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reveryfics · 2 months ago

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Neighbors pt.2

Frank Castle "The Punisher" x Male Reader

Summary: It's been almost a year since Frank walked into your apartment, revealing his life as The Punisher. You'd settled into a demanding routine as an overnight ER nurse, navigating that world alongside your relationship with Frank. Little did you know, those two worlds were about to collide.

A/N: I got a couple comments asking for a second part to the Neighbors fic, uh I wasn't exactly sure what to do with this so hopefully this is okay. Male nurse reader as well, cause we all know Frank would end up dead without you.

TW: Blood - Broken arm - Injury - Comfort

The automatic doors of the emergency room shrieked open, a violent gust of air preceding a surge of hurried footsteps and the staccato bursts of clipped radio chatter. Two EMTs, their faces etched with grim urgency, propelled a gurney through the opening. The insistent, rhythmic beeping of a cardiac monitor sliced through the already buzzing chaos, an electronic heartbeat in the pandemonium. "Thirty-something male, found unresponsive at the scene, possible overdose," one of the EMTs barked, his voice barely cutting through the din.

Across the crowded bay, a different kind of drama unfolded. Another pair of EMTs struggled to transfer a screaming elderly woman onto a hospital bed, her cries of pain echoing off the unforgiving linoleum floors. A young resident, his face pale and drawn under the harsh fluorescent lights, scribbled furiously on a chart, barking orders to a harried-looking nurse whose movements were a study in controlled frenzy.

You navigated this swirling vortex of controlled pandemonium, your own adrenaline still thrumming from the relentless stream of patients that had flooded in since your shift began what felt like an eternity ago. Just moments before, you had finished meticulously suturing a nasty, jagged gash on a construction worker’s forearm, the thick smell of antiseptic clinging to the air. Then the call came in – a multi-car pile-up on the highway. Now, you were heading towards the trauma bay, a knot of apprehension tightening in your stomach as you mentally braced yourself for whatever awaited.

The waiting room, visible through the smeared sliding glass doors, was a tableau of escalating anxiety. A young mother bounced a restless toddler on her knee, her eyes darting nervously towards the triage desk, a silent plea for information in their depths. An elderly man with a blood-soaked bandage wrapped around his head sat hunched over in a plastic chair, his face a roadmap of worry lines. The air in the waiting room hung thick and heavy, a cloying mix of antiseptic and raw fear, punctuated by the occasional, frustrated sigh that spoke volumes of unspoken dread. They didn't see the frantic ballet unfolding behind those closed doors, the life-and-death decisions being made in split seconds, the raw, visceral energy of a system stretched to its breaking point.

It felt like just moments ago, you had managed to coax a distraught teenager out of a full-blown panic attack, her rapid, shallow breaths and racing pulse fueled by pure, unadulterated fear of a phantom heart attack. Before that, it was a belligerent drunk, swinging wildly at anyone who dared to approach, requiring every ounce of your patience and a gentle yet firm hand to finally gain his cooperation. Each case, each individual, demanded a different kind of focus, a different wellspring of emotional and physical energy, leaving you feeling like a tightly wound spring threatening to snap.

As you pushed through the heavy swinging doors into the trauma bay, the scene intensified, the air crackling with a raw, visceral energy that made the hairs on your arms stand on end. The trauma team was already a well-oiled machine, each member moving with practiced precision, their movements economical and purposeful. A quick, sweeping glance told you the grim story: multiple injuries, a shocking amount of blood staining the sterile white sheets, the urgent, rhythmic whirring of suction machines battling to keep airways clear. You took a deep, steadying breath, pushing the gnawing fatigue that tugged at the edges of your awareness. Another life, or perhaps multiple lives, hung precariously in the balance, and in this moment, amidst the chaos, that was the only thing that mattered.

But before you could fully immerse yourself in the unfolding trauma, a hand clamped down on your arm, pulling you away from the organized chaos. It was Sarah, a newer nurse whose usual cheerful demeanor was replaced by wide, panicked eyes. "Hey! Can you come take a look at Mr. Wilson in room three? He's refusing his IV, and he's getting really agitated. I can't seem to get anywhere with him."

