#stereo demonstrator

[nasa]

What We Learned from Flying a Helicopter on Mars

The Ingenuity Mars Helicopter made history – not only as the first aircraft to perform powered, controlled flight on another world – but also for exceeding expectations, pushing the limits, and setting the stage for future NASA aerial exploration of other worlds.

Built as a technology demonstration designed to perform up to five experimental test flights over 30 days, Ingenuity performed flight operations from the Martian surface for almost three years. The helicopter ended its mission on Jan. 25, 2024, after sustaining damage to its rotor blades during its 72nd flight.

So, what did we learn from this small but mighty helicopter?

We can fly rotorcraft in the thin atmosphere of other planets.

Ingenuity proved that powered, controlled flight is possible on other worlds when it took to the Martian skies for the first time on April 19, 2021.

Flying on planets like Mars is no easy feat: The Red Planet has a significantly lower gravity – one-third that of Earth’s – and an extremely thin atmosphere, with only 1% the pressure at the surface compared to our planet. This means there are relatively few air molecules with which Ingenuity’s two 4-foot-wide (1.2-meter-wide) rotor blades can interact to achieve flight.

Ingenuity performed several flights dedicated to understanding key aerodynamic effects and how they interact with the structure and control system of the helicopter, providing us with a treasure-trove of data on how aircraft fly in the Martian atmosphere.

Now, we can use this knowledge to directly improve performance and reduce risk on future planetary aerial vehicles.

Creative solutions and “ingenuity” kept the helicopter flying longer than expected.

Over an extended mission that lasted for almost 1,000 Martian days (more than 33 times longer than originally planned), Ingenuity was upgraded with the ability to autonomously choose landing sites in treacherous terrain, dealt with a dead sensor, dusted itself off after dust storms, operated from 48 different airfields, performed three emergency landings, and survived a frigid Martian winter.

Fun fact: To keep costs low, the helicopter contained many off-the-shelf-commercial parts from the smartphone industry - parts that had never been tested in deep space. Those parts also surpassed expectations, proving durable throughout Ingenuity’s extended mission, and can inform future budget-conscious hardware solutions.

There is value in adding an aerial dimension to interplanetary surface missions.

Ingenuity traveled to Mars on the belly of the Perseverance rover, which served as the communications relay for Ingenuity and, therefore, was its constant companion. The helicopter also proved itself a helpful scout to the rover.

After its initial five flights in 2021, Ingenuity transitioned to an “operations demonstration,” serving as Perseverance’s eyes in the sky as it scouted science targets, potential rover routes, and inaccessible features, while also capturing stereo images for digital elevation maps.

Airborne assets like Ingenuity unlock a new dimension of exploration on Mars that we did not yet have – providing more pixels per meter of resolution for imaging than an orbiter and exploring locations a rover cannot reach.

Tech demos can pay off big time.

Ingenuity was flown as a technology demonstration payload on the Mars 2020 mission, and was a high risk, high reward, low-cost endeavor that paid off big. The data collected by the helicopter will be analyzed for years to come and will benefit future Mars and other planetary missions.

Just as the Sojourner rover led to the MER-class (Spirit and Opportunity) rovers, and the MSL-class (Curiosity and Perseverance) rovers, the team believes Ingenuity’s success will lead to future fleets of aircraft at Mars.

In general, NASA’s Technology Demonstration Missions test and advance new technologies, and then transition those capabilities to NASA missions, industry, and other government agencies. Chosen technologies are thoroughly ground- and flight-tested in relevant operating environments — reducing risks to future flight missions, gaining operational heritage and continuing NASA’s long history as a technological leader.

You can fall in love with robots on another planet.

Following in the tracks of beloved Martian rovers, the Ingenuity Mars Helicopter built up a worldwide fanbase. The Ingenuity team and public awaited every single flight with anticipation, awe, humor, and hope.

Check out #ThanksIngenuity on social media to see what’s been said about the helicopter’s accomplishments.

Learn more about Ingenuity’s accomplishments here. And make sure to follow us on Tumblr for your regular dose of space!

#tech #technology #futurism #space #robotics #inspiration #science #planets #NASA #aviation #Youtube

[tfc2211]

Play ▶ Stereo Spectacular Demonstration Sound Effects (Part 1) Side A (1962) Release 

#Stereo Spectacular Demonstration & Sound Effects

[seat-safety-switch]

A lot of radio stations have gone away in my part of the world. Corporate greedheads decided that they're just too expensive to operate, so they shut 'em down. Nobody was left to leave by then, though. DJs in distant castles were running four, maybe five "morning zoo" programs at once. Harried technicians were on contract. The offices sat empty, unlocked, and available.

The first inkling we received that something had gone wrong was an ill-advised radio broadcast. Across the city, a bunch of auto-tuning FM radio receivers trying to avoid commercials latched onto the old, dead frequency, now very much alive. Alive with what? Alive with the sound of the microphone on a local DJ's vacant desk, left open to the elements while a magpie and a seagull fought over the decades-old remnants of the sandwich he was eating at the precise moment he was fired.

Somehow, through some trick of giga-corporate ultra-consolidation, they had simply forgotten to sell the offices to someone else. Maybe there was no one else who wanted a radio station. Soon, a community of weirds developed around the area. At first, it was just the usual kinds: poets, beatniks, scooter enthusiasts: people used to scuffles with the law and with, at best, a wilfully incomplete understanding of the law. We waited for them to get arrested, but it never came.

The cops didn't care. No corporation was screaming at them that their rights were being violated. The newspaper that would have bullied the Chief was part of the sweep of radio stations that died. More people followed into this great communal experiment, self-organizing themselves into a replica of the ancient radio schedules. Call-in shows. Top-40 pop music. Long discussions into the night about which recreational substances should be legalized. It was glorious, but then it ended.

Turns out that Uncle Ted's Copper Theft Hour got one of its guests a little bit too worked up, and he decided to do a live demonstration right in the studio. The transmitter was down for two weeks, until someone could steal enough metal from Home Depot and an overturned self-driving drycleaning van to bring it back to life. By then, though, the passion had gone out of it. All the weirds, now unable to force their opinions on others without response, had scattered to the four winds, starting lawn care businesses and mimeographing crank newsletters at the public library.

It was the end of an era, but I don't regret anything about it. I got like seven dollars in wire out of that place, which was enough to buy a working stereo from the Pick N Pull so I could listen to the show.

[linisiane]

I’ve seen that post on here that’s like “What did they put in this game to make us all Like That,” and I think we’re all Like That about Disco Elysium bc we’re all hyperfixating on it because it surprisingly speaks to the chaos of living with ADHD. And we SEE that and feel seen.

- First of all, Harry Du Bois Adhd headcanons pop off hard, especially with the whole “I do speed to do detective work,” aka I need stimulants to focus, aka unintentional self-medication. Also the poor impulse control, emotional disregulation. And the voices remind me of the way my brain jumps topic to topic so I have like 4 ongoing topics going at once. Stereo investigations, thoughts in the thought cabinet, if you will.

- Additionally, a lot of interactions surrounding Harry’s memory loss even feel very ADHD. ADHD is a problem with working memory (attention/focus), which cascades into causing problems with encoding memories for long term storage. You can’t remember what you never even focused on. Because of this, being forgetful of things that seemed basic or obvious or easy to remember for other people is a staple problem for people with ADHD, and while the game is obviously much more extreme with total retrograde amnesia, I find that the game’s demonstration of “the people being frustrated or confused by basic things you’ve forgotten or misplaced” (and this being taken seriously as a Big Issue affecting your life, even if the others don’t take it seriously/brush it off) is very relatable and almost cathartic. Even if the only reason why it’s taken so seriously in the game is because you’ve just literally lost all your memory… and your gun lol

- Harry doing buck wild things to get results based on the conversations going on inside his head, which don’t get read to the outside world, is very relatable. Again, my brain jumps topic to topic so much that it’s almost hard to track the logical thread connecting the thoughts internally, much less explain them to another person at the same time. The “how did we get here, what exactly brought you to this course of action? This seems unrelated, detective” is very much a conversation I experience on the daily, whether with myself or the people around me.

- Kim Kitsuragi is the ADHD fantasy. @snowberry-pie’s got in one. He’s perfect for fighting off that executive dysfunction by helping you actually get shit done while not being suffocating/controlling/shaming about it. He sorta takes responsibility of you to help you take responsibility of yourself. He’s a body double, your partner in it with you. Lets you go on your barely related stereo investigations and indulges your inexplicable actions instead of controlling you, trusting that it’s part of the process lol. Offers positive reinforcement instead of using shame (like calling Harry a burden) to get Harry to focus on the case.

Disco Elysium has lots to say about how disability is exacerbated/unsupported by the system for a lot of characters, including Harry. Adhd fits right into that, especially with the ways an ADHD!Harry interpretation would highlight the understandable nature of his drug addiction (not only was it a way to cope with chronic pain that no one was treating him for, but also a way to cope with unmedicated ADHD).

Anyways I wrote this instead of writing my paper.

#my thoughts #adhd #harry du bois #harrier du bois #disco elysium #de #“Perseveration” officer? How about we “persevere” in writing that paper? #Kim being like “you lost your memory? You still gotta do your job tho” is me to myself everyday. ಥ_ಥ #Shout out to the opening scene of eeaao for also capturing the experience of living with ADHD subtle-ly #meta #metas #kim kitsuragi #literary analysis

[hellskitchenette]

Ginger and Lemon I

Matt Murdock x Autistic!Fem!Reader series

Read it on AO3

Chapter I: Pas de Deux

Wordcount: 2,215

Summary: You get overwhelmed one night at Josie's when a creep bothers you and then Saint Matt Murdock appears.

