1. Why are personality tests so popular? Are people simply curious to see whether the results match what they already know? Or do we not know ourselves? “Describe yourself.” “Write an essay outlining your goals and major personality traits.” These are extremely difficult tasks. I believe that no one truly understands themselves. Human beings run off of a rudimentary image of themselves, based off what they have gathered from other people’s words and reactions to them. Of course, one may realize that they are lazy, or good or bad at a particular task, but these are surface traits, only wispy shadows of the true driving forces hidden deep under the surface. As sentient, curious, progressive beings, we are always trying to dive into the murky depths in search of what makes us tick, what makes us think and reason the way we do, what makes us seek adventure or crave conversation or find peace and solace in an imagined landscape. We want to know what makes us us, and when we face difficulty in finding the answer internally, we turn to the thousands of personality tests freely available online in the hopes that they will provide the answers for which we so desperately seek.

     

  2. Nail File

    Voices file past

    In close succession, planning

    Futures of facelifts,

    Tummy tucks, and

    Fat reductions.

    Dreams of magazine beauty flit by,

    Eager in their desperation, and

    Joined by visions of voice modulations,

    They march on to adulthood.

    Is the world so vicious?

    A group of girls plans a future

    In which not one of them

    Will stay the same.

    They each hold aloft their piece of

    The imagined ideal,

    Wrought by the hands of the make-up artists

    And photo-editing tools

    Of the modern world.

    The messages of body positivity,

    Failing to save the esteem

    Downtrodden continuously by the turning world,

    Are dropped, and different missives

    Proclaiming the flat stomach,

    The perfect smile,

    Are picked up and raised high

    Into the smog-choked sky.

    Is the world so vicious?

     

  3. I have a FictionPress account now! ArcticDragon119

     

  4. The Fall of Edison


    Edison has gained dictatorial control of the city, and it is up to Nikola Tesla to free the people from his electric grasp.

    Read More

     

  5. There was a young man named James

    Who had no interest in kids games

    He made a great plan

    To become a great man

    But overreached love in his daze

     

  6.                 A city.

                    A sprawling, immense city, set against the evening sky, a mass of brick and stone and oil and high copper wires. A world of smoke and greasy food and fading posters proclaiming that Edison Takes Care Of His Own! A landscape of muddy, narrow streets along which Fords and buggies skirt around children and adults alike, each going about their daily business.

                    A narrow side alley. A man slid along the brick wall of a building. His trousers were muddy, his hair slicked down with sweat. He sneaked a look behind him at the more brightly lit street, then slid down to sit on a stray paving stone which had found its way to this dim location. He let out a shuddering breath and ran a hand through his hair. A minute passed, then two, before he brushed off his pants and pushed himself to his feet again. He adjusted his glasses and straightened his jacket, then stepped back out into the street.

                    He made an abrupt right turn and walked briskly along the sidewalk, subtly watching the people around him, taking in faces and checking for sudden movements. He was a wanted man, now.

                    No one quits their job at Edison Electrical without repercussions.

     

  7. Oneshot. Takes place after Gatsby returns to his home after watching Daisy to make sure she is okay. Gatsby wanders through his big, empty home, and his memories take him back to when he and Daisy were together.

     

  8. I now have an account on ao3! I am ArcticDragon

     

  9. If I waltzed
    To the edge of the earth,
    To where the seas stream down
    A cliff of infinity
    Into hot nothingness,
    Would you be
    My dancing partner?

     

  10. Part 1 of Double Duty, a Les Miserables fic with supernatural themes. E/R.

    Read More

     

  11. Wow. Look at all this nonproductivity.

    Have no fear. I am currently working on both a Les Miserables fic and an OFF fic, and hopefully I can finish them soon! Bear with me!

     

  12. Not that. Never that.

     

  13. Imagine how different life would be if

    • you only lived to be thirty
    • you lived to be three hundred

    Society would be so different this is exciting

     

  14. Fishing Boat

     

    It is gray

    Gray skies, gray seas

    Weathered wood rises and falls

    As the tides carry the fishing boat

    Out to sea

    Thin, invisible threads reach out,

    Trying to snare fish in their long tendrils,

    Tendrils of death

    And long, heavy rope,

    Black with the weight of water,

    Flies from the side of the fishing boat

    It plunges under the cold waves

    And lies in wait for its prey,

    Like a spider and its web

    The deck rocks to and fro

    Sheets of rain lash out,

    Pounding the weary fisherman

    Who surround themselves with water and worn wood

    To earn a living

    Finally it is time to head back in

    The tendrils of death retract to their mother,

    And the spider springs

    Endless, squirming fish are hauled up from the gray depths

    And into the fishing boat

    And the bulk of weathered wood

    Makes its way through the gray, watery world

    On its way home

     

  15.                 The lights flicker, and go out, leaving behind thick, soupy darkness. You hold a hand up to your face, but you cannot see it; this darkness is absolute. A slight ringing sounds in your left ear as you strain your eyes to see, strain your ears to hear, strain yourself trying to understand your new, inky surroundings.

                    There is a whoosh of wind, sudden and quick. You whirl around, almost tripping over your own feet as you try to comprehend what is going on.

                    There is hot breath on your ear. You freeze, heart pounding in your chest. A raspy voice, dry, harsh, and quiet, whispers something once, twice. You cannot understand the words. Then a third time, a little louder.

                    Then the fourth time, you understand. A shiver goes through you as the words grate against your very being.

                    “Let me tell you about Homestuck.”