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FIVE YEARS IN FIVE MINUTES.

A short story written by yours truly.

1335 words.

…

THE CANDLES GO OUT all at once. Nine in all. She counts them again as her mother pulls them gently out of a thick layer of frosting, as not to get wax on the cake.

Along with the largest piece of the birthday treat–one that’s far too much for her small frame–her grandpa places the shiniest present she’s ever seen, right in her lap.

“Go on, open it,” he smiles. And suddenly, the cake is forgotten and all her attention is on the carefully wrapped gift before her.

She doesn’t know it now, but that present was the product of every penny they had to spare.

She doesn’t know it now, but she will later.

Later, when they’re all old and grey.

Later, when all these moments add up, and they suddenly mean something more.

She peels back the shiny blue wrapping, to reveal a brown box. It’s rather plain, and so she looks at her grandpa inquisitively.

He chuckles, a loud rumbling noise. “It’s in the box, dear.”

Inside, is the prettiest thing she’s ever seen. A small gasp escapes her pale chaped lips. A doll sits in stark contrast to the dull container. Long golden hair, blushed cheeks, red lips, and bright green eyes hidden behind long lashes.

“Thank you!” She all but leaps out of the chair from excitement, hugging each person, repeating the words over and over again. Returning to the box, she pulls the doll out, “She’s beautiful.”

“And she looks just like you,” her father says, flicking her nose.

She falls asleep with a smile on her face, and the doll in her arms.

…

The next morning, she waits at her bus stop with a bounce in her step. She’s wearing her favorite dress–it’s a pretty little thing. A yellow sundress, covered in flowers. It spins out when she twirls.

She rocks back and forth on her heels, bouncing with excitement and excess energy, the doll, or as she now calls her, Georgie, is gently held in her petite fingers.

When the bright yellow bus rolls up to her stop, she bounces onto it, promptly taking a seat beside her friends.

They chorus their hellos, and she pulls out the doll.

“Look at what my Papa got for me! Isn’t she beautiful?” She beams, looking from her friends, to the doll, and back, waiting for their reactions.

The response she receives, is far from what she’d hoped.

They laugh.

“A doll? Why would you want a doll?” One of them giggles at her.

“Dolls are for babies.” Another wrinkles their nose.

And suddenly, her beaming smile slips away. Their chittering continues, though the conversation has shifted gears. She slouches into her seat, and puts the doll into her backpack–gingerly, despite the mockery.

When she gets home, she leaves the doll on her dresser, and doesn’t bring it outside again.

…

THE CANDLES GO OUT one by one. Ten in all. She counts them as she relays the day before. Her posture is slouched in the seat–curling in on herself.

Harsh words stick in the back of her mind like thick, hot glue. They’ve never been so unkind before.

“Stupid,” one of them had been muttered after she got a math problem wrong.

“Shut up, you’re so annoying!” Another had been scowled out, after she’d finished retelling a story with an excited tone.

She shakes her head slightly, as if she can rattle the words right out. But she can’t. And they stay plastered there despite her not-quite-full smile as a piece of cake is set down in front of her.

“What’s wrong?” Her mother frowns slightly, showing the stress lines that have become so prominent recently.

“Nothing, I’m fine. Thank you for the cake, Mama.” She conjures up a crooked smile and takes a bite.

The presents she was given were opened earlier that morning. A new notebook and pencil set–almost like an open invitation to write out the worlds she kept inside her head.

Annoying.

Stupid.

She knows she shouldn’t believe the words, but deep down, she’s already accepted them as truth. Like weeds, they situate themselves in the corners to grow. And grow they will. Given time.

It always comes back to time, doesn’t it? And nobody ever has enough of it.

…

THE CANDLES GO OUT with some help. Eleven in all. She watches as the flames lick at the wax, melting, dripping, destroying.

Dark circles coat the skin underneath her eyes. She’s tired, but it’s not the sort of tired that’s cured by sleep. It’s the kind that soaks into your bones, that eats you up inside. Like a flame–melting, dripping, destroying.

On the checkered tablecloth before her, is a box filled with makeup.

She smiles at the sight. But it’s not a completely happy one, it’s one tinted with bitterness. Thank you’s have already been exchanged, and her parents have long since left the table.

Their screaming-match can be heard through the walls.

She picks up the box with a sigh, and no bounce in her step, taking it to her room. A notebook lays open on her desk, eraser shavings strewn about, but she shoves it aside to look at her new gift.

The next hour is spent trying to make herself look pretty.

