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mindful coyote
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serenity: koi pond reflecting the stars and the brightest fish swimming among them
Stupid Powers: On Fire
Mohawked Individual Saves Nation's Economy Using Flaming Sneeze Power NEW YORK (AP) — Wall Street is reporting an unexpected boom today, with stock values of nearly every company on the Dow showing a drastic spike upward as the stock market came to a close Monday. Insiders and economic experts say that the cause of the sudden rise is a punk in Queens with the power to sneeze fire. Nathan Caulfield, a Clifton, New Jersey native sporting a spiked leather-clad jacket and a mohawk almost as tall as the head it sits on, says he was grabbing lunch with a friend when it happened. He was about to bite into a hot dog when he felt the sneeze coming on, and he didn't have enough time to turn his head away. The next thing he knew, his hot dog had an excellent char to it. As with all news in New York, talk of the flaming sneeze traveled fast, and in under an hour it reached the front steps of 11 Wall Street before it then quickly traveled inside. "It's the best news we could have hoped for,"
Six years ago, I stood at the coast, sand settled between my toes more strongly than I was to the earth around me, wondering when things would get better— better, like bathing daily, buying groceries instead of not eating, sleeping for more than two hours at a time and waking up better, like pool swimming, skimming the surface with a hand to save a beetle that landed and wondered if things would get better, like toes settled in sand at the beach, the Pacific reaching onward, outward, endless— and I wonder now how many times things got better while I wasn't looking
at night when the sea rushes in to meet the land I climb into the bathtub and make an island of myself
Desk Birds
When the beams finally gave way and the attic collapsed into the cloud of smoke that had threatened to billow through the roof, his eyes blazed the same orange-red that peeked through the smoke. He stared at it from the cover of a bush across the field behind the house, unmoving as it collapsed in on itself, bit by bit, board by board. Even as the last embers caught on the evening breeze before the fire ran out of things to burn, he remained, unmoving. When the last haze of light crept away over the horizon, he ran, eyes held shut until he cleared the first few trees that marked the edge of the forest. As he passed more trees—from memory, from practice—he slowly let his eyes creep open, the blazing orange-red illuminating the floor of dark forest in front of him as he ran. His guardians had taught him this. They’d practiced it over and over again, in case the day ever came. He was to run and not look back, to travel by darkness until he reached the bunker at the base of the far
It was far from the first time a dreamhopper tried to escape, and Dr. Markus Albrecht knew it would be far from the last. Hell, Reik had done it at least four times since discovering he could, and once his time in solitary was up, there was no doubt he’d do it again. The problem wasn’t that the dreamhoppers could bounce between dreams and potentially escape; every leap from one dream to the next left a trail of sorts, lingering magic that would lead to the next dream, and so on. No, the problem was more complex, and was one he should’ve expected that Belcott had figured out already. Once a dreaming person was pulled from their dream back into the waking world, their dreamscape would exist only in their subconscious, and it became much more difficult to find any trail to follow in the first place. “Sir, Reik has been locked down in simulated dream space. They recommend giving him about 6 hours to make sure his consciousness is still all there before speaking with him.” Markus sighed,
A Simple Task
It was supposed to be a simple task. Deliver the pouch to the old lady who lived in the house up the hill, get paid, then be on her merry way. As soon as she arrived and saw that the front door of the dilapidated manor was wide open, hanging on one barely attached hinge, she took her phone out of her pocket and called him back. When it went to the man’s answering machine, she said in no uncertain terms that the pay rate would be double the original quote. Once sure the message had been left, she stepped inside the house, braced for something far less than simple. Upon seeing the remains of the old lady on the dining room table, carved out in a way that could only be described as grotesque, she called him back again, this time demanding triple the original quote. He still didn’t answer, so as she climbed the stairs to the second floor landing, she sent him a text as well. After she killed the first hired gun on the second floor, she called him once more, this time stating that she
the Kamogawa flows from mountain to ocean— ritual routine like the sun rising and professing my love to you




