#soil drilling machine

[krishitoolindia]

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[royalkissan]

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[gabessquishytum]

A very self-indulgent ask here. Hob, having needed to start a new life, decides to take it easy from the fast pace of the city and buys a section of land to start a little farm! Most things come back easy to him - so many years living off the land, one way or another, doesn't go away quickly.

He's patching up the old farmhouse, painting board, hammering nails, breaking a sweat through it all. He starts tilling soil and planting seeds in the smaller back garden - mostly herbs to start with. He plans to ask one of the neighbors for help with the old farm equipment that was left over by the old owner. Even in here, things have changed so much! There's so many new machines and tools! Hob honestly thought it would feel like sliding into an old well worn pair of boots (and in many ways, it still is) but it's still new and fantastical.

He gets some chickens, which makes him realize how much he missed having chickens (and fresh eggs!). He enjoys the toil, the strain of muscle that a life like this provides. He enjoys the sweat on his brow and the easy rest his finds after a long day.

Then Dream comes to him, freshly retired and still wobbly on his newly human legs. So Hob coaxes him inside his home and gives him the care he needs. And slowly, Dream takes to this new human life of his.

So Hob teaches him how life used to be (and how it still is for many). Dream finds he especially likes feeding the chickens and watching them run around, pecking away. His eyes go wide the first time he sees a week old chick moving around. He names her Jessamy. She's his favorite.

Hob tells Dream to "go wild" in the house, and Hob enjoys watching how the fantastical mural progresses on the kitchen walls. Swirling colors and scenes only possible in dreams are revealed on the old walls. Hob smiles as he hands Dream a glass of freshly made lemonade and can't help but think how perfect he looks here in the light of the setting sun with stripes of blue and purple on his cheek.

Hob figures out how the old tractor works and how to attach the tiller and the direct drill with the help of their neighbors (a friendly group - the couple down the road brought them fresh milk). They get the first field tilled and sewn with winter wheat just in time for the cold. Hob takes a picture of Dream up in the tractor, looking wildly out of place in black skinny jeans and his silk top. Dream flips him off and Hob just laughs. Dream finds he quite enjoys that sound.

Winter comes and the daily chores slow (not stop, but slow) and Dream finds himself indulging in arts even more. Hob picks up some soft yarn and hooks when they're in town and the pair of them work on learning to crochet. Dream hates his first piece - a classic granny square - but by the time the holidays approach, he's made both him and Hob well-made scarves. Hob wears his every time he goes outside. It makes Dream smile.

Spring comes and with it, so does a bustling time of planting and planning. They work in tandem, prepping fields, buying seeds and fertilizer, caring for the chickens. They start renovating the old barn for either cows or sheep - they haven't decided yet.

Dream finds he quite enjoys the look of Hob in the midst of work. The sweat on his brow, the arch of his back and the tensing of muscles under his sweat soaked shirt all make for a very appealing image. If he takes out his sketchbook and works on capturing the moment, Hob doesn't comment on the sudden loss of extra helping hands.

It comes to a head on a perfectly average Tuesday when Hob's in the kitchen, kneading dough for bread for the week. It's early still. The sun has just started to peak over the horizon, their roosters just starting to crow - Jessamy from the sounds of it (and yes, so much for thinking she was a hen). Hob hears the padding of footsteps on the cool hardwood floors when a head rests against his back. He chuckles, telling Dream good morning and says he's up early.

Dream just grumbles in reply, a pair of hands rest hesitantly on Hob's sides. Hob continues, letting Dream soak up his natural warmth as he slowly wakes. The loafs will need to be formed still once the first proof is done, so for now, he places a towel over the top of the large bowl and pushes it up to the wall.

Hob turns in Dream's gentle hold and lets his body rest against the edge of the counter. Dream huddles closer, sighing as Hob wraps his arm around him. Dream looks up, this close, their noses are just hairs away from touching. Neither say anything, but both just know as they close the distance, it was how it was supposed to be. Here, in this house they each rebuilt with their own hands, on the land they tended to and cared for, they find love within each other.

This is sooooo lovely. I am very very into the idea of Hob going back to the land and starting a little farm. And how good it would be for Dream to create a whole new realm in the waking world. A sanctuary where he can live in harmony with all the living things around him. The food is home grown and home cooked, the bed is a little lumpy but perfect after a day of hard graft. Life revolves around the act of tending and of creating. It's not too far away from what Dream is used to, but it's all so totally different as well. It's new, but it feels safe.

Hob didn't realise it, but he also really needed this. The modern world is loud and bright, and if he's honest he's been craving the quiet and the stars and the solitude for a while. Solitude with Dream is even better. Sitting on the front step cuddling their chickens, talking about how the crops used to be in the old days before the fields were enclosed. Dream draws patterns in the dust with his finger. Life is quiet. Life is good. When the stars start to come out, they'll put the chickens to bed and then clatter up to their own room, to cuddle up under the patchwork quilt that Dream worked tirelessly to make as a gift for Hob. Tomorrow is a new day to shape together. The fact that Dream is looking forward to it? That means more than he can ever say in words.

[trivialbob]

This fall the neighbors behind me had a fence put up. The installer severed the buried cable TV/internet line. The utilities had been marked, but not properly. The cable company quickly put in a temporary above-ground line.

Today a crew was out here with this cool horizontal drilling machine, running a new underground connection. The old lines are just buried cable. The new line will be encased in conduit so it can be more easily replaced (by threading it through the tube) if this happens again.

How do I know this? Of course I was out there talking with the crew. "Hi! I'm Bob, what are you guys doing?"

One large truck with an enormous trailer was in front of my house. Another truck was in front of the neighbors' house on the other street. This was quite a big deal. To me anyway. I had to put my dogs inside because the workers needed to access the drilling area from both yards, on each side of the fence.

Inside one truck was a large pump and tank of slurry used to cut through the semi-frozen soil. The ground isn't frozen hard enough yet to require heating the slurry. One of the guys let me look in the back of the truck.

I can't believe any of my neighbors weren't over here watching all this too.

Once again the workers wouldn't let me operate any of the equipment, not even for a few moments. They always have their BS excuses about "You're not trained" or "Our insurance regulations prohibit non-employees" or "How stupid do you think we are?"

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: The weeds of the universe

Extract from “Galactic invasive Species”

“One would be hard pressed to find a more expansive species in this galaxy then that of humanity.

Where another galactic species would have developed on a planet housing a single biome, humanity’s homeworld has several biomes ranging from scorching deserts to frozen tundra’s. This has made their species incredibly flexible when being introduced to a new world. The habitability of a planet itself has been of little consequence to humans as they will immediately begin terraforming or begin construction of artificial habitats.

When terraforming plants humans employ massive city sized machines that begin altering the planets environment in a matter of decades were as other species have needed centuries. Even on lifeless rocks and moons humans invested untold hours into pumping out trillions of tons in CO2 to creat artificial atmospheres. If that was not enough on more developed worlds they have the capacity to alter climates to engineer their desired climates.

