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Is there any chance that anyone that knows a am/fm radio channel that still runs aduio dramas NOT a podcast like for my actual radio all I can find is podcasts when I try to find an am/fm radio guide for that
I just want my spooky stories on my spooky old radio like it’s supposed to be 😭
Radio Towers°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ - Chapter 1
Destiel Firewatch AU - ch. 1 -> radiowaves
summary: Dean Winchester finds himself in need of a summer job when he sees an ad in the paper for a firewatch lookout position.
content: Dean Winchester x Castiel Novak, Normal AU (kinda) , set in summer 2006, author doesn't know how radios work
notes: heavily ib firewatch and ironbark lookout, this came to me like a vision and I felt that it needed to be shared - not super proofread
The rustling leaves of sugar pine trees mixed with chirping cicadas in the early summer evening created a nearly soothing background to the trail. Walking just up the way toward a small clearing at the top of a steep ridge, Mitchell Peak Lookout came into view; a high-standing, possibly unstable fire lookout within the Californian wilderness, where Dean Winchester had decided to pick up a summer job in order to escape certain dilemmas - or just learn a few life skills; he never was one for camping.
The hike to the lookout from the nearest road entrance was about 9 miles, which, considering his inexperience, took him longer than expected. The area wasn’t extremely well mapped, and many unmarked trails can become easily confused for one another. By now, the sun had just dipped below the horizon, and the faint light of an automatic lamp glows from a window in the tower. The shocking height of the trees adds to the navigation difficulty, but makes for a gorgeous view of the dense forest. Dean looked over the area, to the west stood an old outhouse standing next to a wooden toolshed- likely unused for months, storing firewood, propane, as well as other necessities. To the east, a wooden board detailing nearby trails and a general map of the area, the glass casing was dirty and unclear, the entire setting felt unkept.
After surveying the area, Dean walked himself up the steep, wooden stairs of the lookout. They were slim, worn out, and felt a little as if they would collapse under his weight at any moment. Upon reaching the top of the lookout- Dean circled the catwalk, admiring the view from his new ‘office’, before turning to enter through the front door, digging in the right pocket of his rucksack to find his key, and unlocking the door and walking inside.
The interior of the lookout was bigger than Dean had expected; his desk sat to the left of the door, fireplace to the right. An old looking twin bed with fresh plaid blankets sat in the corner, low to the ground. The entire place smelled slightly of pine. The floors were a dark-washed wood, and the windows reached high to the ceiling, the awnings currently still propped up; it was completely dark out now, the only light outside coming from the crescent moon illuminating the treetops. Dean placed his rucksack down next to his desk, continuing to explore his equipment. In the centre of the room sat a firefinder - a round table with a map in the middle, used to accurately locate smoke or other alarming sights - he inspected the mechanism before turning to his desk to find binoculars, an outside thermometer and humidity meter, as well as an anemometer to track wind speeds.
The yet to be used radio system sat on his desk along with a system computer; the radio had the general receiver, headset resting on the side, as well as his walkie talkie charging next to the spare battery for it. Dean decided he would figure out the tech situation in the morning. Glancing up at the window, he found a handwritten note taped to it, signed by one of the park rangers:
Dean W. - Mitchell Peak Lookout, May 19th, 2006
Dean, Welcome to the job, we appreciate your service here in Sequoia National Park. You’re now taking the position as the fire watcher for tower 05, you will be known mostly by your tag, 05, rather than your name. Simple rules here. Do your job, locate fires, help lost hikers, tell off entitled campers. I assume by morning you’ll have met Novak, or 06, he's a regular here. I'd trust what he says, he knows the job. He's also your neighboring lookout up on Shell Mountain, that's to your SW, directly over Footman River. All you gotta do tonight is close your awnings and head to bed - you’ll be cleaning up the old creek shed tomorrow. Good luck.
-Ranger Eaton
Surprised, Dean set down the paper on his desk and went back outside to shut the awnings, they were dirty with dust from being open for quite a while. On the East end of his tower, the right awning had a bird's nest that he felt didn’t need disturbance, that one stayed up. “Damn birds..” he grumbled, tired from the hike, stepping back into his tower. Dean decided that it would be better for him to just get some sleep before morning. He stepped out of his black boots by the door, walking by the desk, too lazy to unpack his things. He let out a tired sigh and unbuckled his belt, shrugging off his dark-wash jeans, deciding to sleep in his boxers and worn t-shirt.