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Light Desert
Pinket Moon
Stop Suppressing Your Magic
Upsidedown Landscape
Lush World
Hunters - Hub Station
At Dreams Edge iii
Distant Dreams
The Clocksmith Chapter One
 The sun was not yet up, though the sky had turned the colorless hue that heralds sunrise.  The tops of trees still budding could be seen as stark shadows against the sky, a testament to the light that would soon return to the world.  From somewhere in the predawn fog, the forlorn sound of a train echoed into the dark station.  Gradually, the rhythmic chugging of the engine's wheels became more audible, and the large iron beast came into view.  The train came to rest in the station, steam blowing out of its smokestack. "Pine Harbor!" the conductor shouted drearily, half-expecting no one to get off.
Inferno's Touch -0-
Prologue "You are putting yourself in danger." A metal door screeched in strain as a slim-fingered hand pushed it open. Sunlight streamed through the fluffy white clouds as a human form stepped onto the roof. The young woman walked forward, remnants of snowy patches crunching beneath her grey and purple sneakers. Squinting at the light, she moved to a nearby ladder and clung to it. Chills raked her body, igniting where her skin met the frosty metal. Arriving at the top of the small overhang, the woman kneeled at the edge; the undisturbed snow clung to her jeans. Crisp winter air nipped at her cheeks and fingertips, furthering the cold that
Tully and I each slump into a wooden rocker and kick off our muddy boots.  I flick my glowing plait over my shoulder, sigh at the task at hand.  Aunt Mona had, moments before, wrangled us inside only to send us to the front porch to shuck dinner's corn. "'s'lot of corn," I say, gazing beyond the bucket to the open fields, and then further, to the trees at the start of the thicket.  I think of the watermelon, half carved in the kitchen, wipe the sweat from my brow, "'s'lot of sun." Tully picks up a piece of corn, runs one finger along the corn silk sticking out of the top, then rubs it under her chin.  
The Broken Wall
Milo woke up one morning in a different bed than the one he had gone to sleep in. Even so, the bed he was in now was still his own. He looked up at the ceiling and saw patterns there that he had never seen before and yet he knew they would be there. Sunlight slanted through the window in a line different from what he had expected. He spent the rest of the late morning wandering through the house. It was full of knick-knacks from places he was sure he had been. Every thing that he found there was his. Every thing that he found there was new to him. In a daze, he sat down at the kitchen table. His mind was running, but it was buzzing, too. He
i hope to see you
list for ninth october
1) your lover is dead and you burn the eggs. grease streaks the stove. you sit, stand, switch off the burner. sit. the birds chirp. sit. 2) your lover is dead and the birds are hungry: the blue-jay funereal blue, mockingbird sick ocean grey. you shore yourself against the bare mattress, empty mason jars, your mother's phone calls, bestsellers commended by desk receptionists. the author's name dwarfs the title, that means it's good. that means it's popular. you spill tea and soak its pages and sit. sit. 3) your lover is dead and the tea is cold. the leaves have settled in rorschach patterns. the tea
Minotaur 1.1
Death's acrid stench clung to the air around Varan. The sickly rot of infection bubbled up, oozing from his shoulder. There was nothing he could do chained to the stone wall with a guard at the door. Arrow splinters trapped in his flesh were killing him slowly. His death should have been swift on the battlefield, but instead he was ambushed while he bathed. He'd cut down seven men before the poisoned arrow made him too weak to lift his ax. The poison wasn't lethal, unfortunately. Its purpose was to render him unconscious for interrogation. His sire, the famous Conqueror of Brundan, must be laughing from the afterlife. Even shame failed to g
Wild Hunt :: Longma
Like any good story, this one does not begin where it began. It does, however, begin where it ends—at a funeral. The village was not particularly big. Rather, it was frightfully small, and just as frightfully remote. That said, it was little surprise that every denizen turned out for something so important as the funeral of a good man. —and it truly was each and every one: every man, woman, and child; every son, brother, and father; every maiden, mother, and crone. It was said even the dogs followed at the heels of their masters, even the songbirds gathered in the trees, and the livestock unable to free themselves from their pens
Artist // Literature
  • Deviant for 10 years
Show Your Heart: Participated in DeviantArt's 2019 Valentine's Day celebrations
Khush: Participated in April Fools' Day 2019
30 Days of Pride: Participated in Pride Month 2019
Bunny the Red Panda: Helped defeat ten djinn with Ari Banks and Bunny
Birthday '19: Celebrated DeviantArt's 19th birthday
My Bio