Terga III was once a burning ball of sand circling a pair of burning stars. Any water on the planet had been driven deep beneath the planet’s surface leaving the topside all but uninhabitable; that is until the humans came.

Deploying three continental sized terraforming plants on the southern hemisphere and within a week a series of dark clouds began dotting the sky providing shade to the planet. While that was going on several dozen deep drilling operations began which dove far beneath the surface to the underground water supplies. From there the water was once again brought back to the surface and deployed along numerous fabricated canals. This added with a few hundred metric tons of imported soil began the first steps to reforestation on the planet which would finally be completed fifty years later when Terga III became one of the most popular resort worlds in the sector.

When humans encountered a planet that was too far gone for terraforming they instead began deploying vast habitation complexes. Ranging from a small hab unit to mega city sized domes; these structures began spreading outwards in an elaborate web of connection pathways and transit tubes until the entire surface of the world would be covered in metal and glass. A prime example of this infrastructure would be the world of sin “Hermes Nova”, a lifeless rock floating in space that just so happens to be decorated with more casinos and gambling dens then there are stars in the sky.

Some worlds they don’t even bother to terraform or build hab structures on. They just plop themselves down and make do on the world like it was there home all along.

The pale ones of the winter moons, the mud people of Hermits Rest, the night clans of Demia VI; all human colonists that settled on the world and, using their own words, “Went Native”. One could say that they are being rather brave, or incredibly foolish depending on how each have adapted.

If there is a world out there in the universe that is so uninhabitable, so dangerous and ferocious that all those that have stepped foot on it have never left do not tell humanity. They’ll probably be on it within a week as their next challenge.

[socially-awkward-skeleton]

Chapter 1

Summary: After the attack on Piccadilly Circus, Sgt. Rory Sinclair hopes to get back in the fight, seeking justice for what happened in London at the hands of Al-Qatala. An OC POV on the events of the first COD: MW reboot game

Warnings: Minors DNI - canon typical violence, referenced terrorism, swearing, military inaccuracies

Pairing: Captain John Price x Fem!OC (3rd person POV) *they are in a secret relationship as she is an enlisted soldier, not an officer*

Word count: 1.4 k

A/N: A continuation of Rory's story, highly suggest reading "All Along the Watchtower" first to understand her character. Follows the canon events of the game, but told from Rory's POV as she gets dragged into things. The first few chapters follow her emotional turmoil after the attack on Piccadilly Circus.

[AO3]

October 25, 2019 - SRR HQ, Stirling Lines, Credenhill, Herefordshire UK

Chaos.

Sheer and unbridled.

Total calamity. 

Phones rang non-stop like sirens and alarm bells wailing, information passed along like a piss poor game of tag. Nothing solid. Fragments. Bits and pieces scrounged together as more radio calls came in from ground zero. 

Piccadilly Circus. London. 

Home . 

Bodies rushed around the pool of cubicles, raised voices barking. They had run drills regarding this sort of circumstance, but it could never truly prepare them for the real thing – a terrorist attack on home ground. They were meant to be safe, complacency having set in, all to keep the image of protected borders at the forefront of everyone’s minds. These types of things didn’t happen here, certainly not in England, attacks like this happened on foreign soil and the war machine could keep running, chugging forward to flatten its enemies and make someone, anyone pay for what happened. But not now, not today. All sense of control had been utterly thrown out the window. 

Rory’s breath froze, held in her chest and burning her lungs, that same imprisoned breath she would take before firing her weapon, held hostage but with no sign of the exhale coming any time soon. In a situation like this she couldn’t step away from her desk and catch it, getting fresh air and a cigarette. Time was of the essence. She had to grit her teeth and carry on, pushing her way through it, forcing the emotions that wanted to rise to the surface into the background, even as her brain tried to drift into a total fog. She had to separate her own personal anxieties from the work at hand, collecting and navigating the intel, sorting out what was conjecture and what was fact – the only thing that held absolute was that this was the work of Al-Qatala. 

Filtering the radio chatter from the police on site, reports of men screaming about ‘The Wolf’ made her stomach twist. Stabbed by a dozen stinging blades, the flaming hot heat of a bullet cutting through the body and the blood that would bloom forth from the seeping wound. Searing . She saw this coming, knew an act of aggression like this was a certainty. A shot fired to start a war for so-called independence , revenge for a nation that had been ravaged by “civil war” for twenty years, an attack on one of the foreign powers that had stepped foot into Urzikstan years ago as an ally. She had put in the work to prevent it from happening. Two years . Two years of her life focused on AQ and it had mattered for naught. 

CCTV footage played on the monitors in front of her, drones sent in to track enemy movements – but it was too late. It was all too late . Sitting there from the safety of her desk, Rory was forced to watch images of terrified people freeze or drop to the ground, while others ran, all of them forced to take part in the evolutionary reaction to fear at the first sight of a suicide bomber stepping out of a van, strapped into his vest. It should have been a normal Friday night, people traveling home from work, the bustling streets full of pedestrians, the lights and sounds of the West End. Alive . Instead, it was a war zone, blood and bodies. Her heart squeezed, crawling up into her throat in a lump as she reviewed the feed of the first moments of the attack, working with facial recognition software. Witnessing the faces of men, women and children caught in their final moments – the looks of desperation, fear, regret – lives both long and short flashing before their eyes. Civilians trapped in the middle of it all – the casualties in such a populated area would be immense.

Casualties . Such a dehumanizing word. A term she had come to both loathe and make a constant in her lexicon. Numbers and names added to a list, made into statistics rather than face the real cost of war: the families left behind, the suffering they would face in the aftermath. Mothers, fathers, husbands, wives, children – some of them wouldn’t be coming home that night. Despite having learned to cut the emotion out of things as a soldier, a death toll like this, having to watch the footage and see the faces of those actually affected, seeing their names and information appear on her screen from the database, the detachment simply wasn’t possible. She knew better than to make this a personal responsibility, to carry the burden of lost lives, her mind could only take so much, and yet that need to find justice coursed through her. Justice , or was it closer to vengeance? The lines were blurring now, especially as she found herself checking the footage subconsciously for one person she knew was likely caught in the middle of it all. 

Dad – her father might have been counted amongst those numbers; he still took the time to walk from the office to the Tube each day. A flurry of images flashed across her mind’s eye, the worst horrors she could picture until she knew otherwise. Things that made her blood run cold. There would be no word as to whether he was alive or dead until the fighting was over and the threat dealt with. 

Even a soldier in her position got left in the dark.

Her thumb tapped against her desk, her leg jittering underneath it, her nerves firing at a mile a minute. She couldn’t think straight even if she wanted to, no amount of training helped to prepare her for this. Diving headfirst into a fire fight was less nerve wracking than the fear of the unknown. Not knowing whether – as of ten minutes ago and that first bomb going off – she was an orphan or not. 

