#Surface Mount Antenna

[rfantenna]

A Wi-Fi extender, also known as a Wi-Fi repeater or range extender, is a device that helps increase the coverage area of a Wi-Fi network by amplifying the existing Wi-Fi signal from a router or access point and rebroadcasting it.

[spacefrontier]

The boulder-strewn field of red rocks reaches to the horizon nearly two miles from Viking 2 on Mars' Utopian Plain. Scientists believe the colors of the Martian surface and sky in this photo represent their true colors. Fine particles of red dust have settled on spacecraft surfaces. The salmon color of the sky is caused by dust particles suspended in the atmosphere. Color calibration charts for the cameras are mounted at three locations on the spacecraft. Note the blue star field and red stripes of the flag. The circular structure at top is the high-gain antenna, pointed toward Earth. Viking 2 landed September 3, 1976, some 4600 miles from its twin, Viking 1, which touched down on July 20.

NASA

[oldguydoesstuff]

This is the kind of Lunar Lander game I remember playing as a kid in the mid 70s, perhaps my first interaction with a real computer. It was running on a PDP-11 (I am guessing) at the Talcott Mountain Science Center in Avon, Connecticut.

This place is a former Nike missile radar station, decommissioned in the late 60s. You drove for several miles through the woods, past the abandoned mounting pads for the radar antennas, to reach the site at the top.

Lunar lander itself is a simplistic game, you enter a fuel burn time each round and adjust it based on your velocity and remaining fuel, and try to reach the surface with as little delta-V as possible. (Usually with an amusing message if you failed)

Although this was text-only and you had only one input to give, the physics being modeled was real, and for me it was quite an immersive experience.

It was only a couple years after people had actually landed on the moon, and getting the chance to drive a lunar landing simulation on a real computer at a science center that was once a missile base, well that was astronaut stuff as far as preteen me was concerned.

I don't know that I have ever had as compelling a gaming experience since.

[sehtoast]

The Art of Worship (Homelander x OC Smut)

18+ | 2.6k words | Webweaver, gore, dismemberment, display of a corpse, blood, face fucking, choking, rooftop sex, p in v sex, blood as lube -- yes, you read that right, multiple orgasms, Homelander is his own warning, spidersona oc | Fic Directory

Homelander was fucking furious. 

Rage and indignance burned in his gut, igniting a flame that scorched anyone and everyone that dared cross his path or, worse yet, cross him outright. 

The only person safe from him was Benjamin.  His sweet little Benjamin. So calm and collected, patient and kind in the face of this– this slight.  This brazen fucking insult. 

Vought wanted publicity. Demanded it. Spectacles and events, mountains of money, free advertising from all the social media hype. Of course they'd want to pit their beloved Spider-Man against Webweaver, just as they'd done with A-Train and Shockwave. There was money to be made. They’d dangle his precious little spider over a lion’s jaw for a penny if the opportunity came about.  What did he expect?

They were to have a bundle of competitions, each one specially designed to determine who was the better Spider. 

Who was more fit for The Seven. 

Of course Homelander had gone nearly ballistic when he found out. 

Benjamin, though… He simply wasn’t taking it seriously.  Subject to rants and raves every morning and night as the competition neared, the bug simply always said, “It’ll be what it’ll be.”

But this couldn’t be.  Homelander wouldn’t fucking stand for it.  He didn’t believe for a second that the wall crawler would leave him were he to lose his place on the team, but to see someone else sit in his seat?  To tolerate some airheaded jackass, some cheap fucking knockoff thinking he was better in any capacity?  Absolutely not.

He wasn’t going to allow it.

He’d worked himself into a frenzy by the time he tackled his lover’s competitor out of the sky.  Completely consumed by rage, by fear and anxiety– but, more than anything, the burning need to protect.  He zips through the city, dragging Webweaver’s face across building after building, smearing pulp-like blood across the surfaces.  

“Did you really think,” he sneers, “I’d ever let someone like you into The Seven?  That I’d let you replace Spider-Man without putting my fucking foot down?”

He can hear the whimpering.  There’s still time to play, he decides, as he lands upon a skyscraper with two antenna towers that would be just perfect for what he had in mind.

He drags Webweaver’s limp form between the two, fiddling about with his hands and wrists to figure out how to fire his webs.

Imagine his surprise when it turns out to be a mechanism rather than the organic method by which Ben produces them.  No bodily-intent needed to make sure the webbing’s consistency and tension would be just right.

With a roll of his eyes, Homelander begins to craft his masterpiece.  He’s seen his little spider do this tons of times; so, really, how hard could it be?  He works, eventually deciding it’s far more convenient to remove Webweaver’s arm than to lug his dead weight around.

Once it’s perfect, he has his fun.  Picks him apart piece by painful piece, starting at the legs.  Webweaver is in and out of consciousness as Homelander dismembers him, but what fucking fun it was to see the look of horror on the face of the thorn in his side when he snapped that first length of bone and ripped his flesh clean off.  

“Like picking the legs off a bug,” he mocks.

Homelander mounts each limb in the web, creating a work of art piece by piece, topping it all off with a dripping, mangled, decapitated head.  He doesn’t even bother pulling the mask off– it’s shredded perfectly.  In his satisfaction of a job well done, he can’t help but feel his work of art is enough to rival Da Vinci’s Vitruvian Man.  Surely, after this, he’s an artist in his own right.

When he arrives home to find his Benjamin waiting on the couch, he has to stop the bug from attempting to drag him into the shower.

“It’s a surprise,” he tells Ben when the origin of the viscera is questioned.  “C’mon, I made you something!”

The look of abject horror on Ben’s face when they land on the rooftop tickles a mote of fear in his gut.  He’d done this just for his little spider.  Declared him the victor before the competitions could even begin.  Painted the city red just for him.

“D’you like it?”  He asks, the mixture of excitement and anxiety stirring in his gut.  “I did it for you.”

Ben’s chest rises and falls with each heavy breath.  He plucks at one of the tight strands of webbing, listening to the twanging vibration as he takes it all in.

At first he’s scared.  It’s like seeing an alternate version of himself in that web.  If things were different, would Homelander have done this to him?  He doubts it, but… somehow, some way, it stirs something in his core.

Homelander had killed– no, slaughtered a man for him.  It wasn’t even the first time John had killed for him, but this..?  This was something else entirely.  This was more than protection, more than retaliation.

It looked like a fucking offering to a beloved god from their most devout follower.  The care and creativity that had gone into it… Benjamin would be a liar if he said there wasn’t something alluring about the fact Homelander had done this.

In fact, the more he thought about it, the more his horror was replaced with something else entirely.  Something wicked.

He turns to Homelander, who stands there looking like a kicked puppy.  Ben had spent too long in thought, and his poor, darling Johnny began to feel rejected.

“John?”  He whispers, drawing his blood drenched lover’s gaze away from the ground.  “You did all this… for me?”

With big, blue, scared eyes, Homelander nods.

It’s as if Ben’s body moves on its own.  Each step forward barely registers, the hands rising to Homelander’s face are numb to sensation, cupping his cheeks as if they had a mind of their own.  Before he can even realize, Ben is leaning in to take Homelander in a searing kiss, gasping and breathing in lungfuls of the iron-laced air and each of John’s little breaths.

He can taste the blood on Homelander’s lips, and something sinister rears its head inside.

“You,” he gasps between kisses, tongue laving into John’s mouth for more, “are so…”

He backs Homelander up against one of the antenna towers, taking a fistful of his suit, other hand gripping his red-stained undercut to angle him deeper into the kiss.

“So fucking hot,” he breathes as they separate.  

A sick grin spreads across Homelander’s blood splattered face.  That swell of pride bubbles within him once more, particularly when he sees just how bloody his little spider’s lips had become from their kiss.  More than pride though, he feels himself twitch in his pants.

Benjamin looks gorgeous covered in that worthless fuck's blood.

He grips him by the jaw, pulling the web-head back in for another kiss, slipping his tongue between his lips.  Homelander takes him fiercely, overcome with a deep, desperate hunger that demands appreciation for his work of art.  

How goddamn thrilling to not hear a single complaint as he tore the t-shirt clean off Benjamin’s body.  He spins the bug, pressing his bare skin to the cold metal, relishing the opportunity to be had in his gasp.

He takes control. 

“Mine,” Homelander growls as he marks Benjamin with more blood.  He extends a hand, catching a few dribbles from the stray limbs above, moving back to claim his territory.

