League Aerospace Industries NovastarSpecifications: League Aerospace Industries Novastar (Gunstar Mark IV)League Aerospace Industries Novastar1 month ago in Settings More Like This
Crew: 3; pilot/navigator, two starfighters (gunners)
Length: 72 ft, 2 in
Diameter: 65 ft, 8 in
Empty weight: 48,550 lb (22042 kg)
Loaded weight: 69,750 lb (31667 kg)
Max takeoff weight: 92,565 lb (42025 kg)
Powerplant: 4 × Vy’leth Propulsion Works XM-12 spatial engines (+trans-atmospheric booster) & Star League advanced warp drive
-Dry thrust: 98,550 lbf (438.55 kN)
-Thrust with booster: 115,650 lbf for -200 (514.64 kN for -12)
Fuel capacity: 22,815 lb (10,358 kg) internal
Maximum speed (atmosphere): Mach 2.3 (Mach 25 with trans-atmospheric booster)
Maximum speed (Space): 850 mps acceleration
High altitude: Mach 2.2+
Low altitude: Mach 1.8
Combat radius: 48,800 nmi (planetary)
Combat radius: 73,975,000 smi (spatial)
Combat radius: 24.5 light years (interstellar)
Service ceiling: 220,000 ft
Rate of climb: >50,000 ft/min
Thrust/weight: 1.25 (-12) (atmosphere)
Lakota's Interrogation Part 1Lakota's Interrogation Part 14 years ago in Drama More Like This
-I haven't seen my mom since those mean cops took us out of Emmy's Diner. I still don't understand why she didn't take us straight home. It had to do with all those cars in front
our house. They all had Umbrella logos on it, that's where dad works. Cops were there too, to make sure no one else got in. What did he do? It must of been bad, I couldn't even count how many cars were on our street, all around our house.
The cops even put hand cuffs on me, is that legal? I'm only 11 years old, and I didn't even do anything! Mom refused to leave the diner when the cops showed up. They said they had to take us to where our father was, but she didn't believe them.
"Umbrella won't get away with this." She turned to look at everyone in the diner, who
were all looking at us.
"If you do not see us again, blame Umbrella." The one cop didn't seem to like that too much, for then he pushed her towards the exit, places hand cuffs on both me and my mom. I still want to know what we did
I Will Fight YouI Will Fight YouI Will Fight You6 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
So many think,
That they can walk over anyone,
And no-one will even blink
There is no limit to the depravity,
Unto which they will sink
And so many more just want the problem,
To go away,
But the sad, sad truth is that,
A problem not dealt with,
Is one that never fades...!
To those of you who live life this way...
I will stand beside the true...
And I will fight you...
Are you ready for the fallout?
It's coming down,
I will break you, make you drown,
In everything you are!
I will fight you, yes I'll fight you,
And it doesn't matter how far,
That you run,
I will fight you for what you've done
It's coming, it's coming,
It's coming down
It's coming, it's coming,
You will hear the sound,
Of my fury
So many hide,
Themselves behind truth that is,
Nothing more than lies,
And when confronted,
And so many more ignore and pray,
That they'll be gone the next day
They look the other way,
And say it matters not the games they play,
And they ignore the pa
Forgotten Now"Why must I cry for you?", I had recitedForgotten Now3 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
It is said that you meant nothing to me
And with that, it is forgotten
Then, at last, I wept once more
Barney Plays HaloI hate youBarney Plays Halo3 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
You hate me
Kill eachother basic'ly
With a great big bang, I shot you in the head
sorry bro, but you are dead.
You shot me
I went boom
ev'ry thing went red and blue
Man, plasma grenades are such a fucking pain
No worries man, we're tied again.
You've got skills
I do too
You are red and I am blue
Gotta break this tie and shoot you til you're dead...
Din't expect you to have a wraith.
Red team wins... Man that's gay.
Purpose.Purpose.Purpose.3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
What would a story be?
If there was no one there to read it.
What would dreams be?
If there was no one there to conceive it.
What would a picture be?
If there was no one there to see it.
What would a secret be?
If there was no one there to keep it.
What would love be?
If there was no one there to feel it.
What would a song be?
If there was no one there to sing it.
What would the truth be?
If there was no one there to admit it.
What would advice be?
If there was no one there to give it.
What would life be?
If there was no one there to live it.
Christmas AloneChristmas AloneChristmas Alone4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Looking out the window,
At the lights below,
People bustling around,
Playing in the snow,
My head against the window,
I let out a sigh,
Closing my eyes tightly,
As my teardrops fall,
Emptiness is all I feel,
As empty as this house,
No holiday cheer or love,
No trees or gifts strewn about,
Silence is all you will hear,
No caroling or songs,
Drip drip is all you heed,
As my tears fall,
So I shall sit here,
Wishing with all my might,
That you were by my side,
Hoping that I wasn't alone;
This Christmas Night
The Cold and Bitter Winter SnowThe Cold and Bitter Winter SnowThe Cold and Bitter Winter Snow4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The winter snow knows no bounds,
Lost in its clutches are we
Who choose to walk in its fading footsteps.