You let out a silent sigh. You knew the car crash victims were in capable hands for the moment, the experienced trauma team already orchestrating their care with practiced efficiency. Reluctantly, you nodded. "Okay, Sarah, let's go."

You walked down the quieter hallway towards room three, the frantic energy of the trauma bay fading slightly with each step. As you approached the open doorway, the distinct sound of a raised voice reached you. An older man sat propped up in the hospital bed, his face flushed with anger as he argued vehemently with another nurse, who held a saline-filled syringe aloft, looking increasingly frustrated.

You recognized the patient instantly. Mr. Wilson. A local elderly gentleman who was a frequent visitor to the ER, his unmanaged diabetes often landing him back in a hospital bed. He looked in your direction, his eyes, usually twinkling with a mischievous glint, now narrowed with annoyance, watching as you approached the hand sanitizer dispenser and meticulously washed your hands before pulling on a fresh pair of gloves.

"Oh, thank heavens you're here, Nurse," he huffed, his voice still carrying a note of indignation. "These youngsters don't got a clue what they're doing." He shot an accusatory glance at the two other nurses in the room.

You couldn't help but chuckle softly as you stepped closer to the bed. "They're doing their best, Mr. Wilson," you said gently, your tone calm and reassuring. You took the syringe from the other nurse. "Let's get this IV started, shall we?" Your practiced hands made quick work of locating a vein, the insertion smooth and efficient. Mr. Wilson barely flinched. "See? All done."

You shook your head slightly, turning around to grab his chart from the bedside table. "High blood sugar again?" You glanced over the recent lab results, noting the alarming number well over four hundred.

He waved a dismissive hand at you. "Nonsense, Nurse. I'll be right as rain, just like I always am."

You didn't respond immediately, taking a moment to ensure the IV was running smoothly before meeting his gaze. "I'll be back to check on you later, Mr. Wilson. Try to relax."

Hours bled into each other, the relentless tide of patients ebbing and flowing. Finally, as the first hint of dawn painted the sky outside the grimy windows, the ER began to quiet. You managed to steal a precious moment of respite in the cramped nurses' lounge.

Standing near the industrial-sized coffee maker, you pulled out your phone, a small beacon of normalcy in the chaotic day. A message from Frank, sent at the very beginning of your shift, greeted you. He often sent these little digital breadcrumbs – a silly meme, a brief update on his day, the occasional picture of him and your beloved pit bull, Frankie, their goofy faces a welcome distraction during your long, grueling hours. You tucked your phone back into your scrub pocket, the image of Frankie’s slobbery grin a momentary balm. You took the now-full coffee pitcher and poured yourself a much-needed cup, the rich aroma a small comfort.

You sank into a worn chair at one of the small, cluttered tables, barely managing a single, precious sip before the insistent buzz of your pager vibrated against your hip. With a heavy sigh, you pushed yourself to your feet, the brief moment of peace shattered. You headed back out to the bustling nurses' station, managing a tired smile for your coworker who handed you a chart. Your smile instantly froze, your blood running cold as you saw the name scrawled across the top: "Castle, Frank."

Without a word, your heart pounding a frantic rhythm against your ribs, you walked down the hall and into the designated exam room. The doctor was just hanging up a series of x-rays, the stark white images revealing the sharp break in Frank's arm. Another nurse was gently dabbing at a series of cuts and abrasions on his face and torso.

Frank's head snapped in your direction as the door creaked open, his eyes widening in surprise, then something akin to fear, as he registered the look on your face – a mixture of shock, disbelief, and a dawning anger. He watched, helpless, as the other nurse offered you a small, knowing smile and quietly slipped out of the room.

"You can't just leave me here with him," Frank pleaded, his voice laced with a theatrical desperation that didn't quite mask the underlying anxiety. "Common, babe." He groaned dramatically, leaning back against the pillows.