With a red right hand, he paints his name over Ben’s chest in big, bold letters.  The crimson blends with the leather of his glove, appearing as if his very essence was what smeared onto his little love bug.  He finishes it off with a bloody grip at Benjamin’s neck, leaving behind a perfect print.

“So, you like my handy-work, huh?” He smirks, trailing the tip of his nose up the corner of Ben’s jaw.  Homelander hears him gulp in response, feels those hands grasp at his forearms, and all he fucking wants is to put him on his knees and mmm… 

He has such delicious ideas in mind.

“Maybe you should show me how much you like it.”

The glint of excitement in Ben’s eyes doesn’t go unnoticed before the web-head is falling to his knees, just like he wanted.  What a fucking sight he was to behold, too.  The way he nuzzled against Homelander’s clothed cock before undoing his belt.  He mouths over it and, despite barely being able to feel it through the fabric and cup, John’s entire lower region twitches in excitement.

He sighs in relief when his cock meets the cool night time air, engulfed in heat near immediately as Benjamin swallows his length.  Throat training the boy had been the best decision in the world, truly.

“Ohhh…” Homelander leans his head back, stained hands threading through those unruly chestnut locks.  “That’s it– fuckin’ take it.”

John grinds into Ben’s mouth, burying himself deep and staying there until that hot, needy throat clamps down around his cock in a gag.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he tuts.  “Hold it.”  He hears the sound of Benjamin sputtering below.  Homelander looks down with a grin.  “Thaaaaat’s it, keep it in there.  Atta’boy, Benny.  My little spider– mine!”  Homelander pulls out to the tip, watching his precious Benjamin choke and gasp, grinning wickedly at the threads of saliva still connecting them.

He tips Ben’s head back to gaze up at him.

“I’m going to fuck that pretty mouth of yours, and you’re gonna behave yourself.”  He orders.  In the background, faint drips of blood can be heard splattering against the ground.  “Show me just how grateful you are that I saved your bacon, babe.”

Ben nods obediently before swallowing him once more.  Homelander swears he sees stars once that tongue swipes his tip, and galaxies as he sinks further inside.  He begins to thrust, hand directing Ben’s head with each motion to maximize his bliss.  

He really likes the sound his little spider makes every time the head of his cock beats the back of his throat.

“Fuckin’ whore,” he chuckles through his teeth.  “You couldn’t wait to suck my dick when you saw what I did for you– I just know it. You wanted to thank me so bad!”  

Homelander pushes in until Ben’s lips are wrapped around the base of his cock.  He holds there for a moment before setting a faster pace, thrusting blissfully into that hot, wet mouth that was just so perfect for him. 

“You wanted to get on your knees the second you saw it,” he continues. “You know I deserve this for protecting you. Fuck… suck that cock, baby.” 

He tilts the bug’s head back to rest against the metal frame, admiring the tears painting his cheeks and those gorgeous swollen lips.  When the hands gripping his thighs clench, he pats Ben’s cheek sweetly.

No, he thinks to himself. This is my masterpiece.

He gives his little spider ample opportunity to breathe once more as he pulls out, gripping his cock to smear spit and precum across his lovely little Benjamin’s face.  

Van Gogh only wishes his brushes stroked such beautiful swirls.

When that tongue juts out to beg for more, John wastes no time at all in burying himself all the way in one smooth motion.  This time, though, he leans down to grasp Ben's neck.  With a light squeeze, he’s overwhelming even himself– and yet he still fucks into that impossibly tight heat.

Ben’s eyes water even more, and he grips Homelander’s thighs with all of his might as he fights his gag reflex.  He can’t breathe, he can’t speak, and the hand squeezing his throat is pressing perfectly against his carotid arteries. 

His vision swims into blackness.  

Over the deafening thrums of his own heartbeat, Ben hears Homelander cry out his release, feels him thrust forward impossibly closer, pushing his head back against the metal frame with each motion.

“Good boy, good– ah!  Good fucking boy!”

He’s buried too deep to spare even a taste of come in Benjamin’s mouth, and the bug fights to not pass the fuck out from lack of oxygen.  By the time Homelander pulls out, Ben's almost confident he’s turned at least a few shades of purple if his desperate, heaving gulps of air were anything to go by.  He slumps onto his side before rolling onto his back, uncaring that he now lays in a puddle of his rival’s blood.

The sky is clear and the moon smiles back at him, but there’s no time to bask in it when his jeans and underwear are being dragged off his body by his voracious lover. 

Homelander spreads Ben’s legs with little patience before plunging into his cunt, groaning through clenched teeth as the soft, velvety walls practically pull him in.  Beneath him, Ben whines and squirms.

“Too mu– w-wait a sec!”

But he doesn’t care.  Not when that heat beckons him forth all the more and consumes him whole.  He ruts without care, fucking into his little spider like an animal.  Fuck, maybe that’s exactly what he was, all bloodstained, fangs bared, eyes swirling red in his frenzy.  Each snap of his hips caused them to slide around in the slick remains of Benjamin’s foe.

His little spider looked so fucking perfect in a halo of vengeance.

“Mine,” Homelander snarls, nails biting into the softness of Benjamin’s hips.  Below, his little spider whines and keens, eyes rolling back despite all of his attempts to steady his vision.  His pussy lips are parted like flower petals, and thrusts at just the right angle cause his swollen bud to slide against Homelander’s cock.  The more Benjamin writhes, the more blood stains his body.

He’s a sight to behold, especially once one of his slicked hands reaches between them to slide over the base of Homelander's cock.  Each stroke drags a little more of the thick liquid from his fingers and each glide of his cock becomes smoother until Homelander realizes just what his little love bug had done.

Benjamin used the fucking blood as lube.

A thought that, as soon as it fully manifested in Homelander’s mind, had him thrusting harsh and deep before spilling his load inside his lovely little Benjamin.

“Fuck–” he mewls, rutting through the waves, cock twitching with every little spurt.  “Oh fuck, fuck, fuck… You little fucking slut!”

Ben had hardly realized what he’d done.  In truth, he just wanted something to ease the friction.  Wet as he’d been, he just needed more– and, without that godsent bottle of lube usually within arm’s reach at home, he had to take what he could get.

By the time Ben opens his eyes, Homelander is engulfing him in a kiss that is far more tongue than lips, and he’s only able to whine once he feels his love start moving again.  This time, though, John is a little slower, a little more gentle.  Enough that Ben found himself falling over the edge of bliss without fear of being fucked through the roof.  As he came apart, so did Homelander.

Again, and again, and again. Each round requiring more and more of the crimson liquid to keep things comfortable.  

By the time they finished, the rooftop had dried and the corpse no longer dripped.  Both Ben’s clothes and John’s suit were completely ruined, but a naked journey home is much less humiliating when the sky is the path taken.  They looked like a scene straight out of a horror movie, drenched from head to toe in dried blood.

Homelander holds Benjamin tight in the shower.  Trails his fingertips over the bruises on his throat, on his hips and legs.  He wants to apologize, but he earned this.

Instead, he kisses him– softly, this time.

“I’m never letting you go.” He states firmly, as if that’s all the explanation he needs to give for everything he has or ever will do.  “I’m never fucking letting you go.”

Benjamin, on wobbly legs, leans his weight against his beloved Johnny.

“I love you, too.”

[yuri-badiner]

The Apollo LRV

My MOC Lunar Rover, inspired by the real-life “The Apollo Lunar Roving Vehicle”. This is an electric vehicle designed to operate in low lunar gravity. Yes, some people had a chance to drive electric cars long before it became mainstream.

Four lunar rovers were built by Boeing in the early 70’s, one each for Apollos 15, 16, and 17, and one that was used for spare parts after the cancellation of further Apollo missions.

The Lunar Roving Vehicle had a mass of 210 kg and was designed to hold a payload of an additional 490 kg on the lunar surface. A large mesh dish antenna was mounted on a mast on the front center of the rover. Power was provided by two 36-volt silver-zinc potassium hydroxide non-rechargeable batteries with a capacity of 121 amp-hr.

Harrison Schmitt of Apollo 17 said, "....the Lunar Rover proved to be the reliable, safe and flexible lunar exploration vehicle we expected it to be. Without it, the major scientific discoveries would not have been possible; and our current understanding of lunar evolution would not have been possible."

I never got around to taking any kind of artistic photo of this rover (apart from the title photo); it still lies in a container called “Maybe later.”

[forms-and-phyla]

Phylum #14: Tardigrada, the water bears!

With humans, the only creatures to have reached the Moon alive are small, inconspicuous eight-legged creatures. But they are not spiders, or arthropods for that matter. While still their ancient relatives, tardigrades have followed a very different evolutionary path.

Tardigrades are part of our third and last ecdysozoan group, panarthropods - with a segmented body bearing multiple pairs of limbs. However, most of the tardigrade body isn't homologous to the arthropod one! Instead, most of their limbs correspond to what would become antennas and mouthparts in arthropods, functionally making them a giant head with two back limbs!

Most famous for surviving extreme conditions, from near-absolute zero temperatures to immense pressures or the vacuum of space, tardigrades achieve this thanks to a special capability called cryptobiosis. By entering a dehydrated "tun state", they preserve themselves while nearly stopping their metabolism, and can be revived decades later in perfect health! While they survived on the surface of the Moon, they do not thrive in those extreme conditions, only being dormant - in fact, they prefer moist environments like mosses or hot springs!

Fancy a mystery? Tardigrades today are divided into two main classes - the plump Eutardigrada and the armored Heterotardigrada. However, a third class, Mesotardigrada, was discovered in 1937, with a single specimen found in a hot spring near Mount Unzen, Japan. Of unique appearance among tardigrades, it was never found again despite repeated searches, and the type locality was destroyed years later.

[super-ion]

Valiant

(Original post, Chapter 1)

Chapter 2

"Ellie!"

I blink awake. It's dark, the lighting hasn't switched over to morning mode yet and the sky is still black through the warehouse skylights. In fact, the only light is the gentle blue-white from Val's core. The indicator lights from the diagnostic equipment I have set up are completely dark.

I feel a spike of panic. A black out could mean any number of things, from benign to literal end of the world.

"What's going on?" I ask, fighting my grogginess. "What time is it?"

"I have lost external network connection. My internal clock indicates that it is 2:36:74," she says. Her voice is tinny and distant, likely the embedded speaker that I've managed to patch up.

"Ellie, I am sorry," she says. Her tone is distressed and contrite. She continues in a rush, "local wildlife nested amidst the network antenna and I attempted to relocate the nest. However in the process, I have accidently shorted the main high power bus with my drone peripheral."

Ah. That explains that. She probably tripped the main breaker. It's a terrible design and I've been meaning to add some resiliency, but that keeps getting out prioritized.

"Ellie, I am sorry," she repeats. "I have committed a mistake and I have inconvenienced you."

What?

Oh…

She's having the equivalent of a panic attack. She is a hyper intelligent AI core designed for fleet coordination and battle modeling, where failure to follow orders and standard operating procedure costs lives. This comes with a lot of built in anxiety. I understand that modern starships are less prone to such things, but when she was commissioned, the goal was to produce many warships very quickly. They were ultimately meant to be disposable, which led to some programming shortcuts.

"Hey," I say softly. "Are you okay? That's all I care about right now."

I roll out of my hammock and press my body against the surface of her core so that she can feel the plasmic discharge induced by my contact.

"I am well," she replies, her voice still small and panicked. "My core is isolated from main power. I can provide full diagnostics if you desire."

"No, that's okay. I'm glad you're alright. Should we see what we can do to take care of this?"

"Yes, please…"

She pauses.

"I do not like being disconnected. I… do not like the dark."

My heart breaks a little. Eighty-seven years, that's how long she was alone before I found her. An AI like hers can enter low power mode, but that is still an unfathomably long time. Units like her were never meant to be alone.

I reluctantly disengage from her core.

"I have to go outside," I tell her. She knows this, but I'm hoping it helps to talk through the process. "I'm going to get the headset working, so I'll be able to stay in contact, okay?"

"Thank you"

I pat the surface of her core gently before checking the rf transmitter I rigged up at her access port. It's short range, but it runs on her internal power. We used it a lot before I got her connected to internal and external networks, pretty much for this exact purpose, so I could talk to her without being right next to the core.

Connection looks good. I slip on the ear piece.

"Hey, can you hear me?"

"Yes, I can hear you Ellie," she replies.

Her voice through the earpiece is warm and smooth, even under the panic. It's her chosen choice and… well, it makes me feel… okay, I'll just say it, it's a very sexy voice. The speaker mounted on the access panel doesn't really convey the full timbre of it. Needless to say, I was blown away the first time I heard it in high fidelity.

I think I might be in love with her.

There's a lot to unpack there, but there's no point in denying that the feelings exist.

I throw on a sweater and a spare pair of boots and make my way up the scaffolding that leads to roof access. About halfway there, I pause for a moment to catch my breath. I chance a look down and my breath is stolen from me.

This room, this entire building, is a warehouse built for a machine of war to be abandoned and forgotten.

It's a squat for a scavenger trying to eke out an existence on the fringes.

"You're beautiful," I whisper.

It is a cathedral. It is a temple built for a goddess and her priestess.

Here in the dark, lit only by the radiation of her core, the space seems infinite.

Her core flickers in response, but she doesn't say anything. She might be embarrassed. She might never have heard those words before and doesn't know how to respond. She doesn't need to. I don't know if she feels the same about me. I'm not even sure if I should want her to. I would hate for her to feel obligated to return my affection solely by the fact that I am the only one who cares enough to repair her. I started this project because I couldn't bear the thought of her suffering alone in darkness, any romantic feelings I have are incidental... mostly.

I continue my scent and finally arrive at the roof access. The door opens with a squeal and I step into the frigid night.

"Oh!" I gasp.

"Ellie?" Val asks in my ear after a moment, worry creeping into her voice. "Are you well?"

"Oh, sorry…" I reply. "It's the stars. The high altitude haze from that dust storm last week has finally cleared. It's… spectacular."

There's a pause.

"Would you describe them for me?" she asks plaintively.

"Uh, sure… but I'm not sure if I can do it justice. Well, there's the glow from the industrial district, but it's not too bad tonight. We've got the arc of the Milky Way pretty much directly overhead. And there's like the fuzzy haze of the planetary disk. Looks like one of the ice giants too. And… well, stars. Thousands of them, just crystal clear."

I locate the main antenna and, sure enough, the drone is tangled up with the main power lines. It looks like there might have been some thin insulation that arced. The spidery drone itself might be salvageable. It is clutching an unfortunately empty nest in its manipulators, whatever wildlife must have fled when she disturbed it. The drone's head is tilted curiously back in a way that I don't think it's fully explainable by arcing.

"Wait, were you out here stargazing?

"The ocular system on the drone peripheral lacks the resolution and focal length to resolve individual stars."

It's not an answer and she sounds very vaguely guilty.

"It's alright if you were," I tell her as I bend down to examine the power conduits. "And I can see if I can get you a better camera system up here. Maybe something telescopic."

"I would not want to inconvenience you," she replies.

"Val, you're allowed to want things," I sigh.

She's quiet for a long moment while I move the drone and begin repairs on the power conduit.

"I miss the stars," she says finally. "There are many things I wish to forget about my past. Being alone amidst the stars was one of my few comforts."

I consider this. It's the most she's ever told me about her past. I've seen the diagnostic logs of her positronic activity indicating distress. Her equivalent of nightmares.

"You know any good stories about them?" I ask.

"I do not understand the nature of your query."

"I don't know," I say with a shrug. "I guess I'm just curious if you have any favorites or if you have any interesting facts in your database.

I'm not really sure how I expect her to respond. I just want to get her talking and not dwell on being trapped in the dark or feeling guilty about causing it.

"There is a star," she begins tentatively, "which according to local charts and my estimate of local time, should be located at azimuth 146.7, elevation 25.4. It is the brightest star in the southern sky, do you see it?"

I'm honestly surprised by this, and it takes me a minute to orient myself and find it.

"Yeah, the bright blue one?"

"Yes!" she replies, and as she speaks she gets more animated - her tone brightens and her cadence picks up. "Epsilon Orionis, Hipparcos 26311, also known as Alnilam. It is the central star of the asterism as viewed from Earth known as Orion's belt. It is among the brightest stars visible from this region of space. During first wave colonization, it was erroneously back translated to Al-Nilam, the Sapphire. Local neo-folkloric tradition associates it with either a maiden or queen…"

She continues on like that, and I find myself absolutely fascinated as I work. The detail is very encyclopedic, but there are aspects of it that she can't possibly have obtained from just a star chart. I quickly come to the realization that she must have sought out details about the folklore and mythology on her own.