She wouldn’t make it another minute without knowing. 

Slipping the mobile from her fatigue pants, she scrolled past the five missed call notifications from John and swiped through her directory to reach her father. Raking her hand through her hair as she rested her elbows on her desk, she squeezed her eyes shut in silent prayer to who-knew-what considering she had never once been religious in her life. The phone held to her ear rang, each one feeling like an eternity in between. Once. Twice. Three times. Voicemail .

Fuck. 

Biting at the sore hangnails that hung on the side of her fingers, red and raw. She had been on high alert since the message was passed through SRR HQ by MI6 about the Russian gas that had gotten into terrorist hands a day prior, leaking the info to Price the moment she heard. It was all she could think to do on such short notice, and it still wasn’t enough. It hadn’t stopped a damn thing. She’d been left to flounder while everyone else in command seemed to have their heads shoved up their arse about the threat – they couldn’t bury themselves any longer. 

Her mobile dinged, and a text popped up in her notifications: Know ur busy with shit hitting fan. Heading in. 

Rubbing her hands down her face, her chest tightened further. She knew Price could handle himself, he had entered the fray often in the two years they had been together and yet, every time, it still caused a cold sweat to overtake her. A part of her wished she could be there with him. More complications added into the mix, more fear of the unknown settling in like a bony, clawed hand sending chills down her spine. There was something to be said for soldier’s superstitions however, he had never skipped texting her before heading into an op, he also never added a note about loving her, and as far as they were both concerned that was enough to make sure he kept coming back home. The sentiment was always implied anyhow in the simple fact that he had sent the message to her in the first place – thinking of her as he faced constant danger. 

That didn’t stop her from texting back with her heart on her sleeve, however. Come back home to me in one piece, love. That, or call her in for the fight. Having to sit at her desk, unable to serve the way she knew she could best – it made her anger swell like a venom coursing through her constricted veins. 

Wolves were territorial beasts and her home, her family, had been threatened.

tagging @efingart

[silentvoicescryingout]

Hana

Ino loved Sakura through all her phases–sometimes from up close, and sometimes from afar. Sometimes her love was sweet and bright, like dango-sticks. Other times it drilled deep into parts of her that were dark, cold and dampened like the underlayers of scorched, fertile soil. 

She loved things from their beginning, loved them to their end once or twice.

Her mother had told her she was simply made that way–born with soil in one hand, and seeds in the other, always looking for places to plant roots, seeking new lives to nurture and tend to. A true florist's daughter, able to coax even the shyest petals to unfurl in the light with the gentle strength of her hands. Some were poisonous, some healing and others that could provide sustenance and strength.

From the day she first laid eyes on a girl with cherry blossom hair and rose petal cheeks, lily pad eyes and a cherry-like mouth, it was as if all she dreamed of was spring. 

Sakura. 

She tended to her with more care than she gave to any of the other beings that grew in her garden. She was Ino’s special blossom, which at the beginning needed consistent attention and murmured words to coax quivering buds to spread open fragile petals. Her project of passion that could so easily be scared into dormancy by a strong breeze or droplet of icy water.

She fertilized her soil with her own two hands, imbuing confidence, grit, nutrients of character. She showered her with praises, moistening delicate stems so they might grow firmer, stronger to withstand the harsh winds of harsher words and cutting gazes. 

Ino watched and waited, cradled her close and stiffened her spine when she wilted, when she cried her petals dry. Some days, she wanted to keep her in glass, protect her in full bloom, for people to admire but only herself to reach in and feel.

She pushed when all she wanted was to pull closer, forcing herself away from this sprouting blossom she’d planted, watching as her roots burrow deeper, spread farther than just her own garden. And, oh, did she bloom: a wild thing invading outside soils, rooting itself and taking shape in so many other peoples’ hearts.

And when she was torn, uprooted by his traumas and psychotic machinations, Ino was there once more. Cradling her in gentle hands, carefully replanting. She became sunlight, and drowned her cherry blossom in it. She poured and poured, until Sakura no longer wilted, until the stems thickened and petals unfurled in the brightest shade of pink she had ever seen.

When the day came that the earth split and fell open under their feet and the sky bled with the tears of a thousand lifetimes, she finally looked with her eyes instead of searching for meaning with her planter’s hands.

Ino saw Sakura in a way she had never before. She realized that her blossom, her beloved flower, thrived best under conditions that she was not able to provide. No matter the ways in which she tended her, shielded her (and trimmed away at her, clipped her stems) she grew, stretching higher, branching wide and bright in the nighttime, face upturned to the dark, luminescence of a stoic night sky.

So, she watched as the flower was plucked from her garden, silencing the cries of her aching heart and focusing instead on the way those blood-stained hands handled the blossoms with such care, fingers scarred and gnarled, stroking against those vibrant petals oh so gently. 

She would be planted elsewhere to sweeten the worlds with her fragrance; she could only hope it was under the widest and starriest of skies.

Yugao, Ino mused— breathless as she watched him watch her, with those deep, dark, eyes— would have been a better name for a woman who blossomed as Sakura did, under the dark gray and lavender sides of the moon.

Tag list: @ephemeredoll @lezzxe @psalloacappella

[virtuouswhitehatorganization]

Dr. Doom Rock (Villainous Oc)

Name: Fabrice Desroches

Occupation: Supervillain; Geologist

Age: A year younger than Flug

DOB: January 12th

Headcannon Voice Actor: Jhonny Torres (Spanish); Sam Richardson (English)

Ethnicity: Haitian-American

Sexuality: Bisexual

Residence:Hutton Rock

Relatives: Chantal Desroches (mother); Lambert Desroches (father)

Personality: He is a smart minded man who has great ambitions to put evil geology on the map. He has gone out of his way to use every resource he can to demonstrate what can geology do for villainy. He also gets very defensive when someone laughs off his field as being just useless. He also has great respect and a crush on Flug who he has admired since high school. He is willing to do what he can to get him to notice him and also to get him to notice how awesome evil geology can be. He also very much is hammy and bombastic and tends to like to make a big presentation of his villainy. When he's not doing villainy he can be pretty chill with his fellow villains, especially ones he has made lairs for and other scientists. He can be still somewhat dorky, especially when it comes to flirting and tends to use rock based pick up lines.

Background: He was born to the scientific evil couple, The Desorches, where his mother was an evil chemist while his father was an evil engineer. However, despite how they each wanted him to get interested in their fields he always had a fascination with geology and studied into it. Even though his parents were disappointed he didn't go into either of their fields, they still did support his interest. He soon was put into the Black Hat Institution to get an evil study and saw that big areas of science like chemistry, biology, and engineering took up focus while nary anything about geology. However, it still didn't deter him he still strove to learn as much and there he first met Flug who was a grade above him and gained a crush when he fended off some bullies trying to make him do their homework. He would eventually graduate and move onto university where finally he would find success learning about geology and went onto become what he always dreamed of an evil geologist and was going to show the world what he could do. Even though at first he would be taken as a joke, with how he used his geology knowledge he has managed to make it a force to contend with.