Crouching down to dig through the front pocket of his rucksack, he pulled out his compact, red mp3 player, as well as his wired headphones, he could never sleep too well without music. Getting back up to walk across the room and sit on his bed, staring out the window directly to his right - which happened to be the one under the bird-compromised awning. He leaned against the flimsy wooden headboard and put in his earbuds, turning up his downloaded music. There was a slight uptick in wind speed since he'd arrived, the trees moving fluidly at the edge of the trail. Sitting in thought for a long while, Dean's eyes eventually became hard to keep open, and he turned in for the night.
Dean was woken up by the sound of his radio system beeping loudly, a shrill, high-pitched sound. Groaning in annoyance, he rolled over and got out of bed, still groggy from sleep. He sat down at the wooden desk chair and tried to find the button to accept the signal - he quickly put on his headset and hit the green button which he assumed would be it, sighing into the mic, speaking slowly, but obviously bothered.
“This is 05, what do you want?”
A rough voice came through the other end, low but alert. “This is Novak, 06. Why did you take so long to respond?”
Dean was surprised by how direct he was. “Got in late last night. I was asleep. Why’re you contacting me anyway?”
“You’re the new hire, I'm curious. What’s your name, rookie?”
Dean didn’t appreciate the teasing tone. “It's Dean- Dean Winchester, but ain’t you s’pposed to call me by number? And what's your name anyway? Can't be ‘Novak’.”
“Technically, yes. I'm Castiel, last guy didn’t care to ask.”
Dean's eyebrows lift “Last guy? You worked the same lookout last summer?”
Castiel sighs softly across the line “Every summer since ‘02. I know the area.”
Dean rubs his eyes, still tired. “They supply coffee here? Could use a cup.”
“Yes, there should be some in the cabinet above your stove.”
“I’ll get back to ‘ya once I wake up a little” Dean remarks
“Long day ahead, Eaton wants you cleaning out the old shed, but he says that every summer. Later 05.”
The sound of the radio silencing will be something to get used to.
Dean gets up from his seat and pads over to the kitchen, golden rays of sunlight now coming in through the uncovered window. The coffee is where Castiel said it would be, a metal tin that looks like it's been there for decades, the coffee pot stained from years of use. Dean brews a pot, rummaging through the cabinets to find a mug, before pouring it full, the sharp scent of dark roast already waking him up. He puts on a clean shirt, jeans from yesterday, and barely fixes his hair before heading out onto the catwalk to raise the awnings and use the outhouse.
Once returning to the tower, Dean sits back down at his desk and signals the radio, still figuring out how it works.
“Fuckin' radio-” He remarks as he struggles with it.
Castiel comes in on the other end, cutting Dean off. “05? Back so soon?”
“Can’t figure out how this thing works..”
“You’ll get the hang of it, rookie.”
“What am I s’pposed to be doin’ today anyway? Somethin’ with the wind speed?”
“Yes, use the anemometer to check wind speed around 8am and 8pm every day. Don’t forget to check temperature and humidity as well. You’ll input the data into the system installed on the computer.”
Dean scoffs, “Sounds like work.”
“This is a job, isn't it?”
There's a period of silence before Castiel speaks again.
“Once you’re done recording the data, head down to Buckfoot Creek, the campground should be marked on your map. Follow the trails, under no circumstance forget your radio.”
“Copy that” The line goes dead.
Dean looks around his desk before locating the anemometer, taking it outside to measure the wind. The morning was clear now - barely any wind. The gauge read 6 knots. Once he’d figured out the computer system, collecting the rest of the numbers was easy, and so was submitting the report.
By 08:30, he was heading down the wooden steps to locate the trail, rucksack over his shoulder, still wearing his black boots, radio on his hip. The trail was on the West side of the tower, down into a small valley. The trail was clearly not often used, tall untrimmed trees and thick forest on all sides, the sunlight making the trees still wet with morning rain glisten; the gravel crunching under Dean's feet. The soft sound of water running signaled that the creek wasn't far off, up ahead there was a fork in the trail where Dean stopped to check his map. After discerning that he should take a right, it was about a ten minute walk to a clearing next to the shallow creek. An old log shed stood as a backdrop to what looked like a firepit campground, with a code padlock on the front door. Dean walked over to inspect it before reaching to pluck the radio from his hip.
“There’s a lock on the door, Novak.” Dean utters with some frustration behind it.
A brief silence before static crackling on the other line “Is it a number padlock?”
Dean pauses before answering “Yeah- yeah it is.”
“Try 1455, same code on all the locks around the Park.”
Dean fumbles with the lock for a minute before adjusting the numbers to read 1455, to his surprise, it unlocked.
“Thanks” Dean responds, surprised.
Once he made his way inside the shed, it was littered with dust, cluttered with old firewood and tools. The scent of damp wood filled the air, the humidity clinging to his skin. He sighs heavily, barely knowing where to start. The instructions were vague - he assumed that ‘cleaning out’ the shed meant organizing it and getting rid of any trash.
