ikazon's avatar
mindful coyote
3.1K Watchers722.8K Page Views658 Deviations
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at night when the sea rushes in to meet the land I climb into the bathtub and make an island of myself
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Desk Birds
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Firebreather
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
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Protocol
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,
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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
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the Kamogawa flows from mountain to ocean— ritual routine like the sun rising and professing my love to you
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Giant
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
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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
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Spotlight

Morning Light
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Reflection Pinkfection
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Valley
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Under the night sky
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Missouri Reverie
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Old Fyrr Tower
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Olomar (First Sliver)
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husk.
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. &#160
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Old haunts
Numb fingers fumble at coppers and a dodgy purple lighter which is unfit for purpose. Giant splodges of stars as if God - in a frolic of youthful exuberance – went wild with a paintbrush. Granite delicately held by shape and contour alone. Slotted together: a melee of ankles, hips, spontaneous larynx. Careless hopes, dreams wide, menthol cigarettes. Thoughts all quiet.
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Joel is Having a Bad Day
(And He Really Needs A Smoke) CHARACTERS: JOEL, male, mid-twenties BILLY, female, late teens to early twenties Lights up on JOEL and BILLY, who are sitting outside on the back porch.  The three or four chairs are mismatched and seem to have been salvaged from the reject pile of a Salvation Army store.  A wooden coffee table hails from an indiscernible decade and holds a glass ashtray with dozens of cigarette butts sticking out of it. JOEL is smoking, trying to ignore BILLY.BILLY You know, you really shouldn't; I heard somewhere that those things can make your teeth turn to mush and your fingers grow all bendy and twis
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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
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The Death of Venus
If there lived in the world a man as rugged and as strong as I, who could forbear with me yet go against, who walked the black woods and the silver hills mostly unafraid-- who savored salt and the lay of fur with fingertips of dirt and weather, whose lips rolled words like smoke, like fog- I would creep into his arms in the prologue of the night, gone sweet with the scent of new-cut hay, alive with the nightjar's call.
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The Courier
     Eirik surveyed the impressive façade of the Temple of Myralo with concern, brow furrowed, fingers worrying the loose leather strap that kept his dagger in its sheath.  It was certainly a pretty building.  Everywhere he looked there was beauty to behold – from the intricately detailed vine-and-leaf patterns carved into the cloud-white exterior, to the elaborate mosaic of Prismeryl, Twin Deity of Beauty dominating the archway above the temple’s entrance.     Hanging next to the ornately wrought gate into the temple’s courtyard was a “Help Wanted” sign.  It, too, was beautiful, written in a light scr
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7.34mm
A simple measurement can make a man lose himself; a blurring, no more than a grainy smudge a scant 7.34mm long this rice-grain, seven weeks old with one hundred and twenty nine heartbeats per minute —all this, from a mere sesame-seed of a heart
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i hope to see you
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Deviant for 10 years
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Found on Newest, Vol. 10
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!
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Classic
Hi everyone! I hope you're all doing well. It's an interesting sort of week when you work from the lobby of a dentist's office, but the boy needed some dental work done so I am here while he's getting that taken care of. Life has an interesting way of putting you in odd places while doing normal things though, doesn't it? It seems like there's a lot of really great music coming out as of late, from all sorts of sources. What are you all listening to? I'm always interested in music recommendations, so if you've got any recent finds to share, drop them my way! Recent Favourites Around the Community
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Found on Newest, Vol. 9
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!
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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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r-lilie's avatar
thank you!!!
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ikazon's avatar

My pleasure, thank you for sharing your work with us! :la:

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gilronan's avatar
gilronan|Professional Traditional Artist
Thank you.
Reply  ·  
ikazon's avatar

No worries! :)

Reply  ·  
Evuie's avatar
Evuie|Hobbyist General Artist
Hi! How are you? :eager:
Reply  ·  
ikazon's avatar
:wave: I'm doing pretty well! Just getting started on my day right now. How are you? :la:
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Evuie's avatar
Evuie|Hobbyist General Artist
That's good!

I''m doing well! :)
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