This was a hobby of hers. There's no question in my mind now that I have to obtain a better system to facilitate her stargazing.

I finish the patch job on the conduit and heft the drone over my shoulder while she continues. I only interrupt her when I arrive back at the high power breaker.

The night lighting comes back up and she practically sighs with relief as she reconnects with the external network. I wearily drag myself back to my hammock.

"Ellie, I'm sorry to have woken you and taken up so much of your time," she says.

I sigh and press my hand to the surface of her core.

"It's okay, really," I tell her. "I'm here for you."

"Thank you for listening to me," she says, bringing a smile to my face.

"Goodnight, Val."

"Goodnight, Ellie."

I almost say "I love you". I want to.

[thinktankbigmt]

The three satellite antennas outside the Sink futily search for signals, aimlessly scanning the same section of sky over and over, rotating in a box pattern up until their motors wore out.

Then as though seized by an invisible force, they all rotate 90 degrees and focus on one small patch of sky, and begin transmitting a test signal.

36 thousand kilometers above the Earth’s surface lies an ancient satellite. An odd affair marked by a receiver and an oddly shaped transmitter dish mounted to a hexagonal satellite bus and two solar paddles slowly tracking the sun, it didn’t really do much in geosynchronous orbit other than relay signals since the decades it was launched ago.

It didn’t really do much of anything other than run systems checks every so often since the bombs went off until a few hours ago when a satellite antenna at Alamogordo pinged it for it’s status.

The test signal reaches the satellite, and it’s onboard transponder immediately receives the message, and relays it towards the Earth.

A satellite dish at Holloman picks it up, and relays it to a large computer. The computer decodes it, and it’s a simple TCP/IP address with the time stamped. It pings the console with a MILTCPchat message.

A bored operator simply adds an attachment- that being the encryption program to relay back to the satellite.

The packets make a return trip, and Dala is all too happy to rub in the rest of the Think Tank’s faces about how she managed to establish communications with the Eagles while O was trying to make a parabolic antenna and ended up making a pocket spy satellite by accident despite 8’s advice on how to make one properly, and the rest of the Think Tank was searching archives for a “parabolic antenna.”

Hah! You all should've listened to my initial plans, it would've been accomplished much earlier..

*W-Well, it's not like I wanted to make a parabolic antenna anyway! This is all stupid!*

Whatever the case is, it seems that my methods were far more effective than the so-called robotics expert.

*SHUT UP!!*

@@[0, I LITERALLY told you how to make one and you didn’t listen!_!!]

*You’re an acoustician! Not a mechanic!!*

— I tire of this!! We simply MUST get on with contacting the U.S. military! Not only has it been centuries since we last have, I BORE of this satellite nonsense! Yes, it allows us for the communication between even the most remote locations, but it is BORING. —

[Dala sighs.]

If you insist, Borous.

[She stares at the terminal screen]

Any moment now.

[earth-b0y]

[Word count: ~600]

[CW: None]

With every second that passes, Min's tension builds. Soon, sometime soon, he'll see Morgan again. Not in some simulated past like times before, but now, in the flesh. He swallows. He double checks a document before sending it off and moving on to the next. He wants to get ahead on work while he still can, before he's... inevitably distracted or indisposed.

Min hears something behind him. He turns.

Morgan is there, sat at the edge of Min's bed in sweatpants and a plain t-shirt. His hair's a mess, as though he'd just woken up, and the way he rubs his eyes and pushes his hair out of his face, Min thinks he really might have.

Min expected terror. He thought he would fawn and fall to his knees and beg for Morgan's tenderness. Instead, all of the fury, rage, and injustice he's felt for years bubbles up to the surface, and he rises, marching over to the man.

Morgan stares. Min is finely dressed, standing straight and tall, carrying an air of authority he never would have imagined coming from the child, and he's in a strange, unfamiliar place. He catches sight of Rai at his desk, immediately noticing his antennae and slit pupils. The boy's brown eyes give such a cold and piercing glare that Morgan's stomach drops, as though he's missed a step, and he's falling into a dark, bottomless grave.

"Don't move," Min commands sharply.

His brows furrow, taken aback. His eyes dart around the room, trying to make sense of everything, taking in the dark, shiny metal or plastic walls, the multiple monitors on Min's desk and mounted above it, the lack of windows, the metal table with tools and chemicals, and a host of other technologies he isn't certain the purpose of.

"... Is this one of your ships? A base, maybe?"

Min's expression shifts slightly, less guarded, though he still wears a small frown. "... No, but I understand your guess. You could call it a base, by some definition of the word. We're still on Earth, and it doesn't belong to us." Min gestures at Rai to emphasise his meaning. "This a Foundation site. Do you know what that is?"

Morgan appears to be wracking his brain for any sort of memory or insight, but he eventually admits defeat and shakes his head. "No... I can't say I do. What is it?"

Min's lips twitch upwards. "The Foundation is an organization dedicated to containing and researching anomalies. Paranormal things and entities like you were so interested in..."

His anger flares back. Min lifts his leg, and before Morgan can realize what's happening, he slams his foot against his groin. He groans and doubles over, the wind knocked out of him, and Min takes a step back, his loafers softly tapping against the floor.

"And I'm an Overseer now. One of the people in charge of this place," he adds softly, running a hand through Morgan's hair as he tries to recover from the pain he inflicted. He's not sure what possesses him to; he's not sure what's possessing him to act in any way he is right now. "I'm getting a guard to come deal with you. Stay."

Min turns and leaves, and Rai, the vigilant observer, stands and watches, holding Kri's old pistol at his side.

[cwcontentcreator]

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[usafphantom2]

VS-27 Grumman S2F-1 Tracker 136615 (AU-10) by Wing attack Plan R Via Flickr: Grumman S2F-1 (S-2A) Tracker/Bu.No. 136615 -Upgraded to S-2F. -1961: VS-27 as AU-10. -VS-32 as AT-42. - 1966: VS-32. -8/1966: Put into storage at MASDC. -Converted to US-2A. -1968: MCAS New River Base Flight. -11/19/1968: Written off. Photo Credit's: Unknown to me (Reprint). Photo date: 1961-62. Location: Aboard USS Essex (CV-9)? The Grumman S-2 Tracker (S2F prior to 1962) was the first purpose-built, single airframe anti-submarine warfare (ASW) aircraft to enter service with the United States Navy. Designed and initially built by Grumman, the Tracker was of conventional design — propeller-driven with twin radial engines, a high wing that could be folded for storage on aircraft carriers, and tricycle undercarriage. The type was exported to a number of navies around the world. Introduced in 1952, the Tracker and its E-1 Tracer derivative saw service in the U.S. Navy until the mid-1970s, and its C-1 Trader derivative until the mid-1980s, with a few aircraft remaining in service with other air arms into the 21st century. Argentina and Brazil are the last countries to still use the Tracker. Design and development- The Tracker was intended as a replacement for the Grumman AF Guardian, which was the first purpose-built aircraft system for ASW, using two airframes for two versions, one with the detection gear, and the other with the weapon systems. The Tracker combined both functions in one aircraft. Grumman's design (model G-89) was for a large high-wing monoplane with twin Wright Cyclone R-1820 nine cylinder radial engines, a yoke type arrestor hook and a crew of four. Both the two prototypes XS2F-1 and 15 production aircraft, S2F-1 were ordered at the same time, on 30 June 1950. The first flight was conducted on 4 December 1952, and production aircraft entered service with VS-26, in February 1954. Follow-on versions included the WF Tracer and TF Trader, which became the Grumman E-1 Tracer and Grumman C-1 Trader in the tri-service designation standardization of 1962. The S-2 carried the nickname "Stoof" (S-two-F) throughout its military career; and the E-1 Tracer variant with the large overhead radome was colloquially called the "stoof with a roof.". Grumman produced 1,185 Trackers. At least 99 and possibly 100 aircraft carrying the CS2F designation were manufactured in Canada under license by de Havilland Canada. U.S.-built versions of the Tracker were sold to various nations, including Australia, Japan, Turkey and Taiwan. Sensors and armament- The Tracker had an internal torpedo bay capable of carrying two lightweight aerial torpedoes or one nuclear depth charge. There were six underwing hard points for rocket pods and conventional depth charges or up to four additional torpedoes. A ventrally-mounted retractable radome for AN/APS-38 radar and a Magnetic Anomaly Detector (MAD) AN/ASQ-8 mounted on an extendable rear mounted boom were also fitted. Early model Trackers had an Electronic Support Measures (ESM) pod mounted dorsally just aft of the front seat overhead hatches and were also fitted with a smoke particle detector or "sniffer" for detecting exhaust particles from diesel-electric submarines running on snorkel. Later S-2s had the sniffer removed and had the ESM antennae moved to four rounded extensions on the wingtips. A 70-million-candlepower searchlight was mounted on the starboard wing. The engine nacelles carried JEZEBEL sonobuoys in the rear (16 in early marks, 32 in the S-2E/G). Early Trackers also carried 60 explosive charges, dispensed ventrally from the rear of the fuselage and used to create sound pulses for semi-active sonar (JULIE) with the AN/AQA-3 and later AQA-4 detection sets, whereas the introduction of active sonobuoys (pingers) and AN/AQA-7 with the S-2G conversion saw these removed. Smoke dispensers were mounted on the port ventral surface of the nacelles in groups of three each.