* He knows French and English.

* He still has a crush on Flug but he doesn't notice and just thinks of him as someone from school who at least didn't torment him. He's very dedicated to one day getting his attention like back in high school.

* He once tried to ask Flug to prom but Flug threw out his invitation on because he thought it was a joke invite due to still not being over Heed.

* He often goes to the Mad Scientist Expo with his parents and has his own boof where he shows out what evil things geology can do.

* Although his main discipline is geology, he still studied his parents' fields to help him since chemistry and engineering are a big party of of his field.

* Some of his schemes include making earthquake machines, shifting tectonic plates to move places like cities, threatening volcanoes to erupt, creating big drills, making sinkholes, finding mystical rocks that could be used against heroes, fracking up places to poison the water supply, etc.

* Due to him being a geologist, he has tried to study kryptonite so he can properly see it's uses.

* He's studied all branches of geology.

* He keeps a rock, mineral, and soil collection. He studies and experiments on the mystical and dangerou ones to use in his schemes.

* He goes on mining trips for rare rocks and minerals with magical properties or due to rarity.

* He is becoming the archnemesis of Foreshock from the Elect.

* He also will contend with the trencher.

* Due to his skills, he is also has a side job of building villain lairs.

* He later gets together with Hormoniac.

* His catchphrase is "I'm the most evil geologist ever" with everyone saying that's not much of a big field.

* He remembers Miss Heed but was never really focused on her and is surprised she turned into a hero years later but dislikes her due to brainwashing people to serve her while still proclaiming she was a good person. He also dislikes her for breaking Flug's heart and stealing his formula which she perverted in his eyes.

* He's got to Haiti sometimes to revisit his roots.

Created through https://picrew.me/en/image_maker/2094902

[kolkudarandtheorcgang]

(Trigger Warnings: Mentions of s3x work, violence, bullying, medical malpractice)

Worldbuild Lore: Warmonger Tribe

The Warmonger Tribe is known as the one where the best soldiers came from during Sauron's time. Usually the one that requested ologs the most from vatkeepers, to the point of being sometimes hated as a faction. Their expertise lies in their military mindset: brave, disciplined and highly trained combatants is the real gold of Mordor, they believe. Sauron himself was said to favor this tribe above many others.

Often berserkers and bulky brawlers, these orcs are fearsome in the battlefield thanks to their constant training drills and thousands of hours in experience at various weapons, though they are at their deadliest in hand-to-hand combat. Their greatest source of pride is in their kill counts and in having their deeds of war be sung by bards.

In matters of personality, one may comment at their fierce, ruthless nature, as well as mention the bullying present between recruits. Veterans always act as harsh as possible to force the newbies into unleashing their true might in battle, and no mercy or weakness is accepted into their midst. The love for weaponry, steel and armor is equally shared in the tribe as well as a certain camaraderie between warmongers, though such respect must be earned through proving your power and value as a fellow combatant. These warriors are often a source of amusement for other tribes due to their habits of constantly carrying their weaponry and never taking off their armor plates, even during rest hours.

Their burgh, Mauband, is practically a fortress itself, heavily reinforced in imported cement from vulcanic soil and speared fencing of the sharpest, strongest metal. Guards are marching everywhere, keeping the order, while the best trainers teach the soldiers below for varying prices. Any who wishes to become stronger may pay for their training services, though they favor offering bodyguards instead.

Surprisingly, this is a tribe known for honor, with many members being famous for holding respect to others despite their size or fragility. Despite the occasional bully or troublemaker, they are not frequently involving themselves in scandals at taverns, likely to preserve their reputation as decent, focused soldiers. Currently they serve as The Orc King's main army force, so it is essential for them to not fail in representing themselves well.

Hierarchy:

-Overlord: Barug The Bull (current general of Black Blood Haven's forces and the royal security advisor)

-Warchiefs: Bek The First, Bak The Best, Bok The Last, Tûgh The Killer

-Captains: approximately 100 of them, with Ol-Guk The Stern as their main representative

Brand: The helm design of the first orc troops of Morgoth, representing their past of glory in the wars

Societal Relationships:

-Machine Tribe: This tribe favors the warmongers as one of their best clients, while being favored as the best blacksmiths by the Warmonger Tribe

-Terror Tribe: These two tribes often clash due to The Orc King having chosen the terrors as law enforcers over the warmongers

-Slaughter Tribe: Highly favored because they wisely offer discounted pricing for their goods to the warriors; warmongers are often seen acting as guardians of butcherhouses of the slaughters as a free favor

-Feral Tribe: Sometimes this tribe is beloved for their great supplying of war beasts, some others they are despised over their blatant lack of discipline and preference for traps over direct combat

-Outlaw Tribe: The warmongers detest this tribe over the same reasons as the Feral Tribe, and conflict is common, with outlaws tricking and outsmarting warmonger brawlers only to be brutalized soon after at least once per week

-Mystic Tribe: Currently neutral relations, though many fear the mystics for their necromancer magics

-Courtesan Tribe: A favorite tribe as well, for obvious reasons; the warmongers usually defend this tribe's members from rowdy clients, but now and then a foolish warmonger might get beaten and kicked out for testing the patience of a courtesan far stronger

-Suture Tribe: Both beloved for their healing services and dreaded for their fearlessness and cruelty; the warmongers are their main source of income during military events and festivities

-Marauder Tribe: The Warmonger Tribe's best patrons, since many bankers and merchants hire them as their bodyguards; bards often seek them as source of inspiration for their songs

-Dark Tribe: Mainly detested and feared, for the warmongers harbor hatred for those too cowardly to stab someone on their back and not on their front

-Rover Tribe: Generally ignored, though warmongers often mock this tribe, calling them "cowardly runners" who "run from danger like maidens"

-Other orcs (goblins, hobgoblins, etc): Often, the warmongers ignore them, considering these to be too weak and small to be important, though many orcs still earn their respect and even admiration for their prowess in fights

-Pinkskins (humans, half-elves and half-orcs): Pretty much same as the other orc races, though the warmongers sometimes hold fondness for half-elf or human people who work for the Courtesan Tribe; mating bonds between these humanoid races and warmongers is quite a common occurrence in the Haven

Foreigners (The Free Folks as a whole): Most likely, they would all be mocked for their apparently frail bodies, especially the dwarves and hobbits, though the higher ranks know not to underestimate them, especially the elf warriors

[ome-magical-ramblings]

Closed Practices, Initiation, and gate-keeping practices.