Pretty like the doll that now sits under her bed. Discarded and forgotten.

…

She walks into school the next day with her head down. There’s light pink lipgloss staining her lips, and dark mascara coating her lashes, but she almost hopes nobody notices.

Well, almost nobody. She hopes he notices.

When she sits down for Math, she looks up, hoping to make eye contact. Hoping he’ll take any notice at all.

He doesn’t. But there’s still the whole period. So she brushes her hair behind her ear, and sets to doing the work.

Half way through, someone’s taping on her desk, and she looks up to see his fingers grasping a note. Her cheeks flush, but he isn’t looking at her. In fact, it’s almost as if he’s looking though her.

“Pass it on,” he says. And so she does.

He doesn’t look at her for the rest of class.

That night, she goes home and cries off every stitch of makeup she put on.

…

THE CANDLES GO OUT when they’ve hit the end of their wicks. Twelve in all. Her eyes are hollow as she stares at the wall behind them.

Weeds are growing in her mind. Tangling with good things, and choking them out.

“You’re ugly! He’ll never like you.” They tighten.

“That stupid haircut made it worse.” And tighten.

“Those clothes make you look like a pig!” And tighten.

“Oink oink, little pig!” Until she’s choking on the words that aren’t even hers.

The house is silent. But it always is nowadays.

She’s the one who got the candles out. She’s the one who sung herself happy birthday.

She’s the one, who’s ended up completely alone.

The world becomes awfully silent when it all comes crashing down.

…

THERE ARE NO CANDLES this year. There should be, though. Thirteen in all. She imagines them as she lies in bed.

She can still see the bright cakes her mother used to make for her, and the pretty decorations her father would string up.

And suddenly, she remembers the bright blue wrapping paper, and the smile on her grandpa’s face.

The doll.

She rolls off her bed and kneels down at the end. There it is. Right where she left it. With gentle hands, she grasps it and pulls it to her chest.

There are no words said, but there are tears. And that is almost enough. She cries for hours, knees against her chest, fat tears rolling off her face onto the doll.

The weeds are too tangled now. They still grow, despite there not being much room left.

Tighter, tighter, and still tighter.

Finally, the words have made their homes.

And they are her downfall.

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when i fall | original '18 - WHEN I FALL (on Wattpad) https://my.w.tt/u7M5QHgVaR

❝don't forget to catch me when i fall.❞

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infp / being the group's therapist

Reblog with your mbti-type and your worst social obligation.

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Types of people - hufflepuff houses

Original houses

Slytherpuff - their attitude depends on yours, swears like a sailor, ‘nah I can’t move I’m comfy now’ as a solid excuse not to go outside, sends each word of texts individually, can affectionately give you death glares, gives really personal and sweet gifts, closed off

Griffinpuff - the bravest soul but you’d never know, would put themselves at obvious risk to save a friend, the best tight circle of friends, will ask the kid sitting alone if they want to join them, can fall asleep anywhere, always walks people home at night, bad at emotion

Ravenpuff - blushes if you ever mention how smart they are, stays up all night reading under the covers, bites all their pens, writes cute love poems, meme queen, random bursts of energy at ungodly hours, makes their friends and family gifts for the holidays

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What The World Became

Part 1: When The World Crumbled

thecheshirecatinthehat said:Do you by any chance have more on that recent (ish) hero x villain angst? ‘When the world crumbled’ or something of the sort?

What the world became was, perhaps, what the world had always been except before the hero hadn’t realised how shit it was. 

Maybe it was the rain. The rain leeched all of the colour out of London until it seemed fogged up and grey, fading like watercolours running into the streets. Maybe it was how empty the flat now was. 

Their lover’s belongings were still dotted around the house. Remnants. Fossils. Those ordinary things like a blue toothbrush, a favourite mug, a stack of books only halfway to being read with the library slips still drooping out the side. Stupid, ordinary clutter that had survived an apocalypse when the hero’s heart hadn’t, and now seemed strange and alien and beautiful for it.  

The library books got late fees.Letting them go would erase the traces of what could have been still lingering in their house - maybe that was better.

Of course, there were still villains. Still heroes. Still bruised knuckles and scuffed shoes and late nights taking more and more reckless acts of daring as if to taunt the villain into stopping them. Into being there again. 

Crime in the city was at an all time low. 

It didn’t feel like winning.

What the world became was, perhaps, what the world had always been except now there was nothing behind the curtains of it. Villainy had no backstage to sweep into, filled with home cooked dinners and their name said so fondly. 