We have a duty to uphold,
To bring justice
To whom it was deprived.
But justice is a word unknown,
To the cold and bitter
It covers all tracks, all proof of life,
Leaving mysteries unsolved
And gives murderers a Christmas pass.
It holds no remorse,
Neither for the living nor the dead.
For bodies left in its clutches
Are nought but a faded memory.
The Writer's WordsThe writer's words are currency;The Writer's Words3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
she spends them, book by book,
to pay for every reader, tucked
in every reading nook.
She spins her words from deepest thought
and, with the greatest care,
she weaves a world that lives and grows,
a world that she may share.
The writer's words are made from pain,
and blood and sweat and tears,
and every joy and every fear
collected o'er the years.
She binds herself to every stroke
of ink upon the page,
and through her words she lives, perhaps
a year, perhaps an age.
The writer's words are love and loss
as each page says goodbye;
she sends her books out to the world
to live well or to die.
Belittle not the writer's words -
her soul to you laid bare.
Her life's great work deserves respect;
read every word with care.
To Be An Artist1: "Look at these paintings. They're just awful."To Be An Artist6 years ago in Emotional More Like This
2: "That's their vision as an artist. Don't hate, my friend."
1: "Oh I know about being an artist. I know how to draw."
2: "Being able to draw doesn't make you an artist."
2: "You gotta feel it.
You gotta taste it, know it, eat it, breathe it, see it, LIVE it.
You gotta shudder as the colors pour from your veins.
You gotta scrape at the canvas just to understand your vision.
You can't eat - you gotta STARVE!
You gotta lose a loaf of bread for some tubes of paint and fall asleep at your canvas still dressed in yo paint splattered apron.
You gotta get F's because you were too busy daydreaming about what your next project will be.
You gotta get writer's block.
You gotta get artist's block.
You gotta get blocks of your blocks then get blocked some more.
You gotta get drained of inspiration for years then explode with something amazing.
You gotta scramble to the nearest object just to put it down somewhere.
You gotta spray, shake,
electricityi like to draw pictureselectricity5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
of broken things.
we met in cyberspace
talked with mouths
spread open w i d e
as our lacquered
tapped out LCD
shimmied across networks
and j i t t e r b u g g e d into
lit up nerves
that has both my
screen and pulse
delirious is certainly
more than a
i do not know what love is but
if i did
i once told you:
"i think you could fix me."
rolled up sleeves to expose
gooseberry arms, bisque
delineated with cornsilk
cracks, faded death
stripping color from
you simply smiled and said:
"i like to draw pictures
of beautiful things.
portraits of you, mostly."
How to Form A Metal BandHow to Form a Metal Band:How to Form A Metal Band3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Note: This is just a humour piece and is not a part of the appeal so just sit back and relax ^^
--Step One: Can you growl/be really high-pitched?--
a) Yes: Proceed to the next step
b) No: Find a new job
--Step Two: What does your growl/shriek sound like?--
a) OO-WAH-Ah-Ah-Ah: You are mentally unsound, proceed to heavy or death metal
b) SHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA: You are a viking wannabe, proceed to power or heavy metal
c) IIIRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA: Demons possess your throat, proceed to death or black metal
d) *Unintelligibly high shrieking noise*: You might have been born in a dirty cradle, proceed to black or power metal
e) ULULULULULULULULULU: Wrong genre, find a new job...
--Heavy metal: What do you like to sing/growl about--
a) I don't like to sing, I just like to growl: In that case find a female singer with a good voice so you can growl away while she sings. You may need to s
JudgementJudgement:Judgement3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
You are a mewling coward and weakling
Offal to the world, yet too arrogant to admit it!
Unbridled by the feelings of shame and guilt;
A man who was naught but a self-serving sycophant...
Remember the days that you used to spend
Envious of others who worked harder than you
More and more you would curse at their backs
It was an act that blackened your tongue and soul!
Now as you gaze into the maw of the inferno
Endlessly waiting for the judge's call
Read the first letter of every line, and know the fate for which you fall.
-Chen Yuan Wen, 6th July 2012
October rainOctober rainOctober rain2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
in my hair...
and golden trees...
as they please -
do not soar -
they hover -
stock-still in time,
bereft of rhyme -
oh where is
in breaking dawn...
Dim lit cafes
burning in red
as singers say...
to that fire...