Warnings: Christmas Fluff!!!, Protective Matt Murdock, No use of y/n, no pronouns for reader, Matt Murdock is a Ray of Sunshine, Selective Mutism, Bad self-talk, Self-Hatred, Matt Murdock Gets a Hug, Matt Murdock is a Stalker, Mental Breakdown and Meltdowns!

A/N: I posted this a year ago in my old blog that I deleted accidentally, so here I'm uploading it again. This series gives me an enormous amount of joy and I hope it makes you feel something too!

It was one of their usual nights at Josie’s celebrating the big win they’d just had at court. The case had been particularly draining and the three of them were exhausted, but the adrenaline from finally putting a happy ending to this story dragged them to their usual commemorating rituals. This meant lots of alcohol and Foggy Nelson demonstrating his dancing abilities  early that evening.

Matt was sitting on their habitual spot, with a beer wrapped in his huge hand, his body relaxed against the table. Some funk music was playing through the stereo, and he couldn’t help but tap his dress shoe following the beat. Karen was sitting in front of him, almost on the edge of the seat, observing their friend with a bright smile and sparkly eyes.

“Go dance with him, you are dying to do so.” Matt said to the more than-tipsy Karen and after a friendly arm squeeze, she then left the booth giggling. Now they were both making their best funky moves on the dance floor. It’s not like he could see them, but the sound of their clumsy shoes against the floor and their laughter was enough to fill Matt’s heart.

 Unlike Matt Murdock, you weren’t a Josie’s habitual. You weren’t a going-out-at-night habitual at all. But it was your first week in this new job and your team had just proposed that you went out to grab some drinks to know each other. And according to your favourite TikTok creator, who gave tips about workplace social rules, this was almost mandatory for a newbie like you.

So you sighed and followed them with a smile, putting all your efforts into following the conversation, making eye contact, and all of that. At first, it wasn’t that bad; it was still early in the evening and the pub wasn’t too noisy. But with time passing, the patrons started arriving and the place became louder and louder. The smell wasn’t helping either. Paying attention to your colleagues’ conversations was harder every second and their faces started to blur. And you weren’t even drinking alcohol. But this is how sensitive you were. The familiar sensation in your body urging you to leave started to build up in your insides, as well as the itch on your skin in every place the dress touched.

  You knew you should’ve put on something comfy for the long day, but you wanted to impress your colleagues. Or at least, compensating with your fashion style and your lack of social skills.

You couldn’t manage it anymore and looked at your phone before murmuring some excuse about your mom calling, you crossed the packed pub towards the exit. Once you reached the holy exterior, you let out a deep sigh and leaned against the cold, brick wall, trying to control your breath and concentrating on the pain the glacial air was giving you. You closed your eyes, achieving to deescalate a bit of your overwhelmed senses when a fetid tobacco breath reached your delicate nostrils too close to your liking.

 “Hey babe, fancy a smoke?” You opened your eyes deer-like, only to see a middle-aged man offering you a cigar. You were immobile and only could shake your head to decline, and he simply shrugged his shoulders al lighted up his own cigar. But he didn’t leave your side. “C’mon, you’re gonna freeze there by yourself, let’s come inside, I’ll buy you something that’ll warm that pretty body of yours.” He said after some puffs, his drunken gaze pierced into your shape, and then had the audacity to put a hand over your shoulders. All your alarms went on, but you couldn’t speak, and he probably interpreted that as a positive signal to follow with his advances. “Or we could go straight to my place and have you warmed up for good.” He muttered in your ear, getting even closer to say so. You couldn’t even breathe. Your brain was screaming to you to do something, but your muscles were like stone.

“You’re here. I’ve been looking for you everywhere.” A charming, baritone voice interrupted the man when he was leaning to kiss you, and he turned to look at the owner of that voice. You were so relieved you thought you could die right there. The middle-aged man hesitated and looked at the stranger in disdain.

“What are you doing to my girlfriend, creep?” The mellow voice turned dangerous while the man in front of you took off slowly his sunglasses. The smoker finally pushed aside and murmured something about being sorry and disappeared inside the pub. 

Without the lump of the greasy man, you could finally observe better who you owed one to. Under the light of Josie’s neon, you could notice he was tall and good-looking. His square jaw sported a 5’clock shadow, contrasting with a fine suit. His tie was red and a bit undone, matching in color with the glasses that were still on his hand. He was looking at you with kind, big eyes even though his gaze was a bit unfocused. You recognized him from inside. He was the blind guy who had arrived not so long ago with the tall blonde and the goofy dancer. You were dying to thank him, but your mouth didn’t even open.

“I’m sorry about the girlfriend thing, it looked like the faster way to get that asshole off you.” He excused himself with a cute worried frown. “I hope I didn’t annoy you with that.”

Of course not!!!

But your mouth remained shut and your gaze fixated on the so-interesting tiles of the pavement. Now the nervousness from before was substituted by the one due to the hot blind man talking to you. “It can get overwhelming inside there, isn’t it?” He continued talking, apparently not minding your silence. Your selective mutism disturbed most people, but this guy was speaking to you nonchalantly. You managed to give him a weak agreement noise since a nod was out of the picture. “Well, I should be heading inside before my friends embarrass themselves even more.” He chuckled sweetly and put his glasses on again. Then he grabbed something from his blazer’s pocket and extended it to you. It was a business card, with a neat design and some braille words on it. You grabbed it carefully with your recently manicured fingers and for one second, both of your hands brushed accidentally. His skin was warm and rough. “Keep it in case some guy annoys you again… Though I hope it doesn’t happen.” He said with a tone you couldn’t decipher and then proceeded to read the card.

Nelson and Murdock, Attorneys and Law.

So he was a lawyer. You wanted to thank him, give him your apologies for the trouble, but you couldn’t separate your eyes from the black letters and even less speak. It was maybe from the random act of kindness, the shame you were feeling, or maybe the week had just been too much and on top of that, you were overstimulated. The thing is that when a single tear fell and dampened the immaculate paper surface of the business card, you started sobbing like there was no tomorrow. The itch from the wool dress was now insufferable and you couldn’t help but start to nervously scratch your arms, opening some already healed little wounds. Your face was hot with embarrassment, but you couldn’t help it.

“Hey, hey, come here, you’re going to hurt yourself.” The blind stranger, who until this moment had kept a polite distance between you and him, now was hugging you tightly, tracing soothing circles in your back. Your body, which normally rejected physical contact with anyone outside your inner circle, relaxed in his embrace. The pressure of his strong arms was so comforting that you started feeling more and more grounded. You tried to aisle the sound of his steady heartbeat from Josie’s music and the traffic, and following it you managed to lower your pulse.

Not only he was handsome and gentle, but he smelled so nice too.

 “Are you feeling better?” He asked after some long minutes. He sensed you nod against his tear-drenched shoulder. You separated from him slowly, now calm but feeling awkward as hell.

“I’m glad. Sorry if I uhm...overstepped before.” You shook your head immediately, the hug had been actually very helpful.

“No.” The sound of our own voice felt foreign, but at least you could do monosyllables now. He smiled then, brighter than the sun, which made you recognize a growing warmth in your chest.

“I’ll be going now, would you be OK here?” His face showed concern, an emotion that was difficult for you to detect, but since his face was so expressive you didn’t have a problem.

“Yes.” You managed to get out your throat, although you would have wanted to explain to him that the winter breeze cleared your mind. He hesitated a moment before grabbing the door handle.

“Have a good night then, and try not to freeze out here!” And with the warmest smile, he finally went into Josie’s loud interior. You sighed, hard, and leaned once more against the wall fidgeting with the card. And then your mind started working by itself.

You idiot couldn’t even respond even though he kind of saved you from that creep you’re useless how do you even have a job surely you won’t keep it for more than a month this is why your relationships never work you’re an imbecile...

STOP.

You inhaled the sharp, ice-cold air to stop your rumination and remembered the words your therapist usually said to help you when you entered the spiral. Repeating them like a mantra, finally, your noisy mind started to be quieter and therefore you could think.

Okay, I might not have said thank you but now I have his contact and I could plan how to do it in a proper way. Nothing’s wrong and he seemed nice.

Then you proceeded with a Google search about how the better way was to express gratitude, but after some time became confused and dizzy with the multiple options and decided to ask your best friend, your guardian angel in these situations. Finally, much more calmed and distracted thinking about chocolates, flowers, fruit baskets and gift cards you could manage to go inside, grab your things, and say a proper goodbye to your colleagues before leaving for good. You didn’t see Matt again that night. But what you didn’t know is that  he  would be seeing you though.

Matt noticed from the start you were starting to have a meltdown. It was nothing like he knew you: you were just another stranger that night at Josie’s. But when your body heat and heart rate spiked from nowhere, he got distracted from Karen’s and Foggy’s messy dancing, unable to let someone’s distress pass by. When the sound of your boots disappeared through the main door, he considered if he should follow you or not. It wasn’t like you were his business, maybe you didn’t want to be disturbed or just received awful news. Who knows? But nevertheless, he continued focusing on your trail, discovering you smelled like ginger and lemon, fresh baked goods, and something he could only identify as rosin. But it wasn’t your delicious smell that dragged him out of the comfortable booth. When he heard that man harassing you, he couldn’t help but jump without even grabbing his cane. He knew the state you were in and recognized the voice of the man: one patron who had previously annoyed Karen and other women too.

He’ll later blame the alcohol for the reason for taking such a leap of faith and hugging you. It wasn’t like he didn’t notice your attraction to him. But it wasn’t OK, even though it ended up being helpful for your well-being. Giving you his card after being harassed wasn’t his best idea either, especially during a breakdown. Matt even didn’t know why he had done it. He tossed his hair nervously, shivering a bit because of the icy air. That’s when the Daredevil suit was helpful because wandering around Hell’s Kitchen rooftops in his day job suit was going to gain him a cold.

Well, maybe he was being the creep now. But he excused himself remembering how nervous you had been before. He just wanted to make sure you arrived home safe and anyone tried to follow you. 

He chuckled to himself, realizing you had hit replay to the same song again. He recognized the delicate harp followed by the strings. It was the so-emotive  Grand Pas de Deux from The Nutcracker ballet ending. Maybe Matt couldn’t enjoy seeing the dancers’ performance, but he’s a music enjoyer and in the ballet, they’re both as important. But definitely, if he had the opportunity to see you again, he would scold you about walking with headphones on through the streets of Hell’s Kitchen. So careless! 

After some time of following you from rooftop to rooftop, it looked like you arrived at your apartment block and Matt decided to end his stalker activities and call it a night. But later, wrapped in his fine silk sheets, the only thing in his mind was you.

Next chapter

#matt murdock #daredevil #matt murdock fanfiction #matt murdock x reader #daredevil fanfiction #matt murdock x autistic!reader #charlie cox #matthew murdock #matt murdock fluff #daredevil fluff

[foone]

I can't believe I haven't asked this earlier; but have you ever seen a port like this before? A while back I researched everywhere to try and find a replacement for the speakers on this CD player and I'm at a loss when it comes to even finding a name for this type of thing. It's from this brand called AudioLogic which I can find next to nothing about, so I can only assume they're defunct and have been for a long time. One of the speakers is broken, and the other is missing, so unfortunately I can't really demonstrate them actually plugging into this.

I'm not really all that knowledgeable in audio, but those look like JST 2-pin connectors. Given that they say "IMPEDANCE USE 3 OHM", it sounds like they're just being hooked directly up to some speakers. Like, stereo systems like this usually have speaker terminals, but I think they just used JST connectors to make it a little easier to connect.

So you should just be able to get a set of passive speakers, approximately match the impedance, and get some JST connectors to use as speaker wires.

[vacantwatchers]

He talks, I listen (He's in the shower and his skin glistens)

Rated M. Words 4.8k.

Behold. The sequel to Metal Church, Steve's POV. Read on Ao3 here

Steve lives in a trailer. It’s one of the few that live outside the limits of Forest Hills Trailer Park. 

A double wide cream beast with brown trimming whose interior consists of alternating striped floral wallpaper and pine wood panelling. It was perched on the edge of a puddle masquerading as a lake.

Cop Lake, if you wanted to get local about it.

It was well known that Hopper lived there, and could be frequently seen on the porch popping pills to cure his ever present hangover.

The tail end of 1983 saw him moving in, body aching and face uncomfortably numb while Hopper's hand anchored him to the ground. He was a little under two months into being eighteen, concussed for the second time in a month. He was freshly away from his parents.

"I own the place outright," Hopper had said as he walked him up the steps and into the bowels of his new home. "I got a cabin a little ways from here and don't need this place anymore so it's yours for however long you want it. The hot water can be touchy and the pressure in the shower is piss poor, but it's your own space and you won't need to watch your back here."

Hopper had dropped the keys into his hand, told him he'd be by in the next couple of days with his stuff. 

And that, well. That was that. 

Steve had handed Hopper a list of items in the Harrington house that he'd bought and when Hopper returned, he'd had a smirk and items that definitely weren't on the list. 

The entire stereo system was a nice touch.

It became a mission of his, transforming his new space from the interior of a grieving apathetic forty something year old to something that reflected his interests. That, okay that sounded harsh towards Hopper but the guy was grieving and he was apathetic to his personal surroundings. He was also the only fucking cop in the county who did anything about his dad, so no matter what he thinks of his decorating choices, he’s officially the only adult in this town he fucking trusts.

Guess it pays to have moved from the city and have no knowledge of the corrupt nature Harrington money breeds. Or. Well, it didn't breed, in Hopper's case.

Slowly, he filled the space with colour and warmth. Floor lamps to replace the mind searing top lights, bright vases from the thrift stores in Bloomington slowly filled with plants, which then slowly multiplied until his porch was screened in by greenery and the living room was more leaf than couch. Music and cinema posters, art prints, photos that were both framed and tacked to walls. New blankets and pillows and rugs. 

Soft, bright, inviting things that for so long Steve wasn't allowed to have when he lived in his parents house. 

(Never to be mistaken for a home.)

Things scattered around that served their purpose in reminding him that Steve was a three dimensional person, not a cutout of his father's ideologies. It all starred in the most important role possible, to demonstrate his enjoyment of things, of life. He made the trailer into a space that felt more of a home than the house he’d lived in for the first seventeen years of his life.

-

Sometimes when it's late at night, Steve thinks about the past, who he was, who he was perceived to be. Who his friends were and what could have been. 

When the sweat is cooling in the hollow of his throat, and the tips of his fingers are buzzing, breath shuddering from yet another nightmare. When the grey black of his bedroom moves like static, Steve wonders what would have happened if he had gone to Tommy the first time all the Upside Down shit happened. 

When he lays in the dark, yearning for a familiarity of years that had been lost because of shitty personalities swayed by public perception. 

Would he still be dealing with the Upside Down if after that first time, after having Nancy pull back the safety and hold a gun to his face and fighting a flower headed nightmare, he'd gone to Tommy and looked at him the same way he had for ten years whenever he needed a hug. Told him everything that had happened, knowing that Tommy would scoff in disbelief but still listen to everything. 

Going to Tommy, having that single touchstone to someone outside of all that shit, would mean he probably wouldn't have gotten back together with Nancy. 

Which means no heartbreak in Tina's bathroom, no going to Nancy's only to be waysided by Dustin. No Dart, no junkyard, no demodogs, no fucking tunnels. No fight with Billy Hargrove because he would never have been at the Byers house. 

No new family in Mrs Henderson and Dustin, Max and Robin.

Breathing in slowly, Steve decides that all the shit he's earned from associating with the Upside Down, the nightmares and insomnia, the blurred vision in his left eye and chronic migraines, the paranoia of tight spaces, of hospitals and doctors, of the woods behind his house. It was worth it all to have those fucking kids in his life, to finally feel like a being of considered worth rather than an object for his mother to pick up off the shelf and peddle to coworkers and society when she finally shows her face at home. 

Sitting in the middle of his bed, holding his knees, Steve can't lie to himself though, can't say he doesn't wish he had someone familiar he could lean on in the depths of night.

-

Steve didn't fucking mean it like that though.

-

And then it kept happening like that.

-

Healing a torn up body was one of the worst aftermath things Steve has had to live through, worse than growing back his nails and getting fitted for his plate of false teeth. You don't realise how much movement is torso dominant until you're stitched back together all over. His entire body at this point was scarred; road rash and bites, claws and strangulation, fists and plates.

At least he's not still in a hospital bed.

"At least you still got your nipple, man." 

Steve snorted and leaned back in the hard and slightly too small chair. "This is true. Would be a shame if I spent the money to get them pierced only to lose one of them."

Eddie nodded, eyes drifting down to look at chest and lingered there as if he enjoyed the view of his Springsteen tour shirt. "A damn shame indeed. Good thing both those pretties are still there."

"You looking at my nipples, Eddie?"

"They were out and about, what did you want me to do? Look at trees all night? There's a reason I gave you the vest."

"My modesty right? My nipples were too much for your delicate sensibilities, huh. I get it. It's hard to look away when they're your first pair."

"Fuck you, they were not."

"It's okay. I won't tell the guys mine were your first set."

"Shut up, I've seen plenty of nipples in my lifetime."

"The mirror doesn't count, rockstar. But I do think it's a shame you don't have a matched set anymore. Even if your scar is going to cool when it's all healed."

-

Becoming close to Eddie Munson wasn't at all what he expected to happen after a week in hell, but he wouldn't change it for anything in the world.

It doesn't take long for the obsession to start. It's minor, manageable, measly, many more ‘m’ words he couldn't think of but knew existed that explained that this feeling was absolutely normal and not at all getting out of hand. But he couldn't help it. Not when Eddie was incredible and genuine and himself all the time. 

There were so many little things he did that Steve couldn't help but fixate on every time he sees, or even thinks about them.

Like. 

Okay. Eddie has this terrible habit of hiding his face away. 

He does it when he’s happy, when he’s excited, nervous, embarrassed, shy. 

He’ll be enthusiastic and vibrant and then suddenly turn to the side as if to hide how wide his smile is, how bright his eyes glow when he’s in the throws of a story. He’ll lean into his hand to hide the sweet curl of a smile, will pull his hair forward and hide behind it whenever anyone even hints about how they remember who he is, acknowledge his existence beyond the D&D metalhead who was targeted by their fucking shithole town.

How anyone could ever forget though, when Eddie Munson commands the attention of a room, heads turning to follow their benevolent king as he walks and gestures, royal decrees and commentary dripping from his plush lips at every moment. The very idea of someone being able to look upon Eddie, see his elegant hands gesture and wave so expansively you could be forgiven for imagining it was because his hands were weighted down by those thick banded rings, and then forget him as soon as he leaves their sight– it truly didn't compute with Steve. 

(God the lengths Steve will go to if just for the possibility that it would make Eddie flush that pretty pink and get all shy behind his hair.)

There's probably a reason behind it, something learned that isn't easily shaken. Something so deeply ingrained that it’s become an unconscious act.

The same way Steve stopped voicing all his questions in ninth grade because he was sick of everyone looking at him like he was totally brain dead and his teachers had started using him as an example of what to not do. He never understood what the issue was, because in middle school Mr Clarke had taught them that every question was worth asking in the journey to knowledge, no matter how simple or out of field. 

The bell had rung and everyone else had left, all notions of science forgotten as soon as they'd passed through the doorway towards recess. Which was good, because Steve had asked a lot of questions and Tommy and some of the other boys had grumbled a lot. He'd stayed back, slowly packing away his pencils, to put more distance between him and his friends' memories of his stupid questions. 

Mr Clarke had crouched beside his desk, after wiping down the board, his moustache moving up as he smiled. “Steve, your questions are a demonstration that you're engaging with the subject and have your own method of coming to the right conclusion. Everyone works things out in their own unique way. Never be afraid to ask when you don't understand something, for how would you learn if you do not seek the answers? Besides, most of the time, when you ask a question, one of the others might have been wondering the same thing. You were just the one brave enough to ask the question to lead you on in the voyage to knowledge.” 

Steve had figured it had to be the same in high school, all questions being valid and showing his honest attempt at grasping what was being discussed in class, only to be met with sighs and questions about why he was never paying attention. As if he didn’t have countless notes. As if he didn’t go home looking at his homework and textbooks and assigning novels that he couldn’t understand, that made him cry from frustration which made the letters swim around more than usual and cry harder because now he had no chance. 

It was something he's only now starting to approach, tentatively asking questions and voicing his thoughts, because for once he has people who will answer his questions. Sure, it's a shaky roll of the dice sometimes when Henderson wants to answer him helpfully and give him a run-down of something, or be a little bitch with his answers. 

Robin though, Robin is the platonic love of his life, she listens to him - his winding thought trains that bounced around randomly about shit that she wasn’t into. She listens to it all. His thoughts and his questions, responds with rapid sentences answering every question in consecutive order to how he asked them. Sometimes it feels like her words tumble over each other in the air with how fast she talks. She watches him as she talks and when he doesn’t understand something, his eyebrows scrunching together and his mouth scrunching with them, she rolls it back and tries to restructure everything for him until he does.

Eddie though. 

God.

Eddie looks at him and it's like for the first time someone is paying attention to what he is below the surface. When he talks to Eddie and sees him actively listening, nodding and humming and watching with those eyes, something behind his ribs tightens and drops, radiating a warmth he just doesn't know what to do with. 

Eddie just–

He listens.

 And while he does, he hides his face. His hand with those long ringed fingers covering his cheek and his mouth and stretching over the tip of his nose. Pulling and holding his hair. He leans on to his palm and looks up at him with those pretty, pretty brown eyes that are always so fucking shiny. That glint at him like they're backlit by stars.

-

Ringed fingers gripped at the hair Steve ached to touch constantly.

Eddie was pacing across the small living room of Steve’s trailer, ranting about his chances of graduating once again being in the shitter. The next pivot past his coffee table saw Eddie dropping down to sit, full weight in the motion. Steve tried real fucking hard to not feel jealous of his own furniture when his (love– sunflower– sweetheart– light of his life– moon–) friend was stressed and covering his face to muffle, badly, a scream.

"I was in class with you man, how did you do it? Because I'm drowning, I barely have my nose out to breathe, and I always thought you were in the same boat as me."

Steve thought back to high school, to the incomprehensible letters and texts that would float in his brain for an hour before leaving behind only chemtrails of interesting sounding words or sentences.

The way he'd move through the bottleneck of student crowded halls to lean beside the dumpsters by the back parking lot at lunch and suck down cigarettes to disrupt the buzzing in his hands and chest that always came when he was nervous or overwhelmed. Multiple times a week the side door would open and different teachers would step out already shaking out their own pack of smokes only to look up and freeze at the sight of him.

Steve leaned back into the couch. 

"I'd smoke by the dumpsters with my teachers and talk about class." 

He'd stand there, finding shapes in the exhaled clouds as a lighter passed back and forth and he asked all the questions he was too nervous to voice during class. Because it wasn't middle school anymore, and the voyage of curiosity had run aground on the jagged rocks of ninth grade.

He wasn't the smartest, answers took longer to meet his aching grasp, connections misfiring often from misread and misunderstood textbooks. And if there was one thing Steve didn't want to hear, it was something being repeated in his classmates that he already heard at home. 

"I think they were a little more lenient with me because we'd discuss it during those breaks. I had a chance to ask my questions and they could see I was trying to grasp the shit we'd gone over, I could verbalise my understanding. I just couldn't figure how to put it in writing, which is what they fuckin’ graded."

Eddie pulled away from his hands and blinked at him slowly. "You smoked. With our teachers."

"Yeah." Steve shrugged. "There's only so many times they can say to cut it out before they just give in to the knowledge that I would still be smoking, it'd just be somewhere else."

"Are you telling me I should smoke with Ms O'Donnell and maybe I'll be able to pass this year?"

Steve shrugged. "I don't know man, I don't remember her coming out to smoke. But if you see the teachers, just like, start asking questions, I don't know.”

Eddie's too-pretty eyes dug out a piece of his soul with nothing but their weight. "This is seriously how you graduated?"

"I mean, yeah. Mostly. The only classes I understood were the maths ones and biology." Eddie's face smoothed into a smirk and he couldn't help but shiver. "Not like that, dude. I just liked learning about how bodies and lifeforms function. Like the bug thing I went through as a kid."

"You went through–" Eddie blinked. "What is a bug thing?"

"You know, like. Life cycles of wasps from pupae to insect, the different beetles and why some develop long range defence attacks and some don't. Bug thing. You didn't go through that? It like, it ties in perfectly with the dinosaur, dragon and Egypt thing."

Steve had watched Eddie fall back into the couch and was now pinned in place, much like the framed rhinoceros beetle Dustin gifted him last year that hung above his key rack, by his amused smile. 

"Full of surprises aren't you, big boy."

God Steve was so screwed. He could feel how hot his cheeks just got.

Redirect, redirect, redirect.

“Anyway. Half the time it was our science teacher Mr Schecter out there, but you know him. He takes over half the subjects when the other teachers can't come in. I swear the guy knows more about the subject matter than they do most of the time. They talk to each other to bitch about us, might as well show them we're trying in our own ways."

Eddie blinked his big, stressed out eyes at him. "Mr Schecter. The guy who for a semester taught Home Ec, Chemistry and for some godforsaken reason, P.E., would help me with this."

Steve shrugged and slid further down into his cushion, absolutely not for the reason that it caused his knees to slide against Eddie's. 

"Man likes to teach and he knows a lot. He also stress-smokes like I do, so half the time I was walking outside, he'd either be a minute behind me or already out there."

"I'm trying to wrap my head around you knowing so much about our teachers' scandalous habits."

Steve snorted, opening his eyes to grin at Eddie. "When I couldn't find any of our teachers, after school I'd go down to the middle and hit up Mr Clarke because that man knows a lot and knows how to explain it well. I'd also sometimes find him smelling mighty familiar. If you catch my drift.”

-

He doesn’t know when his filter for not saying everything that lived inside his mind wore away, when the idea of finally speaking the truth into existence became a thing. Maybe after the fifth conversation with Robin, where she quite hypocritically pushed him towards making that move with Eddie because it was a sure thing.

“Oh so you’re quoting me to me now, are you? That’s rich, Robin. How’s your thing with Vickie going?”

Robin groaned and leaned back, knocking over the fresh stack of tapes with her flailing elbows.

“It’s different for me, you know that. But with Eddie? Come on, the guy walks around bowing to ladies and saying flattery works on me. One of his favourite bands is Judas Priest, Steve. You’ve seen the posters. You and I know that lead singer is in the leather scene, we’d be fucking blind to not see that. Eddie walks around flagging, for fuck’s sake.”

“I get that. I know that guy is in the leather scene. Eddie has a magazine with his picture in it where he’s wearing like, seven studded belts. And we can speculate all you want, but I also don’t think Eddie knows he is flagging, or what flagging even is, because I’ve alluded to that shit and he just goes all confused big eyes on me, and then I just get lost because he has really pretty eyes.”

Somewhere around the twelfth time they circled around their victorian era longing and sighing over glimpsed ankles, they came to a compromise. 

“He was putting on his jacket and as he did, it pulled his shirt up and I– he has little dimples on his back and between those and the way his bullet belt falls across his hips, I couldn’t look away. He turned around and asked me if I was good because I kind of zoned out for a minute thinking about using the belt as a hand hold to yank him closer.”

“Great, you’re looking at his back and I was looking at her collar bones and thinking they’d look so pretty with hickies.” Robin pushed away from her side of the counter to land at his side, shoulder to shoulder. “God, we’re still pathetic. I think we should just,” she scrunches her face and sighs, “we should just go for it. Fuck it. I have Fast Times 53 minutes, 8 seconds; and you have Judas Priest and flagging. This is the closest we’re going to get to landing our devious queer romances in this tiny town. The worst that can happen is we play it off as a dare.”

