#level indicator water tank

[nikeson01]

Ultrasonic Level Sensor – Accurate and Maintenance-Free

Looking for a no-contact level measurement solution? The ultrasonic level sensor by NikeSon provides precision without requiring frequent maintenance. Perfect for industrial settings, this sensor supports various applications. Check out the full details on their website today.

[watertanklevelindicators]

 Future Trends in Water Tank Level Indicator Technology

The future of Water level gauge looks promising, with ongoing advancements in technology and smart solutions.

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[dirtyvulture]

Beefy!Natasha Romanoff* x Fem!Reader

*Nat has a penis

18+ read at your own risk

Requested by anon: hi can u do g!p beefy nat please and like innocent sub fem reader absolutely dripping for her in public and trying to cup her bulge and muscles and so nat takes her home while ignoring her in the car and rams her senselessly in their bed 

AN: This one is for the bottoms. Enjoy!

"Y/N, can you hand me that rag from the bucket. Y/N? Hello?” 

You are completely oblivious to Steve asking you for something because you are so fixated on watching your girlfriend. The way she fills out her tank top, with her muscles stretching the fabric perfectly. The flex in her arms and shoulders when she reaches across the hood of a car, wiping a chamois back and forth until the metal gleams. 

The Avengers were hosting a car wash and naturally, cars filled the entire block. You had come along because you really had nothing better to do, and you were not going to pass up an opportunity to see Natasha, half-clothed and working hard manual labor under the sun. 

“Y/N!”

“Sorry, sorry!” you squeak, scrambling to fish a rag from a soapy bucket and passing it over to Steve. Natasha smirks as she watches you, knowing full well the effect she has on you. She pats the hood of the car, signaling she’s done, and the driver pulls forward to Thor’s station. Natasha walks over to the tent you’re taking cover from the sun under.

“You okay, babe? Make sure you’re staying hydrated,” Natasha says. 

“I am,” you insist.

“Good.” Natasha grabs her own water bottle, taking a long sip from it, and pouring the rest over her head. The water turns her white tank top see-through and when you see the fabric clinging to her perfectly sculpted abs, you almost fall over. 

“Just give me a few more minutes and we can head home,” Natasha says, coming over to you for a kiss. You don’t even realize what your hands are doing until you feel Natasha’s fingers close around your wrist, effectively stopping you from grabbing her bulge right in front of everyone. “Not here, baby,” she warns, but gives you a wink. “Maybe at home.”

You’re pretty sure you’re going to explode from the sheer level of arousal.

You sit down, crossing your legs, and trying to think of anything and everything that will take your mind off the empty pulsing of your core. You try to stop watching Natasha as she polishes off another car, but you can’t help but drool at her back muscles and stare at her ass. 

When Natasha finishes the last car, she comes back to you. “Tony’s taking over for me. Ready to go home?” 

“Yes, yes!” You leap up with embarrassing enthusiasm. 

The drive back to your house is barely ten minutes, but you’ve already shown you have no restraint when it comes to your girlfriend, especially after watching her work in the heat for almost two hours. Your hand starts out innocently on her thigh, but slowly creeps higher towards her crotch. Natasha gives no indication she wants you in her pants, so you continue to push your luck until she finally swats you just as you’ve made it to her zipper.

“I said at home,” she scolds you.

“I could blow you while you drive,” you beg. “I bet I can get you to finish before we’re even in the driveway.”

“Do you think that lowly of my stamina?” Natasha replies. 

“No, no!” you insist. “I just want you so badly, Nat. In my hand, in my mouth, in my--”

“That’s enough,” she snaps, and you know you’re walking a fine line, but you’re willing to push the boundary as far as you can go. But Natasha won’t have it, and she holds your wrists in your own lap to prevent you from touching her again.

When you finally arrive at the house, Natasha comes over to lift you out of the car and carry you inside. You’re squirming in her arms, impatient and desperate, but Natasha doesn’t say anything until you two are safely within the confines of your bedroom.

“On your knees,” Natasha demands, setting you on the floor. 

You scramble to obey, watching hungrily as Natasha strips off her tank top and kicks off her jeans. You see how big the bulge in her boxers has become and you know she’s just as excited for this as you are. 

“Put that pretty mouth to work,” she says, starting to stroke herself but you swat her hands away, taking her entire length in one swallow. Natasha moans as you pull back to suck on her tip and she threads her fingers in your hair to hold you in place as she starts jerking her hips forward. Your eyes water when the tip prods at the back of your throat, but you love being used like this. 

You grasp at her muscular thighs, trying to keep yourself balanced as she fucks your mouth, wishing that she would stay still for a moment so you can savor her taste and the way her cock stretches past your lips. 

“Fuck, baby, that’s my good girl,” Natasha grunts, her fingers tightening against your scalp as her hips move faster. “Where do you want my load? Down your throat or up your pussy?”

The dirty talk causes your own panties to soak with wetness. You can’t speak around her cock, and you won’t dare pull her out to respond. 

“How about both?” Natasha offers, her abs flexing as she empties herself into your mouth in record time. You smirk, knowing that she could never last long in your mouth. When she pulls out, you take in a big breath and try to dive back in for another taste, but she stops you.

“On the bed, baby,” Natasha says, sweat gleaming on her muscles as she tears off your clothes and man-handles you onto the mattress. She slaps your butt and rubs her cock through your thighs until it’s throbbing and hard again. “Oh God, you’re so wet. What was it? Seeing me at the car wash or sucking on my dick?”

The real answer is both, but you manage to squeak out, “The car wash!” before Natasha slides effortlessly into your heat. The emptiness in your core is replaced by a feeling of being stretched almost to your limits; Natasha is big and no matter how many takes you take her, it’s like the first time. You moan as she starts thrusting into you, holding tightly onto your hips to keep you from bouncing away.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Natasha pants, pistoning into you harder and faster.

“Right there, Nat, right there,” you say when you feel her tip brush a sensitive spot inside of you. “Fuck!”

“You’re not gonna cum until I say you can,” Natasha demands, but the quiver in her own voice gives away the fact that she’s close too. You grab onto the bedsheets in clawed hands, biting into a pillow to will yourself from falling over the edge before you’re given permission to.

“Please Nat,” you beg. “I can’t hold it much longer.”

“Yes, you can,” she says, her hips moving jerkily now. Your walls clamp down on her cock sporadically until she can’t take it.

“Cum with me, baby.”

You don’t need to be told twice, your entire body going rigid as the ball of arousal in your stomach explodes. Your cum gushes all over Natasha’s cock and down your thighs, and her own seed shoots deep into you. Both of you ride out the bliss of your orgasms and Natasha lays on top of you, careful not to crush you with her weight but you want to feel every part of her against your skin.  

“I love you,” you whisper, cuddling into her and closing your eyes in content.

“I love you, too,” she says. 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

AN: Please like, reblog, and comment! Follow for more content. 🥰

[hometoursandotherstuff]

On another page, this house in a remote area of Lincoln, Montana gave us serial killer lair vibes, woodchipper and all. 3bs, 1ba, $385K.

No one for miles and look at the road. Just a path. It looks like it could grow back.

