ESTP: super attractive physically but it’s all downhill from there. never quite know what they’re going to do next but you can probably bet it will be irresponsible. somehow still lovable.
ESTJ: loud, logical, and get shit done — they are the warrior class of the life rpg….
dont u hate it when its nine in the afternoon but ur eyes are just normal sized
I’ve seen this post three times on my dash and i still cant fucking figure out what it means is it like some secret code. are 22,000+ of you in a secret society????? what the fuck is going on?????
some of my favorite tags:
some more gems:
this post just gets better and better
DON’T PRESS PLAY YET; just look at these gifs for a while and let the feelings sink in.
WHAT KIND OF FUCKING GAME IS THIS
DONT FUCKING DO IT
What are you trying to do, kill me? JFC.
*sobs uncontrollably, throws laptop*
WHY THE FUKK DID YOU DO THAT
I’M FUCKING SORRY THIS POST IS OLD AS BALLS YOU GUYS BROUGHT IT BACK ??? I HAD BAD DAYS OKAY
I AM SO UPSET IT’S IMPOSSIBLE TO LISTEN TO THIS FUCKING SOUNDTRACK WITHOUT FEELING LIKE I’VE BEEN HIT BY A BUS FUCK YOU FUCK EVERYONE
*prepares party popper*
*nervously shakes the party popper*
*slowly falls asleep with the party popper*
*has a wonderful night with the party popper*
*gets married to the party popper*
It’s a beautiful evening in February. My wife and I are sitting at the fireplace, when suddenly a terrible image appears on the screen of my computer.
My wife looks at me. As I look in her terrified, cardboard eyes, filled with tears, she takes a deep breath, before saying with her shivering voice “It’s what you’ve always wanted, dear. Do it.” My hands start shaking and a lone tear rolls down my cheek. “I can’t, honey. I’m not like that anymore.” “I will do it.” a small voice behind us says. As I turn around, my eyes cross with my son; our son. “You don’t have to do this, Benedict.” I say, as I hold his hands.
Ignoring what I told him, young Benedict Popper-Are Optional holds my wife’s cardboard body in one hand, and her long, beautiful string in the other. With tears in my eyes, I turn my head away. A loud pop sounds behind me and I watch in terror as I see my wife’s confetti spread across the room.
"It’s what you’ve always wanted, dad…" my son says, putting his small, cardboard hand on my shoulder. "Yes," I say, "but not like this… Never like this…"
what the actual fuck
why is there fan art
nevermind that why is their son lettuce