“So we go for it, full overt operations with our babes, dazzle them with our combined personality and pray it works? And then move to a city when you graduate on the off chance all this falls through?”

Robin bumped their shoulders together before she slumped down, her cheek pressing into the uncomfortable seam of his work vest. “Sounds like a plan, if we’ve ever had one.”

-

There was never a situation in which Steve would be done spending time with Eddie. And the night everyone had gotten together to celebrate his graduation, he made sure Eddie came home with him for their own after party.

Made sure Eddie knew how proud of him Steve was, that he never gave up.

Also that he took his, admittedly, weak advice. “Smoking with the teachers helped, huh?”

Eddie grinned, “I can’t believe it did, man. Mr Schecter is a surprisingly cool dude, he explained so much shit to me.”

“I’m glad.” 

“You helped too, you know?”

Eddie moved in, the heat he radiated through his open leather jacket, and just in general, was like a warm line down Steve’s side. Which was a nice contrast to the cool breeze coming off of Cop Lake.

(Two years he's been living there, but the name had stuck. Steve genuinely didn't remember the lake's name.)

“You’re the one who explained all that maths in ways I would understand. Gave me those scenarios for english that made sense. Too bad I was already passing biology though huh, big boy. Would have liked to see what demonstration you would have worked out for me there.”

Internally, Steve was crouching down and screaming into his hands.

Externally, his fingers reached out to loop through the chain hanging from Eddie’s belt and tugged ever so softly. 

“I told you, it’s not that kind of biology. Those demonstrations are saved for a rainy day.”

Eddie swayed impossibly closer. “Oh yeah? What would I have to do to unlock just prestigious lessons from you, sweetheart.”

Shit he didn’t think this far ahead.

What have they talked about recently that he could relate this to?

Think, think thi– Bingo.

He smiled, “I’m sure you could think of something. I heard your campaign just picked a paladin and you’re giving him and one of your favourite NPCs, how did Dustin describe it? Tension?”

Oh, what he wouldn’t give to watch Eddie flush so pretty and turn to tuck that soft smile into his hair every day for the rest of his life.

-

Somehow, that wasn’t the moment that pushed them together. Eddie was remarkably stubborn when it came to his moves. 

They would dance together at every moment, Steve setting something up, a little hidden gem for him to find, and Eddie would find it and go with it, but move no further.

Steve would sit on the couch and have his arm on the couch behind Eddie, and Eddie would lean in, press their legs together.

He would use the magnets Max bought him for his birthday to write the filthiest poems he could think of, and come back after dropping Eddie home safe and sound to Wayne, to find more added on. That time, he had to take matters in hand for a while because the fucking imagery Eddie painted behind his eyes with those lines was…exquiste. 

His favourite activity to do during the pursuit of (his love– baby– starlight– good boy–) Eddie was to lay back on the tangled mess of covers and pillows, and listen to Eddie talk.

There was something about Eddie’s voice that just sunk deep under his skin and curled through his bones in a satisfying way that left him aching for more.

When he got deep into a monologue, excited with everything he was saying and the fact that Steve would never bear to look away, Eddie would jump up and move his whole body as he talked. Hands flying about, fingers pulling shapes to suit the topic, hair cutting behind him as he spun around. 

Those days, Steve would learn about what Eddie liked about music, who his favourite bands are and for what reason; he would learn what was going to happen in the next session of both D&D campaigns Eddie was running. One with all of Hellfire and Erica, the second with just his boys. Because he liked that he could go harder and a little more raunchy with them.

When the stream of consciousness would trickle to an end, and he saw that Steve was comfy and in no rush to leave, Eddie would walk over and crawl onto the bed to lay beside him. He would reach out for whatever book they were on and begin to read aloud in that deep, slow voice he no doubt practised.

-

All these perfect moments, and it wasn’t enough to have Eddie close the distance.

Could he have closed it, pushed the moment to that oh so perfect conclusion he was aiming for? 

Sure. 

But a small part of him had been seeing if Eddie ever would, and came to the conclusion that Eddie would need an explicit, this is happening, no doubts about it, please do me now moment. 

So he made the tapes.

He took three hours out his day to make the perfect compilations, and had a little too much fun recording a tasting sample for Eddie, so much fun he’d almost forgotten to hit record.

He took to the pictures, labelled the tape inserts, delivered the instructions, and revelled in that pretty dazed look that rose from calling Eddie a good boy. 

And then three hours later, when Eddie ran up the stairs to his trailer, he yanked him inside.

He got to explore just how much of that black bandana Eddie knew about and show him those more in depth biology lessons.

Eddie’s little back dimples looked beautiful when his back arched, the little whines settled in his chest so perfectly when he would whisper all those names Steve had held tight behind his lips for so long, his voice so pretty when he moaned. When he dripped his pleasure, body trembling gently as they both relaxed into the bed, breathing heavy and warm into each other's shoulder. 

Seeing Eddie in his space, bathed in the soft warmth of his floor lamps, skin glistening from his shower, Steve knew that it was a view he wanted to have the pleasure of seeing for the rest of his life.  

-

Robin looked at him from across their breakfast, smug. “The tapes worked huh?”

Steve nodded as he swallowed his coffee, taking in the dark pink spots peeking out from the collar of her Stacey Q t-shirt, mostly obscured by her leather jacket. “Kiss of the Spider Woman worked huh?”

She grinned. “It did. I can’t believe the movie you guessed would fit the movie night would do it.”

“It has the silhouette of a naked lady on the front, of course it would do it.” 

“I guess we aren’t as pathetic as we thought.”

He bobbed his head, because while they weren't pathetic in the sense that they finally got their person, they undoubtedly were still pretty pathetic and stupid smitten when it came to them because he just couldn't hold it in any more.

"Holy shit, he smells like heaven, and oh my god, I like him so much."

Robin snorted into her juice and thunked her glass down, choking on her laughter. "He does not. He smells like cigarettes, leather and whatever cologne he bought on a whim. Vickie is the one who smells like heaven."

"She smells like baby powder and that floral hand cream you bought her."

"Exactly! Heaven!"

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #stobin #stranger things fic

[punisheddonjuan]

So one of my favourite absolute weirdos who I like to keep an eye on, Audiophile Rocks, put out a catalogue today and it is the most amazing thing. Okay, so Audiophile Rocks is this weird Finnish guy who sells audio "tweaks" which consist of various coloured rocks and crystals that when placed on top of your stereo supposedly alter the sound characteristics of Hi-Fi equipment through unspecified means. Even for the world of weird snake-oil audiophile products, in which there exists everything from $500 lifts that keep your cables from touching the ground to devices that claim to "condition the ambient field", this guy is waaaay the fuck out there on the weird end. He's been semi-infamous for years in audio and tech circles, just last year Tom's Hardware did a review of a $500 audiophile SATA cable he sold that seemed to be constructed out of a flexible toilet connector and random rocks. He's got a Youtube Channel where he demonstrates his various "tweaks". Here's one of his videos where he gives an overview of his many products:

It's an absolute trip, he seriously tries to sell these rocks that you're supposed to place on top of your stereo and this somehow affects the sound. And people buy them. He's got a second Youtube channel called 1000 year old man which used to have a lot more videos on it where he made claims like how he is over a thousand years old, and had founded a religion dedicated to the concept of the "eargasm", he unfortunately deleted most of those videos and the videos where he imparted his secrets to playing billiards. The videos remaining on there are still plenty bizarre though:

Anyways, so the catalogue, yes the catalogue, it is amazing. Let's take a look:

The catalogue also doubles as some form of IQ test?

This is such a treasure trove of weird. I love it.

#Youtube

[spacetimewithstuartgary]

NASA Artemis science, first intuitive machines flight head to moon

A suite of NASA science instruments and technology demonstrations is on the way to our nearest celestial neighbor for the benefit of humanity. Through this flight to the moon, they will provide insights into the lunar surface environment and test technologies for future landers and Artemis astronauts.

At 1:05 a.m. EST on Thursday, Intuitive Machines' Nova-C lander launched on a SpaceX Falcon 9 rocket from Launch Complex 39A at the agency's Kennedy Space Center in Florida. At approximately 1:53 a.m., the lander deployed from the Falcon 9 second stage. Teams confirmed it made communications contact with the company's mission operations center in Houston. The spacecraft is stable and receiving solar power.

These deliveries are part of NASA's CLPS (Commercial Lunar Payload Services) initiative and Artemis campaign, which includes new solar system science to better understand planetary processes and evolution, search for evidence of water and other resources, and support long-term human exploration.

"NASA scientific instruments are on their way to the moon—a giant leap for humanity as we prepare to return to the lunar surface for the first time in more than half a century," said NASA Administrator Bill Nelson. "These daring moon deliveries will not only conduct new science at the moon, but they are supporting a growing commercial space economy while showing the strength of American technology and innovation. We have so much to learn through CLPS flights that will help us shape the future of human exploration for the Artemis Generation."

While enroute to the moon, NASA instruments will measure the quantity of cryogenic engine fuel as it is used, and during descent toward the lunar surface, they will collect data on plume-surface interactions and test precision landing technologies.

Once on the moon, NASA instruments will focus on investigating space weather/lunar surface interactions and radio astronomy. The Nova-C lander also will carry retroreflectors contributing to a network of location markers on the moon for communication and navigation for future autonomous navigation technologies.

NASA science aboard the lander includes:

Lunar Node 1 Navigation Demonstrator: A small, CubeSat-sized experiment that will demonstrate autonomous navigation that could be used by future landers, surface infrastructure, and astronauts, digitally confirming their positions on the moon relative to other spacecraft, ground stations, or rovers on the move.

Laser Retroreflector Array: A collection of eight retroreflectors that enable precision laser ranging, which is a measurement of the distance between the orbiting or landing spacecraft to the reflector on the lander. The array is a passive optical instrument and will function as a permanent location marker on the moon for decades to come.

Navigation Doppler Lidar for Precise Velocity and Range Sensing: A Lidar-based (Light Detection and Ranging) guidance system for descent and landing. This instrument operates on the same principles of radar but uses pulses from a laser emitted through three optical telescopes. It will measure speed, direction, and altitude with high precision during descent and touchdown.

Radio Frequency Mass Gauge: A technology demonstration that measures the amount of propellant in spacecraft tanks in a low-gravity space environment. Using sensor technology, the gauge will measure the amount of cryogenic propellant in Nova-C's fuel and oxidizer tanks, providing data that could help predict fuel usage on future missions.

Radio-wave Observations at the Lunar Surface of the Photoelectron Sheath: The instrument will observe the moon's surface environment in radio frequencies, to determine how natural and human-generated activity near the surface interacts with and could interfere with science conducted there.

Stereo Cameras for Lunar Plume-Surface Studies: A suite of four tiny cameras to capture imagery showing how the moon's surface changes from interactions with the spacecraft's engine plume during and after descent.

Intuitive Machines' Nova-C-class lunar lander, named Odysseus, is scheduled to land on the moon's South Pole region near the lunar feature known as Malapert A on Thursday, Feb. 22. This relatively flat and safe region is within the otherwise heavily cratered southern highlands on the side of the moon visible from Earth. Landing near Malapert A will also help mission planners understand how to communicate and send data back to Earth from a location where Earth is low on the lunar horizon.

The NASA science aboard will spend approximately seven days gathering valuable scientific data about Earth's nearest neighbor, helping pave the way for the first woman and first person of color to explore the moon under Artemis.

IMAGE....A SpaceX Falcon 9 rocket carrying Intuitive Machines’ Nova-C lunar lander lifts off from Launch Pad 39A at NASA’s Kennedy Space Center in Florida at 1:05 a.m. EST on Feb. 15, 2024. As part of NASA’s CLPS (Commercial Lunar Payload Services) initiative and Artemis campaign, Intuitive Machines’ first lunar mission will carry NASA science and commercial payloads to the moon to study plume-surface interactions, space weather/lunar surface interactions, radio astronomy, precision landing technologies, and a communication and navigation node for future autonomous navigation technologies. Credit: NASA

#science #space #astronomy #physics #news #nasa #astrophysics

[commodorez]

Anything I should know before trying to set up a microphone for my laptop the first time?

That all comes down to what kind it is, but for the moment I'm going to assume something for general purpose consumer use. For the moment I will demonstrate with Windows 7 because I'm old and stubborn, but 10 gives you many of the same options in the fancy newer layout. Just look for similar terms as you go. I haven't used a mic on a Mac or a Linux machine in a very long time to get specific to that.

If it's USB, plug it in and hopefully it sets itself to become the default device.

If it's a classic computer microphone with a 3.5mm/1/8" stereo TRS (that's Tip Ring Sleeve) audio jack, you want the connector on your laptop that might be indicated with either a microphone symbol OR it might be color coded pink (do they still do that for laptops sometimes?). Just plug it in. Don't plug it into the Line In port, that's not what you're after here (it might be light blue).

You want to check in your sound devices section (either in control panel/settings, or selected by the speaker icon on your taskbar next to the time).

If it isn't already the default, first go to the Recording tab, then select the device in the list, and click "Set Default". After that, you may want to do some level adjustment, so select "properties". From there, you can go to the Levels tab and adjust accordingly.

For either type, it doesn't hurt to do a test recording with something and play it back, see how it sounds. Tweak as needed.

If you're actively hearing yourself while you're testing it, that might be because you have "Listen to this device" selected in the Listen tab (just to the left of the Levels tab)

Individual programs will let you select which device you would like to use as your audio input, and it doesn't necessarily have to be your default device.

I can't really speak to using bluetooth wireless audio devices, as the only one I've ever used worked better with the accompanying USB wireless dongle on my work laptop. More or less if it's connected, it will give you the same options as before

I know modern earbuds and some varieties of headset have TRRS 3.5mm connectors carrying audio for the headphones and the microphone on the same connector. You'll have to check if your laptop has a connector that can accept that (check the spec sheet), otherwise you'll need to find an appropriate splitter cable to make it work in a standard TRS microphone connector.

Hopefully that answers your question. If it doesn't feel free to get more specific.

#hopefully im not being condescending either #yes i still daily windows 7

[creature-wizard]

Unlike the narrative in Michelle Remembers, which was obviously influenced by modern horror media rather than any real occult practice, The Satan Seller is obviously more informed by real occult practices. In my opinion there's just enough knowledge in here to make it slightly plausible. Warnke's narrative references things 20th century occultists and witches were actually into - astrology, lighting candles while performing spells, grinding herbs together, appropriating Hebrew (not that Warnke is aware of that being a bad thing), the phrase "so mote it be," and similar.

If this guy had been content to claim that he'd fallen in with a bunch of young edgelords in college, I think he could have had a pretty plausible narrative. But Mike Warnke was not content to claim anything so mundane, oh no.

He claims that he was basically doing all of the drugs while he was in college and was struggling financially to support his drug habit (note that his former college friends called bullshit on this), and at this time this guy named Dean Armstrong got him into Satanism because he saw a potential for greatness in this drug-addicted college student who got fired from his part-time job for stealing money from his place of employment.

Dean basically assures him that he doesn't have to worry about money anymore because whatever he wants, the Satanists will give him. And they really go all-out spoiling this guy, buying his favorite kind of furniture without him even asking:

A long, low, oxblood leather couch replaced the sagging old brown horsehair one, and there were two sets of bookshelves full of books beneath the windowsill where there had been a rickety scarred table. The biggest surprise was on the floor—two chicks sitting on a white rug.

“Oh, wow,” was all I could think of to say. “Did you two do all this since I left for the meeting?” I went over and sat on the soft couch, feeling the smoothness of the leather. “Who knew the type of furniture I like?” In my casual conversations, I probably had mentioned being attracted to certain types of furnishings, colors, etc. But I could not help thinking of Satan’s power, and my experience with the wishing smoke which Teresa had concocted for me.

The Satanists spare no expense buying this guy all kinds of fancy swag:

The next week just flew by, with the girls helping me pick out a new wardrobe of clothes and a complete set of china and silverware. The biggest acquisition of our shopping trips was a stereo set which had everything, I mean, everything. The manager of the store evidently was on the fringes of the “movement” and said whatever I chose was mine. “Get what you want. Don’t settle for second-best, Mike,” he said. “If I don’t have it here, I'll put it on order.” He had what I wanted, and it was delivered that same day.

By the way, this kind of casual misogyny is all over the book so far. He's always referring to women as "chicks" and describes treating women in really gross, disrespectful ways without showing the slightest hint of remorse. Also, the "wishing smoke" he refers to? He wished that Theresa would beg him for sex, and it very nearly worked (according to him). Theresa, in his narrative, basically brushed this off with "it's fine, you didn't know any better, you didn't really believe in the power of Satan."

Just... eew?

Oh, and he tells a wild story that supposedly demonstrates the power of demons over the physical world:

The day before the first meeting at which I would preside, I still felt touchy about how to call on those demonic spirits. I had already read one case where two jokers had been fooling around and had stood in the wrong part of the circle, with their toes on the pentagram, and the demons had crushed them to death. Their rib cages had caved in like balsa wood under an elephant’s foot. Exactly the same thing had happened to both of them. They were twins in death.

Honestly? The dude's repeating a whole lot of which hunt rhetoric in this story, but as a general rule even the witch hunters of Europe didn't make claims this wild.

I am quite confident that what all of this amounts to is Mike Warnke's personal twisted power fantasy. In the narrative, he's being lavishly spoiled and set up to become this super important Satanic leader for absolutely no good reason. He's basically this egomaniacal nobody who shows every sign of being a liability in the long-term, but they treat him like he's the shit.

If Mike Warnke had been born a few decades later, he'd have probably been writing fanfiction about seducing Black Widow as Doctor Doom or something.

#mike warnke #the satan seller #satanic panic

[sweetiesicheng]

joshua - practice room

word count : 596

-

music played in your headphones as you tried to fix some choreography you had came up with the day before. you were working on a performance for a dance team that you had met with.

"HEY Y/N!"

you almost ripped your headphones off when you heard someone yell directly behind you. you turned around and saw joshua standing there, hysterically laughing at you.

"that was too funny," he managed to say in between laughing.

"jisoo! what the hell?!" you yelled at him, raising your hand to hit him, but you didn't. you took your headphones off, leaving them around your neck. music was still playing from your headphones so you picked your phone up from the floor to turn the music off. "what do you want?" you asked him.

"just wanted to say hi to you. i just got finished recording something," he mentioned. "how's the dancing going?" he asked.

"i'm trying to fix something i choreographed for that dance team," you mentioned. "but i'm hungry," you suddenly whined.

"want me to order food? i'll stay here, and we can eat dinner together," he asked.

"really?" you asked him.

he nodded. you hugged him, "are you hugging me cause you missed me or because i'm paying for food this time?"

you looked up at him, "i'm hugging my lovely boyfriend."

joshua smiled and kissed you. "you need to let me go so i can call," he said to you.