One of my friend was discussing the idea of using a mantra from a lineage and how to approach it, he said the following: {start quote} I don't get why people practice Vajrayana mantras without initiation. I'm fully aware that one can gain initiation without human help, however literally every Tibetan tradition will tell you that you are wrong for doing this Because on the other hand there are sects that actually want people to use their mantra

And encourage it I'm not some gatekeeping Tibetan monk

It's just that in my experience doing anything from Vajrayana requires empowerment from a monk

It personally really makes me doubt the entire vehicle

Every time I touch Vajrayana it seems more like a money making grift than anything else

[...] Whenever I encounter a tradition that is fundamentally broken, rather than try to scavenge the pieces I just leave it alone and keep on moving When you're working with a machine and are trying to skip 1000 years of lineage holding guru. It makes me wonder if it's worth getting involved with at all We have living traditions right now, living gods and masters, that don't come with baggage attached {end quote} Honestly! it makes me think where I do stand in this whole thing. This morning I saw this image that a different friend shared for me about the topic, from Hoodoo Moses:

Which is true, it makes me think about these people who says "closed practice this, closed practice that" and they don't even consider the rift between them and their own cultural practices. I as an Arab know for a fact that there's a huge rift between the practices followed by modern Arab magicians, Arab magicians in the 1900s and the magic talked about in older grimoires, it doesn't even need to be asked when you think about it that there's a huge rift between these 3 but they're all performing and working legitimately. There's this idea that the religion or practice being done is verbatim to the text, which is a good idea in theory but practically or at least culturally there's also modification and changes within own community and that could come as surprising. I know I was shocked when I realized the rift between what people worshipped in modern Thailand compared to the image in Thai Buddhism in text. Same goes for Arab magic in something like Shams Al Ma'arif compared to how it's done by arab magicians. The time difference doesn't really drill down into people's head possibly because they don't have the conceptual grasping on what I mean by that, I will give an example in the

Mahāvaipulya Sūtra of the Tathāgata Store, Translated from Sanskrit into Chinese in the Eastern Jin Dynasty by The Tripiṭaka Master Buddhabhadra from India We see a list of attendee to the dharma discourse and one of the attendees is Fragrant Elephant Bodhisattva, why fragrant elephant... That's possibly culturally related to ancient Indian culture. It makes you think about these practices from the point of view of a modern buddhist would know how to perform this Mandala in the Usinsa Vijaya Dharani's Sutra:   “Those who desire to perform this maṇḍala rite should, on the fifteenth day of a waxing moon, mix perfumed water with yellow soil and cow dung and smear the ground with this mixture. The square maṇḍala measures four elbow lengths on each side, and it should be surrounded by three tiers of gemstones from the Laṅkā Mountain, which are in five colors. An ancillary tier of white Laṅkā gemstones marks the boundary on the four sides. Scatter flowers inside the maṇḍala and place four vessels of water on the lotus flowers painted in the four corners. The vessels should be the same in size. Reverently place a bottle of holy relics and cow’s bezoar on the center lotus flower. In the maṇḍala, scatter various flowers and burn incense and various kinds of fragrances, such as camphor, saffron, agalloch, and so forth....[]

Other than that, people are so hinged on the living gods or living traditions currently not looking into how they're approaching the world themselves. How do you know the living gods are gonna accept you and not the persumed "dead" gods, What do you bring to the table for the living Masters? We see the twelve disciples leaving their homes to follow Jesus and to teach, suffer, and die in his name. We see Marpa demanding that Milarepa build and demolish three stone towers before he would teach him.  Or maybe Lisiewski who built and shipped a furnace to Albertus for use in some special alchemical work, and photocopied the entire Crowley collection housed at Penn State University and mailed it to Regardie for his research.  Are you willing to follow in their footsteps?[link] I know that there are grifters and guru who larp to exploit people, but that's not the main issue here. If your practice is only on the level of face-to-face/physical basis then you need to go deeper. You can knock on the spirits door and ask them, you can ask your local spirits to help you, sages and saints of the tradition you're seeking, the world is living, breathing, and haunted with spirits that you can talk to. Coming back and wrapping all of that back to this point, how do you know a closed practice from an open practice? You in your infinite wisdom have a certified "stamped" approval from some person who's gonna tell you yea that's practice for everyone. That's the thing tho, it brings me to a topic of refinement culture touched upon by @on-the-pechka 's here , welp it is basically related to the Lindy effect and refinement culture. We are seeing it in occult, magic, and spirituality lately, when everything become so samey, all occult discord servers require introductions, technique merge and mingle without a say or word and the emergence of "suitable" for everyone practices appear. You have to really get your mind thinking about this, the practice become so accessible that it reach the lowest common denominator and then what? You're gonna look at me in the eyes and tell me that they are 1:1 to the fractured and fragmented pieces we find, The PGM(Greek Magical Papyri) isn't one single system, Shams Al Ma'arif isn't Ahmad Al-Buni only, and when you look into the preexisting systems before us there's also precedent of syncretism, Jake Stratton Kent in his Testament of St Cyprian mentioned it well: All this places considerable responsibility with the reader, but also circumvents the limitations implicit had I approached the project differently; saying ‘these are my gods, these are my spirit superiors and spirits, work my system by rote and you won’t have to think very hard.’ That approach has been employed extensively and has not provided much by way of insight; reinforcing differences rather than revealing underlying patterns and their syncretic basis. If anything misunderstandings and artificial elements have proliferated by this means. Invention without attention to the underlying principles has had many failings. You have to drill this into your mind, the current living traditions didn't live because they are the best suitable for you. They survived because they contained the most accessible tools to the "masses", the harder the entry gate, the more obscure, fragmented systems often hold keys to unknown territory that we often don't know...Maybe you should knock on these doors? what is the worst that can happen? shouldn't we take it from the horse mouth itself and ask the entities of the tradition if they accept our entry into their system or not? If you approach them respectfully the worst that can happen is that they say "no" or block you from contacting them.

[ramsadik]

Get a Quote Call Now..!

How Does the Choice of Drilling Equipment Impact the Outcome of a Drilling Project?

In the realm of drilling services, the choice of drilling equipment plays a pivotal role in determining the success and efficiency of a drilling project. Two common types of drilling equipment, rotary and percussion drills, offer distinct advantages and disadvantages. In this blog, we'll delve into the impact these choices have on the outcome of drilling projects, with a specific focus on Drilling Services in Pune, highlighting the expertise of Sanas Engineering.

Understanding Rotary Drills

Rotary drills are versatile machines that use a rotating motion to bore through various surfaces, including soil, rocks, and concrete. The key advantage of rotary drills lies in their ability to handle a wide range of materials efficiently. This versatility makes them suitable for diverse drilling projects, from foundation construction to geotechnical exploration.

Advantages of Rotary Drills

1. Versatility: Rotary drills can adapt to different drilling conditions and materials, making them a preferred choice for projects with varying geological compositions.

2. Speed and Efficiency: The rotational motion of these drills allows for faster penetration, leading to increased project efficiency.

3. Precision: Rotary drills provide greater control and precision, ensuring that the desired depth and diameter are achieved with accuracy.

Challenges with Rotary Drills:

1. Cost: The initial investment and maintenance costs for rotary drills can be higher compared to other drilling methods.

2. Limited in Hard Rock: While versatile, rotary drills may face challenges when encountering extremely hard rock formations.

Percussion Drills: A Different Approach:

Percussion drills, on the other hand, use a hammering or pounding motion to break through surfaces. This type of drill is particularly effective in penetrating hard materials like rocks and concrete.

Advantages of Percussion Drills:

1. Suitability for Hard Materials: Percussion drills excel in projects where the drilling surface is tough and resistant, making them ideal for certain geological conditions.

2. Cost-Effectiveness: Percussion drills can be a more cost-effective option for specific projects, especially those involving hard rock.

Challenges with Percussion Drills :

1. Limited Versatility: Percussion drills may not be as adaptable to different materials as rotary drills, restricting their use in certain projects.

2. Slower Drilling Speed: In comparison to rotary drills, percussion drills may have a slower drilling speed, potentially impacting project timelines.

Sanas Engineering's Expertise in Drilling Services in Pune:

When it comes to Drilling Services in Pune, Sanas Engineering stands out for its commitment to providing tailored solutions for diverse drilling needs. Leveraging their expertise, Sanas Engineering carefully assesses project requirements to determine the most suitable drilling equipment.

Conclusion

the choice between rotary and percussion drills significantly influences the outcome of a drilling project. Understanding the advantages and limitations of each type is crucial for making informed decisions. In the context of Drilling Services in Pune, partnering with experienced professionals like Sanas Engineering ensures that the right equipment is employed, leading to successful and efficient drilling projects.

[magicalgirlagency]

TOH is also leagues better than SU.

TOTALLY.

Specially when it came to handling The Collector. If you really think about it, he's Spinel done right. Like, here's the thing:

Spinel, much like The Collector, is a jester-like character who has abandonment issues caused by being treated like a disposable object by the series' main villain. When she arrives on the scene, she plans on wreaking havoc as an act of revenge against the one who has left her to rot.

EXCEPT, that when the conflict is finally over, Spinel becomes Pink Diamond's replacement for her grieving sisters, and that's her arc resolution. It's like getting back to your abuser, after they've tormented you so many times.

In the end, Spinel returns to her position of Personal Jester, now serving as an entertainer to Pink's equally putrid sisters. Hell, she's NOT even present in the show's final scenes to say goodbye to Steven when he fucks off to Florida!

The only good thing about her, is that her physical form doesn't change, which it's meant to symbolize how trauma can permanently change you, and it will never leave you even if you've found peace and happiness in your life.

Compare her arc to The Collector's, who after setting everyone free of their puppetry magic, leaves to the stars to think about the errors of their ways, but promising to return to land someday in the future. Of course they wouldn't be easily forgiven by the others, even after playing a role in Belos' demise! The child-coded character was actually mature enough to see how erratic they were in their behavior (albeit an understandable one).

Let's be real here, folks: Has Spinel ever faced the consequences of her actions? Was she ever called out for poisoning Earth's soil with her killer drill machine? Did she ever stopped to think about how wrong she was? Did she even bothered to atone for her transgressions?

Nope, she still plays her original role of a colonizer's plaything.

But of course, I can't say that outside Tumblr, or else the stans will drag me out to the streets to publicly execute me.

[olivinesea]

A Mixed Blessing

Chapter List

chapter ten: unspeakable love

a/n: Moving along. Warning for violence/assault, hospital stuff, drugs.

Aaron wakes up. ~2.8k

At first the only difference he was aware of was the smell, the scents of pine needles and dense soil replaced by the reek of astringents. This was followed by the brightness of florescent bulbs drilling into his eyes through his closed eyelids. He knew he needed to open them, to take stock of his surroundings, to reorient himself to the waking world. The last thing he remembered was falling into an inky black darkness, chased down by the howls of wolves that blending with his own voice. Now he was silent as a wash of sound built around him, voices pitched high with fear, the crashing of machines and metal doors. He knew he should have a reaction to this, that this chaos should spur him to movement. But he couldn’t quite grasp onto that before sinking back under, the shrill of an alarm sounding in the distance.

*

When he woke up again he was a little more lucid. Enough to notice the faded blue gown, the chill of the air on his bare arms. He felt a pinch at his elbow when he tried to move, reaching for the first hint of an itch, the tip of his nose a warning of torment to come. An IV stuck out of his arm, its rubber tube running up and out of his field of vision. There were voices around him but he couldn’t see anyone. He didn’t remember changing, didn’t remember being brought into this blinding, disinfected room. It was the opposite of where he’d made his last conscious decision. He couldn’t see around his confusion, his mind dragging back his memories, cumbersome and uncooperative images. He tried arranging and rearranging them like scenes from a story, believing he could follow them to this moment if only he could place them in the right order.

Fading out to black on that mattress, he recalled feeling brief concern that Cole would come barging in, demanding his share. A share that had long since entered Aaron’s blood stream and was spinning him out into a plane of numbness. That could have been it, the inevitable violence of that encounter would be enough to toss him so far from the depths where he had left himself. But now he was in the emergency room—the name of the place finally coalesced in his mind—perched on a stiff mattress with a scratchy blanket and little else. He doubted he’d have made it out of the woods if it had been Cole who found him.

He turned his head slowly, looking around the space with as little movement as possible. His chest ached with a pain he’d never felt before, each inhale flaring heat between his ribs. His bed was circled by curtains, a flimsy barrier to the ceaseless chaos of the larger room. His mind skittered across what he was seeing and back to his broken memories, trying to understand how he’d ended up here, a place even less desirable than the hell he expected. Then he saw her, sitting anxiously beside him, leaning forward so her elbows were on the bed, face pressed into her palms.

This didn’t make any sense to him. Why would Haley be here in the hospital with him? He felt a distressing suspicion there was somewhere else she needed to be, that there was something important tonight, something he was supposed to be there for. But instead she was sitting next to him, teary-eyed and pale. He wanted to ask her what was happening but his muscles would not respond. No words came to him through the dense fog lingering over his mind, halting the connections necessary to organize the flashes of color in his mind. He was just so tired, his eyes struggled to focus on Haley. And the itching was getting worse. His hand fluttered from nose to neck, chasing the sensation but never satisfying it. He gave up the fight to keep his eyes open as he tried to concentrate but unconsciousness wound around him tightly and pulled him under again.

*

When he finally woke up, Haley was talking to him, her words quiet as her gaze darted behind him. He could tell she was speaking by the way her mouth moved, some of the syllables making their way to his ears, none of them holding meaning for him.