They were enemies now. It was simple. They had to believe that it could be simple, because anything else was too much of a concession. The villain had made their concessions in that one stolen night still curled up in their lover’s bed, clutching them tight, kissing them with a fierce desperation that was like battle and surrender all at once. 

The villain set themselves up a new identity, the escape hatches, the back doors - but it didn’t feel quite real. It wasn’t real. They’d left whoever they were behind, whatever softness they’d had stuffed beneath a hero’s bed with dust bunnies, a missing sock and a box of memories too precious even in their junk. 

Setting up took some time but they had to make sure they couldn’t be caught. What would stop the hero from turning them in? Oh no, they didn’t give up that easy. They wouldn’t lose everything for that. They wouldn’t rot in some jail cell just because of some righteous fool who refused to understand. 

But their new home was empty. 

This didn’t feel like freedom. 

What the world became was this: a villain and a hero faced off on a rooftop.  Everyone had heard the stories. The cliches. 

“This isn’t you,” said the hero. 

“Did you know me at all?” the villain replied. It sounded mocking. It felt like heartbreak - because what had the hero loved, then? Had it ever truly been them at all?

The distance between them was a lifetime. 

Blood dripped, such a vivid red, to splash against grey concrete. The wind whipped and howled around their ears like the whole city was howling for them too. 

They left. They came back. They spun around like orbits, always collapsing back towards each other again and again, ramming into edges trying to chip the other into fitting.

“You could be great, by my side,” said the villain.

“You could come home,” the hero replied. It sounded like a spit of venom. It felt like a plea - because really, what was stopping them from coming home? What, except the decision that the hero simply hadn’t been a good enough reason to stay?

The villain’s hand outstretched towards them.  The hero reached for them in turn. 

Power blasted vicious from both their fingertips.

Because what the world became was this: two lovers snarling, tearing chunks of each other to take back home to keep and cradle in their palms. 

They played their roles. 

It was all they had of each other now. 

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Misconceptions of an INFP

1. They are super emotional.

I personally find this to be vague, but I’ve read and heard this a couple times. Just because we make our decisions based on our feelings does not make us “emotional”, at least in the bad sense of the word. Our “logic” can still be logical. Its from a different perspective. Besides, we can be quite cold and unemotional when we want to be or are extremely stressed.

2. They don’t plan.

We may be a P, but that does not mean we don’t plan. It just means we probably don’t have a plan. But when we do plan its about something we deem important enough.

3. They are shy.

I’m not saying I can speak for all INFP , because we do have different background, but I think the word “reserved” is far better used to describe us. We have to think your worth talking to before we do talk to you, when we decide your fine then there probably wont be a problem.

4. They live in their own fantasy world.

Now I find this one funny because, in a way thats true. However, this does not mean we cannot see reality. We know whats going on. However, we would rather believe in an ideal world. We try to make the fantasy a reality. If we don’t, well then we really may just try to live in a fantasy world and shut ourselves off from everyone.

5. They aren’t motivated.

Now I don’t know about you, but I don’t think I’ve ever met an INFP that wasnt motivated to do something. What they are motivated to do or what they are motivated by may look different than what may seem normal, but INFPs always find their passion. Its a part of their “whats my purpose ?” function and they dont truly rest until they find it.

6. They see the best in everyone.

We do see an ideal world and wish to see the best in people. However, we are not blind. We will not sit by while someone does something that goes against our core values. We have a strong inner sense of what is morally correct. Even if we are a bit off or incorrect in our belief, we will feel the injustice of someone going against them. Most likely, we will slowly remove ourselves from being around that person. However, if its injustice towards our close dear ones we will find a way to confront the person.

7. They cry a lot.

I read this somewhere and was surprised. INFPs rarely let other people see them cry. Most likely you will see an INFP cry from frustration before you see them cry from sadness. They dislike showing others their emotion because of their introverted feeling. They would rather remain calm, especially if another person with them is angry or sad.

8. They are emotionally tortured.

I also read this somewhere. It feels weird reading that , but I guess I can see why it may seem that way. If you ever talk to an INFP about personal things, you will see a pattern of them being in situations where they get their heart broken or hurt or even them going through a dark time of their life. However, INFP s are resilient. They can get knocked down quite a bit, but they most likely will always get back up. And they will have learned so much from these experiences that each time they will be smarter and stronger because of it.

Anyway, these are the few I could think of. Thanks for your support! It makes me want to write even more INFP stuff!!