[thetruearchmagos]

Heads Up Seven Up

Thank you to @autumnalwalker for the open Tag, which I've decided to use as my segway back to writing! Sorry yo all if I've been quiet recently, my mental health ain't quit great these two weeks. Still, hope you all enjoy thia little drabble!

Tagging @lividdreamz @dogmomwrites @marinesocks @sanguine-arena @theprissythumbelina @muddshadow @athenswrites @orphicpoieses

Bristling Skies

Five hundred nautical miles away, and five hundred metres beneath the waves, UCS Tracker was entirely unaware as to anything taking place beyond the sphere of its acoustic hydrophones. Within that sphere, however, her Sound-Ops chief had just noticed something very strange indeed.

“Bloody-damn-hell, skipper, we’ve got machinery transients from Token-3. Sounds like she’s really hauling, propeller rate estimates at close to thirty knots.”

Captain Oskar Kukulski was leaning over the station in minutes, while at the helm, Lieutenant Evelyn Wen Hui was starting to sweat under her collar. So was the Captain, but he’d had the luxury of three years a sub-driving skipper to get used to not showing it. All three had been spent aboard the Tracker, but so far, they hadn’t been terribly exciting ones. Until yesterday morning’s brief at Commodore Creed’s office, that is.

“What’s her course? Any changes?”

“Nope, Sir. Just kicked up speed, she’s still keeping a heading down southeast.”

Token-3, more appropriately known as the Terreur by her owners, was supposedly one of the more modern diesel boats that the Nouvo’s had been bought from their Ocrisian allies. So modern were they, that though Tracker had been riding up the boat’s tailpipe for the better part of the past five hours, they’d only found her in the first place by a stroke of good luck. Their quarry had been running lazy circles in the grid sector throughout, and so Oskar was pretty sure he hadn’t been found out just yet. Five hours hunting, he thought, and with a green crew no less. Damn, they’re more than that by now!

“Right, mighty curious of them to do this, but it might be a sign they think no one’s listening—”

An alarm rang from aft, and the skipper bore a grimace. It wouldn’t make it through his rubber coated hull, as Oskar well knew, but submariners had sensitive ears at times like this.

“Ahh, damn, that’s a Flash message. Evelyn, keep up the track however you need to, you have the Conn.”

“Aye sir, I have the Conn.”

With that, Oskar took his leave, ducking through the low bulkhead and heading aft. Just a month ago they’d have needed to surface to get a message, or at least put up the antennae buoy to listen into an orbiter’s broadcast, but the brand new crystal cradle they’d had installed precluded such bothersome measures, and so Evelyn was left to contemplate and conn in peace.

“Right, let’s carry on. Increase speed one third, maintain heading. Fire control, keep updating the fire solution, we could use the practice.”

And so on they moved, quieter than the sea itself. They kept a range of eight hundred metres to the track, matching speeds to maintain the chase. Evelyn found herself prey to the usual malady, that sickeningly sweet stress of a prying eye, watching without being seen, her multi million chequer boat playing the game it was built for. It wasn’t her first time at the conn, but every session in painstaking care felt the same.

Five  minutes later, Sound-Ops called out, voice steady yet loud enough to be heard from the helm.

“Attention Conn, Rip Wall, starboard!”

“All stop, ship to quiet!”

Far ahead of the Tracker, her target had just begun a hard turn right, a bid to clear the blind-, or more accurately, deaf-, spot to the rear where her own hull blocked her bow mounted hydrophones. She’d been pulling that particular trick throughout the chase, though regularly enough that Evelyn and the crew had begun to expect the trick. That was their second mistake, she knew. The first was assuming it would work at all.

“All stop, quiet down!”

In half a heartbeat her orders were done, and the already quiet boat was like a hole in the sea. Tracker’s beating atomic heart was tuned down to a low hum, with even the water pumps turned off to spare the din. She drifted on forwards, with an ever so slight negative trim to stop her from climbing upwards, while almost a kilometre ahead seven thousand tonnes of marine steel began its turn. So far, Evelyn put the closest the two had come in the manoeuvre to just over a hundred metres, and that was as close as she ever needed to be.

[etes-secrecy-post]

Hi, before I explain my post, I want to say something important.

• What you see my blog has become a major overhaul. And despite the changes, I decided that my 2nd account will be now my artwork blog with a secret twist.

⚠️NEW RULE! (W/ BIGGER TEXT!)⚠️

⚠️ SO PLEASE DO NOT SHARE MY 2nd ACCOUNT TO EVERYONE! THIS SECRECY BLOG OF MINE IS FOR CLOSES FRIENDS ONLY!⚠️

• AND FOR MY CLOSES FRIENDS, DON’T REBLOG IT. INSTEAD, JUST COPY MY LINK AND PASTE IT ON YOUR TUMBLR POST! JUST BE SURE THE IMAGE WILL BE REMOVED AND THE ONLY LEFT WAS THE TEXT.

⚠️ SHARING LINKS, LIKE POSTS, REBLOG POSTS, STEALING MY SNAPSHOT PHOTOS/RECORDED VIDEOS/ARTWORKS (a.k.a. ART THIEVES) OR PLAGIARIZING FROM UNKNOWN TUMBLR STRANGERS WILL IMMEDIATELY BE BLOCKED, RIGHT AWAY!⚠️

😡 WHATEVER YOU DO, DO NOT EVER LIKED & REBLOG MY SECRET POST! THIS IS FOR MY SECRET FRIENDS ONLY, NOT YOU! 😡

Okay? Capiche? Make sense? Good, now back to the post…↓

#Onthisday: Jul 5th, 2010

Title: Wing Zero Pocoyo & Epyon Kirby

Here are their temporary armored suits for Pocoyo 🔵👶 & Kirby ⭐ before they gave it to someone else. (Namely Shane, ExiaFan453's OC, who owns armored Wing Gundam & Wing Gundam Zero, including the Custom variants)

And the reason why I did is because of my childhood in the early 2000s, when I remember watching Gundam Wing & Gundam Wing Endless Waltz on Toonami (on Cartoon Network Philippines) 🇵🇭🤖📺⬛⬜. There's also televised in the U.S., as well! 🇺🇸🤖📺⬛⬜ Did you know that? Man, I could never forget their excellent English dubs per character (as much as I loved their Japanese dub w/ subtitles, as well). In fact, I did purchased a faked Gunpla HG Gundam Nataku/Altron EW model kit, which is sadly long gone.

Nevertheless, let's bring down their stats:

Wing Zero Pocoyo Came from the: XXXG-00W0 Wing Gundam Zero (Anime TV Ver.)

Armament(s):

• (2x) Twin buster rifle/buster rifle A double-barrel type Buster Rifle. It has more than twice the power of the Buster Rifle equipped by the OG armored Wing. It is a type directly connected to the generator so rapid fire is also possible.

• (2x) Beam saber Slashing equipment for close combat. Since it adopts devices made of Gundanium Alloy in every part; the power, function, durability, etc. are exceptionally improved compared to those of ordinary armors. One apiece is stored in the shoulder armor on both shoulders.

• Shield A shield made of Gundanium Alloy. In addition to being applied with anti-beam coating, it is equipped with Wing Vulcans on both sides. The tip of the shield can also be extended to damage targets.