“I didn’t know what else to do, you weren’t responding, you were barely breathing…”

Her eyes kept returning to the doorway, checking again and again, a familiar vigilance that tugged at a thread of awareness in the back of his mind. Fear was a feeling he knew well enough to cut through his hazy dissociation.

They had moved, a new room, smaller and calmer than the last. He still couldn’t speak so he tried to learn what he could from his location. Haley fell silent, noting his attention turned elsewhere. They were enveloped by a tense quiet broken only by the squeaking of shoes on linoleum and a persistent beep from the half dozen electrodes placed along his chest, their wires slipping under the loose gown. She reached out, grabbing his hand, trying to pull him back to her. She begged him to understand.

He needed more context. He wanted to know how they’d gotten him here, for her to explain the frustrating jumble of images that refused to make sense. There was Haley of course, the golden girl like a halo driving back the shadows of the shed. If he closed his eyes, focused on the skin of her palm wrapped in his, he could remember the warmth of her arms as she held on to his frozen body. His ears could nearly catch the echo of whispered nonsense about how help was coming, how they were going to get him out of here, out of this. How everything was going to be okay. He'd had no response to those words, hadn’t held any stock in those fervent promises, incantations to draw his soul back into his body, to make it seem like here and now was just as good of place to be as lost way out in the darkness.

As his awareness returned, puzzle pieces of the night falling into place, his body began shivering uncontrollably. He would never get away with such greed, even if Cole hadn’t been around to be bothered by it at the time. It was the principal of the thing, he’d told him more than once. If I can’t trust you to treat the stash with respect, to treat me with respect, you’ll have to learn it another way.

Aaron had bristled at this, less and less impressed by Cole the more he became tweaked out on speed. These days he only seemed interested in breaking into peoples’ cars, smashing windows to steal whatever was easy. Sometimes the things he took weren’t even worth the few dollars he needed to score. He was chasing a different high and it was nothing Aaron cared to be a part of. He’d only ever wanted to feel less, to be disconnected from his life. The way Cole moved now was too fevered, overly present and oversaturated.

He hated to acknowledge what it said about his choices, but he was afraid of the older boy. Afraid of what he could do to him, everything he could take away. Regardless of what he wanted, it was impossible to get away from the situation, tethered as he was by their shared secret. It might be mutually assured destruction but he had no doubt that if he chose to turn on him, the town would have more sympathy for the charming Cole Turner than they ever had for the strange reclusive Hotchner boy. Cole would tell them some lascivious story about a friendship turned predatory and people would believe it. Cole, with his smile and his unnerving ability to know what you wanted before you knew yourself. Aaron didn’t stand a chance if he dared to walk away. Instead he’d resorted to rebelling in the only way he could, the way he always had, willfully taking what wasn’t his.

Haley was still talking to him but he couldn’t make sense of her words. He thought maybe they were only his memory overlaying past on present. It seemed like she was apologizing but he couldn’t imagine what for. He was the one who had gone missing when he was supposed to be there for her. Who had strayed too close to death and necessitated this trip to the hospital. He stared at their hands, the way she had wrapped his fingers in her smaller ones, how tightly she held onto him, their knuckles turning white as the bones ground against one another.

He studied her face, remembering how bright it had once been, how he couldn’t even look at her directly for too long when they first met. Now she just looked pale and tired. He’d drained her of her vitality and he hated himself for it. He’d known all along this would happen, that he’d drag her down to his sorry level of existence. And sure enough, here they both were, in this hospital that was barely more than a morgue with waiting rooms. He tried to see past her tears now, to look backwards in time, perhaps he could find what he had taken and give it back to her.

His staring unnerved her. She couldn’t put words to it but she was terrified, even more than when she’d found him. He hadn’t spoken. He’d been nearly catatonic, his breathing shallow to the point of stopping entirely. They’d had to do CPR after all, Jessica taking charge of his circulation, keeping his heart functioning until their dad got him to the hospital. She’d believed they’d lost him, his skin waxy and grey until they started pumping drugs into his system to flush out the overdose. He looked more alive now but she wasn’t sure that was better if this was what alive looked like for him. He looked like an empty house, all the doors and windows broken in, no way to secure the inside, no reason not to just let the whole thing crumble.

She needed him to hear her, to understand how sorry she was for what was about to happen. She hadn’t meant for this, hadn’t thought this far ahead, her only hope when she saw him laying there was to get him to people who knew how to help, where they could reverse some of the damage he’d inflicted on himself. She hadn’t given a moment’s thought to who and what came out of the woodwork of such places.

He still couldn’t make sense of the words she was whispering to him, more urgent now, less of a hypnotic refrain and more like she needed him to answer her but he couldn’t make out the question. He wanted to ask her what she was so worried about, the worst was behind them, his sentence was sealed. He’d died and she was only holding the hand of a ghost. A ghost could not be harmed. He saw her eyes look somewhere behind him, how they widened in fear as she looked back at him. Finally her words started to sink into syllables he is familiar with.

“I’m sorry Aaron, I’m so sorry.”

At last Aaron understood. Bringing him into the hospital had one clear, inescapable consequence: they’d contacted his father.

Another shape emerged from behind Haley, curls wild and eyes tired, but not quiet so frightened as her sister’s.

“Come on,” she urged, “we have to go."

But Haley wouldn’t let go, not even as he felt an ominous presence enter the room just out of his field of vision. He didn’t need to see to know who it was. Aaron could smell the leather of his shoes, the metal of his cuff links, his ring, heavier than it needed to be.

“Get out.”

The clipped words could have cut flesh if they’d had the chance to play on the physical plane. Aaron closed his eyes, curling his chin into his chest. This was why Haley was apologizing. He didn’t blame her, not exactly, but maybe it would have been better if she’d left him where she found him. He let his hand go limp in hers and, though she still held tight, she knew something had changed.

Haley tried to stand her ground, rising out of her seat and glaring defiantly into the face of the man she knew hurt her friend, who haunted the hallways of his home and his dreams.

“The doctor said he needs to rest,” she said it like it would make some sort of difference to the man.

“Get out or I will have you removed.” He didn’t sound angry but the way he looked at them made their stomachs drop. Jessica pulled at Haley a little too hard, causing her to stumble off balance.

“He didn’t mean it,” Haley tried to insist.

All that merited was a cold laugh as Mr. Hotchner stepped in close to his son. He leaned down, running his hand along Aaron’s exposed arms, the damaged skin unprotected in the short sleeved hospital gown, all his secrets on display. He pressed his finger hard against the dark red track marks, the bruises formed with the force of the injection.

Aaron didn’t react, staring blankly ahead, mind already shutting down, too afraid to face this new danger. He knew it was impossible for him to get away, tied down by the IV, by the lights and by the way he couldn’t feel his feet. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Jessica pulling Haley away. He was glad they wouldn’t see any more of this. His father didn’t even bother to make sure they were gone before moving his hand up from Aaron’s arm to wrap around his throat.