Hi there! I'm a storyteller of sorts, and a Community Moderator here on DeviantArt! Feel free to say hi, and if you need help with something, send me a note and I'll be happy to help as much as I can.

It's always hard to hear about someone passing, but especially so when it's a name you know and have thoughts and memories attached to. Waking up this morning to the news that @Qinni had passed away was hard. I met her once in person years ago, and she was warm and kind even then to a total stranger. Following her progression, even with her health troubles, it felt like she never gave up and always kept that warmth and good humor, even as the odds were continuously against her. I found out from Twitter, and while that's never how you want to learn news like this, the one thing I can say in favor of it is that it really put into perspective how many people she impacted in big, meaningful, inspiring ways—so much so in fact that at the moment her name is trending worldwide. It's not the reason I'd want for it at all, but knowing that she alone made such a mark on so many people around the world...it doesn't make the grief any easier, but it at least means a lot to know how loved and
Found on Newest, Vol. 15
One of the most polarizing things about the Newest page is that there's no filter, and that it's literally just deviations right as they're submitted. The bright side to browsing Newest is that you have the chance to run into a variety of good art of...well, anything and everything, really! So, here are some more great works that I've found while browsing Newest!
Comme Des Garcons
Hi all! Been a bit since my last journal, but I've been around and busy here still, I promise! Personal life has been pretty calm, but also exciting and weird in that now I am planning a wedding—exciting because planning a wedding is exciting, but weird in that I didn't think I'd ever have a wedding myself. :lmao: Buying a ring to propose to someone else with was tricky enough, but no one told me that I'd then also have to help my fiance pick out a ring for me, which has proven infinitely more difficult :laughing: Outside of that, I've been trying to get back to cooking and baking at home more, which thus far has been successful. I'm making myself buy different groceries every week so I make new recipes, in the hope that I cook more while also stop myself from getting bored of leftovers and defaulting to eating out because of it. How are you all doing? Recent Favourites Around the Community

Deviousness Award

A deviant for nine years, ikazon is a monumentally influential member of DeviantArt. A champion of DeviantArt’s literature community, he’s contributed his own writing and journal skins to the community since he first joined DeviantArt. In 2011, ikazon became a Community Volunteer, shining a light on undiscovered pieces in both the DeviantArt related and literature galleries. His dedication to the community quickly made him a beloved figure on DeviantArt. Soon after, in 2012, he was hired as a full-time staff member, where he ran multiple community projects, such as the 2014 and 2015 Valentine’s Day Exchange!

However, ikazon’s contributions to the community extended past his time as a community volunteer and a staff member. From contributing journal skins to the CalendarProject to leaving encouraging comments for his fellow community members, ikazon’s supporting presence has been felt all across DeviantArt.

We’re proud to name ikazon as the Deviousness Award recipient for March 2016!
Awarded Mar 2016

This is my box to test things.



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Erdbeersternchen Photographer
Thanks a lot for the support you gave me!

I wish you a happy week! :bug:
ikazon Writer

No worries, and same to you! :la:

t h a n k . y o u . o n c e . m o r e . :blush:
ikazon Writer

No worries at all, of course :hug:

KizukiTamuraProfessional Photographer
:thanks: :aww: