Greetings beings, I’m (d.n.k)! I write fan-fiction, theories, yandere content, and poetry. Requests are open!
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Mans Greatest Fear
Man’s Greatest Fear
The God of the Sea,
Attracted to beauty is he.
His trident,
Encrusted with shimmering pearls.
The locks of his hair,
Braided with the finest of jewels.
The kingdom he built,
Is a radiant sight to see.
The deceptiveness of colorful anemones.
Schools of fish who dance and part with fluid ease.
The temples carved of gold and marble,
Are strong and study against the water’s breeze.
Hidden inside,
Who knows what could possibly be?
Poseidon grows bored of the picturesque scenery before him,
After all,
He’s known it for all of eternity.
Perhaps on land,
Someplace can be found more captivating.
So onto land Poseidon strolls,
Through mountain ridges,
Deserts,
Lake sides,
And past hills that roll.
The God the Sea has yet to find,
A place more beautiful than his home.
He finds himself within a forest,
With trees whose trunks stretch taller than the Titans.
Perhaps all the way to Olympus.
Poseidon was to be on his way,
Defeated from these last few disappointing days.
Until he heard a song,
A melody sung oh so sweet,
That he began to creep.
Along the vines,
His heart began to beat.
Pass the thorns,
That nipped warningly at his feet.
Over a thrashing river,
That calmed with a wave of his hand.
Before Poseidon,
Was a clearing,
With grass greener than green.
In its center was a temple, solid, stone gray.
The color of Athena.
From within it,
Came the voice,
So enchanting was it,
That he had little choice,
Poseidon soon had concealed himself,
Within the trees.
From the temple,
Emerged a maiden.
Whose beauty put Aphrodite’s to shame,
Whose beauty and song lit Poseidon’s heart aflame!
Her marvelous song ceased,
When her inquisitive eyes laid upon the spot where the man remained unseen.
Hesitantly,
The maiden stepped forward.
Poseidon simply couldn’t believe,
How the curls that cascaded down her back,
Framed her porcelain face perfectly.
How her eyes, a startling blue,
Contrasted with the rose petal hue,
Of her lips.
In was in that moment,
That moment,
Poseidon knew that this,
This maiden was made to be his.
And so that night,
He slithered into the temple.
Whilst the maiden was asleep,
Poseidon couldn’t keep,
His eyes nor hands from roaming,
From curve of her hips,
To those rose petal lips,
Which didn’t willingly grace his own.
Poseidon was not only a king,
But a God!
How dare this maiden tell him no?
Her pleas,
Her screams,
To the gods went unheard,
The man had done the unforgivable.
As a priestess of Athena,
The maiden’s chastity was integral.
Her life and soul had been torn apart,
By the man,
Who now went to Zeus,
The man sought to make her his by marriage.
Athena had arrived,
To her temple,
Defiled by Posideon.
The poor maiden trembled before her goddess.
“I cannot undo the horrible crimes,
Committed by he who wields the triton,
But I can prevent you from forcefully having to rule along beside him.
With snakes for hair,
And eye contact,
Every man who sees you will turn to stone.
This includes the one who wouldn’t accept,
That your answer was no.
With your very touch,
The weapons of man,
Will wither to the floor.
Dear Medusa,
You’ll strike more fear in man’s heart, than any man has ever known.”
-
kittkatt678 liked this · 2 years ago
More Posts from Kittkatt678
The villagers were terrified of the forest,
And all that lied within.
This fear was only ever chorused,
Over a little too much gin.
One,
Trees who told the oldest tales,
Who had driven many mad without fail.
Two,
Water, radiating oh, so bright,
Making cinders of any onlooker’s eyes.
Three,
Grass, soft to the touch,
How it’d lead to your eternal slumber,
And turn you into dust.
Four,
Pine-needled path,
Inhale it,
Which…way was…out…of the forest?
Five,
Acorns, white as a cloud in a crystal sky,
Boiled and leached.
Treats, seemingly sweet,
Before they have you buckling at your feet.
The forest welcomed the local village,
And all whom lied within.
As they say,
There is some truth to every story,
Much to the human-craving forest’s chagrin.
- (d.n.k)
The Dynamics of Peace and War
Ares and Aphrodite,
An unlikely duo,
I know.
How could war caress peace?
With all the bloodshed in tow?
How could peace dance with war?
When the opposition only continues to grow?
In times of war,
There can be peace.
Like when a soldier helps a child to their feet.
To help, to guide, to nurture back to full health.
In times of peace,
There can be war,
Like when colonial ships arrive at a foreign land’s shores.
To betray, to invade, to conquer the lands,
of the people who had extended a helping hand.
Diplomacy isn’t always an option,
Sometimes violence is the only solution.
To defend, to protect,
Violence can be justified.
And so can peace.
To prevent the blood of the innocent from being spilled,
To keep bodies from feeding the grass upon the hills,
War and peace co-exist,
The tides turn and they twist.
Ares and Aphrodite are always in each other’s midst.
Miscellaneous Misfits
Theories & Essays!
Emotional Vulnerability Theory
Art!
Jessi Fanart
Coach Carl’s office was laden with trophies. With gold medals. With accomplishment and triumph. On the walls were framed photos of the many, many teams Carl had had the honor of coaching over the years.
The smiling faces of these children haunted the stout man who sat before him.
“Listen, they’ve well figured out what’s been happening here, Carl.”
Carl gave Terry a pointed stare from his desk. “If you say nothing, they won’t know nothing, now will they? And who’d believe a little kid, anyways?”
Terry raised his arms in mock-defense. “If these parents were any good, they’d ought to at least investigate you. I know I would.”
Carl stood and slammed his hands down on the desk. The look in his eyes was almost predatory as he said, “Terry, don’t you get smart with me. You’d be a whole lot smarter to shut that filthy trap of yours. Unless you’d want me to give the ol’ wife a buzz?”
The man towering over Terry leered, “I’m sure Martha would like nothing more than to confirm her suspicions about your foxy little receptionist...Jenny, wasn’t it?”
Carl had Terry backed into a corner, both metaphorically and physically.
Terry averted his eyes from Carl to the door just out of reach. “Alright, Carl, alright. I’m sorry. I won’t say nothing to nobody.”
A smile stretched unbearably wide across the man’s face. “Good, good. That’s all I needed to clarify. Now, Terry, get out of my office before you’re out of a job and have to pay Martha’s alimony.”
Terry made his exit quick, and shut the door with a slam. If Jenny had been a little quieter, then he’d be able to tell the media about the things Coach Carl did. Without fear of repercussion, of course. During all of those extra youth practices, in the darkest depths of the locker rooms, even in Carl’s own office! If the world knew just how animalistic, how sick this all star coach really was, then, maybe, just maybe, Terry himself would be able to take Carl’s place as head coach.
He could imagine it now: Head Coach Terry!
If only...if only...if only...