“Tell me why I shouldn’t end this right now.”

Aaron didn’t look at him, avoiding his eye though he did nothing to resist. He counted the threads in the weave of the blanket as he felt his airway being cut off.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” He gripped tighter, no longer an idle threat. There was intent behind this contact, a deadly promise of follow through.

“You just had to half-ass it, had to bring your shit in here, embarrass me.”

The shallow breaths Aaron had been managing through his nose were no longer possible. He did his best not to react, not to give in to his father, to show that he is afraid of him after all. But his heart was starting to race, the panic of empty lungs an impossible force to ignore.

His father’s face was empty of emotion, almost disinterested as his son was strangled by his own hand, as his child’s lips turned a sick shade of blue. It was more like a clinical observation than a visceral destruction perpetrated by him.

“Fight,” he snarled, as if that were possible. “Defend yourself you miserable piece of shit.” His iron grip didn’t slacken, only digging his fingers in tighter.

He had been doing his best not to move, not to give the man anything to work with, anything to punish him further for. When he was this angry the best course of action was to remain still, to wait for the storm to pass, for his attention to wander. Fighting back only prolonged the assault. He held onto the hope that he might pass out and get to step away from this. It didn’t matter to him what happened to his body anymore. As his air expired he could no longer feel anything, not fear or anger. The world was only a mist, delicately landing on his skin. Why should he care anyway?

But the pressure only intensified as his consciousness remained and it became too long since his last breath. Against his will, Aaron started to struggle, grappling at his father’s wrist with both hands, his fingers weak from the drugs so recently running his system. He hadn’t eaten in days, couldn’t remember the last time he was really present to the world. A whimper escaped through the crushed corridor of his chest, not loud enough to alert anyone to what was happening. His efforts were useless against the force bearing down on him. The edges of his vision began to blur, his father’s cold fury the last image before everything dissolved to white.

[mrhandyman2023]

Drilling Service Singapore

Introduction

Drilling services encompass a wide range of activities aimed at creating holes or wells in the ground for various purposes. In Singapore, these services are in high demand due to the country's rapid urbanization and the need for infrastructure development. Drilling is crucial for construction projects, geological surveys, environmental assessments, and even obtaining water resources. By employing professional drilling services, businesses and individuals can ensure the efficient and safe completion of their projects.

Importance of Drilling Services in Singapore

In Singapore, drilling services play a vital role in supporting the nation's development. With limited land availability, the construction industry often faces the challenge of building on constrained sites. Drilling services provide the means to overcome this hurdle by enabling the construction of deep foundations, underground structures, and even the extraction of natural resources.

Factors to Consider When Choosing a Drilling Service in Singapore

When selecting a drilling service provider in Singapore, it's essential to consider the following factors:

Reputation and Track Record

Evaluate the reputation and track record of the drilling service provider. Look for testimonials, reviews, and case studies that demonstrate their ability to deliver quality results. A provider with a strong reputation indicates reliability, professionalism, and customer satisfaction.

Licensing and Certifications

Ensure that the drilling service provider holds the necessary licenses and certifications. This ensures that they comply with industry standards, safety regulations, and environmental guidelines. Valid certifications demonstrate their commitment to quality and professionalism.

Range of Services Offered

Consider the range of services offered by the drilling service provider. Determine if they have expertise in the specific type of drilling required for your project. A provider that offers a comprehensive suite of services can cater to diverse project needs and provide integrated solutions.

Customer Reviews and Testimonials

Check customer reviews and testimonials to gauge the satisfaction level of past clients. Positive feedback and testimonials indicate a reliable and trustworthy service provider. Pay attention to the provider's ability to meet project deadlines, communicate effectively, and provide excellent customer service.

Case Studies of Successful Drilling Projects in Singapore

Marina Bay Sands Foundation Piles In the construction of the iconic Marina Bay Sands integrated resort, professional drilling teams were responsible for installing the foundation piles. Through meticulous soil testing and drilling, they ensured the stability and load-bearing capacity of the foundation, allowing for the construction of the impressive structures that make up the resort.

Jurong Rock Caverns Geotechnical Investigations Jurong Rock Caverns, Singapore's first underground rock cavern for oil storage, required extensive geotechnical investigations to assess the suitability of the rock formation. Professional drilling teams conducted comprehensive drilling and sampling, providing valuable data for the design and construction of the caverns.

Future Trends and Advancements in Drilling Services

The drilling service industry in Singapore continues to evolve, embracing technological advancements and innovative approaches. Here are some future trends to watch out for:

Automation and Robotics The incorporation of automation and robotics is revolutionizing drilling processes. Autonomous drilling rigs and robotic systems can enhance precision, productivity, and safety. These technologies reduce human error, optimize drilling operations, and enable continuous monitoring of drilling parameters.

Data-Driven Decision Making The integration of data analytics and machine learning algorithms enables drilling service providers to make more informed decisions. By analyzing real-time data collected during drilling operations, they can optimize drilling strategies, predict potential challenges, and improve overall project outcomes.

Environmental Sustainability As sustainability becomes a top priority, drilling service providers are investing in eco-friendly practices. This includes utilizing low-emission drilling equipment, implementing waste management strategies, and minimizing environmental disturbances during drilling operations. The industry is exploring greener drilling fluid alternatives and adopting practices that reduce the carbon footprint of drilling projects.

Digitalization and Remote Monitoring Digitalization is transforming the way drilling projects are managed. Cloud-based platforms and remote monitoring systems enable real-time collaboration, data sharing, and project management. Stakeholders can access project updates, drilling progress, and data analytics remotely, enhancing transparency and communication.

Integration of Augmented Reality (AR) and Virtual Reality (VR) Augmented Reality (AR) and Virtual Reality (VR) technologies are being utilized to enhance training programs and simulate drilling scenarios. These immersive technologies offer realistic experiences, allowing personnel to practice drilling techniques, troubleshoot potential issues, and improve their skills in a controlled environment.

Conclusion

Drilling services in Singapore play a vital role in various industries, providing essential solutions for projects ranging from water wells to geotechnical investigations. Hiring a professional drilling service provider ensures expertise, safety, advanced technology, and cost-effectiveness. When choosing a provider, consider their reputation, licensing, range of services, and customer reviews. The future of drilling services in Singapore will see automation, data-driven decision-making, sustainability, digitalization, and the integration of AR and VR technologies.

[nycerny]

In order to successfully determine the proper use of land and to protect environment, it’s very important to conduct soil sustainability testing. It provides key information related to the type of support or load the soil can accommodate, the depth of the footing, and if the soil can receive and treat septic effluent.

With our company-owned drilling machines and full service soil testing laboratory, we are equipped to provide drilling, boring, soil sampling, ground water sampling, soil compaction tests and other related services.

[krishitoolindia]

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