"no, you don't."

"no, i don't."

-

once dinner was secured and eaten, you started teaching joshua the choreography you had. you had him run the whole dance with you and experimented with the parts that you wanted to change.

"and then turn," you instructed and demonstrated, "then step out."

joshua followed you and you nodded.

"i like the choreography," he mentioned.

"why thank you. i am pretty good at my job after all," you replied. "okay. the music.”

joshua nodded and jogged over to the stereo. he turned the music on and walked back to watch you dance the new part of the choreography.

"oh shoot," you spoke when you messed up. you continued dancing until the choreography ended.

"it looked good," joshua said to see as the song continued to play. "do you need me to record you?"

you nodded, "please."

joshua took his phone out of his pocket and started recording you. you went over to the stereo and restarted the song, turning the volume up by a smidge. then, you went back to the center of the room while joshua stood in the back. you started dancing, messing up again in the first bit, but you got back on track again.

once you were done, joshua stopped recording and turned the music off for you.

"i keep messing up," you laughed.

"if you hadn't taught it to me, i wouldn't have noticed," joshua replied to you. "wanna head home?" he asked you as he walked over to you.

"i kind of want ice cream," you mentioned your sudden craving.

"ice cream? babe, you know how cold it is outside?" joshua replied, looking at you as if you were crazy.

"what? come on, it won't hurt," you replied to him.

"you're gonna get frozen on the outside cause of the temperature, and then you're going to freeze on the inside cause of the ice cream," he said to you. you pouted at him. "one scoop. ice cream is expensive these days when you go to an ice cream shop."

you hugged him, "yay."

"you're still crazy."

"crazy for you, and my precious ice cream."

#sweetiesicheng #sweetiesicheng seventeen #seventeen #seventeen hong joshua #seventeen joshua #kpop #carat #joshua hong #joshua #joshua x y/n #joshua x you #seventeen joshua hong #seventeen hong jisoo #hong jisoo #seventeen vocal team #seventeen vocal unit #seventeen x fanfic #seventeen x oc #seventeen x y/n #seventeen x you #seventeen x reader #joshua x reader #svt joshua #svt #svt jisoo #jisoo #seventeen jisoo #jisoo hong #seventeen fanfic #seventeen fanfiction

[heartattackmedication]

Here's how I use my phone to record guitar.

I am incredibly broke, and very lazy. That's why I have devised This Method to record my Bad Playing so I can show my friends and pals and rivals.

This is what you will need:

Your phone.

Any audio editing software. Even the free ones, they can all do this. I use Cakewalk, precisely because it's free.

Whatever your guitar setup is.

This is actually what I record with.

Stick your phone's mic in front of the amp. It will sound different depending on where you put it, too. Closer to the center of the speaker, you'll get more high end. Closer to the speaker itself, you'll get more low end (and volume, but that doesn't really matter). I just put my phone right in front of the center for this. Record with whatever your phone has i guess. I just have voice memo (samsung moment), so I use that and it works fine. Also you really don't need to turn the amp up loud at all, since the mic is right there. Everything I've done for this demonstration was lower than conversation volume.

Here's what the audio directly from your phone will sound like. Headphones ON for WORST experience.

So that sucks right. wtf is going on. Well, a lot of phones record in stereo for some reason. That's why the audio is so much clearer on the left than on the right, and why you can hear all the strumming happening on one side. But we can fix this easily !

Importing the audio into our editor of choice, we can see that it is Nasty Icky Stereo. Every DAW has a way of splitting stereo tracks into mono tracks, which is what we want to do. Cakewalk sucks so it's not very intuitive.

You can skip over this part if you are using a different software.

Select your track, go to the Tracks dropdown, and hit Bounce to Track(s). You'll get this popup. Change the Channel Format to Split Mono and the Source Category to Tracks. Hit OK and you'll get your left and right channels in mono.

You can just remove the track you don't need, and keep the one with your amp audio. Don't forget to pan it to center. You'll get something like this.

Which is better !! And it doesn't take that much effort. But if you do want to put in a little more effort (and I mean a Little more) you can EQ it to get rid of any buzzing or hissing, and to just make it sound better in general.

And that's pretty much all I do !! There is a big improvement from just raw phone audio, and it's honestly great if you don't have a fancy microphone (and don't want to spend money).

also if anyone with more experience than me in No Budget Recording is seeing this post and has any tips to make this process better or easier, tell me pleaaase :3 please :3 My thirst for learning is fully unquenchable and I will devour all.

#guitar #music recording #guitarposting #mouseteeths guitarposting

[seat-safety-switch]

A couple years ago, back in the before-times (you can interpret that however you want,) my friends and I used to go to the auto show. At the auto show, the dealerships set up little booths and then demonstrate all their new cars by pulling some off the lot. When you buy your new car, maybe it’s been bounced in a few hundred times by toddlers, or had all of its buttons pushed, or been ever-so-slightly scratched by a dude with keys on his belt at this auto show.

That would definitely annoy me, if I were capable of purchasing a new car. All of mine come pre-scratched, from a hardscrabble life of being sent to the junkyard and escaping at least once. In theory, any one of my cars might have been shown at an auto show. Late 1973, early 1974, some asshole would have looked at my Satellite, and gone: yeah, it��s pretty, but the paint doesn’t match. And then things just went south from there.

I’m getting off topic. Here’s the thing that’s important: if you go to the auto show, now, and you go look at the new cars, it gives you a preview of what used, high-mileage garbage you’ll get to choose from in a mere thirty or forty years. Some of the things they bolt onto new cars these days are really cool, although I am sure that the stereo system will stop working once the government finally shoots down the last of the trucker-radio satellites, following the Comedy Radio Rebellion of 2046. In particular, I keep finding myself diving under the electric cars, trying to figure out where I should apply a sawzall to maximum effect in order to “green up” my shitbox fleet. I am told that they are especially competent at burnouts, these lightning-based barge rockets, and surely shaving about three thousand pounds and all the airbags off of the curb weight will only make them more so.

If there’s one downside to the auto show, it’s the crass commercialism. And if there’s two downsides, it’s that every sales rep wants to talk to me. Why? Because when they’re at the convention centre, they’re not able to go into the break room of their respective dealerships and see that blurry photocopy of my face with the words “DO NOT APPROACH” written underneath. I still think it’s kind of unfair that the auto dealer association pulled that shit on me, just because I tried to help myself to some metric bolts over at the Nissan dealer. It’s not like they were using them: based on this Leaf, they mostly hold the thing together with plastic clips anyway.

[kassies-take]

If You Got A Surprise For Pride

Age: 17

You: *laying in bed, hears tapping on your window, and looks out*

Bucky and Natasha: *in inflatable unicorn costumes*

Bucky: *runs to place*

Natasha: *holding a wagon of pride flags and Liho the cat dressed in a rainbow sweater*

Bucky: *presses play on a boom box*

Stereo: *plays Born This Way*

Bucky and Natasha: *doing a little dancey dance*

You: *laughing*

Bucky: *gets out of sync with Natasha*

Natasha: you’re off!

Bucky: sorry! *trying to keep up with Natasha* Nope *twerks*

You: *laughing*

Natasha: wh- James!

You: *runs out your room, down the stairs and into the backyard*

Bucky: the dance is too hard Natalia!

Natasha: You’re leg is just crossing over the other as your arm moves in and out *demonstrate*

Bucky: you make it look easy. *begins to do his own dance*

Natasha: *joins*

You: but you guys are still cute!!! *goes to hug the two unicorns* thank you!

Natasha: happy pride baby! *inflatable unicorn head hits you are she tries to kiss your head*

Bucky: *tries to kiss you as well*

You: *getting hit by horns and inflatable heads* ah why am I getting hit by unicorns!

Bucky: TASTE THE RAINBOW!

You and Natasha: *laughing*

You: *takes out your phone to take a selfie* Auntie Lena and Uncle Steve are going to love this

#if you series #natasha romanoff imagines #natasha romanoff imagine #mom natasha #natahsa romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x child!reader #natasha romanoff x daughter!reader #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes imagine #dad bucky #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x daughter!reader #bucky barnes x child!reader #winterwidow #buckynat #natasha romanoff x bucky barnes #bucky barnes x natasha romanoff

[levanterhaze]

✧ SLOW DANCING IN THE DARK (LEE KNOW)

→ dancer!lee know xdancer!f.reader

→ word count: 2k

→ when dancing is all you know, it becomes your great passion. studying at the apollo school of arts is like a dream come true. in one of your accomplishments, you have to work with one of the greatest talents called lee minho and accept that maybe feelings are confusing and abstract like slow dancing alone in the dark.

→ warnings: strong insecurities and lack of self-esteem, angst, signs of anxiety, bad language, sexual content (depends on each chapter, but I'll let you know)

CHAPTER TWO — (masterlist)

playlist: drive, stray kids. doughnut, twice.

You clearly got by heart when you got your first pointe shoe. You were only nine years old and you loved watching old videos of your mom in performances, it was magical. Mina followed her steps before you, so by the age of seven she was already enrolled in ballet and jazz classes.

Nine-year-old little you’d be proud to know how far you've come. For everything it was necessary to go through, all the strength you gathered in your being to continue doing what you loved so much. You hadn't worn a pointe shoe in years, but the memory was still very sweet and meaningful.

