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mindful coyote
3.2K Watchers725.8K Page Views671 Deviations
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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,"
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better
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
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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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Spotlight

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Inspire.

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GoSection555X
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SP - Evening Shaman
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Vinicunca Peru
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Nature paints the new day.
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The Edge of the World
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Sky Habitat 23
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Prophecy
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The Pisces Journey
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Winter door
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Levitation
Observe. This is how women walk away. In broken heels and secondhand jackets, cigarette smoke in their hair and no kiss goodbye. Do not mock. It is what it should be. A girl in a car, hanging a u-turn on a glistening, empty street. Her body is a road to be traveled. A shipwreck to be plundered. She does not know how she got here, and she does not care. And it does not matter. This is how women smile. Knowing, secretive, though her cheeks are sore. Though the wind is blowing right through her clothes. Though there is no good music on the radio, and no food in the refrigerator. This is just an impression. An idea of nir
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how lilies weep
obstacles are a kind of faith,  bleeding through intention as if through some amorphous skin, red silk, a bruised clock  covered in  veins and cloaked with skin, timed to burst. i am nothing if i am not a dream of yours, waking from the geometric light of my window into a shimmering cup, poured full of your words my hips dripping their tiny mechanisms, whirring impatiently my mouth made raw, swirling in incense, growing new teeth, finding ulcers to bleed through. i drip and cough and sleep and bleed and hope that i am strong enough for someone like you. i am taped and bandaged and covered up
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Riding Bikes
Going off medication is like riding a bike. The doctor holds tight to my handlebars and lowers my dosage. The training wheels are off, and oh hey, look at me go! It's like flying but not, and I'm doing so well but then there's a horrible accident and I'm somehow upside down at the bottom of the sea with both wheels still spinning. "Help," I say, and my doctor pats my head, puts a band-aid on my knee, and writes a note on my chart. I've balanced by myself for months at a time, but I always end up hitting a fucking tree or falling off a cliff or something equally catastrophic because I am a catastrophic person. Except that is an exaggeration
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S
Splinter helix
EMBRYO a derelict building shifts its swollen form wire cage elevators moving carefully as it swallows nestled in a womb of fragile concrete fibres the child of paint and pastel colours stirs searching blindly for that energetic outside world it stretches its delicate arms like an earthquake SAPLING Tell me where you come from, what you remember of the black ground. Talk in riddles only your kind understands, talk in flowers, talk in thorny branches. You crack the foundations in starlike patterns, and you stretch the heart of you for the concrete above, longing to carry the sky as a bed for the Sun. GENERATION the twisting fles
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My Other Name
My Other Name Sometimes it is to set out forks           beside each plate,                                       or folding shirts first,                         dryer hot in the A.M.                                half-dark. Less often, thirsty from cutting trees    back away from the roof edge,                                                      gutters clean.                           Today, the dishes of breakfast clean,                                           draining, I             angle each blind against the sun, sit then in the small cool             room,                       feet flat upon the morning
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l'hiver.
(you can't tell the birds and the snow apart in the sky: the grand church of dizzying space - ) and the trees are yellowed in cowardice, raking the sky to the ground and around and around. listen to your organs: the almost grand piano of the churches i'd never attend. and never mistake the courage of the sky for the cowardice of the ground. never frown, never frown. listen to your palms: the salty swing of the old snow burning up on silk and splendor. and visit the dying snow birds in their graves of the ground, and they drown and drown. (you can't tell the birds and the snow apart in the sky: a grand church of dizzying space w
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a memory
I remembered the afternoon I called you, curled on my bed with someone's good book in my palm, nestled softly in the waning light and under my gently roaming fingers the baby moved – not to my hand-touch, but inside, an insistent flutter, not like the swiftly beating heart on the doctor's monitor, not like the slow appearance of a plus-sign on a drugstore test. I called you, my gently rolling daughter's mother's mother. I called you like the woman standing at my back while I held the kite string on a pushy spring day, the diagonal shape so far above us I could only feel the jerk of the cord around my fingers, holding us t
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Into a Congo
Shocks rippled south realmed a loss and screened a track stacks strung low and around again She wanted the feeling of mica between her teeth like lashes on a chiseled tree totaled through and ruffled down up and around again Court and run south and sandalwood wrecked a home, she sat still her knees knit together unraveled over and into raw skin, over and into she bloomed her hair into a Congo It peeled like rose petals beneath her feet a sheet strung high and low and around again She said tell me why, but her fingers curled around your head, around your neck, slowly and then her shoulders                        loosened
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Artist // Literature
  • Deviant for 10 years
Badges
Show Your Heart: Participated in DeviantArt's 2019 Valentine's Day celebrations
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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.

Found on Newest, Vol. 14
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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Moth
Last year in music felt like the year of the album. I made a journal toward the end of last year featuring some of my favorites from 2018, and I remember struggling to fit them all in. This year felt very different. I actually don't know that I could name many albums from this year that felt like coherent standouts to me. Nearly every full-length album I listened to had one or a few songs that just didn't seem to fit, in one way or another. There were still a few standouts of course, but I feel like in the wake of my general feeling about albums this year, it'd be good to focus on the songs I particularly loved this year instead. So, here we go! Sakanaction - Moth This one is a standout off of one of the few albums released this year that I DID feel strongly in favor of from start to finish. An upbeat, frenzy-driven track early on in the album, Moth is set in between two of the best singles released by the band before the album came out, which is always a dangerous place for a
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Found on Newest, Vol. 13
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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Thank you for the +fav's
ikazon Writer

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

FhoenoxHobbyist
I keep thinking your profile picture is Rintarou Okabe.
ikazon Writer

Ah, nope, haha. I've never watched Steins;Gate, I'm afraid!

t h a n k . y o u . f o r . t h e . n e w . f a v e s . a n d . c o m m e n t s . =)
ikazon Writer

No worries at all :la: