Halo 3 GuideConcerning SnipingHalo 3 Guide7 years ago in General Non-Fiction More Like This
In any case of sniping, the easiest way to actually snipe is to set the controller sensitivity down on default (3) and learn to aim explicitly for the head. When you aim for someones head, you want to see their head disappear behind the little pinpoint crosshair. For beginners, the easiest thing to aim for is a shoulder or the chest area. Either can kill a player and if youre lucky, youll get a headshot regardless. If you zoom out by accident, dont fear. Chances are, unless theres another sniper nearby from the other team, you have the chance to get the second shot. Repeat the process or go for a no scope if you havent jerked the sniper rifle from where you were aiming. You only have the chance for two shots on any good game before you might be sniped out of your hiding spot or before you have to move to a new one.
Dont panic, secondly, if you panic, youll start moving too fast for the sensitivity and youll
Time to Drink UpTime to Drink Up4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Rachel and her boyfriend, Firingwall, were sitting down on the couch, watching a little TV. She was resting her head on his right shoulder and leaning against him, happy as can be. He, on the other hand, was focusing more on the TV than her. She sighed contently and said, "Isn't it nice to have a day off?"
"Definitely," he said staring ahead, "Especially now that my summer class on Friday finally ended."
She frowned and inched closer, pressing her chest against his arm, "You know why don't we turn on Netflix and find ourselves a romantic movie? Something sweet."
"I am happy watching this," he said flatly.
'Ugh,' she thought, 'Of all the guys in America to be in love with, it had to be the guy who isn't affected with boobs are pressed against his arm.'
At that moment, the show they were watching cut to the commercials. The first commercial popped on and it showed an anthro horse cowgirl riding on top of a glass bottle of green juice
n00b form letters. -fuckspeakDear Sir/Madame,n00b form letters. -fuckspeak9 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
You are receiving this letter due to your remarkable inability to type in a comprehensible language, and your subsequent soiling of the _****_ forum. Those with mental disabilities, and those who learned English as a foreign tongue notwithstanding, one should never allow oneself to look quite so ignorant as you recently did. Should this embarassing and insulting bastardization of the written word continue, a sound pwning will be in order.
Romantically Apocalyptic S01Characters: Narrator (Voice), Captain, Sniper, Engineer, PilotRomantically Apocalyptic S015 years ago in Comedy More Like This
Locations: City street, Subway gate with dusty Baseball, Apartment Living-Room with Table, Risk Set and Deceased Rodent
The opening image depicts a city square fallen into decay and ruin, ravaged by the tides of nuclear war. In the midst of the city square, a man stands with his back to the camera, draped in a grey trench coat and an officer's cap on his skull. As the narrator speaks, the camera slowly zooms in on the back of his head.
Narrator: In the midst of a ruined city, forgotten by time, stands a lone figure. His real name is known to none but him, and even he may not remember it... To the men under his command, he is known simply as 'The Captain'.
The Captain turns, revealing the custom designed respirator and goggles on his face, and looks just above and behind the camera.
Captain: How many times must I tell you, stop narrating my life!
Narrator: Slightly unhinged, t
I Loathe the UndeadI Loathe the Undead11 years ago in Humor More Like This
I loathe the undead.
They're always whining about "brains" and "guarrrgh" all the time and they're clawing at you with their nasty clammy maggoty-infested hands and biting your wife with their rotten yellow teeth and trudging along in a big stupid horde, losing their limbs all over the place and blocking traffic like they owned the world. Would you believe there was a zombie stampede on the I-41 this morning? Yeah, they held up traffic for like an hour. It was a huge stampede. They made me late to work and I think they almost cost me my job. Never mind that the boss has been later for less important reasons than a zombie stampede.
Some day I'm going to stick him in a room with a zombie in it and see how he likes it.
Anyway. I would have been later to work this morning ('cause I think that stampede's still going on, I mean they just said on the news half an hour ago that the last body count was like sixty, and that's way too many for just an hour-long stampede) if I hadn't gone and inst
ImmutableWe take happiness from withoutImmutable6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
like a coat, donned in opposition
thought's lightless hum,
the desultory sprawling veins.
In search of quiet equilibrium,
we estrange ourselves
all shot through
like embroidered cloth
with the shivering filaments of sorrow.
CrowCrow8 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
through six inches
of window, as the last
autumn leaf stretched, spun, and drifted
swung wide open,
wet drunk on its hinges,
and you swept in bringing winter
always been my
plague; a black nest of storm,
dragging a throng of reluctant
in the half-light
that I felt a tremor,
(though your touch was as light as a
howled tooth and bone
around your peaked shoulders
through biting hail, I watched the door
were numb, and I
dropped my glass. Somehow, I
knew, your breathless season turned it
like a white hound
to the bar; when you poured
one on the rocks, I couldnt stop
(on the moonlight)
that I felt a tremor;
but your touch was as light as the
SPYRO MST-STORY BY SFRBSPYRO MSTSPYRO MST-STORY BY SFRB8 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
Story © to Spyroflamesredsbum
MST © to thesorcerousisfat
[The five file into the theatre, Red, then Ripto, Creamy, Flare and lastly Gnasty Gnorc, who was currently stuffing his face full of popcorn]
[Red: Do you ever stop eating?!]
[Gnasty: On the contrary, yes…in this case NO!]
[The MSTers all sat down in order named from Red to Gnasty Gnorc. The lights dim and the story starts.]
SPYRO: End Times!!! Realms of Darkness!
[Red: RRRIIIGGGHHHTTTT…realms of darkness 'ay?…Does that mean all these little black dragons running and skipping around happily until they see a little innocent lollipop lady and decide to beat her up or "DESTROY HER" *Darth Vader voice* and think they will soon take over the world! *evil grin*]
[Flare: Uh…yeah…nice sequel Red…but lets just continue with this MST shall we?]
[Ripto: You never cease to amaze me…you actually made Red shut up!]
YUP!!! Sounds pretty breath-taking, doesn't it!?
[Gnasty: *starts coughin
Haiku HolocaustWillow branches sighHaiku Holocaust6 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
In an early autumn breeze.
Your mother's a whore.
trust in dreamsa broken sun settrust in dreams7 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
with stars perched in my window
...truth is flexible
VegetableOne fine morning, I was dropped out of a tomato. It was nothing new. I had been dropped several times before, from various vegetables. For some strange, unknown reason people always believed that I belonged to none of those.Vegetable8 years ago in Humor More Like This
For those of you who have never been inside a vegetable, it's hard to tell. You must be feeling whatever I had written till now, is plain nonsense. Nonsense. Now, that could be a very misleading term. Nonsense is a genre in itself. A man called Lewis Carroll had played with it in "Alice in Wonderland". From this I'd like to draw the following conclusions:
1. Fools can't write nonsense.
2. Not all nonsense is true
3. Not all things true is good
4. Not everything that's good qualify as creative.
5. Therefore, fools may or may not be creative.
6. Fools may be creative
7. Fools can write nonsense.
Now I'd prove the virtue of nonsense by your reactions. You may have five reactions to this.
1. You are awestruck by the argument: Because the argument is nonsense itself, yo
at threeAt threeat three11 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
when the hand on the clock
struggles to move--
there is thunder.
Faded orange land clashes
with man made green.
Thunder comes again--
Gods heart beating over a desert.
Water vapor grabs dust and begs
to be pitched down and made into earth.
When it rains the road steams under the sun--
blacktop turns to oil slick.
And I struggle
to say something
that hasnt been said before.
pick a catchphrase, die aloneattention all skeletons:pick a catchphrase, die alone6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
announce your exit!
find yourself fixed
in new flesh
less them guts
to spell grit
clamp the new bit
you're so proud
to be bursting
have such high hopes
with your yesterdays
like paper ghosts
who merely moan
to move the room
but I am not buying
love poorly conceived
(with a twist!)
poems with all
the aching heart
of a grocery list
Waiting for the rainHere,Waiting for the rain10 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the earth cracks like unpolished leather.
A woman sits nursing,
(her life drying up like an ancient waterhole)
and dreams of verdant green.
Spring, she reads in an old school book,
is found in lands that have time to blossom,
while she waits for the rain.
senses poemsSenses Poemssenses poems7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
1) meet it halfway
when hope finds you it is yellow,
and it is underfoot, leaves crackling
like a spine,
and the earth cries it out,
spilling it from the green-smelling
tree branches, and it is
pacing around your room, hands
quivering with prickly words and sweltering language,
exploding stars inside its mouth,
and you expect to see white and gold glitter
fall through its lips, but
there is nothing; and
when you open the door, metal in your mouth,
it turns around and reaches
2) that other organ
the bluejay hits your window with
his wings spread out, eyes open,
and you listen for the sickening
slap and the smell of your window
slipping up with feathers and blood,
trying to hold onto the small blue
and the bird is the red-stomach curls
on the tip of his head, and the bird is
every endearing little girl asking you to
be the other sack of tissues and nerves
on her see(sea)saw, and the bird is every
old man who tugs at your ears with a sick
Fiona And The Goob, more..1. The GoobFiona And The Goob, more..8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
No one was quite sure what he was;
some thought he was nothing,
others believed he had slipped free
from a sleeping childs mind.
John the birdwatcher was
The first to spot him -he said
he didnt have a face exactly
but the expression he wore was kind.
2. Fionas Song
They think Im lazy,
I know what they say.
Theyve got it all wrong
Im just faraway.
set bright balloons free.
See, they drift faraway
but not as far as me.
3. John Watching
John the Birdwatcher was in hiding
when he spotted Fiona Faraway.
He swore the Goob was paragliding.
How he managed that he couldnt say.
The Goob is most resourceful
as everybody knows. Hes very good at sliding,
And though his manner isnt forceful,
people take care. He has a habit of colliding.
As he helps his victim to his feet, he looks remorseful.
He can feel how Fiona glares.
4. The Goob And The Girl
Fiona Faraway slept safe in her bed
while the Goob turned somersaults i
and, well,when i look at you i think of diamonds and stuttering and hands, but please don't ask me to explain that one.and, well,6 years ago in General Non-Fiction More Like This
you know sometimes i just want to learn about you, want to learn through the way you let your fingers covet your face and the way you speak when your mouth is very wide open, want to learn favorite colors and lucky numbers and inside jokes and secrets plodding around in your skull, twiddling their thumbs, and not because i think it would explain something great about you, like opening up your palm and reading the scratchy notes left there, lines of deceit and perky thumbs, not because i think i could read the naked future and its sea-creature body from the pentapod craft of your hand, no, not because i think i could read you like your spine was a collection of bony, itchy, hard-to-scratch words, but because i think it would explain something little, just a tiny bit, and
you know i want more words, more words, i want to hold them in my hand until they begin to twitch and shake a
Surveying the WorldSurveying the World6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
hubert was a quiet man
in love with quiet things
the soft rain every spring
the differing dance of snowflakes
(no two falling
looked the same)
the way a rushing river seemed
to murmur out his name
of a well meant
the warm under-
of a fish
meeting a fish
his fragile ears
just couldn't take
he'd sidestep the whirring world
with a quick trip to the lake
atop a tiny private island
mountain-hid from public view
he rejoiced in
of his heart
as it grew
Saving the StarsSaving the Stars11 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
"Umbrellas up!" My mother said.
"The stars are coming down!
They're slipping from the heaven's sky
and landing on the ground."
"Watch your head, now, Rosie,"
My mother warned, alert.
"If one should tumble on your head,
I'd think that it will hurt."
"But mother," whined I to my mom,
"The stars should stay up there.
The angels will be stopping this
as soon as they're aware."
"Oh, Rosie," Mother sighed aloud.
"The angels want this done.
They stand behind each beam of light
and push them, one by one."
"What for?" I asked then, soft and sweet.
"I'm feeling so confused.
Do the angels want their friends on earth
to be black and blue and bruised?"
"Not you, Rosie," Mother said.
"You've done nothing wrong.
But evil deeds occur on earth
and most folks just go along.
"For everytime a child's hit,
or killed in bed at night;
Everytime you wrong someone
a star will lose its light."
I gathered up my broom and cried,
"Then I'll sweep them in with you.
We'll hang the stars and patch them up
Cake Eats Man.Cake Eats Man.9 years ago in Humor More Like This
Cake Eats Man
- A cautionary tale about Battenburg Cake - </i>
The grunting, straining taxi driver gave one last heave. Mr Travis Enderby shot from the back seat of the black Honda like the cork from a bottle of well-shaken Babycham. He landed splat on the pavement, his fall broken by the not-well-tipped-enough taxi driver. Nonetheless, the impact shook the privet three houses along and caused Travis Enderby's flesh to spread across the ground in ripples, like a large jellyfish poked with a stick. By the time the tremors in Mr Enderby's outlying regions had subsided the cab had roared away. It left behind a morbidly obese middle-aged man, an improbably small suitcase and a whiff of partially combusted diesel.