This looks very lonely. I'm always fascinated by homes in the middle of nowhere. I saw power lines outside, but "a propane fireplace, as well as a wood burning stove, provide dual heat sources."

I don't know what's on the TV, but there're 2 satellite dishes.

There's a dining area and spiral stairs to a 2nd level.

It does have a full kitchen with a washer/dryer.

Odd placement.

I thought this was a dishwasher under a window, b/c that's how it looked on my laptop. Then, when I looked at it on my phone, I saw that it's the fridge opened up! Everything is so much more vivid on the phone. How disappointing.

What is that bowl?

B/c there's a sink on the left. With romantic candles. The cabin has a septic system that was installed by a local installer, and a bank of water storage tanks for ample storage.

Well, that's good, b/c there's just a trickle in the creek.

Stairs are so close to the counter.

The listing says 3 bds., so I'm guessing that they're up here, but there wouldn't be any heat up here. There are only 2 sources and they're downstairs.

Sheets of faux tile on the walls & ceiling. Unusual choice.

Would that count as a closet?

Extra supply or empty propane tanks and a spare toilet.

There's a porch on the front of the cabin.

Well, there's a generator. The listing says that the owner planned to put in sloar power, but never got around to it.

So, I guess that this considered a road.

I don't know, maybe this finger is pointing to an alternate route. The sign indicates that there's a town up the mountain to the left. Note the power lines.

I'm guessing that you come down here from the property and get on a paved main road.

20.57 Acre lot, so there's quite a bit of land.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/Nhn-Cadotte-Creek-Rd-Lincoln-MT-59639/2055954790_zpid?

[treedaddymcpuffpuff]

Beneath Miles of Stone - Part eleven - John Wick x Plus Size Fem Reader

Summary: John has been in prison for nine months. He’s content to stay if it means appeasing the high table and keeping peace between the owners of each continental. However, he meets someone who erases that willingness. Peace be dammed.

TW; this is just really gross fluff. Like I didn’t even think I was capable of this mushy stuff but this chapter was HONESTLY my favorite that I’ve written so far. Enjoy some soft John Wick ❤️ And thank you for reading.

Work is literal hell. Not just for her, but the patient’s, too.

To replicate the infirmary, the prison has attempted to create a pop up hospital on the main level.

Literal curtains attached to metal poles separate the sick inmates from the main, drafty entrance. Blankets upon blankets is not enough to keep these people warm. The upper and lower levels have been partially closed off, and to get anywhere you have to navigate yellow tape and maintenance and construction workers and use the stairs instead of the busted elevator. That would be okay if everything she needed for her patient’s was right at hand instead of four floors down locked in a dark storage room.

She’s thankful to have her job back, but after a night arguing with managers about the safety of the inmates, and running up and down stairs with supplies including oxygen tanks and water jugs, she’s exhausted, scared for these grown men’s lives, angry, and wondering whether or not she should call whoever owns the place and tell them it needs shut down and the prisoners need relocated.

Even the guards seem scrambled, fried, like they don’t know what to do in the midst of all the damage and chaos.

She’s been looking for Mike all night, and finally she sees him as he’s walking down the hall and picking up pieces of fallen plaster.

She’s so glad that he’s alive she almost hugs him.

“Hey darling,” he smiles, letting the broom and dustpan dangle at his side. He’s pale and sweaty and his overalls look loose, like he’s lost a lot of weight.

“Are you alright?” She asks.

He shakes his head. “Just getting over whatever the hell decided to mess my lungs up. Are you alright? I was asking around, trying to see if you were here that night and if you were okay, but no one could tell me a damn thing.”

“I was here,” she nods, “but I got out fine.”

“I knew there was a reason I was praying for God to send his best guardian angel to you,” Mike tells her, wiping sweat off his forehead. “You’re blessed. A lot of people died that night.” He looks away, down the hall behind her, sadness crinkling his sunken face.

She cringes, looks at the floor, remembering. No angels have ever been in this prison, and no God exists in this fucked up world.

Instead of saying any of that, she thanks him for the prayers and asks if there’s anything she can do to help him feel better.

“Just keep yourself grounded, kid. I was in Vietnam for a long time, and I know what seeing this kind of thing does to a younger person.” He motions at the blood stains on the concrete walls. “It either makes you hard, or makes you crazy.”

They both try sad smiles for the other’s benefit before parting ways.

She looks for Benny all night, too, almost hopeful that John bluffed. But the big man is not here, and no one says anything to indicate whether he’s alive or dead, so she assumes that she signed his death certificate herself.

When she makes it home, aching and yearning for a shower and a soft pillow, John is outside her apartment.

In any other circumstance, he would see her immediately, but right now he’s helping two elderly women that live on her level load something big into their trunk.

She watches the scene unfold, sees the way they thank him and hug him and kiss his cheek like he’s just saved children in an orphanage collapse, and realizes something about John Wick: Mike’s prayers for God to send her an angel were granted. Here he is, catching her eyes and smiling, her deadly guardian angel. She couldn’t see it before while her vision was clouded by spilled blood and instinctual fear, but he’s saved her life twice, subdued everyone he’s met into loving him, threw their trash away at the bar instead of just leaving it on the table for the waitress, and, if given the opportunity, she knows, without a doubt, he’d save a kitten from a tree and carry people out of a burning building and then go back in for more.

The cold, white sunlight illuminates his tawny eyes into a pit that she’s falling into and never climbing back out of and she can’t believe him hoisting something into a helpless senior citizen’s trunk was the final push.

She reaches where he stands leaning against his car, and he kisses her cheekbone in greeting, the fever of his skin instantly warming her freezing flesh. “Let me take you for breakfast?”

This sickly sweet exchange has her all messed up inside. She feels like her heart is a sleeping dragon hoarding her emotions in a pile and someone is tickling its nose with a feather and waking the beast up.

“I’m dirty,” she tells him, as if somehow that’s going to change his plans.

He cocks his head. “I can wait while you take a shower?”

Going to breakfast with a beautiful angel sounds lovely, but she doesn’t want him to smell her sweat and run the other way. “Sorry, I’m just gross right now.”

“I love dirt,” he teases. “Just come. They run out of the blueberry pancakes fast.”

She sighs, “fine, but if you smell me it’s not my fault.”

He eases her worries by pulling her into his nostrils and inhaling the skin of her neck.

She squeals with laughter, pushing to get his stubble off her ticklish skin as he nuzzles and sniffs.

“Hm.” He pulls away, thinking. “Smells wonderful so far. Maybe I should try again-“

“No!” She flails in his grip. “No john. don’t. Stop!”

He’s in the crook of her neck again, terrorizing poor nerves.

She hits on his chest, presses her neck down over his face to buck him off, giggles obscenely for everyone in the street to hear.

Her laughter is infectious, and she is beautiful.

“Apple shampoo?” He guesses, grinning down at her after ceasing cruel ministrations.

“Apple conditioner,” she corrects, glowering.

He leads her, by the waist, to his passenger door.

While he holds the door open for her, she rolls her eyes and curtsies. “Thank you, Mr. Wick.”

He growls, playful, reaching for her as she falls into his cab.

