Harajuku style Lolita Ibuki, really?Do you guys seriously want her Lolita-ed out or do you want her in her tank top with short shorts?
I reworded it a bit, cause i just meant this type of clothing, it might not be necesasarily gothic, but predominately black and white which from what i understand is called gothic lolita, here's an example: http://images.google.ca/images?hl=en&rls=com.microsoft:en-ca:IE-SearchBox&rlz=1I7SUNA&resnum=0&q=gothic%20lolita%20harajuku&um=1&ie=UTF-8&sa=N&tab=wi
It would be super challenging. I know there are a lot of people who want the tank and shorts, so don't worry i will figure something out so people are happy!
Its so close, I will check back again tomorrow in the morning when i get to work, so if you want yours to win, then get your friends and gang up on the poll!
ToS: Colette's Wake-Up CallIt was 8:00 in the morning at the local inn that Lloyd Irving and his three friends, Colette Brunel, Kratos Aurion, and Genis Sage, spent the night at. Kratos and Genis were already downstairs getting some free breakfast the inn provided. Lloyd, on the other hand, has been trying to wake up Colette since 7:30.ToS: Colette's Wake-Up Call6 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
"C'mon, Colette! We're gonna miss breakfast!" said Lloyd, but Colette remained asleep, still like a stone.
Lloyd always liked getting breakfast with Colette, since it seemed like it kept him happy to know she was still with him. After he found out that Colette was the Chosen, he wanted to make sure she was safe from harm, especially with those Desians trying to uphold their own unfit laws. It was bad enough he was banished from his own hometown as it was, especially since it was kinda his fault for trying to get inside the Human Ranch to save Genis's grandmother that Iselia burned down in the first place. He had no one else to turn to.
Lloyd rocked Colette back and forth on the b
Suffocate“I didn’t want him,” she says. “I wanted something, something I saw in the eyes of Libby, Sam, Sandi, and Agnes. Something that would have made our new world, our safe world, a home. Children were a part of that world and so I found myself a child. Perhaps, I thought, I would love him and everything would fall into place. Perhaps with a child I could be content with safety, and normality, and a world without knives taped on mop heads.” A cold smile. “I still catch myself thinking that. I still think that maybe tomorrow will be the day where I can fall asleep with the lights on.”Suffocate2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Carmen’s features are stark and cold; like the chiseled lines of Soviet propaganda etched onto an icy street corner. A straight decided nose, high sharp cheekbones, and thin pinched lips. Her eyes are black. We sit together in a small, bare walled, room on a pair of fold up chairs.
I frown. “You mean off?”
“No. I mean on. During the war
Toph -- Blind EyesToph -- Blind Eyes3 years ago in Drama More Like This
Toph was woozy from the tea Katara had forced down her throat. She couldn't feel her face. Which was hilarious.
She choked out a laugh.
"She's awake!" she heard someone cry, and a hand found hers, clutching desperately. "Toph? Can you hear me?"
"Duh," Toph snapped, struggling to sit up. She was forced back down. "Oh, get the hell offa me, The Duke."
"You should lay down," he said, his voice raw. "You were really hurt."
"I'm fine," she snarled, grabbing his wrist and shoving him away. She sat up and instantly regretted it. She felt her stomach lurch up into her throat, and she let The Duke ease her back onto her pillows. "I think I'll just lay down another minute."
"Toph!" Katara's voice. "Finally! Spirits, I was so worried--"
"I'm fine," Toph growled, rolling her eyes. Some pain flashed in her right eye, and she grimaced. "Ugh, that hurts. What's the damage, Sugar Queen?"
Katara's silence dragged out, went from nervous to awkward to annoying. Toph turned her head slightly to glare in h
AnarchyScream the anthem of the anarchist!Anarchy12 years ago in Open More Like This
What is it? Exactly.
I won't tell you; make it up.
Go away. Blow it up.
Burn it down. Deface the town.
But don't give in,
Never -- no.
That's the song we all love so.