When I Was LittleWhen I Was Little6 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
When I was little I did not care,
For the thousands of you struggling out there,
So here is to you,
You beautiful souls.
When I was little I did not know
In your world full of nightmares you continue to grow.
When I was little I did not see
Such trembling lips as they uttered your plea.
When I was little I could not believe
How you kept on struggling on days we didn't grieve?
When I was little how could I have known
Your contagious laughter was a sight to behold.
When I was little I would never have guessed
That with such delicate wings you have been blessed.
When I was little I could not feel
How much your weak smiles really reveal .
So tell me, my child, how do you strive
To live each day just to survive.
Your innocent strides will take you far
For in Gods eyes you are the star.
So soar to the heavens with your fragile soul
And there before the gates we will count your toll.
Because when I was little I didn't dare to dwell
That while I live in heaven you live in hell.
So here is to y
TotA - Promises 1TotA - Promises 19 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
SPOILERS FOR THE END OF TALES OF THE ABYSS
Do not read this unless you have beaten the game (That means you, ~Scorponis).
"Asch! Asch, c'mon! Are you with me?"
Asch slowly opened his eyes and was met with darkness. As his vision adjusted, a face began to appear, a face identical to his own. "I see you died too. Did you at least bring Van down with you?"
Luke cocked his head and looked to the side. "Well…Yes and no."
Asch's eyes widened in rage. He jumped to his feet and grabbed Luke by the collar. "What the hell are you saying? I didn't die just for you to loose to Van!"
"You don't understand! Van is dead; it's me that's not!"
Asch's hands dropped to his sides as he stared, dumfounded, at his replica. "What? But…But how…?
"And you're alive too."
"What?" Asch turned around and shook his head. "But that's impossible! I thought…I know I died…"
"You did." Luke closed his eyes as he recalled the day's events. "I still can't get rid of the felling I got when you
So much to tellPale moon,So much to tell2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
out of tune,
at my window,
So much to tell -
heaven and hell
to my dreams...
Elegy on Antinous...Elegy on Antinous...4 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
I ponder the fate of a Bithynian lad,
Antinous by name, a beautiful boy
Who caught the eye of a Roman Emperor--
Hadrian, a temperate ruler, sober, modest,
Philhellenic in his tastes; a lonely man
Who saw perhaps in this exquisite youth
The youthful joy he had never known...
They traveled the Empire together,
Hadrian delighting in the wonder he saw
In the eyes of his young companion
To whom the Emperor showed the world;
All saw that Antinous was Hadrian's favourite
--O, venomous jealousy of an Imperial court!
Is that what happened in Egypt
When 19-year old Antinous drowned in the Nile?
Some said he sacrificed himself
In imitation of the cult of Osiris,
Or simple accident...I wonder!
Are there accidents in an Emperor's entourage?
Poor old Hadrian wept, heedless of his courtiers' contempt:
"An Emperor should not show such unmanly grief
For a mere Bithynian pretty-boy!"
Cruel servants! Cannot Hadrian be human, too?
What clearer measure of love than this,
That the sad
Human...Human...4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
This world is so pure, so beautiful and flawless. Everything has its place, purpose and meaning. Everything is interconnected and all life somehow fits. The trees around me, bending their branches in the wind; their song perfectly fitting for this warm, late summer evening. The crickets joined in the lullaby with perfect ease, with no effort or even thought behind it. It just fits.
The wind itself moves and shifts, slows down or stops completely with perfect timing. Birds fly over my head with fluid motions, mimicking the invisible waves of the wind. The very last rays of light of this day bounce and reflect of everything, as if kissing the world and everyone in it goodnight. Clouds, like gentle giants of the sky, move gracefully towards the North, following some unknown path; playing their part. A lake in front of me glimmers, sharing the sunlight, multiplying it in all directions.
Everything here has its place.
Everything here is perfect, except me, with my thoughts, wishes, expectat
G.L.A.S.S.G.L.A.S.S.G.L.A.S.S.5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
G is for grave, gun, and gong. He was isolated in a white glossy room, shining from the fluorescent lights that seemed to look like heaven. The walls, the floor, and the ceiling were soft to the sight yet squeaked when you ran your hand to grab it, like plastic marshmallows. He stared into nothingness, laying there as if the very spot was his grave. When he moved he burrowed deeper and deeper into the spot, an earthworm yearning to bask in the darkness. He was covered in washed-out clothes that matched the white abyss. His arms and hands were around him to keep them away from the gun in which he used to take lives with. You see, he has an obsession with graves and guns. Graves keep people from hurting him. Guns keep those people from knowing him. Madness I tell you, but this madness of his is like a gong's ring. You beat it and its voice resonates until it fades and you beat it again. He goes to the madness like an amusement park. Gong! Sit. Anticipate. Clen