She’s giggling and then screeching, shocked as he chases her in and folds her against the driver’s door.

It’s cold in here, but the heater that he calls a body can’t be fully enjoyed without some chill involved anyway.

And she can’t find the audacity to be cold when he’s tickle attacking her.

Facial hair in the crease of her neck and fingers on her belly and ribs is a deadly combination when he combines it with his huge, agile, speedy hands.

“Oh-o-k-Kay I’m sss-sorr-y!”

He digs into her armpits and she screams, bucking her body so hard that she actually lifts him up a little bit. He’s impressed.

“Please.” “No.” “Fuck.” “Shit.” All broken, yelping words from her feral mouth until he stops without warning.

He kisses her gasping lips, and grins. Zero percent disheveled or tired from fighting her while she pants and squirms. “Such language.”

“What about blueberry pancakes?” She flexes away from his lethal fingers.

“You gonna stop being a heathen?” He asks, hoping the answer is no.

“I’ll try,” she promises, grimacing while she waits for impact.

He slides off of her, and they climb over one another - mostly just John moving both of them to their respectful places since she’s so wobbly - to trade places in the seat.

“Pancakes saved your ass,” he tells her, starting the car.

“Good ol’ pancakes,” she grins, “always there in my time of need.”

The restaraunt is a tiny diner on the corner of 3rd and Cross. It’s retro, metal and faded gold red upholstery, with flowers in glass vases adorning each booth.

She wastes no time in smelling the poinsettias when they take seats across from one another.

“Wow,” she says, “these are beautiful.”

“They’ve always had fresh flowers since I was young,” John explains, leaning close and taking a whiff. “You’ve never been?”

“I just moved here a little bit ago. City of opportunity. I think I’ve been to four restaurants and they’re all pizza places.”

“When did you move?” He asks.

She tells him, then adds: “When did you move from Russia?”

“I can’t exactly remember,” he says, “young, though.”

“What was your favorite place to go?”

“Internationally?” John clarifies.

She nods, toying with the edge of her napkin.

“New York. It’s my home.”

She’s jealous of that word. Such a foreign thing for her to think about, a home. But she’s happy that he has some place he loves.

It’s strange and sad, to meet someone more lost than he’s ever been. Even when he was young, he can’t remember a time when he didn’t have a place to sleep even if it was a cold wooden floor on a burlap sack, and he still has family here.

He grabs her hand, startling her with warm touch on her freezing fingers.

Neither one is used to it, even though they crave the foreign feeling of intimacy.

He rubs her palm with his thick thumb, pressure heavy and soothing.

White snow turns blue, pink, and orange sherbet as clouds curtain back to reveal a painted, fluffed candy sky.

They stare at each other, oblivious to the rainbow of color framing their embrace in front of the big window.

John hasn’t been scared in a long time, but he’s horrified by what his chest is doing while he looks at her face.

Vulnerability hangs in the flower scented air between them, and each one is afraid to cross its’ path.

Like a near extinct species meeting another one of its kind for the first time in a jungle filled with chaos, and, yet, still extraordinarily lonely.

The waitress sets menus on their table, pulling them from uncharted sea back into familiar rocking ocean.

“John,” Cindy greets, leaning down to embrace him.

“Cindy,” he replies, smiling, patting her shoulder and squeezing her back.

The older, plump woman chokes laughter and pulls out from his arm, dusting off imaginary lint from his jacket. She cracks her back and neck and rubs her shoulder. “See you haven’t lost your heavy hands?” She asks playfully. “Gotta be careful with us older people, though. We’re breakable.”

The faintest tint of pink colors his cheeks as he chuckles apologetically. “Sorry.”

“And who’s this?” Cindy asks, grinning down at her.

John introduces them, and Cindy pulls her into a warm hug. “Hi honey.”

Cindy turns her delighted smile on John. “Delo?”

“Udovol'stviye.”

Cindy claps her hands together, laughing in joy. “I’m going to get Bill. Hold on.” She starts to scurry away, but then turns around. “Oh, what do you want to drink?”

“Black coffee,” John says.

“Orange juice?” She says.

Cindy’s gone again.

He’s reminded by the side conversation she didn’t understand that there’s something on his mind he needs to ask her, because as much as he appreciates it, it’s starting to make him paranoid. “You haven’t asked a lot about what I..” he struggles to find the right words. “Do for work.”

“Do you want me to?” Her face is forgiving, non judgmental, although a little timid.

“No.” He hopes he doesn’t upset her with the blunt answer.

“I figured.” She’s a little disappointed, but only because she wants to know if he’s safe while on the job. And also because people that don’t reveal a lot about themselves tend to just disappear without explanation.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

She waves his apology away. “You don’t really know what I do for work either.”

“Hmm.” He leans back, man spreading and dwarfing the booth. His knees knock hers and she laughs nervously, shying away. “Nurses. Hurt people to make them feel better.”

She cringes. “I never thought of it that way.”

“You give people shots, dress wounds-“ he refers to himself “-fix plumbing, cover for maintenance, open packages, argue with stupid doctors, make older ladies adore you, hold people’s hands. This list goes on. Am I close?”

She laughs. “You’re forgetting one huge part.”

He motions for her to tell him about it.

“We wipe a lot of ass.”

His head falls into his hands, and he shakes with heavy laughter. “Jesus,” he says.

“What?” She teases. “Tough guy embarrassed by ass wiping? But not ass whipping? It’s two letters.”

His laugh gets harder, now with added groaning at her embarrassing admission in the nearly empty but still occupied diner. Full of surprises. He peaks at her through his hands. “Just how you say it.”

She shrugs. “Nature of the beast.”

He puts his chin in his hand. “What’s your dream job? Surely not that?”

She tells him, then asks the same question.

“Librarian,” John replies.

She actually does laugh at him this time because she thinks he’s joking. He joins her laughter.

“Yeah?” She asks.

He opens his arms wide as if to embrace the career choice. “Yeah.”

Why is it so strangely hot to imagine him as a strict librarian working late nights at her local book dealer? There’s more to that fantasy, and it involves her getting lost in the maze of massive shelves right before the library closes and then sexy suited librarian finding her and deciding to punish her for her carelessness - but getting horny in a restaurant is not convenient.

And Cindy’s back with Bill, who also gives them both big hugs.

“Jesus John,” he says, “you swallow more iron every day?”

“That’s what I told him!” Cindy cries, elbowing her husband.

“Bill,” John nods.

Cindy sets their drinks down in front of them. “I was just asking about you the other day,” she tells John. “You haven’t been on one of your long trips for a while.”

John sips his scalding coffee and listens to Cindy talk, occasionally nodding and agreeing with the banter between her and Bill.

She drinks her orange juice and listens to the conversation about Cindy almost getting mugged on 23rd.

“And I said, if John was here those punks would have been sorry.” Cindy puts her hands on her hips and shakes her head, then looks at her.

“He’s always been my little - “ Cindy looks back at John “ - big guard dog. Anybody comes in her looking for trouble, he’s got us covered.”

She smirks over at John, who’s trying to act like he’s not blushing again. He narrows his eyebrows at her cheeky expression in a challenging warning at that says ‘comment on these pink cheeks, and you’re fucked.’

