EDIT: Woah 1st time in a very long time i face lag in the forum and double post. Sorry guys. :(
EDIT: Woah 1st time in a very long time i face lag in the forum and double post. Sorry guys. :(
"The Victory is in the Preparation." - Damian Wayne/Batman My Blog
Do you think you can make the picture bigger? I can't really see it![]()
"If you genuinely believe that only the death of a loved one can motivate a human being to take up a cause then get your pathetic, cynical ass out of my way so I can do my job!" ~ Daredevil
Holy #^%$! Scarlet Spider exceeded all my expectations, I'm going to have to drop Detective Comics now.
"Citizen Kane clearly isn't the greatest movie ever made for one simple reason: The Predator wasn't in it."
"If you genuinely believe that only the death of a loved one can motivate a human being to take up a cause then get your pathetic, cynical ass out of my way so I can do my job!" ~ Daredevil
must get ... out of school and go to the comic book store. NOW!!!!
You mean in Ultimate Balfro. I've been helping with the last of registration all day, but it's time to get off and go to the book store. A comic book store, if you know what I meanBTW did you see the preview I posted? Issue is "released" tomorrow!![]()
Any scientist who isn't willing to kill for science isn't really a scientist at all.
I did indeed.
Cap and Bucky is Dead, Long Live Cap and Hawkeye
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Last edited by wyokid; 01-11-2012 at 02:00 PM.
"If you genuinely believe that only the death of a loved one can motivate a human being to take up a cause then get your pathetic, cynical ass out of my way so I can do my job!" ~ Daredevil
In Corona, California there once was a road known by most locals as the Never Ending Road. Specifically, the road’s true name was Lester Road. Now, over twenty years later, the landscape of Corona has changed, and the Never Ending Road is no more. However, years ago, Lester Road was an unlit road that people claimed became a never ending road when driven at night. The people who made such a drive were never seen from again.
The legend became so well-known that people refused to even drive Lester Road during the day. Perpetuation of the legend convinced local law enforcement to investigate. Lester Road took a sharp left turn at its end, and there were no guard rails. Beyond the curve lay a canyon, and on the other side of the canyon was another road that lined up so well with Lester Road that when viewed from the correct angle, especially at night, the canyon vanished from sight, and the road seemed to continue on up and over the hill on the other side of the canyon. Upon investigation of the canyon, dozens of cars were found, fallen to their doom, with the decomposing bodies of the victims still strapped to their seats.
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"Citizen Kane clearly isn't the greatest movie ever made for one simple reason: The Predator wasn't in it."
I didn't write this but...
Man Overboard
by Winston Churchill
(Yes THAT Winston Churchill)
It was a little after half-past nine when the man fell overboard. The mail steamer was hurrying through the Red Sea in the hope of making up the time which the currents of the Indian Ocean had stolen.
The night was clear, though the moon was hidden behind clouds. The warm air was laden with moisture. The still surface of the waters was only broken by the movement of the great ship, from whose quarter the long, slanting undulations struck out like the feathers from an arrow shaft, and in whose wake the froth and air bubbles churned up by the propeller trailed in a narrowing line to the darkness of the horizon.
There was a concert on board. All the passengers were glad to break the monotony of the voyage and gathered around the piano in the companion-house. The decks were deserted. The man had been listening to the music and joining in the songs, but the room was hot and he came out to smoke a cigarette and enjoy a breath of the wind which the speedy passage of the liner created. It was the only wind in the Red Sea that night.
The accommodation-ladder had not been unshipped since leaving Aden and the man walked out on to the platform, as on to a balcony. He leaned his back against the rail and blew a puff of smoke into the air reflectively. The piano struck up a lively tune and a voice began to sing the first verse of "The Rowdy Dowdy Boys." The measured pulsations of the screw were a subdued but additional accompaniment.
The man knew the song, it had been the rage at all the music halls when he had started for India seven years before. It reminded him of the brilliant and busy streets he had not seen for so long, but was soon to see again. He was just going to join in the chorus when the railing, which had been insecurely fastened, gave way suddenly with a snap and he fell backwards into the warm water of the sea amid a great splash.