- Wing Vulcan A pair of vulcan guns built into the sides of Wing Zero's shield.

Special Feature(s):

• ZERO System An interface for achieving the "perfect victory", developed to make the pilot keep up with a machine performance. Since it seriously affects the physical functions and mental state of the CD member, a person without strong mental strength can't control it.

• Search Eye Focused on data gathering. When the antennas and main cameras do not suffice, the their eyes comprised of the large jewel on its chest is used to gather visual and radio-wave data.

Epyon Kirby Came from the: OZ-13MS Gundam Epyon

Armament(s):

• Beam Sword The primary weapon of the Epyon, it is connected directly to the suit's powerplant via a cord as opposed to running on its own internal power source. This allows the length and the intensity of the beam blade to be adjusted according to the situation, and at maximum level, it can inflict damage severe enough to destroy objects as large as the Space Fortress.

• Epyon Claw Mounted on the forearms. In combat, they can be used to tear through enemy armor.

• Epyon Shield A small shield mounted on the left arm, its surface has been treated with an anti-beam coating to provide protection against beam attacks. It mounts a heat rod at the bottom.

- Heat Rod A segmented whip-like chain housed in Epyon's shield. It can be used to trip or entangle opponents, and even cut through mobile suits when heated. A single swipe with this weapon can destroy up to three opponents.

Special Feature(s):

• Epyon System A modified version of the deadly ZERO System installed in the armored Epyon. Known as the Epyon System, it operated the same as the armored Wing Zero's ZERO System, but the member wears a special V-helmet on their head when using the system. Any technical differences compared to the ZERO System is unknown.

• Search Eye Focused on data gathering. When the antennas and main cameras do not suffice, the their eyes comprised of the large jewel on its chest is used to gather visual and radio-wave data.

Kirby - Kirby Series © Hal Laboratories Inc./ Nintendo® Pocoyo - POCOYO™ © Zinkia Entertainment S.L Armors (Mobile Suit Gundam Wing) - Gundam Series © SUNRISE, Sotsu

[deceitful-garden]

CHARACTER MASTER POST:

SIU:

A large, 'fluffy' slugcat, poleplant hybrid, with many tendrils, with 8 long ones on their back, their fur consisting of many small tendrils. Their diet is exclusively carnivorous in nature.

Pronouns: She/Her/They (identifies as a gal)

Personality: Bold, and somewhat sassy, a bit of a jokester, but also harsh to those they dislike. While also caring deeply for those she considers friends.

Abilities: Can climb on just about anything as long as it isn't too slick. Can grapple and suffocate medium-small sized creatures, and attempt to use tendrils to escape the jaws of a predator. Can camouflage her tail to resemble a pole, as well as oddly enough, the ability to hide out in dens, though they don't close for her, so she still has to find a shelter. However due to the stickiness of their tendrils that allows her to climb, she is unable to throw things, only thrust them.

Affiliations: They were made by NSH to act as his sorting algorithm, friend, and organizer, however she left when noticing hunter, her big sibling, was infected with some kind of plant. She has not met Lumi, or Sushi.

Text Color:

GREEN

Speck:

A medium sized slugcat with a ribbon on their neck. While physically pretty weak, they're smart enough to pilot a drone with mounted guns.

Pronouns: they/them

Personality: taking after both of their main iterators, they're vigilant, self-reliant, caring and defencive. Can act a bit cold and calculated at times, but always swoops in to help ones in trouble.

Abilities: Drone piloting, can move through air and scavenge the land, aswell as use the drone as a shelter from the rain in the lack of other options. They also can fire from their guns, but the ammunition supply is limited and needs to be refilled every now and again. Out of the drone they're fairly quick, but can't deal much damage.

Affiliations: Has connections to the entirety of the L0RE G4RDEN local group, mainly GCF (as their mentor) and RCS (as their best friend). In fact GCF was the one who sent them on the mission to figure out what this "Blooming Rot" is. Out of the three here, Speck only met SIU.

Text color :

BLUE

Sushi:

A small, sleek slugcat with webbed feet, fins, and frills. It is heavily aquatic and doesn't fare well on land, its speed being significantly lowered when having to walk. It can hold its breath much longer than others.

Pronouns: It/it (Hermaphrodite)

Personality: Carefree and silly, this slugcat mirrors the personality of its creator who is located deep under the sea. It doesn't know much about the surface and thus, isn't very cautious about things, seeing the surface as a cakewalk compared to the depths below. Within the water Sushi is a slick and graceful little slugcat who can easily escape predators, but on land it is clumsy and slow.

Abilities: Larger lungs, it can hold its breath for hours. Its coat is always wet and slimy, so it can slide through tight spaces. It is incredibly fast underwater, but as a result, is slower on land. Its throws are weak due to items simply slipping out of their hands.

Affiliations: Created and modified by [MISSING DATA] as her messenger and friend, comes from the deepest depth of the sea with a pearl, it searches for another iterator to deliver it to.

Text Color:

PINK

Lumi:

A small, scruffy Slugcat with unique glowing lanterns on its tail and antennae. It exclusively hunts a diet of arthropods, though it can also eat fruit.

Pronouns: They/It/She (genderless).

Personality: Very skittish and shy. They dislike being touched, and they get startled easily (unless they feel safe where they are).

Abilities: Bioluminescence which can be brightened or dimmed, Waterproof fur, Slight webbing between the front limbs, and the ability to flash the lanterns to disorient predators (like a flashfruit).

Affiliations: They were modified by an unknown Iterator, though they have no recollection of them. They haven't met the other Slugcats yet.

Text Color:

PURPLE

[rememberthisham]

All He Ever Wanted Ch. 3

Zim and his loyal death-weapon watched from the treetops as the disgusting Dib creature prowled the forest floor, yelling foolish taunts and romping around like a mutated gompmonster. What a pathetic, childish monkey creature. 

His PAK’s legs clung delicately to the upper branches of the pine trees, careful not to tip off any of the other lowly, doomed earth natives to his brilliant hiding place. The last thing he needed was some impertinent possum deciding to alert the…ugggck… human  to his whereabouts. Zim watched as the Dib drew the attention of another of his monkey brethren, banding together in their futile search for a more advanced and intelligent enemy. 

By some freak coincidence, they actually approached the small clearing and crude attempt at a building that Zim’s hiding tree towered over. If he weren’t so unquestionably amazing he’d possibly be nervous that one upward glance would give away his position, but he was amazing, so he didn’t stress it.

That was until he felt the rain.

It started as a few specks, they were hardly noticeable and didn't even touch his superior Irken carapace, but his sensitive antenna could feel their slight impact through his wig as they landed. With mounting horror he grabbed his moose, holding it over his head.

"Minimoose! Defend your master!" He hissed, careful to remain quiet. 

At just that moment, the Dib decided to cast his gaze up into the trees where Zim hid. Springing up like a frightened squirrel, his PAK legs dragged him around the trunk of the tree, forcing him to endure brush burns against the sandpaper-like surface. He remained very still as the Dib questioned the sky, finding nothing of note and returning to his irrelevant conversation with the other human beast. Zim scowled at the position he was in, cowering in a tree from a mindless lower-life form. Desperately shielding himself from something as harmless as the fall of water. Only dirty, smelly Urth could ruin something as simple as water. He was an invader uncomfortable with exercising patience, but he persisted in his waiting for the sake of stealth. For the sake of his mission. 

Minutes passed by so slowly, Zim began to age on the spot, having grown a full beard by the time the Dib finally took off back into the woods. He seemed to be in a hurry. 

With a sigh of relief, Zim climbed back down the tree, thankful for the shelter from the now pelting cold rain. The water slid off Minimoose's smooth back and around the underside of his belly, gathering into a line of continuous drips onto Zim's head. Worthless minions couldn't even make decent umbrellas. He winced against the continuous burning on his scalp as he ran from tree trunk to tree trunk, the rain becoming heavy enough to bypass his moose entirely and soak his legs through the material of his uniform. He scanned the foggy woods frantically for shelter as steam began to rise from his skin. How had it gotten so bad so fast? 

He could hardly make out a large structure of a building silhouetted in the mist, the abandoned dwelling from the clearing. Zim scurried in its direction, hoping to find a private place to regroup and wait out the storm of fire. Surely even a lowly human wouldn't consider actually dwelling in such a broken structure.