Freedom past extremity.
Far away, in my backyard
I own the world; I am a bard.
I wear a beard and shave my head;
All the normals want me dead.
I won't give up; I ramble rave.
You'll never make me behave.
My brother, loser, freak, meek geek
You know-- the beatnick, hippy, punk--
The rock bands my parents debunk--
We treasure what we cannot have:
No allegiance to any flag.
AnathemaWhat is this?Anathema5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
This antagonistic energy ridding me of all accomplishments,
This menacing exertion forcing denial upon me,
Attempting to have me cower before it,
Provoking my mind,
Manipulating my behaviour,
I Dwell on thoughts deliberately secluded from myself.
I am belittled,
Encaged I remain,
I dare not acquire the contentment I deserve.
Proclaiming the rancid factor of my being,
I despise it.
What is this?
This essence creating unbearable misplacement,
This presence advocating unease,
Feeding on my vulnerability,
Awakening my darkest side,
Desperately wanting me to seek refuge.
I am tortured; tormented,
Impossible to escape,
It digs deeper and deeper into my core,
Forever trying to revert what i once was,
I despise it.
What is this?
This level of consciousness conflicting my mind contrary to my will,
This mental state draining one of themselves,
It is exhausting.
Just leave; let me be,
Let me live; I must,
Let me be care free; like children,
Let me believe; in me.
Death Note Seven Minutes in Heaven NearDeath Note Seven Minutes in Heaven Near2 years ago in Romance More Like This
“Peek-a-boo.” Cold blue, claw like hands grasped your shoulders from behind, causing you to gasp. Even though you knew it was Ryuk, you couldn't stop the chill that went down your spine. He let out a quiet chuckle, lifted the basket over your head and placed it on your lap. “It's your turn to play. So stop your shaking.”
“Good grief Ryuk, You're going to give someone a heart attack if you keep doing stupid stuff like that. I almost screamed.” Your embarrassed anger only made Ryuk laugh harder. “Moron.” Trying to ignore Ryuk, you dug into the wicker basket and felt all along the bottom until you came across something small and smooth. It was a pure white puzzle piece, and you knew who it belonged to. “Near, I have your item, come on.” Not wanting to be around Ryuk any longer than you already had, you walked into the closet, sat down and waited for Near to join you.
He appeared in the doorway only seconds after you sat dow
My Point of View"Another Day of my boring and godawful life..." I thought once I woke up... The nightmare didn't help at all and this is just the start of the day. Even through I thought my life was godawful, it was not at all. All I saw in the world was a greyscale dump that's just waiting to rot and eventually die off starting another boring life cycle that takes about another Million years which eventually restarts. Everything I saw was depressing and uncolorfull, just making me depressed or not even effecting me at all. And everytime I see a pony, it all reminds me of how I was an anit-brony, insulting them and saying mean things about them and they all hate me now... The things that started my depression are burnt into my mind, like a scar, that will never escape even if you try to hide it.My Point of View2 years ago in Emotional More Like This
"All my friends get more love and attention then me," I thought, "Why should I get it as well if I make craptastic monstrosities that look like a 4 Year Old's attempt at drawing something that
pediatricianCalifornia sun leaked through the side window, and I say California specifically because there is no sun like the California sun. I leaned my head against the glass, my hair slick with chlorine. The air outside the car was warm and heavy; I found comfort and reliability in the sun's ever-present beams. California has one season, right Bob? I closed my eyes and tuned out the noises in the seat behind me:pediatrician10 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
A seven-year-old puking into a flimsy grocery store plastic bag.
Ah, the joys of summer.
He gave a little whimper, which was almost immediately followed by the wet slap of orange vomit against thin plastic, and I felt my knees wobble a little. I turned up the volume on my music player and concentrated on the thick dust gathering on the windowpane.
My back, bared by my swimsuit and peeling from a sunburn, stuck to the leather seat as I pulled forward a little bit, swallowing back some of my own bile.
Christopher continued to wretch behind me.
My heart went