MRS

shit i’m exhausted. okay, finished my reading. im going to go plop on my bed and sleep for about five hours. thank. 

02 Sep   2 notes

Honest MBTI Stereotypes

deadlyliv:

ISTJ: Practical and down-to-earth. Probably your mother.
ISFJ: Always nice enough to be suspicious and more loyal than all your pets combined.
ISTP: Probably don’t care about you, might still kill you in your sleep though.
ISFP: Always carrying at least 4 daisy chains on them at all times; don’t take them to museums if you ever want to come out again.
INTP: That one guy hiding in their room trying to calculate exactly how much bigger the TARDIS is on the inside.
INFP: Starry-eyed idealist, so caring and sweet they might just rot your teeth out.
INTJ: 50% standoffishness, 50% being right all the time, 100% better than you.
INFJ: Spends half their time delivering melodramatic heroic monologues and the other half attempting to purify the ground they walk on.
ESTJ: 100% committed to their life partner, the rulebook.
ESFJ: Happy to make you happy to make them—could potentially create a feeling paradox.
ESTP: Probably Kanye West.
ESFP: The golden retriever you always wanted, except in human form.
ENTP: Would probably blow up the world to calculate shrapnel velocity.
ENFP: Like a bottle of fizzy soda, except with more righteousness.
ENTJ: Like an INTJ, just better at hiding the fact that they’re an asshole.
ENFJ: The world’s mother hen. May also be running ten cults of worship behind your back.

staxilicious:

artkat:

despairnaegami:

personasanta:

does anybody else think tired and sleepy mean two totally different things

sleepy is cute and dozing off and happy but tired is 10 cups of coffee and murder

image

reblogging because the last graphic comment is FLAWLESS

siderealscion:

mALEFISHIENT, MARK

ive been meaning to make work-related comics forever, so enjoy some choice movie title bastardizations.

(these all actually, seriously, happened, with no humor or awareness on the part of the customer at the time as far as I could tell. so, yes, someone actually asked for a ticket to “Detergent” with a straight face.)

lebornaciar:

gods for the modern agebaron samedi

laugh in the face of death. treat life like a carnival—chase girls, smoke cigars, drink yourself blind, and never pass up the chance for a dirty joke. keep the dead in the ground and the dying from harm’s reach. save lives, lift curses, hand out favours and come back to collect—and smile, smile as you dig the graves of those who wrong you.

Mother, he is a gentleman.
He is a builder with bricks of moonlight.
He knows the secret places of the earth.
He washes the sleep from the eyes of the souls.
He lets them look on beauty.
He lets them tell him they hate him.
In the mornings, I gather berries and apples.
I scrub his back with rind.
I weave spider-spit, eyelash.
He talks in his sleep: pudding, fire, discus,
the things he misses.
He breathes, Your body is my orchard.
I am undulating grass.
I am a field of wheat he parts with his fingers.
Poppies bloom in my veins.
When he kisses me, he tastes pomegranate.
The night crawls nearer.
The moans of the dead roll and swell.
Mother, we are well.
— Tara Mae Mulroy, “Persephone Writes to Her Mother” (via fleurishes)