For a moment he was physically too much astonished to think. Then he realized he must shout. He began to do this even before he rose to the surface. He achieved a hoarse, inarticulate, half-choked scream. A startled brain suggested the word, "Help!" and he bawled this out lustily and with frantic effort six or seven times without stopping. Then he listened.
"Hi! hi! clear the way
For the Rowdy Dowdy Boys."
The chorus floated back to him across the smooth water for the ship had already completely passed by. And as he heard the music, a long stab of terror drove through his heart. The possibility that he would not be picked up dawned for the first time on his consciousness. The chorus started again:
"Then--I--say--boys,
Who's for a jolly spree?
Rum--tum--tiddley--um,
Who'll have a drink with me?"
"Help! Help! Help!" shrieked the man, now in desperate fear.
"Fond of a glass now and then,
Fond of a row or noise;
Hi! hi! clear the way
For the Rowdy Dowdy Boys!"
The last words drawled out fainter and fainter. The vessel was steaming fast. The beginning of the second verse was confused and broken by the ever-growing distance. The dark outline of the great hull was getting blurred. The stern light dwindled.
Then he set out to swim after it with furious energy, pausing every dozen strokes to shout long wild shouts. The disturbed waters of the sea began to settle again to their rest and widening undulations became ripples. The aerated confusion of the screw fizzed itself upwards and out. The noise of motion and the sounds of life and music died away.
The liner was but a single fading light on the blackness of the waters and a dark shadow against the paler sky.
At length full realization came to the man and he stopped swimming. He was alone -- abandoned. With the understanding the brain reeled. He began again to swim, only now instead of shouting he prayed -- mad, incoherent prayers, the words stumbling into one another.
Suddenly a distant light seemed to flicker and brighten.
A surge of joy and hope rushed through his mind. They were going to stop -- to turn the ship and come back. And with the hope came gratitude. His prayer was answered. Broken words of thanksgiving rose to his lips. He stopped and stared after the light -- his soul in his eyes. As he watched it, it grew gradually but steadily smaller. Then the man knew that his fate was certain. Despair succeeded hope; gratitude gave place to curses. Beating the water with his arms, he raved impotently. Foul oaths burst from him, as broken as his prayers -- and as unheeded.
The fit of passion passed, hurried by increasing fatigue. He became silent -- silent as was the sea, for even the ripples were subsiding into the glassy smoothness of the surface. He swam on mechanically along the track of the ship, sobbing quietly to himself in the misery of fear. And the stern light became a tiny speck, yellower but scarcely bigger than some of the stars, which here and there shone between the clouds.
Nearly twenty minutes passed and the man's fatigue began to change to exhaustion. The overpowering sense of the inevitable pressed upon him. With the weariness came a strange comfort -- he need not swim all the long way to Suez. There was another course. He would die. He would resign his existence since he was thus abandoned. He threw up his hands impulsively and sank.
Down, down he went through the warm water. The physical death took hold of him and he began to drown. The pain of that savage grip recalled his anger. He fought with it furiously. Striking out with arms and legs he sought to get back to the air. It was a hard struggle, but he escaped victorious and gasping to the surface. Despair awaited him. Feebly splashing with his hands, he moaned in bitter misery:
"I can't -- I must. O God! Let me die."
The moon, then in her third quarter, pushed out from behind the concealing clouds and shed a pale, soft glitter upon the sea. Upright in the water, fifty yards away, was a black triangular object. It was a fin. It approached him slowly.
His last appeal had been heard.
Last edited by wyokid; 01-11-2012 at 02:34 PM.
"If you genuinely believe that only the death of a loved one can motivate a human being to take up a cause then get your pathetic, cynical ass out of my way so I can do my job!" ~ Daredevil
Who drew the cover of Ms. Marvel and Rouge? I love that style of art and it looks amazing.
I think you all post pictures way to big and way to many.
And yes I am a grump wanna fight about it?
I agree it's making me a little dissapointed but I still love the costume.
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