojis, lyrical nuances, and slang that keeps on shifting, be transparent.
entp: “and i said no. you know, like a liar.”
infp: “i am very small. and i have no money. so you can imagine the stress i am under.”
intp: “in terms of like, instant relief, cancelling plans is like heroin.”
esfp: “"f*** da police!” and everyone else joined in. a hundred drunk white children yelling f*** da police.”
enfp: “i was just shiny and dumb and easy to trick.”
estp: “and he told me, “if you use that word, there will be a protest of midgets on this building!” and i said, “promise?”“
isfp: "my vibe is like, hey you could probably pour soup in my lap and i’ll apologize to you.”
intj: “i’ll keep all of my emotions right here, and then one day, i’ll die.”
estj: “brush your teeth. now, boom, orange juice. that’s life.”
enfj: “i just need everyone to like me so bad.”
istp: “and i’m like "nO! that’s the thing i’m sensitive about!”“
esfj: "thirteen year-olds are the scariest people on this planet. they terrify me to this day.”
istj: “God can’t hear you.”
entj: “first off, no.”
isfj: “everyone get out of my way. i just want to sit here and feed my birds.”
infj: “i’M a LiTtLe fAt gIrL!”
it’s been 3 months, so i’m legally allowed to share my first officially published story for free. previously published in Massacre Magazine, under the Gorey Skelton pen name
leave feedback in the replies! (i seriously love feedback, but my tumblr inbox is a mess)
I’m… shaken. Disturbed? Holy shit.
That is
Holy shit
Read it
my one real goal as a writer is to create content people regret reading
JFC WHAT IS GOING ON IN YOUR MAGENTA GOURD-BRAIN
I have passive aggressive tendencies related to childhood neglect
I having a moment, I’m gonna need to lay down for a while.
Okay, so I’m back from my lie down and;
What the fuck.
…
What the actual fuck.
I mean, no yeah, but. f u c k, I loved it.
Reading this is like..
It’s like getting shot, and saying with a smile
*cocks gun*
Am I gonna do a brief literary analysis on this at midnight? Yeah, yeah I am.
So. The writing style is incredible. It’s detached and hollow, connected to this character, this nameless “she”, but miles away. Their perspective on her is in shades of grey told in a monotone, smothered by disinterest and a duty to tell the story, not driven by feeling. It’s such a powerful narrative tool to do this, and can be very difficult. Difficult, because in failure it leaves the reader disconnected from the story, from the events, leaves the reader empty of feeling, not just the story. But when done correctly, it creates a hollowness and a feeling of being worn away, of being hollow, that a more attached narrative wouldn’t manage to accomplish. The sense that the narrator, the closest thing you could be in this story, the character who’s perspective should be closest to yours, should be panicked, or at least minor lay worried, but they just aren’t, is incredible. And you do it perfectly.
Now, as for shock factor, I don’t think I can judge it properly. I’ve seen you post about this story before (specifically the name post and the reactions to this one) and, added to the fact that I am not easily disturbed, I wasn’t all that surprised. It did, however, have me hooked. I assume most are driven by a morbid curiosity to find out what happens, what’s wrong, and once they figure it out, more spread. I was also driven by this curiousity, but not to figure out what happened but how you made it happen; how you showed the death, described the body, and most importantly, the characters reactions.
Now the characters. There is, at it’s core, only two. The narrator; who I already talked about, and this “she”. She is an incredible character. Not giving her a name drives that distance apart which, in the end, drives more of that sense of wrong that the narrator’s distance drives at the reveal of it. You never truly bonded with her, never made the connection that names bring, and it’s that much harder to feel sympathy for her, because you don’t know her; you know what she does, how she acts. You know that she isn’t to concerned with her life, with her safety. She drifts along the thin line between life and death, walking the curb, taunting the void with her soul, but she doesn’t push herself off. If something was to happen, an accident was to occur, she wouldn’t be mad, but it won’t be driven by her actions. At least not yet. And this part of her character creates a sense of surrealness, as if you too are teetering on the edge, except your edge is between reality and imagination, everything and nothingness. It makes it feel like you’re floating, not quite in the story but where else could you be?
Anyway, I could probably say more but it’s been like 15, 20 minutes since I started typing this and typing on my phone sucks so there you go.
well hot damn. thank you for an incredibly thoughtful, detailed analysis. i very rarely get this level of feedback: i love the hell out of it
I’m scared to read it
i can’t honestly recommend it
Reading this at 3am probably wasn’t my best decision but I don’t scare easy so fuck it. I’m honestly amazed by your writing style. It’s like a puzzle where you collect the pieces throughout the story to finally see the full picture. I’m no professional writing critic or anything, and, yes, I’ve just been scrolling through this account looking for shitposts, but I’m so glad I found this because it’s truly fantastic.
I like it. Enhances the odd feeling of malevolent presence in my room at 2 A.M.
CAN I PUT THAT ON THE FRONT COVER that is the only review i need
I need someone to do a reading
i keep meaning to, but then it’s just like ehhhhh
can i translate it to french
that would be pretty flipping awesome
There’s this feeling you get, when you first get in the pool for laps. You’re in your lane, take your breath, and kick off the wall. And when I do this, at least, I try and glide as far as I can underwater before breaking the surface, and starting the laps in earnest.
And in those moments underwater, there’s a very distinct stillness. A quiet that I’ve always found comforting, no matter if the pool is deserted, or crowded.
Reading your story brought that stillness to mind, that deep, quiet, pressure. So while I can’t say I was necessarily disturbed, it was beautifully, beautifully written.
