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mindful coyote
3.1K Watchers724.9K Page Views665 Deviations
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
It had taken him a year to traverse the Desolate Continent, his rucksack getting smaller and smaller as his supplies ran out. He might have been able to get to his destination sooner with help, but he knew he had to make this journey alone. A clear map, a course plotted on paper, anything more concrete than the fleeting memories of the stories he'd been told as a child would have helped. But he had to make do. The world was at an impasse. No one was happy, but no one had an edge, either. His goal was to turn the tide in favor of his people. Of his history. Of the very power they once possessed. When he finally crossed the tundra and could see the skeletal remains of the giant—of the mythical force he'd spent his childhood dreaming of—even his shock that the being had been real couldn't overtake the awe of discovering an entire body. Though he was tired from his travels and exhaustion threatened to kick in, he was calculated. This one was stabbed clean through, both weapons present
between two buildings
between two buildings on Hollywood Boulevard there is an abandoned plot of land where another once stood, and it is the only clear view of the Hollywood sign from the street. the most sought after view in Los Angeles caught, perfectly, in failure
Clandestine Canyon
Unravel the Dusk
Alchemic Relic
Senja 10
Salto Sunrise
Horseshoe Bend
Les Montagnes Hallucinees
2015 Eduard Balust
Mother, eighty-four, took Uncle James for a ride yesterday. Drove her brother to the cemetery To visit Daddy and Mike. After, she called their flowers lovely, Then asked, "Where's Daddy? Where is my Husband?"                      * For the first time in fifteen years I dream of Mike, him driving up In Mother's big Oldsmobile, Then waiting.  We talk, he nods. Now, I realize he has come For Mother.  As the old ones say To take her home.  I go to her Bed, grab her hand.  I'm waking, Mother's hand cooling in mine.                      * April 15, 2009 Today, my little sister and I Will go to select a coffin For Mother.  Eighteen years ago, I
Designn Magazine Contest (Custom Journal Skin)
My planet
to icarus
in the next life you were a phoenix a fiery resurrection songbird of ash & second chances when you flew south for the winter, you made it every time see for you, the universe was an olympic mountain jutting out of the ocean, a temple you would never set foot in an elaborate maze you'd been lost in for too long; the only love you'd ever known was from the coalfire of your father's hands in the dark, they were the most angelic monsters, they were beacons his mind was the gears of a clock that never stopped spinning but the light, the light was a promise to be seen the fire, a dancing enchanter that never leaves the future was an echo on t
my father lived in India
my father is a man of many colors. on the nights when the moon stays asleep, he lotions his palms with pomegranate juice. the sugared blood pools in the creases of his skin, staining it India’s red. sometimes, my father scrubs his hands until they are nothing but flesh & fruit rinds. when he was younger—all skinned knees and pocket knives—he must've slipped on a thousand marbles. my father’s father was a welder who rolled and spun steel into tiny spheres. when he died, my father’s hands became blue and free of pocket knives. to this day, he keeps a bag of marbles on our mantle. from time to time, he s
Colors White Journal Skin ~ Premium
Artist // Literature
  • Deviant 10 years
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My Bio
Hey all, we're currently experiencing some issues with thumbnail and image loading. Our team's working on it at the moment and will hopefully have it fixed up soon!
Don't Start Now
Hey all, hope you're all doing well! How many of you are doing NaNoWriMo this year? I hadn't planned to do it initially, but with some coercing from @Exillior, I ended up committing to trying the first day and seeing how I was feeling. So far, I'm on schedule, I finished yesterday about 450 words ahead and I am looking forward to writing tonight. My goal is to try and get at least a full day ahead, because the previous times I succeeded, I ended up needing that buffer to account for various life things, but so far I've written more than 1,666 each day, so I think as long as I keep to the pace I'm at right now, it's doable. For those of you who are taking part, what are you writing about? And for those of you who aren't taking part, are you doing any art projects (or have you recently done, in the case of those of you who did Inktober!)? I'd love to hear about your art ideas! :la: Recent Favourites Around the Community
Halloween Sketchmatch time! Hop in and take part! https://chat.deviantart.com/chat/communityrelations

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's avatar
Erdbeersternchen Photographer
Thank you so much for your support and the watch! Hug  I hope you will have enough cookies for the rest of the week!
If not, here is one: Teddy 

Ups - the bear must have eaten all my cookies D:
ikazon's avatar
ikazon Writer

That's cute :giggle: And no worries at all, it's my pleasure! Thank you for sharing your work with us! :hug:

bkiani's avatar

Thanks for the fave! :bow:

ikazon's avatar
ikazon Writer

No worries! :la:

ninebark's avatar
ninebarkHobbyist Digital Artist
ikazon's avatar
ikazon Writer

:hug: :heart:

How have you been?

ninebark's avatar
ninebarkHobbyist Digital Artist
Halfassedly hibernating. Waking up a bit now that it's almost time for Critmas again. :lol: 

How have YOU been?