WELCOME TO THE BIGGEST IB COMMUNITY ON DEVIANTART!
WELCOME TO THE BIGGEST IB COMMUNITY ON DEVIANTART!
Meet the ParentsGarry nervously fidgeted with his jacket, wondering if he should take it off or not. He glance sideways at his reflection in a store's window to assess himself before he started to mess with his hair and jacket again. It was almost August, and it was too humid out for the heavy article of clothing, but Garry couldn't stop himself from wearing it. It seemed to fit that he would wear it on that particular day.Meet the Parents by TheEchoingSoul
In exactly fifteen minutes and twenty-seven seconds, Garry would meet Ib's parents. He had exchanged numbers with Ib nearly a month beforehand. It was earlier that week that she had finally called, asking him to come over to meet her parents so that they could freely hang out and eat macaroons like he promised. Her father had talked with him and set up the date and time that worked for both of them, which was Friday at noon. Garry would have lunch with them and then they would go from there. All week Garry had waited for Friday, and now that it was finally here, he was freaked out
Ib Ficlet-Blue DollNote: To get the full feel, play [Ib] "Memory" - Ib's theme extended (Title music long version) while reading.Ib Ficlet-Blue Doll by TheEchoingSoul
The tiny blue doll scampered down the hall, giggling to itself. It was in search of Mary, but had yet to find the blonde girl who loved him so. He always felt happy with the girl, and he has so many friends that love to be around him! He should be happy, but he isn't.
Why, even though he just wants to be friends, do visitors always find him scary? Why do they kick him and push him away? He just wants to be friends, to be happy, to laugh, and have fun. Mary and him had read the book on making friends together and it said that he should be nice and open up many opportunities for interaction, which he does!
The little blue doll couldn't really talk, his voice normally scares the visitors, so he writes on the walls. That way they wouldn't find him as scary! But why wasn't it working? He just wanted to play. All of the others wanted the same thing, but everyone always runs away or
White Roses Chapter 20"Art doesn't have to be pretty. It has to be meaningful."White Roses Chapter 20 by TheEchoingSoul
Golden spheres bound together, strung in rows. They bleed and glow, like sparkling snow caressed lovingly by flares and rays. Once the world dims, an aching loss of guidance and light, do they replace the beaten path, opening ways not sought, for they create the winding road, a twisting journey around the brush of that which is unknown.
Golden lights lead the way, testimonies of guidance long forgot, for the longest path is the best path, without a shortcut to get lost.
The sun was close to setting as Ib and Garry made their way back to the game stall they had seen earlier. They walked close to each other, their arms brushing, and each had the want to hold the other's hand, but were too shy to instigate the act.
All around them people bustled and talked, couples held hands and exchanged touch, and small children clung to their parents, watching the crowd flow with curiosity. Everyone seemed to be part of a large ri
Together ForNEVERIb rubbed her eyes. What was I doing? she thought. Suddenly, she remembered how she had left her family to see the exhibition in peace.Together ForNEVER by IbFan0111
Ib turned away from the painting. She felt strange. It was almost as if she'd been walking forever. She was dehydrated, for her tongue felt like sandpaper. In fact, she thought she was crying earlier.
"How does it feel to be alone?" a familiar voice called out. "Abandoned? You deserve this for how rudely you treated me!"
Ib identified the voice as her sister Mary's. Ib turned a little and saw Mary staring at a painting. A scowl was spread on her face.
"Mary?" Ib asked. "Why are you talking to a painting?"
Mary looked shocked to see Ib. "Ib!" she exclaimed. "There you are!"
Ib stared at the painting Mary was "talking" to. It was of a man collapsed on the ground. He looked sleepy. "I think I've seen this man before. I wonder-"
Mary cut Ib off. "Mom sent me to look for you. I'm getting hungry. Dad said me might go to a café later! D
Garry x Male Reader - Chapter 8Garry x Male Reader - Chapter 8 by JellyfishWriter
The next room that the trio entered was filled with walls that nearly reached the ceiling making it seem like a maze. A sign that was resting on the wall in front of the three merely had the word, “Labyrinth” printed on it.
“Stay close to me.” Garry muttered, gripping Ib’s hand in the hand that wasn’t still latched onto (Male Name)’s.
Creeping behind one of the walls, Garry slowly looked around the corner and a sharp gasp escaped his lips.
“Garry what’s-“ (Male Name) tried to ask the purplenette what was wrong before being abruptly silenced by Garry dragging them out of the room.
“Hey, Garry! What did you see?” (Male Name) once again asked the taller man but received no response. Instead Garry sent the (hair colour) a sharp look before opening his mouth.
“You two, stay here.”
Before either Ib or (Male Name) could protest Garry had slipped back into the room that they had just entered. Not wishing to lea
Ib OC - Fallen world of roses Pt3 (last part)Ada woke with a jolt. She turned her head in shock to the empty bed next to her. A stabbed mannequin head lay on the table and the door was swung slightly open. Everyone else seemed to have gone and the room was shrouded in early morning darkness. "Mary?" Ada whimpered. "Please tell me this is just a stupid joke..." She picked up a torch and clicked it on, but no light came out. "Out of battery! NO!" The young teen yelled, throwing the torch against the wall. She ran out of the room and down the corridor where they had seen the Lady In Red. "someone could get hurt out here!" Ada whispered worriedly to herself, creeping silently as her skirt swished in a strange gentle breeze. She seemed all alone; it was like nobody had ever been with her.Ib OC - Fallen world of roses Pt3 (last part) by adorablevocaloids
As Ada walked past the Lady In Red, she heard someone whisper her name, but when she turned to look at the painting the Lady In Red was doing nothing. She reached out and touched the painting. It felt rough and flat like...well, paint. Had the Red La
White Roses Chapter 21 Part 1/2“It is not the language of painters but the language of nature which one should listen to, the feeling for the things themselves, for reality, is more important than the feeling for pictures."- Vincent Van GoghWhite Roses Chapter 21 Part 1/2 by TheEchoingSoul
Aphotic neon sable blue and purple briar weaves through ebon creases and grooves. A flash of sincerity touches but a moment at the pools; it is done away with fragmentation and internal strife. The frail existence of admiration and acceptance is abandoned for torment and damned phantasmatic gore.
Tribulation befalls them! This poor soul cast away from deliverance, stripped of hearth, tainted by man, and the psychosis of sins!
They were speechless at the abrupt removal of Soaru, no sounds daring to escape from their suddenly dry throats. Their eyes were drawn from the alley, where the man had disappeared, to the single eye of the ghastly girl that stood before them. Her gaze was unwavering and her large, grotesque smile was still bright and only seemed to
White Roses Chapter 21 Part 2/2The grass rustled, the somber song lost on the reticent witnesses of a nightmare, but it does not break the awed ambiance – the silent storm.White Roses Chapter 21 Part 2/2 by TheEchoingSoul
The trenches of poignant trepidation did not lessen the shock or the sinking realization that Ib was no longer there – she had been swallowed by the chasm. The image of Cycloptic Smile strangling and casting her aside was burned into their retinas and would surely fuel many nightmares to come.
Ire burned to life as the shock subsided, but Amelia’s hot tears and pained yelling ebbed into harsh crying. Her shaky legs couldn't support her weight and she dropped to her knees, but her hand still reached out though only air passed through her empty fingers. She felt fear and devastation grip her heart, but also a burning anger to destroy the smiling painting before her.
Cycloptic Smile stared at her, the spotless smile never waning despite her acts of violence. That single haggard eye remained wide and w
I've Lost Her (Ib Fanfiction)He pulled apart another one today. She would have to remember to pick another one up before she left for work, otherwise he would destroy her pillows again.I've Lost Her (Ib Fanfiction) by LissyWrites
She picked up piece after piece of rag doll: the button mouth, a piece of raggedy hair, and fragment of dress. She loyally picked up every piece, the same way she had done since the diagnosis. Then she heard him.
"Where is she? Where is she?"
She followed the voice to their bedroom, and there he was, on the floor, running his hands up and down the floorboard as if something might magically materialize if he just rubbed hard enough. It pained her to see him now when she could still see him so clearly before.
The fading purple mane, now a sickly gray color, and even his eyes were stained gray with cataracts he refused to admit were there. Doctors said it didn't matter. He didn't have much time left anyway. It wasn't "worth the trouble."
Oh, but if only they knew how much he was worth to her.
She walked over to her side of the bed and
White Roses Ch.19"The reason that art (writing, engaging, and all of it) is valuable is precisely why I can't tell you how to do it. If there were a map, there'd be no art, because art is the act of navigating without a map."White Roses Ch.19 by TheEchoingSoul
Discombobulating misinterpretations of mirthful misery juxtaposing webs of intricate lies with lace veils of truthful wedges. All in wrapped within the folds, a deceit or truth more questionable than the line that separates them. Where do they lead, who is the liar, who is to be followed?
Once, there was black and white, a lovely monochrome lie. It kept order and stability for the brainless, but the course of life is full of indecisiveness and in-betweens, where strict policy is outdated. Gray scale, the third party of in-betweens, was created, as nothing is black nor white.
For everything is a mere dream of make-believe and inevitability.
Ms. Creo walked down the corridor with purpose; hunting for the anomaly that she knew was present and one red-eyed teenager who she
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