Her eyes shy away from his own as she drinks more tangy juice.

“Oh my god, Bill, he’s laying the charm on this poor girl,” Cindy whispers in her husband’s ear.

Bill glares at Cindy. “They can hear you,” he says.

Cindy pats John’s upper arm, quelling his elevated embarrassment.

“You take it easy on her, Johnny,” Cindy says. “She’s a sweet girl.”

She peaks up at John over the rim of her glass and he is adorable enough that it makes her forget some of her own shyness.

“Remember when you chased that drunk guy down the street with a coffee cup?” Bill asks, changing the subject. “Guy was so scared he pissed his pants before you threw it and gave him a concussion.”

Cindy laughs, addressing her again. “He did it because the guy grabbed me up for us being out of pie. I mean, how can I help it if we’re out?”

“You make the pie,” Bill tells Cindy, deadpan.

“That’s besides the point,” Cindy scoffs. “Tall, Lanky, growing John steps right in and grabs this guy’s shirt collar and drags him off me. Guy gets up, tries to grab a coffee mug for nefarious reasons, but John grabs it first, looks at it, looks back at the guy, and just goes right for him.”

Bill and John chuckle.

“And after he’s done knocking this guy out with a coffee cup, he comes back in and asks Cindy if she’s alright and she fell in love with the little demon,” Bill says. “Called him her adopted son.”

“And gave him free pancakes for life,” Cindy added.  “How many do you want, by the way?” She winks at John. “Fresh blueberries.”

They place their orders, and Cindy and Bill leave them to cook and check on other customers.

“They’re so sweet,” she tells John.

John orders a literal stack of pancakes and eats them all like he’s been starving for weeks. He also eats half her big plate of bacon, eggs, and cheesy hashbrowns when she gets full.

She wonders if the wild wolves in Russia taught him how to eat every calorie you can in one sitting and then go days without, because she’s honestly never seen him eat this much or at all. She’s jealous of him, again, for being able to stay lean and bulky even after meals like this. She contemplates asking him to switch metabolisms, watching while he drinks down a cold glass of water and looks at her from the rim of his glass.

“You work tonight?” He asks.

“Twelve hours,” she groans.

“Let me give you a ride in the morning?” He asks. “I’ll pick you up in the alley across the street.”

“Well, that’s not shady,” she jokes.

“Not at all,” he agrees.

Before they leave, he tucks a casual one hundred dollar bill under their neatly stacked dishes and then hugs part of his chosen family goodbye.

“Easy, easy,” Bill laughs, being dramatic while John squeezes him. “Jesus.”

Bill and Cindy pull her in for a hug, too, and Cindy kisses her cheek. “You come back,” the sugar-smelling woman tells her, holding her shoulders. Her heart swells as she tries really hard not to cry in front of them. This whole time in New York and she thought everyone was a soulless robot, but John’s people are just the opposite of that, and she’s grateful to meet them.

She only has time to say thanks before John is escorting her out into the bearable flurry of snowflakes.

When they get into the car, she raises her eyebrows at him and smiles like he’s the most precious thing she’s ever seen. He glances away, avoiding her adoration. “Thought you got free pancakes for life?” She ribs.

He shrugs. “It was a tip.”

She’s extremely reluctant to let Mr. Wonderful himself go about his day as they pull out front of her apartment.

They stare at each other for a minute, before John talks. “Can I pick you up tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” she says, the word partially muffled by his mouth while he plucks at her top lip.

He takes his kiss back and she whines involuntarily, eyes still closed and mouth open expectantly.

He opens her door, walks her to the entrance of her complex, and lays a chaste kiss to her forehead. “Go to sleep,” he says. “See you in the morning.”

[zeondraws]

Random thoughts so I don't forget them while researching

Note to myself, make a list of where I can find multiple occasions of dead crew members reappearing inside the shape

keep hearing the term absorbed but I have a hard time understanding how they'd do that

My assumption is the moment they transform the form they take on, is the way they look like from then on.

If Raffs is stuck in the bell, how come I find his head reappear in multiple areas according to the game file maps. He's stuck on Roper too.

The area Addair stays in before his first reveal in Engineering has a strange amount of copies of his body inside the shape. I have to check if they're labelled with his name. Roper probably didn't see infected Addair? Why is there a part of Addair on Roper? Same with Alex, but I need to compare ingame and gamefile stuff side by side next time. I don't know WHERE Alex died. His body appears multiple times.

Does this somewhat say when everyone got infected or is this random. The mobile infected don't change forms. However immobile infected like Ken can burst out, this can't be seen by the player normally. But I think the shape bursted out of him when Caz wanted to go to the lifeboats.

How Roper transformed is a mystery for me, either the shape got him through the roof of marine control. Or he got covered in it too and transformed at a later moment. Which means the shape maybe used him as an anchor point to grow through? I need to research all of this and actually make proper keynotes to it all. Otherwise I will always forget

Trots is obvious for me, the shape bursted through the pipes in the bathroom which caught him. Making him transform. In said bathroom are remains of another person, but only one of the legs is from Trots, the remaining parts are not labelled with a name. Didn't somebody else have Trots leg attached? I need to recheck..

Gibbo appears multiple times in different levels, someone thought that's how he'd look like and whatever is talking to you in the water tanks is a copy of some sorts. But I don't believe that theory. Game is inspired by the thing but the shape seems to operate differently.

My head breaks about the whole absorb thing, the dead crew members that Gibbo and Muir killed don't transform. However there is one crewmember in the Muir level somewhat grown into the shape, I need to check what's below him, did the shape come out of engineering and grab him through the ground? I don't think I see him anymore in the late game. Did he morph into spherical balls at the end? There is a different body near this location- before said body gets replaced with dead Muir

Is it only possible for immobile infected to absorb? I don't know if eating or mauling crew members like Rennick and Trots count as absorbing? Or does it?

I should align the rig maps together in some way

Trots doesn't seem to change appearance even after mauling multiple of his crewmates in the Cabin Floor. Roy seems completely unaffected by everything aside from the insulin problem. I get the slight feeling the shape doesn't want to get to Roy in some way.

People think the infected crewmembers aren't aware of things (or not fully). Maybe it's true to some extent but judging deleted files and the way some of them speak, they're probably still very aware. Emotions drastically influenced by the shape. Hearing, smelling and feeling pain is drastically increased.

Maybe they communicate to each other with howls or through minds, but dunno. Caz only sees his own memories. Didn't one soundfile really indicate him being more infected than suggested. His voice weirdly distorted, or maybe I have to listen to it again. Tho it makes sense what Finlay said before she died, Caz would've transformed at some point sooner or later, I think. The amount of times he was submerged in the substance would suggest it, Same with Gibbo who got it on him.

Puppet Choir files is where Caz wonders if they're talking to each other, but he might refer to the howling.

Yeah no I definitely need to learn how to do bullet points or make some sketches to connect everything together. I have noticed how overwhelmed I get with the info I discovered, but putting 2 and 2 together is difficult

Did Addair knew something before he fell down to the ocean, if Caz talked to the shape in a deleted scene about the drill. Was Addair trying to stop Caz from doing something incorrectly (flare stack). Or maybe there is no big meaning and Addair doesn't feel like stuff being messed with

He probably hid in processing quad to escape the rising water levels in engineering. Gibbo must've died down there, poor bastard.