He reached its wooden walls with such force he couldn't stop himself in time, sliding on the water-slick steps and careening face-first into the wall. 

"Uhhhhhg" he groaned, steaming and humbled, but no longer stranded in the rain. Laying on his back was awkward with his PAK beneath him, he allowed Minimoose to nudge him into a sitting position.

As amazing as he was, he was tired, and he wanted to go home. 

However, all he could do for the moment was wait. He sat on the floor, sheltered by the overhanging roof of the house's porch, and waited for the rain to stop. His wig lay abandoned on the wood floor, lost during his necessary and incredibly executed collision with the wall. His antenna drooped low on his scalp, twitching lightly at the continuous white noise of the rain pattering against the discarded leaves of the forest floor. It was a calming sound, he'd feel peaceful if the young invader could know peace. His expert vision was always hindered by the revolting contacts he was forced to wear to pass as human, but even without them, he wouldn't be able to see through the blinding rain.

It was a helpless feeling, blind and deaf and burned by a force so harmless to the planet's native inhabitants. He shivered, skin still steaming, and curled himself into a small shrimp-like posture. If he could see he may have noticed the shadow on the floor beside him, if he could hear he may have noticed the footsteps. It wasn't until the intruder touched his shoulder lightly that he even noticed he was being approached.

"Eh? STAY BAAAAAK" He sprang to his feet in a straight jump from the fetal position, backing away on instinct and pointing a hopefully threatening finger in his assailants' direction.

He backed right into the goddamn rain again—

"AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!" You'd think someone snapped the tiny alien in half from the fervent and unrestrained intensity of his shriek. He dodged back under the shelter of the porch, cursing the sky with the occasional agreement from his moose.

"Disgusting plastic Urth water!"

"Nyah"

"You'll be the first to die under the rule of the armada!"

"Nyah!"

"And then it will be  Zim  who laughs!"

"Nyah-hah"

"AHH-HAHAHAHAHA!" His laugh echoed with absolutely no humor, only with force like when shouting. The intruder who snuck up on him cleared his throat with a polite noise. Zim whirled around as if he'd forgotten about him already.

"And  you! " The fear that fueled Zim's anger subsided as he was relieved to see the assailant was not actually someone threatening. Just some ignorant Urth stink who'd forget about him the moment he took his leave. 

Zim wasn't familiar with the differences in human appearance and frankly didn't care, but if he had to guess, he'd say the human was of adult age but not yet elderly. He stood with good posture and was relatively tall, a fact that always threw him about humans. His skin and clothes were exceptionally dirty, even for a dirt creature, and he made an expression that Zim had gathered normally conveyed pity. He felt the disgust in his spooch rise a degree. The man held a long carved stick in one hand and in the other he held… Zim's wig.

Zim's gloved hands flew to his head immediately. He was EXPOSED! Horrible flashes of the Dibs' promises flitted across his vision. Dissection tools, sterile tables and rooms. Humans pointing and laughing, their maws full of disgusting meaty snacks and their arms around their hideous spawn offspring. He shrieked again before it cut off suddenly, he remembered his companion of choice for the evening. 

"Minimoose! Destroy this witness so we can continue our waiting in peace." He waved, attitude instantly more in control than he was before. The moose squeaked twice and his big, derpy eyes began to glow red, emitting an ominous whirring that began to rise in pitch. The human's eyebrows shot up at the sight and he casually dropped the wig at Zim's feet, using the freed hand to dig around his apparently very deep pocket. He produced an enormous handful of what looked to be freshwater flowers. He offered the ball of plants to the little moose who instantly shut off his kill beam and snatched them from his hand, munching them happily.

"MINIMOOSE!" Zim's irritation seemed to be the strongest emotion over fear at this point. "Obey Zim! I created yooooou!" He howled. The moose just floated out of Zim's reach and kept chewing, leaving Zim to jump up and down trying futilely to grab him.

"You know…" the human interrupted the spectacle with a quiet tap of his staff on the floor. "I can't help but notice you look…wet." He remarked. Zim stopped jumping and narrowed his eyes dangerously. 

"You should be careful what you decide to notice about Zim, human." He threatened. "YOU ARE ON THIN ICE!" He squawked, pointing again. The human put both hands on his staff and absently ground his hands against it like a pepper mill.

"Well, then I won't say anything about the green or the moose or the feelers." He mumbled. "I was gonna ask if you wanted to come in, maybe dry off?" He nodded to the door behind him. Zim let his pointing hand droop slightly, glancing between the door and the human. 

"Eh…no, Zim does not need help." He crossed his arms defiantly. 

"Kay," the human shrugged. "Moose?"

Minimoose trilled in appreciation and zoomed right into the house as the human held the door open.

"TRAITOR!" Zim shrieked after his minion as he disappeared into the human dwelling. Grabbing his wig from the floor and squaring his shoulders, Zim took wide kick-steps into the house and past the human still holding the door. The human leaned his staff against the doorframe and followed the two inside.

The house looked much less…not good…from the inside. It didn't leak despite the abandoned and disparaging outward appearance, and it was principally furnished with comfortable, apparently homemade elements. It was warmed and lit by an old-fashioned hearth and there were potted plants hanging from the ceiling by every window. Plants that Minimoose seemed more than happy to devour as he floated around the new environment.

"What are you  doing? " Zim hissed in embarrassment. "You're supposed to follow orders! You have the most advanced obedience chip in existence." 

"Mmm squeak squeak" the little moose countered, and Zim rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

"You know, I never looked at it like that. You make a convincing argument." He praised lightly. "Still, I'd appreciate a little more  obeying your master  in the future." He requested in an uncharacteristically civil tone.

"Your friend certainly is hungry." The human remarked as he crossed the small room, digging idly through a pile of laundry on a chair.

"Minimoose is not my friend, he is my soldier and an instrument to aid my hostile takeover of the human race." Zim corrected. The human pulled a towel from the laundry and handed it gently to the small alien in his home. 

"Your soldier is eating my spider plant." The human smiled. "But she'll be fine, dry yourself off." 

Zim held the gift at arm's length, bringing it gingerly to his face and giving it a cautious sniff.

It's clean.

Narrowing his eyes once again in suspicion, he carefully dried his face. Visibly relieved by the cessation of the burning. He wrapped his wig in the towel, wringing the two together so water cascaded directly onto the floor. The man didn't seem to mind this, moving to the kitchen area and pulling a burlap sack from its place under a low table.

"So, what brings you here?" He asked casually, placing the sack on the table where the contents made several dull  thunks  upon contact.

"What brings Zim to this pathetic excuse for a human fortress?" He asked rhetorically and too loudly for the small space. "Necessity alone, I can assure you." He spat. He cowered momentarily as Minimoose decided to shake the water off of himself like a wet dog.

"No I mean here," The human clarified, taking several round, red fruits from the contents of the sack and moving to the sink to wash them. "Earth."

"Oh," Zim scowled, resenting any reminder of exactly where he found himself at that point in life. "I'm  here ," he gagged on the word. "On a mission of invasion. I'm to prepare the  Urth  for the incoming invasion by the Irken armada and my glorious leaders." He put his hands on his hips and stood up proudly, chin out and back curving so his chest was high. The man snorted as he finished washing his fruit, moving them to the counter and opening a drawer to his right.

"So you're gonna rule the world?"

"Yes."

"Why?" He laughed. Baffled by what possible reason there could be. Zim faltered on how to explain. Why invade? He may as well ask why Zim built doomsday weapons or enjoyed breathing.

"Because it's my job?" He tried, not sure it conveyed the human's own stupidity quite pointedly enough. "Because I'm an  Invader?. " He emphasized. The human nodded, slicing his fruit with lazy motions and offering a slice to Minimoose, who happily accepted.

"Well good luck to you I guess." He shrugged. Zim deflated, no fear? No screaming for mercy? This was not how he imagined telling the humans of their impending doom would go.

"You don't believe me…" He realized it slowly, not quick to recognize when someone didn't immediately understand his unquestionable superiority and fearsomeness. The man disposed of the undesirable parts of the fruit and pushed the rest off of the counter and into a mixing bowl, turning to face his guest.

"Well, the earth already has a leader." He explained simply. Zim rolled his eyes, feeling the dry surface of his contacts.

"That guy is not a hindrance to my mission." He smiled, shaking his head sympathetically at the silly, stupid worm-monkey. "Elected leaders are as in control as their people, which is to say THEY HAVE NO POWER!" He declared to the sky, hands shaping three-pronged claws at his sides.