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“Once upon a time there was a boy who loved a girl, and her laughter was a question he wanted to spend his whole life answering.”

— Nicole Krauss, The History of Love

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INFP Relationship Troubleshooting Guide (Guest Post)

           Being in a relationship with an INFP is probably going to be one of the most rewarding things you have ever done in your life, so, congratulations! They are quirky, romantic, shy, bubbly little introverts who have a capacity for love that is so large, it could very easily be considered a fault. However, although being in a relationship with an INFP will certainly reap many benefits (you’re about to get a book of poetry dedicated to you, songs written about you, little gifts, “I love you” texts…), keep in mind that INFPs are drained very easily. They exert so much effort into loving their significant other, that when they suspect the same amount of effort isn’t being reciprocated, an INFP can easily begin to doubt whether or not there are still mutual feelings. Luckily for you, as one with many INFP friends, I am going to tell you how to better understand, appreciate, and love the INFP in your life.

1.      They love space, but you’re the exception.

It’s true, INFPs are still introverts, despite coming across as extroverts. Normally, on any given day, most INFPs aren’t stimulated (at least, not as much as their sensor-counterparts, ISFPs) by physical touch. Lord knows they would die before they initiated it. However, just because they don’t initiate or respond to a brush against the arm or back, a kiss on the cheek, or a hug in a romantic, swept-off-their-feet sort of way, doesn’t mean they don’t enjoy it. On the contrary, INFPs are passionately affectionate creatures. Unfortunately, they are still also shy. They are constantly worried about their efforts going exactly the way they didn’t plan, so when it comes to romance, it can be safer for them to keep their hands to themselves. Go the extra mile. Put your arm around them. Hold their hand. Brush the hair out of their face. If you’re feeling extra romantic, kiss them.  Once you break the initiation barrier, it will be worth it.

2.      “Do you really mean it?”

A question that doesn’t escape an INFP’s lips often enough, yet is always in the back of their mind. Due to their dominant introverted feeling, remaining true to their character and their values is non-negotiable. However, it also makes them apt to know that not everyone is as honest as they are. INFPs might question, doubt, or even accuse your intentions of being false, or ill-placed. Be patient with your INFP, and remind them often that you do mean well. Words are special, yes, but they won’t believe unless you prove it with your actions. Thankfully, it really doesn’t take much. Even asking them how they’re feeling, or bringing up a story that they shared long ago to remind them that you care, and that you are attentive to their needs and stories. You may notice that they ask often how your day was. That is because they genuinely care for your deepest feelings. They would hold your heart in the palms of their hands and guard it through flood and fire. They have seen the darkness in the world, and have probably succumbed to it at some point in their life. Keeping up with them and making sure that they’re taking care of themselves is one way you can show them that you really do appreciate and love them.

3.      Their spontaneous, impulsive nature is the only predictable thing about them.

Don’t allow your INFP to be apologetic for the quirky things about them. Their auxiliary function, extroverted intuition, is constantly spouting strange ideas, notions, and stories that all somehow connect with what is on their heart (Fi). If one moment, you two are discussing politics and philosophy, and the next minute your INFP expresses a sudden interest in entering a Christmas light competition, don’t take it personally. They most likely weren’t bored of the topic at hand. They don’t merely have one train of thought, they have twenty-seven, and it’s up to you to keep them grounded without judging them. Let them be random. Let them be spontaneous. Let them go on tangents and rabbit trail onto something totally unrelated. If they allow that side of themselves to open up around you (because, believe it or not, most INFPs I’ve met are actually pretty insecure about their childlike spirits), you’re very special to them. Don’t take that for granted or brush it off like they’ll do that for anyone.

4.      Flirting is fun, yes, but INFPs need and crave so much more.

Don’t get me wrong, an INFP who willingly flirts is the world’s most secret, guarded treasure. However, it gets old. It’s tiring. INFPs want more out of a relationship than the physical. They crave connection and genuineness. Ask about their poetry, or music, or whatever hobby it is that they enjoy. Ask about their feelings. Talk about the universe, talk about where you see yourself in ten years, twenty years, sixty years. Throw something flirty in there every now and then, but show your INFP that you love their soul. You won’t regret it. I promise.

           There you go! Four essential tips for keeping your relationship with an INFP healthy. Have fun, be genuine, and remember that nobody is perfect. This isn’t exclusive to INFPs. You can apply those tips to any relationship with any type, but according to my INFP friends, these four are the most important and heartwarming.