These are all just loose thoughts so only take it with a grain of salt... I struggle putting my thoughts out because I usually think I say half of it incorrectly. I dunno, I need more research probably. And write it down in some word file

okay I go do some art now...and play the game AGAIN-

[catdotjpeg]

Israel said its military launched a “targeted” operation against Hamas early Wednesday morning inside Gaza’s largest hospital, where thousands of Palestinians are believed to be sheltering. Conditions at Al-Shifa Hospital, which has run out of fuel and is no longer considered operational, have deteriorated rapidly in recent days amid intense fighting, with doctors warning of a “catastrophic” situation for patients, staff and displaced people still inside. Wednesday’s raid sparked international criticism. [...] Khader Al-Za’anoun, a reporter for the Palestinian news agency Wafa, described scenes of heavy fighting to CNN. “Explosions are shaking the buildings of Al-Shifa Hospital … which is besieged from all four directions, following the launching of rocket and artillery shells in the vicinity of the hospital,” he said in a text message. Al Za’anoun said Israeli forces had “invaded the hospital with large numbers of soldiers and military vehicles, including tanks, armored vehicles, troop carriers, and bulldozers,” adding they were preventing anyone from leaving. [...] CNN is trying to contact the hospital to speak to doctors there, but phone calls are not going through. Israel is under significant international pressure to prove their claims about Hamas’ infiltration of the hospital, in order to justify some of its military decisions, which could otherwise constitute a possible serious violation of international humanitarian law. There is no indication yet that troops have uncovered a multi-level tunnel structure with underground chambers of the kind illustrated in an animation presented by the army spokesman at a briefing almost three weeks ago. [...] Human rights bodies fiercely condemned Israel’s raid on Al-Shifa, as the World Health Organization and Palestinian health officials warned they have lost communication with staff inside the hospital. International pressure on the Israeli government has hardened in recent days amid accounts of dire circumstances at Gaza’s other fuel-starved hospitals, and severe shortages of food and water.

[...] People inside Al-Shifa have lost contact with other buildings in the complex, jeopardizing efforts by humanitarian workers and Palestinian officials to receive updated information about the catastrophic conditions faced by terrorized patients and medical staff. Omar Zaqout, the supervisor of the ER department, said people were sheltering inside the buildings and staying away from windows and doors. “We don’t know what is going on outside, all we’re hearing are explosions, gunfire, screams of older people and cries of children,” Zaqout added. [...] Zaqout, the director general of hospitals in Gaza, alleged the IDF interrogated medical teams, patients and their escorts. “Some of the escorts were forced to take their clothes off,” said Zaqout, who is not at the hospital but spoke to the doctors inside. IDF spokesman Rear Admiral Daniel Hagari claimed Israeli forces “include medical teams and Arabic speakers, who have undergone specified training to prepare for this complex and sensitive environment with the intent that no harm is caused to the civilians.” CNN cannot verify Hagari’s claims. For his part, Zaqout insisted that all the people inside the hospital are civilians. “The situation is currently horrific.”

-- From "Israeli troops and tanks raid Gaza’s Al-Shifa Hospital" by David Shortell, Helen Regan, Abeer Salman, Mostafa Salem and Kareem Khadder for CNN, 15 Nov 2023 4:39 PM EST

Al Jazeera has been told at 21:18 GMT that "Israeli forces have now entered the medical complex in Gaza City from its southern gate" by Dr Ahmed Mokhallalati, a surgeon inside the hospital.

[usafphantom2]

OTD in 1969, The Iconic XB-70 Valkyrie Mach 3 Super Bomber Made Its Last Flight

February 4, 2021 Military Aviation, Military History

Three drag chutes were needed to slow down the landing roll of the XB-70. (Image credit: Reddit edit The Aviationist)

The massive XB-70 Valkyrie is the largest and heaviest airplane ever to fly at Mach 3.

The North American XB-70 Valkyrie was the most ambitious super-bomber project of the Cold War. The massive six-engine bomber was slated to be the ultimate American high-altitude, high-speed, deep-penetration manned nuclear bomber designed to fly high and fast, so as to be safe from Soviet interceptors.

Two Valkyrie prototypes were been built at North American Aviation before the Kennedy Administration cancelled the program as a consequence of the doubts that surrounded the future of manned bombers believed to be obsolete platforms. The threat posed by Soviet SAMs (Surface-to-Air Missiles) put the near-invulnerability of the strategic bomber at high altitudes in doubt. In low-level penetration role, the B-70 offered little performance improvement over the B-52 it was designed to replace (!) and it was much more expensive with shorter range.

Some fascinating variants of the aircraft were proposed. Some envisaged the B-70 carrying an Alert Pod, or flying as a Supersonic Refueler or as a Recoverable Booster Space System (RBSS). You can find all the details about these crazy concepts in this story we have posted last year.

Ezoic

The B-70 program was canceled in 1961 and development continued as part of a research program to study the effects of long-duration high-speed flight with the two XB-70A.

XB-70A number 1 (62-001) made its first flight from Palmdale to Edwards Air Force Base, CA, on Sept. 21, 1964. The second XB-70A (62-207) made its first flight on Jul. 17, 1965. The latter differed from the first prototype for being built with an added 5 degrees of dihedral on the wings as suggested by the NASA Ames Research Center, Moffett Field, CA, wind-tunnel studies.

While the 62-001 made only one flight above Mach 3, because of poor directional stability experienced past Mach 2.5, the second XB-70, achieved Mach 3 for the first time on Jan. 3, 1966 and successfully completed a total of nine Mach 3 flights by June on the same year.

Photo of the XB-70 #1 cockpit, which shows the complexity of this mid-1960s research aircraft. On the left and right sides of the picture are the pilot’s and co-pilot’s control yokes. Forward of these, on the cockpit floor, are the rudder pedals with the NAA North American Aviation trademark. Between them is the center console. Visible are the six throttles for the XB-70’s jet engines. Above this is the center instrument panel. The bottom panel has the wing tip fold, landing gear, and flap controls, as well as the hydraulic pressure gages. In the center are three rows of engine gages. The top row are tachometers, the second are exhaust temperature gages, and the bottom row are exhaust nozzle position indicators. Above these are the engine fire and engine brake switches. The instrument panels for the pilot left and co-pilot right differ somewhat. Both crewmen have an airspeed/Mach indicator, and altitude/vertical velocity indicator, an artificial horizon, and a heading indicator/compass directly in front of them. The pilot’s flight instruments, from top to bottom, are total heat gage and crew warning lights; stand-by flight instruments side-slip, artificial horizon, and altitude; the engine vibration indicators; cabin altitude, ammonia, and water quantity gages, the electronic compartment air temperature gage, and the liquid oxygen quantity gage. At the bottom are the switches for the flight displays and environmental controls. On the co-pilot’s panel, the top three rows are for the engine inlet controls. Below this is the fuel tank sequence indicator, which shows the amount of fuel in each tank. The bottom row consists of the fuel pump switches, which were used to shift fuel to maintain the proper center of gravity. Just to the right are the indicators for the total fuel top and the individual tanks bottom. Visible on the right edge of the photo are the refueling valves, while above these are switches for the flight data recording instruments. (Image credit: NASA)

A joint agreement signed between NASA and the Air Force planned to use the second XB-70A prototype for high-speed research flights in support of the American supersonic transport (SST) program.