Around five hours later, he’d made a decent amount of progress. The shed was fully organized and the empty propane tanks and water jugs had been put into bags which Dean had walked to the trash site south of his tower. He'd left one trash bag sitting in the shed, it was heavy and the dump site was 20 minutes up the road. Taking a seat on one of the log benches nearby, he sat overlooking the creek, the shallow water nearly rolling over the stones. Dean pulled out his radio to report back.
The static begins as he presses the button. “06, can you copy?”
There's silence on the other line for a minute, before Castiel’s voice cuts in. “This is 06.”
“I organized the shed best I could, trashed the empty tanks. Is that all before I head back up?”
Castiel hums, as if in thought. “Hmm, yes. I think that’s all for today.”
Dean was already reaching for his bag. “Ok great, I’ll head back no-”
Castiel interrupts him - “I saw you on your catwalk this morning. Hiking in combat boots?”
“You- what?” Dean was a little offended, and also a little creeped out, his forehead creased in confusion. “You were watching me?”
Castiel responds calmly, as if this was no big deal to him. “Binoculars exist, and I wanted to put a face - or figure - to the name.”
Dean scoffs, "That's a little weird dude.”
“Maybe so. You should head back to your tower, and seriously, buy some hiking shoes.”
Castiel had turned his radio off, but Dean retorted anyway, frustrated. “I don’t need hikin’ shoes...”
The walk back to deans tower was quiet, he was beginning to enjoy the serenity in the brush. It was late afternoon now, the sun slowly nearing the horizon line. Making the trek upstairs to his tower, he put his bag down, sitting at his desk to mark the task as complete. He logs into the computer, marking it complete, then grabbing his radio.
Dean sighs before switching channels. “Reporting for 05. Just got back. What do ya think I’m gonna get assigned tomorrow?”
Castiel responds fast, likely also at his desk. “Probably campers or something. Don’t start worrying yet, get some sleep though, rest.”
“Alright, we’ll talk t’morrow I’m sure?”
“Tomorrow, rookie.” With that, the line cuts off.
Dean spends the afternoon making himself some dinner, simple noodles, the best he could really do in the middle of nowhere. He grabs a beer from the mini-fridge, heading out to sit on the chair leaned against the side of his tower, facing the southeast. He could see Tower 06 from there, just at the tip of the ridge-top. The sky was painted with deep orange hues, the sun beginning to dip just below the clouds. Dean sat and thought to himself. This was either going to be the best or worst job of his life.
more notes: I hope you enjoyed!! This is my first time really posting anything I've written, but I got really inspired to write this last night when I saw a hunter destiel AU edit and this came to me like a divine calling lol - I thought about the two gay rangers within the Firewatch game lore and thought that this would be fun to write!
lace divider by @/cursed-carmine
Thumbnails of posters of three Deep Space Network radio dishes.
Download hi-res versions and desktop backgrounds here:
Download three eye-catching posters featuring the larger 70-meter (230-foot) antennas located at the three Deep Space Network complexes in t
Pedro Acosta tested Radio Earplugs during Races
It has become increasingly clear that the new ownership is looking to introduce ideas that have already been used successfully in formula one in moto gp. While the two championships are very different, some of the changes being considered could significantly alter the way moto gp operates in the future.
One of the most controversial proposals is the introduction of rider-to race-direction radio communication. Riders already operate at the limit during races, and many have expressed concerns about having their concentration interrupted by radio messages while competing.
Pedro Acosta recently tested a new set of radio communication earplugs designed to allow race direction to send messages to riders. The initial system is expected to be one-way, with the longer-term goal potentially being a two-way communication system similar to the one used in formula one.
The ultimate goal is more spectacle, but it is pushed on safety grounds. Perdo Acosta tested the system during recent Grand Prix weekends and gave his assessment of the new equipment.
As Acosta said.
"It’s the earplugs that D o r n a want us to use for the audio, but it was the first test, I would say. “I am a bit special with the earplugs, and they found a good compromise. Quite happy for this. Normally I like the 3M [foam earplugs], and also they are the ones I have used since I was sixteen. They [Dorna] found a way to put the earplugs that I like with a [new custom ear] mould.
I don’t know how they will develop the audio thing, but the minimum is that it is comfortable. The other ones that we tried before were not OK. I was using [the new design] in Sachsenring and here, but I am wearing them because I find them comfortable. If not, then I would have gone back to the standard ones."
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why are there no nerdy losers near me to come over and build antennas with :(
The popular idiom "over and out" from TV and movies makes no sense in actual radio communications because "over" means you want a reply and "out" means you do not expect a reply. – WTF Fun Facts Source: https://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/over_and_out