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Mom friend: ESFJ, ISFJ, ENFJ, INFJ

The reason Mom friends exist in the first place: ENFP, INFP, ISFP, ESFP

Dad friend: ESTJ, ISTJ, ENTJ, INTJ,

Surprisingly Mom friend: ENTP, ESTP, INTP, ISTP

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MBTI LIST #04: FOUR GROUPS (BY JUDGING FUNCTION)

ESTJ: Producing Researcher ESTP: Improvising Researcher ENTJ: Guiding Researcher ENTP: Rebellious Researcher

ESFJ: Producing Actor ESFP: Improvising Actor ENFJ: Guiding Actor ENFP: Rebellious Actor

ISTJ: Producing Scientist ISTP: Improvising Scientist INTJ: Guiding Scientist INTP: Rebellious Scientist

ISFJ: Producing Artist ISFP: Improvising Artist INFJ: Guiding Artist INFP: Rebellious Artist

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i've only seen this post through legend and i feel blessed to find it on my dash

“This is your daily, friendly reminder to use commas instead of periods during the dialogue of your story,” she said with a smile.

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INFP as a friend

We are pretty cool, if I do say so myself. But there are pros and cons to being an INFP’s friend.

Here are some pros to being about an INFP friend:

We listen

We are good at comforting

We will do what it takes to make you as an individual feel loved.

We will be down for about anything when we hang out.

If you are a new friend, will make a big deal about your birthday.

Will get you out of sticky situations

If there is a lack of positivity or happiness in the room, we will try to fill it. Even if we arent particularily happy ourselves.

Not judgemental at all.

They will always be your friend, unless you do something they really dislike.

Wants to have a shallow and deep relationship with you at the same time.

Here are some cons about an INFP friend:

You may have to drag them out of their house to hang out with them.

They may be silent about what they think if there are a lot of opinions in the room.

They may be mean for seemingly no reason, but it probably means they need food or sleep.

They will get frustrated with you if you 1. Talk bad about yourself 2. Worry too much 3. Want them to plan months in advance.

You may feel like the INFP either doesnt want to be your friend or is growing away from you. This just means they want to meet new people or try new things. They will always come back.

They would rather need than be needed. Though they are okay if its a mutual level of need.

Can be abrupt when they finally tell you what they think.

Of course these are just some, but you get the jist.

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MBTI Squad

ENFP - The Idea Generator

Every hangout starts out with her discovering a new place around where she lives (or in a neighboring country, but that’s okay), and is so excited that she wants to share it with everyone. Very insecure about herself, and has trouble sharing things, turns everything into a joke. Likes to talk to INTJ but also annoys him to death with her secrecy and unseriousness. Has trouble focusing, but this way she notices all the exciting things along the way. INFP’s hug buddy and they have this NF connection.

ENTP - The Facilitator

The one with a driver’s license. Knows everyone in the squad personally, maybe a bit too much. INTJ’s close friend, knew him since 6th grade, and they always have super deep analytical conversations. Insecure about friends leaving him, and being “disposable” since everything INFP and INTJ share he already knows. Either makes the bad puns and easily makes things happen, being the reason the hangout happens in the first place, or very closed off, withdrawn and bothered by everything. Also really likes to spend individual time with each squad friend.

INTJ - The Savage

Makes fun of ENFP constantly, teases her for being unable to open up, and makes deep remarks about either life or the current social situation. Hates small talk, but tolerates ENFP’s randomness for the most, although always complains about the lack of trust. Loves the deep talks with INFP. Enjoys breaking from the daily routine.

INFP - The Cinnamon Roll

The friend that’s there to make fun of her own awkwardness, tries to make everyone laugh but ends up laughing herself the hardest. Goes into deep chats with INTJ and loves ENFP a lot. Insecure about the squad leaving her behind, because she’s the “odd one out,” but fails to realize that without her the squad isn’t squad anymore. Can be either the kindest and cutest person in the world, or Satan itself when she feels like it. Master of both active care and passive aggression. Wants to please people so she ruins her own life.

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I think INFPs are both one of the most and least judgmental types. And this is only one of the many paradoxes that the inpf embodies.

We wont judge you based on your appearance. We dont care about your clothes, your style whether or not you wear things that are outside of the norm, we dont care about your status or the amount of money you have in your bank account. I mean everybody knows that we have an unexplainable love for the rejects of society. BUT we will judge your behaviour towards other people, we will judge your moral codex, how you treat others, how you see yourself. All of these things will decide whether or not you “pass the test.” We are pretty hard on ourselves when it comes to living according to our values and our own understanding of morality. And unfortunately we expect others to follow this set of rules aswell. So yes we can be really easy going and open minded but at the same time extremely judgmental.