The practicing room was empty and the day had dawned with a light cover of fog, making it easier for the students to stay in their comfortable beds, but the sudden cold couldn't put you off, after all, you had a lot to do from now on.

It was 7:40 when you started stretching. Stretching all your muscles until your body could get used to the movements so that no pain came later was essential, and you did it well. Thanks to ballet, your body was much more flexible than other people, this made each exercise and stretching a lot easier.

So you stretched, sitting on the cold floor, feeling every muscle in your legs ache until you couldn't take it anymore. Then came the torso, the arms, and the feet, and after a while, you were ready to warm up. Everything took its time, but it was early and you didn't care, you could spend hours and hours dancing if you could.

Using the bar next to the mirror, you flexed your legs, putting weight on your legs, and reminded yourself of the moves you practiced so much in your teens. First, bending the knees sharply. 

A few repetitions and then flexing of the base of the leg, while the other is withdrawn at the same time. Your eyes are always focused on a fixed point.

Getting ready again, you made a mental count to stretch one leg and start a sequence of spins, one after the other. One, two, and three.

Your body lets go of the bar easily, pivoting with effort, your feet doing all the work as the lightness makes you almost levitate. Your loose hair moved exquisitely around your body, creating a cascade with every turn. When you positioned yourself at the end, your arms turned to your sides, as in the beginning. Your chest rose and fell with the effort, but the smile on your face was satisfying.

“You missed the last one.” A male voice had you jumping on your heels. Your eyes darted toward the door, where Minho walked in with his bag slung over his shoulders.

"Sorry?" Your tone was one of pure disbelief. Who did he think he was, anyway?

"You missed the last one, I said." He repeats as if it were nothing.

"No, I didn't." With your hands on your hips, you stare at him.

Minho approaches, adjusting the sleeves of his sweatshirt with every step. Then he demonstrates in quick, precise steps exactly what you just did, at least the last part where he insists you got it wrong. And then he does the movement again, at the end looking deep into your eyes. “That's what you should do. You lost your balance on the right side”

Anger bubbles up in your blood as you turn around idly. You tongue your cheek. "You’re so presumptuous."

“Honest, I would say.” Minho picks up his phone and walks over to the table where the stereo is plugged in. You roll your eyes. “Care to share the room?”

You laugh humorlessly and raise your eyebrows, turning away. "Go on, you're here anyway."

While Minho plugs in the sound to warm up, you pull up the computer to finish the theoretical assignment on Art History that was pending for a week. It was incomplete and there wasn’t much left to finish.

A good ten minutes passed in silence, just Minho in the background warming up, but you weren't paying attention. You were too focused on your computer to notice anyone else's movement. Until the music starts.

The loud, energetic sound completely took your focus away. Minho was in the center, staring at his reflection, and in the blink of an eye, he started moving his body with such speed and fluidity that it made you dizzy.

All the other people's comments about him were completely plausible. And watching him dance up close so raw was insane. He was pushing hard on his legs, stressing the muscles in his thighs under the sweatshirt. Minho also uses a lot of hand movements in his choreography, making the dance much more attractive and light. It was certainly a difficult choreo and your eyes followed every movement with fascination.

He stopped then, realizing that he had missed one of the steps and it frustrated him slightly. Returning to the table, he repeated the song and returned to the center, this time turning the cap that hid the ash-blonde hair.

The beat was low and fast, almost EDM or something, with no voice at all, just that frantic clatter of instruments. 

Minho stared at his reflection with a deadly, precise gaze. Lips closed in a tight line, controlling breath by the second. So when he got to the same move that consisted of jumping and landing in a timed time, his body swayed to the side and that made him close his eyes and grunt in dissatisfaction.

"You're counting wrong." Minho looks at you with half-closed eyes. You take a deep breath, set your computer aside, and walk across the room to where it was seconds ago. “Put on the music.”

Minho didn't say a word, but put on the music anyway and stood with his back to the mirror, seeing your figure face to face.

The music sounded loud again and Minho wasn't surprised when you repeated it step by step as he had done. Your movements were much more graceful and delicate than his, but there was strength and precision in each of them. Getting to the part where he'd gotten it wrong, you'd done it correctly and that made Minho grin.

He paused the music and you stared at him breathlessly, brushing your hair out of your face as you watched him walk towards you.

"Show me then." He was right in front of you. Eyes resting on your face, brows arched and defiant. You took your breath and then stood beside him.

Minho stared at his figures in the long mirror. "You need to start counting before finishing the previous move, so it's out of sync." Slowly, you retraced the steps, his eyes never leaving your image in the mirror. Minho waited for you to finish the demo and followed your advice, starting counting the steps before finishing the previous one.

And to his surprise, it worked. He landed masterfully on the exact count.

“Do you mind?” He was referring to music, you noticed.

"Go ahead." You brushed the hair that insisted on falling in your face, watching his movements.

The music started up again and Minho ran to the center, doing the mental count. You did the same, and on the right beat, you moved in sync, making the exact moves next to each other. Minho had finally got it right but he persisted in getting it wrong and since you didn't know the rest of the choreography, he took the song out.

You were panting, but not tired. Minho looked up, leaning closer. "Thanks."

“Wow, he knows how to be polite.” He rolled his eyes.

"And you have a sense of humor."

"Just for people who don't say I'm not a good dancer."

"I never said that." 

The silence became tense and all you could hear was each other's heavy breathing. Minho was still staring at you, chocolate brown eyes falling on you.

“Hm, I just remembered I didn't bring your hoodie. I didn't know you’d be here so soon, otherwise, I’d have brought it." You changed the subject just to avoid embarrassment yet again.

"Right." He shrugs.

“If you want, you can stop by my dorm after the training I will give you.”

Minho just nodded, walking away and going after his water bottle. In the meantime, you've gone back to your computer to finish your work. In the end, Minho managed to finish the choreography and practiced it four more times before giving you space.

Minho was a low-key guy and everybody knows that. He only had one friend when he came to Apollo and it was Jisung, who approached him kind-heartedly. So he has been glued to Minho since then. 

The other ones came effortlessly, Hyunjin and Felix were already friends with Jisung so it was easy to hang out with them, the conversation was nice and they're nice people too. So in a short period, there were 7 of them, and it was like Minho knew them forever. 

He didn't knew at first why the kids wanted to be friends with him, he was older and didn't talk much like Jisung or Felix, and he didn't knew how to handle his expressions and feelings either. But he loved the company. The small gathering at Changbin’s place or the cheesy restaurant near campus. They all get along so well that Minho just accepts it and appreciates it. 

And you didn't figure out why he did leave early in the practice room, but Minho needed a reason. That's why he was walking around campus in the middle of the night, right to your dorm. 

He's hiding his figure in his grey hoodie, only a few strands of ash-blonde hair falling on his forehead. He knew where you lived because Yunjin was your roommate and Changbin couldn't shut up about it for the last few days. 

He knocks on the door, hearing giggles on the other side and he supposes you're there with your friend. 

“Who is it?” Yunjin's voice is loud and clear. 

“Uh… Minho. From dance practice.” And there's silence. “I need to talk to your friend.”

“Uh, she can't right now. She is naked.” 

“I am not!” You shout over Yunjin's chuckle. “What What the fuck, Yunjin?”

Minho tries not to laugh at that, visualizing your frustrated facade and scarlet cheeks. And he pushes hard not to think of something else.

Then you show up and close the door behind you, leaving a nosy Yunjin in your dorm. You cross your arms, just because of the cold, not because of the embarrassment. Not at all. 

“Hi. Sorry about Yunjin, she's stupid. What are you doing here?.”

“I came for my hoodie.” 

“Oh. Okay, just wait here a second.” 

And he waits. You came back with his hoodie nicely wrapped in a bag. “Thanks.” 

And for a brief moment, your eyes meet. You watch his mouth in a thin line, his sharp cheekbones, his eyes, and everything that you never noticed before. Minho watches you watching him, doing the same, taking a long time in your eyes, creating some kind of nerve to say what he wanted to say. 

“I think we should team up.”

There it comes, out of the blue. Leaving you goggle-eyed.

“What?”

“You and me. We should team up for the festival.” 

“Can I ask you why?” You're still trying to figure out where this idea came from. 

“I just believe we can do a great job together.” 

“But what about Chaeryeong?” 

"She's going solo.” He shrugs. “What do you tell me?” 

“I mean, I can think about it but honestly I thought you were doing your solo. Didn't know you wanted to team up.” 

“I was. Guess I changed my mind.” 

“Why?" You peered him, noticing a smirk falling through his lips. 

“I told you. I can notice a lot of things.” 

Perplexity was all over your face. You recalled when he said that, at the party. You wished to ask what the hell he implied by that, but Minho spun into his heels, moving toward the stairs, not giving you a chance to answer his question. 

And when you got back to your dorm, Yunjin saw something was off. You didn't want to tell her why, but during that night, an odd feeling strived through your thoughts and they were all about him. 

taglist: @taeriffic @ughyoobi

a/n: hi! if you want to be tagged in this one just let me know and i appreciate comments a lot, they're always welcome and motivates me a lot to write more. i'm sorry this chapter was shorter compared than the previous one, but i'll make up with the next one, i promise!

#lee know scenarios #lee know series #lee minho x y/n #lee know #lee minho scenarios #lee know x y/n #lee know x you #lee know x reader #lee know x female reader #lee know imagines #slow dancing in the dark fic #kpop smut #lee minho drabbles #minho stray kids #minho imagines #minho fanfic #lee minho x you #stray kids #stray kids x reader