Incomplete list of prose of each type
[[This list is based off of people I personally know who I know are of these types]]
ENFP: The emotion bubbled up in her chest. She had the good sense to keep it in as she thought of what to say, what she wanted. In those brief, imperceptible moments, the ivy grew with new possibility. It split out further and further as it grew, some ends tangling with others, some vines leading to the same leaf. Each leaf was colored with feeling, some green, some deep blue, some angry red. Sometimes, the ivy didn’t grow fast enough for her to know every leaf before the feeling bubbled right up to the top like a fizzy soda. This wasn’t always bad, but she didn’t have the control she wanted. However, she still grew ivy outside her window because she loved her life with a touch of chaos.
INFP: It was her job to man the scales. She weighed what they had said, what they had done, and made her judgments. Some words were heavier than others, like picking up a large stone over a small vase. When she glanced at her peers, some could lift the large stones fine, while the small vases gave them trouble. It frustrated her. She wished she could lift the heavy stones with ease, especially when others tried to tell her “it’s just a stone.” She wanted to say, “It’s not just a stone! To me, it’s very heavy!” She wanted to criticize their trouble with the vases. She never did. She simply understood that everyone had their own sense of “right.”
ENTP: The thought was like a bolt of lightning, a flash and then it was decided. The electric paths that had briefly branched out were gone when the path reached a logical conclusion. Every debate with him was like a thunderstorm, every idea was like a far off flash of lightning, every moment with him was like the sensation of dry static. You never knew when something was going to spark. Though, if there were a real lightning storm every time the boy talked, the saying “lightning never strikes twice” would not exist. There would simply be too many sparks, but, like the way it felt to watch him go, the world would be full of light.
INTP: Just the flick of their finger set a small rubber ball in motion. Oddly enough, the sequence wasn’t complete. Why? There was an end point, but they hadn’t constructed all that way yet. Why? They added to the sequence of chains reactions as the ball moved. They were never racing against the the speed of the ball somehow, yet the ball moved as fast as possible. The reason they built their conclusions like this – only starting the sequence a bit before constructing the path to point B – was because they didn’t know which way the ball would move. They made room for every possible path to the conclusion. It had to be this way. If they built the path beforehand, it would be unnecessarily complex. There would be too much work and material involved. Building as they went was much more accurate.
ENFJ: He smiled brightly at every person he knew, at every word they said. He knew that by being inviting, he could win them over. He knew that if they just felt comfortable with him, then he and them could be friends. He built the connections like a web, connecting the people he met to himself. The strands of their relationships had silvery sheen when he hooked them together. The hardest part was weaving them to the center, though. How would he do it? Would they even be willing? He hoped that with every smile he could weave them into his center a little easier. He hoped all the support he could give could make the silvery threads stronger.
INFJ: The basket of yarn in her room looked almost out of place, but she was such a quiet person that anything was possible with her. When she found time to herself, she used the yarn to weave intricate pictures of what she wanted in her life. She kept each picture in her closet for future use. She enjoyed listening to her loved ones talk as she wove, for when she wove around others, the colors of her yarn changed. When asked what she would do with all these pictures in her closet, she only shrugged. It wasn’t that she didn’t know what she was doing, – she could see the tapestry in her mind’s eye fine – she was only worried that if she didn’t play to their mood correctly, they wouldn’t give her such beautiful colors.
INTJ: She kept a cold look on her face as she worked. She had a goal to reach, and she couldn’t let anyone stop her. She would twist a bolt here, add some metal there, take out a pipe here. Pieces were added and removed with new information, and with people coming and going from her life. Every step was meant to refine the final picture. She kept the picture tacked on her wall, so that she could see it every time she passed in and out of her workroom. She had few people who could give her so much to work with that she kept them around, but she made a new friend that suddenly gave her so much energy, so much material, so much possibility. And the thought came to her, “Maybe I do need help reaching my goal.”
ISFP: “Every feeling has a color.” She hated the look people gave her when she said that. Those looks pushed her to make her feelings shown, easily palatable, easily understood. When she took those feelings to a canvas, the world made sense. She would take her fear and loneliness and dread, and she would sew it together. She would use her happiness, her love, her pride, to dye cloth and stain pottery. Each shape carefully chosen, each stroke meticulously placed. The people looked upon her work, and they understood. In those moments, she felt the most secure. After that, she labeled the paint buckets in her room with every emotion she could feel.
ISTP: He ground the gears to fit together. He didn’t care if adjustments had to be made, just that it was important for the gear to fit into the machine as soon as possible. It was entirely made of some odd clockwork, and he only knew it worked in pieces. However, when he needed each piece, the machine immediately groaned with life. Little bits of information came to him in the form of wheels he then ground into usable gears. He had gotten to the point were the skill was as natural as his breath. Some wheels he absolutely couldn’t work with, and those were instantly cast aside. But, each gear he finished and placed made him feel a bit more proud of the mind he was constructing.
ESFJ: When he looked at her, he thought of the color blue and the taste of strawberries. He knew that not every word could be blue, and not every look could taste like strawberries. Not everyone liked blue; not everyone liked strawberries. Sometimes, he had to talk in green or beige or white because most people he was talking to liked green and beige and white. Thus far, he knew how to talk in green, beige, white, and everything was difficult because all she wanted to hear was blue. She wanted him only to be like strawberries. But when she smiled, the world turned orange. When she laughed, everything tasted like chocolate. He figured that blue strawberries might not be so bad after all.
ISFJ: When she put the brownies on the table, everyone reached for one. It looked the way it had always looked, the image played out as it always had, and nothing was so soothing as that. Whenever she came to the fork in the road that lead home, the first time she had to follow the map replayed like she was living it all over again. Every time she did laundry, the memory of talking with her mother, folding clothes on a large bed, watching now-old TV shows, played like it was in a movie. She loved replays, reruns, repeats. She had a fear of first times because there was no film in her camera to draw off of. She just had to press “record.”
ESTJ: The design of her “Pros & Cons” pad was her own, since she always made the list the same way: listing the positive and negative traits and outcomes, assigning them a value based on importance, and adding up the points at the end. Her family had seen her many lists, sometimes disappointed by the lists she made about them. She had enough to wall paper her bedroom, her sister’s bedroom, and then some. She liked keeping her past lists, tabbed with the days she referenced them, color-coded by situation. Made decisions easy. She liked when her life followed the path it was supposed to. Which was why it was so odd that she fell in love with a man who embraced alternate universes and chaos with open arms.