"What?" The human stopped walking midway to the fireplace and glanced back before continuing. "No, not him." He said, taking a thin metal poker from beside the fireplace and sitting on the floor. 

Zim glanced from his moose to the human a few times, waiting for him to continue. He offered no further explanation. 

"The earth has no other leader, EXPLAIN YOURSELF!" The man skewered one of the fruit chunks with the end of the poker and held it over the fire.

"I'm talking about that big science guy that has everyone coddled." He clarified. "Apple?" He added, taking a slice from his bowl and offering it to Zim.

"I don't eat Urth trash!" Zim screeched. The man raised an eyebrow, putting the slice in his mouth while maintaining eye contact. Zim stuck out his tongue in slight disgust.

"They're better cooked, anyway." He grumbled. Zim thought about the humans' earlier statement. Big science man? Most humans were large to Zim, but he only knew a few who were 'science'.

"You're talking about the Dibs master." He asked, carefully making sure it didn't actually sound like a question.

"I don't know, he's Professor something…Professor Plasma." He waved his hand, taking the browned apple slice from the poker and offering it once again to Zim.

"DO NOT THREATEN ZIM WITH YOUR POISON!" He hissed, and the human didn't back down.

"It's not poisoned, it's sweet, I know you like sweets." He tried. Zim took a step back. "I mean…the trees know you like sweets." He amended sheepishly. Zim didn't find this to be less terrifying.

"You've had your 'trees' spying on me?" He accused. The human closed his eyes for a few moments before responding. 

"You moved into their house and yelled every sentence you ever spoke. It would be harder to not notice you." He responded carefully. Zim didn't find this a satisfactory answer, but if this forest-human had the ability to telekinetically communicate with the Urth's plant life, then there was nowhere Zim could be truly safe. He eyed the apple slice still being offered, gingerly plucking it from the human with two gloved fingers. Perhaps obeying this human's petty demands would placate him enough to stay out of Zim's affairs. The last thing he wanted to do was pick an enemy he didn't yet understand how to destroy. Bringing the slice to his mouth he took the smallest nibble he could muster from the corner of the fruit.

The warm, white part of the apple's flesh had a grainy but pleasant texture and seemed more tart than sweet. Especially compared to the food Zim was used to. It made his mouth pucker slightly but in a way he couldn't honestly describe as "bad". More important, however, was the relative safety with which it could be consumed. It didn't burn or nauseated him like most other human food. Yes, much like waffles this was something he could stomach for the sake of the mission. He tossed the rest of the slice in his mouth, chewing thoughtfully and cringing only slightly at the unpleasant red peel.

"So…you think Dibs parental unit is the real leader of this…ggggrr… waste?"  He couldn't help the growl mid-sentence when talking about the Urth.

"He is, and he knows it." The human actually laughed as he stuck three more slices onto the poker and thrust them back into the flames. "He's got the say over how people live, sleep, get around…everything people interact with has been 'improved' or outright invented by his lab." He explained. Zim raised a finger and opened his mouth to interrupt, but the human was on a roll. "We used to be smart, like you and me, but the more he improved the less they had to think or try. Eventually, they stopped thinking or trying altogether, and now…" he gestures to the air. "They  need  him or they're lost." He concluded. 

Zim sat on the floor as well, falling the short distance and landing with his legs crossed.

"Fascinating…the Urth leader has been cunning to have even momentarily fooled Zim."   He stared at his hands. The human passed him another apple slice.

"Don't sweat it, it's what he does. By the time you realize what he's doing it's already too late." He tossed a raw apple slice to Minimoose. "But if you wanna know how to conquer the humans, the professor man is your best example for a subtle hostile takeover." He advised. Zim looked back up suddenly.

"Why are you trying to  help  Zim conquer your world, human?" He spat. The human in question leaned back against his hands and glanced up at the ceiling.

"You hear that?" He asked. Zim's antennae perked slightly but detected no sound at all.

"Nothing?"

"The rain stopped." The human revealed. Zim sprang to his feet and grabbed his moose from the air, which gave an indignant squeak.

"Thank you for your hospitality, dirt creature, I will not remember this when your kind grovels at my boots." He declared formally before taking his signature wide steps towards the door.

"Anytime, Martian." The man sighed as Zim slammed the door. His house returning to the quiet it always held. He poked at the flames which had started to burn very low and glanced to the puddle Zim had left on the floor. 

The towel still laid there in a wet heap, and beside it was the aliens wig.

Next

[muneebshah]

HD TV Free Antenna – Enjoy High-Definition Channels at No Cost!

In a world where subscription fees for streaming services and cable packages keep rising, the idea of accessing high-quality TV content for free is becoming more appealing. With an HD TV free antenna, you can tap into a wealth of free over-the-air (OTA) channels, providing you with local news, sports, entertainment, and even some national networks—all in high definition and without a monthly bill.

What is an HD TV Free Antenna?

An HD TV free antenna is a device designed to pick up broadcast signals from local TV stations, which transmit their content over-the-air. Many stations broadcast in high definition (HD), giving you sharp, clear picture quality without the need for cable or satellite service. HD antennas are engineered to capture these signals from local TV towers, bringing you access to a range of free channels directly on your television.

Benefits of Using an HD TV Free Antenna

Using an HD TV free antenna offers many benefits, especially for viewers looking to cut the cord and save money:

No Monthly Fees: Once you purchase and install your HD antenna, you can access all available channels without paying a monthly fee, making it an affordable, one-time investment.

High-Quality Picture: Broadcast channels are often less compressed than those provided by cable or streaming services, offering a better picture quality that rivals even some premium channels.

Access to Local Channels: Enjoy your local news, weather updates, and live sports without interruptions or added costs, as well as local events and other region-specific programming.

Reliable Signal: An HD TV free antenna provides a reliable viewing option, even during internet outages or cable service disruptions, as it doesn’t rely on internet connectivity.

Eco-Friendly: Reducing your dependence on cable or satellite boxes can also reduce your overall energy consumption, making this an eco-friendly alternative.

Types of HD TV Free Antennas

HD antennas come in various designs and configurations to cater to different viewing needs and locations. Here are some common types:

Indoor HD Antennas: Compact and easy to install, these are best suited for urban areas with strong signals where TV towers are nearby. Indoor antennas can be mounted near a window or placed on a flat surface.

Outdoor HD Antennas: If you live further from broadcast towers, an outdoor antenna can give you a stronger signal. These antennas are generally larger and can be mounted on a roof or pole.

Amplified HD Antennas: For areas with weak signals, amplified antennas use built-in signal boosters to improve reception, making them suitable for rural or suburban locations with limited signal access.

Setting Up Your HD TV Free Antenna

Setting up your HD antenna is often straightforward and doesn’t require advanced technical knowledge. Here’s a basic guide:

Choose the Right Antenna Type: Determine whether an indoor or outdoor antenna best suits your location and how far you are from broadcast towers.

Place the Antenna: For indoor antennas, place it as high as possible near a window facing the direction of the broadcast towers. Outdoor antennas should be positioned on the roof or outside wall facing the towers for the best results.

Scan for Channels: Connect the antenna to your TV, go to the settings menu, and scan for channels. This will allow your TV to pick up all available channels in your area.

Adjust as Needed: You may need to reposition the antenna or make adjustments if some channels don’t come in clearly. Some antennas allow for rotational adjustments to fine-tune reception.

Maximizing Your Channel List with an HD TV Free Antenna

The number and quality of channels you receive depend on your location and the strength of local broadcast signals. To maximize the number of channels:

Check Coverage Maps: Websites like the Federal Communications Commission (FCC) or third-party coverage maps provide information about the channels available in your area.

Use a Signal Booster: If you live far from the broadcast towers, using an amplified antenna can help boost signal strength.

Experiment with Placement: Slight adjustments can make a big difference in signal reception, so try moving the antenna around or changing its height and direction.

Final Thoughts: Is an HD TV Free Antenna Right for You?

An HD TV free antenna is ideal for people who want to cut their cable subscription but still enjoy popular TV channels without the added expense. It provides a simple, one-time solution to access local HD content, helping you stay connected to your community and favorite shows. Whether you’re looking for a backup to streaming services or hoping to eliminate monthly fees altogether, an HD TV free antenna is a smart choice that offers flexibility, high-quality viewing, and significant cost savings.