However, on June 8, 1966, the XB-70 62-207 was involved in one of the most famous and tragic accidents in military aviation when it collided with a civilian registered F-104N while flying in formation as part of a General Electric company publicity photo shoot over Barstow, California, outside the Edwards Air Force Base test range in the Mojave Desert. The aircraft were flying in formation with a T-38 Talon, an F-4B Phantom II, and a YF-5A Freedom Fighter.

North American XB-70A Valkyrie just after collision. Note the F-104 is at the forward edge of the fireball and most of both XB-70A vertical stabilizers are gone. (U.S. Air Force photo)

As explained in a previous post here at The Aviationist:

Towards the end of the photo shooting NASA registered F-104N Starfighter, piloted by famous test pilot Joe Walker, got too close to the right wing of the XB-70, collided, sheared off the twin vertical stabilizers of the big XB-70 and exploded as it cartwheeled behind the Valkyrie. North American test pilot Al White ejected from the XB-70 in his escape capsule, but received serious injuries in the process. Co-pilot Maj. Carl Cross, who was making his first flight in the XB-70, was unable to eject and died in the crash.

The root cause of the incident was found to be wake turbulence: wake vortices spinning off the XB-70’s wingtip caused Walker’s F-104N to roll, colliding with the right wingtip of the huge XB-70 and breaking apart. As explained in details in this post, wingtip vortices form because of the difference in pressure between the upper and lower surfaces of a wing. When the air leaves the trailing edge of the wing, the air stream from the upper surface is inclined to that from the lower surface, and helical paths, or vortices, result. The vortex is strongest at the tips and decreasing rapidly to zero nearing midspan: at a short distance from the trailing edge downstream, the vortices roll up and combine into two distinct cylindrical vortices that constitute the “tip vortices.

Although research activities continued with the first prototype with a first NASA flight on April 25, 1967, the last one was on Feb. 4, 1969.

The only remaining XB-70 Valkyrie super bomber in on display at the National Museum of the U.S. Air Force at Wright-Patterson AFB in Dayton, Ohio. In October last year, it had to briefly moved outside for display maintenance. Here you can watch a video of the monumental move.

A view of the six massive afterburners on the XB-70 Valkyrie as the aircraft is towed out of its display hangar temporarily for museum maintenance. (Photo: National Museum of the U.S. Air Force via YouTube)

About David Cenciotti

David Cenciotti is a journalist based in Rome, Italy. He is the Founder and Editor of “The Aviationist”, one of the world’s most famous and read military aviation blogs. Since 1996, he has written for major worldwide magazines, including Air Forces Monthly, Combat Aircraft, and many others, covering aviation, defense, war, industry, intelligence, crime and cyberwar. He has reported from the U.S., Europe, Australia and Syria, and flown several combat planes with different air forces. He is a former 2nd Lt. of the Italian Air Force, a private pilot and a graduate in Computer Engineering. He has written five books and contributed to many more ones.

@TheAviationist via X

[dougdimmadodo]

Great Pond Snail (Lymnaea stagnalis)

Family: Pond Snail Family (Lymnaeidae)

IUCN Conservation Status: Least Concern

Although they spend their entire lives in water (specifically shallow stagnant or slow-moving freshwater environments with plentiful algae and aquatic plants,) Great Pond Snails are descended from terrestrial ancestors and lack gills, meaning they must periodically climb or float to the water's surface and fill their single lung with fresh air through a tube-like respiratory orifice that extends from under their shell. Widely distributed across northern Asia, Europe and North America, members of this species feed primarily on aquatic plants and algae (although they may also consume detritus, fish droppings and small live animals if given the chance) and require water with little pollution in order to survive, with their presence being viewed as an indicator of low levels of chemical pollutants. Although Great Pond Snails mainly travel by slowly crawling through areas with abundant plant coverage (with their slow movements, the vegetation around them and the algae that often accumulates on their shells making them difficult for predators such as Tenches to spot) they are also able to reach greater speeds and travel over larger areas through a bizarre form of swimming; by secreting a buoyant layer of mucus from the underside of their foot they are able to float to the surface and remain suspended upside-down on a sort of "mucus boat", which they then "paddle" through the beating of a series of tiny hair-like structures (cilia) that line their foot. Like most gastropods Great Pond Snails are hermaphrodites but are unable to fertilize their own eggs; shortly after mating an individual will lay a large cluster of soft, gelatinous eggs which stick to vegetation and hatch after around 10 days, with the young hatchlings reaching full maturity at only around 2 months old. Wild Great Pond Snails rarely live for more than a year, although in captivity (where members of this species are sometimes kept to help keep fish tanks clean) individuals have been reported to live for up to 4 years.

——————————————————————————

Image Source: https://www.inaturalist.org/taxa/61770-Lymnaea-stagnalis

[systastic]

hii could we req spaceship/sci-fi themed headspace? including a front room, vault type place to manage memories, and dormitory areas for alters to stay. preferably not super big, as we are a very small system! please and thank you!

hey!! we actually made a sci fi themed headspace already (you can find it here) but i’ll make a smaller one for you :] — 🤍(🌳)

The Ship

Inside the center of the mind lies a sleek ship designed for space travel. It is intended for long-term travel, exploration, and study of the cosmos. The ship has a few extra features: blaster cannons hidden under the plating on the sides in case of emergencies, an automatic shield that prevents harmful impact, and a cozy and comfortable living space for the explorers on this mission.

Very few headmates are aware of the ship’s true potential. A self-aware AI lives inside of the ship, able to reconstruct damaged sections and modify existing spaces to better fit the residents. This AI is known as Console or Ship to the residents, and can fulfill requests for food, supplies, personal objects, and even holograms of memories they wish to view.

source: here

Fronting Cockpit

At the front of the ship is a small, sleek cockpit designed for the explorers to use when initiating contact. This cockpit contains all of the proper equipment to maneuver the ship, and by extension, the body. Indicators on the screens depict the body’s current need levels for food, water, sunlight, sleep, and other things considered essential. It also indicates important information such as where the body currently is, what year it is, what the current “mission” is (aka what needs to be completed), and the identities of anyone the body may be around at the moment.

Being a highly complex system can make the front quite difficult to control. Fortunately, Console can respond to voice commands or hand gestures to initiate autopilot if need be. The ship may also be driven via voice control if necessary.

source: here, here

Alter Dormitories

Following the open doorway into the back of the ship brings alters to the main hallway. This hallway has many doors. All are labeled with a small placard to the left of the door. Each headmate, new or old, has a special room labeled with their name that only they can access. These rooms are completely theirs, unable to be accessed by any other alters unless they so desire. Though the rooms seem small, they are well stocked with blankets and pillows, a small desk, notebooks, a personal computer to log memories, a couch, and a closet for other outfits.