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introverts as deities you didn’t think of

I’ve already done this for NTs, pulled INTP and tweaked INTJ because I can

INTP : Astraea, because the INTP got tired of your crap and left

INTJ: Anubis, because the INTJ gets to sit in the dark and judge your soul

INFP: Persephone, because the INFP seems too pure for this world but has a teensy dark side

INFJ: Brigid, because the INFJ is all goodness but can really kick your butt

ISTP: Neith, because the ISTP is sometimes associated with wisdom

ISTJ: Sia, because the ISTJ is the personification of wisdom who always gets overlooked

ISFP: Aurora, because the ISFP is always waiting for the next dawn

ISFJ: Pachamama, because while sweet and nice and all, the earth will shake if you make the ISFJ angry

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Relatable No. 50

Me: There is nothing more painful than watching one of my favourite characters die.

Marvel: Oh, are you sure about that?

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Fictional Character Analysis: INFP

SUBMITTED by anonymous

I absolutely dreaded this write-up, not because I don’t like INFPs (quite the contrary) but because there are so few of them in fiction. When they do appear, they are often that weird, awkward person (often a child) who’s constantly disconnected from reality. Because of this, some actual INFPs actually get offended when these said characters share their type. These typings are unreliable and a lot of the time and they paint the INFP as someone living entirely in their own world and being socially clueless. Traits that I disagree with.

Introverted Feeling (Fi): Interestingly, I found that of all the FP types, INFPs can actually be the most aggressive about their beliefs and inner morals. Not sure why that is, but obviously the fact that it’s a dominant function helps, and unlike the ISFP, there’s not always stuff right now that’s going on to distract them from their Fi pondering. From the few fictional INFPs I’ve seen, they do seem to embody the “misunderstood soul” stereotype. Some real INFPs relate to this, others get more offended at being seen as some alien form and prefer to see themselves as much more down to Earth. But fiction is fiction and I guess if you want a legit INFP character, he or she HAS to be weird to noticeable levels. But more likely it’s the other way around and it’s us who type them as INFP by default because we simply can’t fathom any other type acting this way. 

Extroverted Intuition (Ne): The bread and butter of the fictional INFP is weird, ill-timed quotes and making the most unlikely parallels between the abstract and the established. Of course, comedic works will bank off on this trait. In real life we often label INFPs as social justice warriors or some form of social/political crusader. From my experience this is exaggerated but does hold some truth. With a combination of Fi/Ne, a typical INFP is usually and effortlessly able to dissect to you their hardest convictions and display them to you on every angle, eagerly awaiting to debate them with passion. By contrast the ENFP tends to soak other people’s opinion up more and are curious by the other side of the coin, whereas the INFPs can go on and on about why they feel so passionately about something but it will always boomerang back to them sticking to their guns despite the other person’s input.

Introverted Sensing (Si): Unfortunately SJ types tend to give Si a bad rap (I’m an SJ so I get to say this). Luckily the INFP comes along to show the more fun and artistic side of this function. In every INFP you will definitely find a geek of some sorts who has strong attachments and unwavering loyalty to many things entertainment and art. But as mentioned in the previous paragraph, Si is Si and combined with Fi, they have a mean streak of stubbornness at times. For all their rebelliousness, I find the INFPs (both real and fictional) to be a rather soft and light-hearted type. A middle Si/Ne-Ne/Si axis is usually one that takes things in stride, that balances both curiosity and comfort and I feel that INFPs tend to embody that better than any type. Whereas the fictional INTP uses this function as a reliable factual database, the fictional INFP uses it to defend anything they have deep sentimental ties to. 

Extroverted Thinking (Te): The fictional ISFP uses their Inferior Te to plan an attack against an evil protagonist and tell others around them to either follow their lead or get lost. The fictional INFP however uses Inferior Te to brutally lay down the facts when someone tramples of their beliefs. It’s very similar to real life INFPs in which, if you press the right button, you may find yourself at the end of a verbal smackdown. While this can sometimes be interpreted as an admirable trait, like all inferior functions, INFPs tend to be awkward with Te and use it in a very black and white manner. They probably met several TJ types throughout their lives who told them something along the lines “Okay…..instead of telling me off, why don’t you DO something about it?”