Rooms can be modified via a formal request to Console. This can include changing size, shape, wall/floor color, sheets, the view from the window, adding personal items to the room (such as books or stuffed toys), and even changing their layout entirely. Console is quick and efficient when making these changes, proving headspace modification to be no hassle at all.

source: here, here

Lockdown Room

Being a system is not always easy. Some alters can be unruly, argumentative, or actively doing things that harm the system. They may not mean it — but this doesn’t prevent them from causing potential harm. This is why the Lockdown chamber exists: it is a small tank to put a temporary “lock” on disruptive or potentially harmful alters. Any alters with the ability to move another to a separate part of the headspace may send alters to this location. Additionally, only alters with the correct credentials (admin, organizer, gatekeeper, etc) may access this room.

It does not hurt to be locked in the chamber. Rather, it is quite the opposite: locked alters may feel muted or diluted, easing any pain or excessive negative emotions they may be feeling. The waters of the chamber are perfectly fine to breathe as well. This doubles as a place for any dormant alters to reside in while in stasis thanks to the gentle effects of the tank.

source: here

Vault Console

In the same room as the Lockdown Chamber is a standing console in the corner. This console is exclusively for archivists, memory holders, or secret keepers. Memories are kept safe within the console’s memory and can be accessed by anyone with the permissions to do so. Surface memories can be unlocked by anyone with access to the “shared pool”; other memories, however, may require specific roles or connections with the system itself.

Additionally, any personal logs that have been recorded in individual alters’ notebooks are added to the database. Strangely, these logs can only be accessed by the specific alter themselves along with any archivists. Console also seems to be able to recall things from these personal notebooks when conjuring desires. For example, if a little wrote about wanting a bunny, Console may place a NPC bunny pet in their room.

source: here

Medical Bay

Getting sick or injured in headspace does not happen often, seeing as how it is primarily an enclosed ship in the depths of space. This does not make it impossible to do so. Those who find themselves in trouble physically or mentally may visit the Medbay to help relieve themselves of pain. The Medbay utilizes a blend of futuristic technology, chemistry, and microbiology to create remedies for ailments like back pain, sore jaws, stiff shoulders, broken legs, hazy eyesight, upset stomach, and more.

In addition to the medical side of things, the Medbay doubles as an in-house temporary therapist. While it cannot mute emotions like the Tank does, the Medbay does house a physical version of Console (in Android form). Console will listen to any issues or mental predicaments that headmates bring up, catalogue them, and send them to the Memory Vault for indexing. Console’s body is known to be soft and good for hugging on the off chance someone needs a pick-me-up.

source: here

Miscellaneous: Passkey

Upon their arrival to the ship, each headmate receives a passkey. Each key has the name of said headmate and a simplified version of their signature symbol engraved into it should they lose it. Additionally, passkeys cannot be utilized by anyone but the owner of said passkey to prevent memory leakage and unwanted entry into personal rooms.

Multiple passkeys can be printed if a headmate is prone to losing them; however this is not advised as each key takes a substantial amount of brainpower to generate.

source: here

[diabolus1exmachina]

Lamborghini Islero 

Built as a replacement for the 400GT, the Islero was introduced at the 1968 Geneva Auto Show. Its name, like the earlier Miura and Espada models, was inspired by Spanish bullfighting. Styling is by Carrozzeria Marazzi, and aluminum bodywork is wrapped over a tubular steel chassis. The car had impressive performance for the era, including a 0-60 time of about six and a half seconds and a top speed in excess of 150 mph. A three-spoke steering wheel frames a suite of Jaeger instrumentation, including a 200-mph speedometer, 8k-rpm tachometer, ammeter, fuel-level indicator, oil and water temperature gauges, and an oil pressure gauge. The clock was also rebuilt and the wiring for the wipers, turn signals, and headlights was repaired. A three-spoke steering wheel frames a suite of Jaeger instrumentation, including a 200-mph speedometer, 8k-rpm tachometer, ammeter, fuel-level indicator, oil and water temperature gauges, and an oil pressure gauge. The clock was also rebuilt by the current owner and the wiring for the wipers, turn signals, and headlights was repaired. The 3.9L quad-cam V12 was rated for 325 horsepower when new and is paired with a five-speed manual transmission. Induction is handled by six Weber carburetors. The engine was removed for cosmetic detailing by the owner, including repainting the air cleaner housings and coolant expansion tank. The clutch slave cylinder was also repaired and a new ignition coil, spark plugs, and heater hoses were installed.

[nikeson01]

Level Indicators for Water Tanks for Accurate Monitoring

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[watertanklevelindicators]

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[swarnjal]

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[bloodredx]

Day 2: Education

The marine biology lab could hardly be described as quiet, but the noise was starting to become common place to Isiri. Various electronics kept buzzing at her sensory pores, but now that she had learned to expect them, they weren’t as much a problem as they used to be. At least not when she was at depth in the tank, or barring a surge from the machinery whenever a portal opened. The humans didn’t seem to notice it, if they did they didn’t give any indication of it, but the fields got all jumbled whenever one opened, worse when it was close by. Still, the hum was manageable for now, and the mermaid did her best to drown out the din with a song of her own. Nothing complex, just a ditty to keep her mind occupied.

It was a calm between the escapades of her comrades, and she had taken a moment to rest. At least, she was going to, until the clatter of hard boots smacked against the smooth floor of the lab. Isiri smiled, and bent her fluke to lift her up to the surface. A pop and a spooling sound greeted her at the same time a grappling hook wrapped around a beam on the ceiling, right as her head breached the water’s surface. A mere moment later, Powder’s feet landed on the deck of the tank, a grin stretched wide across her face. She took a moment to spool the length of chain back to her grappling gun, holstering it quickly as she fired off her greeting. “Hey, Isiri!”

Isiri flickered her bioluminescence with alternating shades of blue, cascading along her spots in a hypnotic rhythm. “Hello, Powder.” Isiri’s voice hummed out with her usual burbles.

“You’re not gonna believe this!” Reaching into her coat, Powder procured something Isiri had been informed was called a “book.” This one looked thinner and a lot more colorful than the ones she had seen elsewhere on Sequence Charter. “I hit the motherlode, out with the salvage corps today, I found an entire shipment of Action Man comics! A whole series set!”

Nodding along, Isiri chittered with delight, only with the energy Powder was giving her, none of the meaning. "That’s great!” She tilted her head inquisitively, her massive blue eyes scoping out the shapes on the cover. “What does it do?”

“Do?” Now Powder tilted her head, the metal in her earring jingling softly as she moved. “It’s a book. You read it-“ A slight breath stopping herself before continuing. “Right, you can’t read.”

“I don’t get the big deal.” Isiri half protested, but only to egg Powder on; the many conversations she’s had about the subject did pique her curiosity. A permanent song to have just there? It could change communication for her people. Though the lack of light would be a challenge for those with less luminescent capacities than herself.

Powder sat down on the edge of the chair she had brought up to this level of the tank so many days ago, resting her chin on her hand while she figured out how to answer that. “Well, I don’t think I’m the one to yack about big deals. But I could show you how to read. Or… at least try my best to.”

“Oh-“ She hadn’t expected that, and judging by the flush of blush against Powder’s cheeks, neither did she. “I mean, if you’d like to try, I’d give it a chance.”

“Uh-“ The response caught Powder off guard, but then a glint lit up in her bright, brown eyes. “Right, can you, uh, get closer?”

Isiri stifled a giggle, wrapping her tentacles around the edge of the tank and lifting herself out of the water, and bringing just enough of a water bubble to keep her gills flushed. She plopped herself down next to Powder’s chair, and leaned in close, wrapping another tentacle around her arm. Her voice hummed low, melodically in Powder’s ear as her eyes fixated on the strange symbols written on the book. “Is this close enough?”

Powder grinned sweetly as she turned to the first page. “Perfect.”

(OC-tober prompts by @oc-tober2023 can be found here. Powder belongs to @gi-ie-ru)

[saturniandevil]

March 2023 Important Dates

AKA my notes on The Astrology Podcast's March forecast, hosted by Chris Brennan, Austin Coppock, and Leisa Schaim. This month is full of major shifts, especially in the outer planets. Our hosts connect the massive earthquake in Syria & Turkey to the Leo Full Moon (halfway between eclipses) activating the Saturn-Uranus square; Chris encourages listeners to donate to the rescue and rebuild efforts. Leisa connects the Ohio train derailment to the Sun-Uranus square going exact hours later, while the Mars-Neptune square indicates a chemical spill. Autsin points out Mars has been on the royal star Aldeberan very exactly for 6 weeks, indicating movement of large, heavy equipment. Mars in Gemini connotes "aerial threats", Austin had described the Mars-Neptune square as bubbles or balloons popping (especially economically), and one literally got popped with the weather and hobbyist balloons the US military shot down. The Mars-Neptune square hits three times due to the retrograde, and Chris calls to a metaphor of the planets being linked by a rubber band--the effects stay more prominent because it'll bounce back. Some of the anxiety about AI developments may be related to movements in Aquarius: the Saturn return of the Internet is about to end and Pluto's entrance may further unearth unpleasantness recorded there.

March 1st/2nd - Venus conjunct Jupiter, Mercury enters Pisces Venus-Jupiter in Aries brings a celebratory, initiatory energy to our new month. A Mercury-Saturn conjunction in Aquarius is one of the last aspects Saturn makes in this sign, allowing us to reflect on how far we've come. Saturn has been in domicile since late 2017 (and Aquarius specifically since 2020), so let's concretely think about all the changes of the last half-decade or so.

March 6th/7th - Saturn enters Pisces, Full Moon in Virgo Saturn changing signs will open up a new chapter for all of us. The ingress happens soon after the Moon and Sun conjoin at 16 Pisces. Leisa suggests the Virgo moon may bring in some facts to Gemini's frenzied information and Pisces' ambiguity, though overall the square will accentuate existing mutable tensions (we may see more balloons popped). The lunation will highlight Neptune squaring Mars, which we can think of as "the fog of war," being prodded to move without knowing where to go, or overly idealistic actions.

Back to Saturn, for the rest of the year he will be hanging out in the first decan of Pisces, of which he is decan ruler. Austin compares it to The Truman Show or The Matrix, where we are aware that what we've taken for reality is a constructed thing. A confusing but illuminating journey that we're ready for. Saturn will also be copresent with Neptune, which Chris describes as "reality-bending." Between Pisces and Aries, we're going to have 5 years of Saturn-Neptune. Leisa also predicts a restructuring of faith, using the play Waiting for Godot as an example. She also brings up that the Fukushima power plant damaged in the 2011 earthquake & tsunami is now announcing it needs to release the water it's stored, but there's concerns over one of the tanks being untreated. There's some further Saturn in Pisces discussion in the year ahead forecast.

In a personal level, focus on what house of your chart Saturn will enter. It will bring consolidation and restructuring or a need for more structure due to heavier weight, whether that is unwanted or long-sought-after responsibilities. Saturn is reliably heavy, sober, and austere. What do you actively want to put a lot of time and energy into? It's like swimming with weights on: how do we stay buoyant while being weighed down?

March 15th - Sun conjunct Neptune This activates a Neptune-Mars square with Mercury involved the next day.

March 16th - Venus enters Taurus Mars also squares Neptune exactly on this day while Mercury is conjunct Neptune, which our hosts consider the most important configuration of the month. Things will be confusing and messy. A best case scenario would be vigorous experimental poetry, though you don't have to go out of your way to participate in difficult transits if you're not already caught up in it.

Mercury is getting a heavy beating in the month, but Venus is in okay position: in Aries she's copresent Jupiter, and while dogged by Uranus and the North Node in Taurus, she's in domicile. There's some relief in the fixed signs now, at last Venus no longer has to fight Saturn in this sign. (She does square Pluto, however.)

March 17th - Sun conjunct Mercury

March 19th - Mercury enters Aries

March 20th - Sun enters Aries

March 21st - New Moon in Aries This foreshadows the upcoming eclipse in Aries and continues the focus on Aries we've been feeling all month. This lunation is also within 3 degrees of an out-of-sign square to its ruler Mars. Seeing no path to our goals, we'll be cut our own way through the fog instead of trying to find an existing one.

March 22nd/23rd - Pluto enters Aquarius Saturn hands things off to Pluto. Leisa brings up the Gonzalez vs. Google and Twitter vs. Taamneh cases being heard in the Supreme Court, the rulings of which have serious outcomes for who has control over the Internet and who's legally liable for content on social media. Pluto spends so long in a sign it retrogrades over every degree, so the changes are lasting. In a few years Uranus in Gemini will trine Pluto, bringing questions around technology into more focus. On the optimistic side, we can think of emerging medical technologies vastly improving standards of living for everyone.

March 22nd - electional chart for the month

Around 2PM local time on March 22nd with Leo rising, this takes advantage of the Sun exalted in Aries in the 9th along with Jupiter, the Moon, and the Midheaven (try to get the MC applying to Moon-Jupiter if you can; otherwise focus on keeping Leo rising). Venus is in domicile in Taurus. This is a good general-purpose chart, especially good for 9th house matters, though friends & alliances specifically won't fare as well with Mars in the 11th house. Here Chris also mentions it's important to consider how similar electional charts are to your own birth chart.

March 25th/26th - Mars enters Cancer This usually isn't an ideal sign for Mars, but it'll be a relief to get away from Neptune and move at regular speed after 8 months in Gemini. We're closing down one major chapter and entering into a new one, though not a space of satisfaction so much as a morose, moody space as we wait for the next thing. There's a trine to Saturn in fellow water sign Pisces, which may add some structure and subdue tensions. Jupiter in Aries is also overcoming Mars from the superior square (with reception), further keeping conflicts in check. Using a physical exercise analogy, we're not reaching a new level so much as rehabbing an old injury or strengthening muscles to prevent future ones. Think security, like making emergency kits for times of natural disaster.

March 28th - Mercury conjunct Neptune

March 28th - Venus conjunct Pluto This occurs on the degree of a recent eclipse and may therefore be more prominent that usually expected.