You didn't say a word, your mind still reeling. You simply set his chart down on the counter with a decisive thud and moved to the sink, the harsh fluorescent light reflecting off the cool metal as you meticulously washed your hands and pulled on a fresh pair of gloves, your movements stiff and deliberate. You picked up where the previous nurse had left off, gently cleaning the numerous cuts across his face and abdomen, your touch perhaps a little less gentle than it usually was.

Frank hissed, biting his lip as you carefully cleaned around a particularly deep gash on his side, the edges raw and angry-looking. "Fancy seeing you here," he attempted a weak joke, but instantly stopped when your eyes, usually warm and full of affection, now glinted with a sharp, almost dangerous light as you briefly glared up at him.

You listened in stony silence as the doctor began explaining the next steps, his voice calm and professional. "Alright, Frank, we're going to have to set that bone before we can put a cast on it. Looks like a clean fracture, but it needs to be realigned." He gestured to the x-rays. "We'll give you some local anesthetic for these cuts, and then we'll get started on the arm."

The doctor excused himself to gather the necessary supplies, leaving you alone with a very uncomfortable and apologetic-looking Frank. You picked up a syringe from the medical tray, the needle glinting under the bright lights, stopping just before taking the cap off.

"I've had a real shit day so far," you finally rasped, your voice tight with suppressed emotion. "Do you have any idea what was going through my mind when I saw your name on that chart?" You didn't wait for an answer, your silence hanging heavy in the air.

Frank let out a long, weary sigh, wishing he had just listened to his gut and insisted they not contact you. "I'm sorry, trust me, baby, I didn't mean to worry you." He groaned, shifting uncomfortably on the examination table.

You finally took the cap off the syringe, your movements precise and efficient despite the turmoil churning within you. You swabbed the area around the deep laceration on Frank's side with a cold alcohol wipe. "It's gonna sting," you whispered, your voice barely audible, before carefully pushing the tip of the needle into various points around the wound, injecting the numbing solution. Your chest tightened almost imperceptibly as he occasionally hissed in pain, his free hand instinctively reaching out to grip the sleeve of your scrubs, his knuckles white.

With the local anesthetic administered, you began to meticulously stitch the wound, your movements quick and precise, years of training taking over despite the emotional turmoil. Each careful stitch pulled the edges of the laceration together, closing the angry red gash. Once finished, you applied a clean bandage over the area.

You stood up straight, disposing of the used needle and other medical supplies with a sharp, efficient clink into the biohazard bin. Your back was to Frank as you bent over the sink to wash your hands, the sound of running water filling the brief silence. You heard a low whistle from behind you, a familiar sound that couldn't help but tug the corner of your lips into a small, involuntary smile.

You turned around, one eyebrow cocked in amusement. "Incredibly unprofessional, Mr. Castle," you quipped, a hint of your usual playful tone finally breaking through the tension.

"Can't help that my nurse looks incredibly hot in his scrubs," Frank hummed, a sheepish grin spreading across his face.

You walked back over to the side of the bed, leaning down to press a quick, chaste kiss to his lips. Frank’s hand, no longer gripping the mattress, came to rest gently on the small of your back, pulling you a fraction closer as he returned the kiss. You quickly pulled away when the door creaked open again, the doctor returning with a tray of casting materials.

He simply shrugged, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. "If kissing your boyfriend at work was illegal, half the staff here would be unemployed by now."

You couldn't help but laugh, the absurdity of the situation finally breaking the tension. You walked around the bed to help the doctor, a familiar camaraderie settling between you as you assisted him in the procedure.

The doctor explained the process as he worked, his tone calm and matter-of-fact. You carefully stabilized Frank's arm above and below the fracture site as the doctor applied traction and expertly manipulated the bone back into alignment. Frank winced but remained relatively still, his gaze locked on yours. The sickening thunk of the bone resetting made you flinch, but relief washed over Frank’s face. The doctor then carefully wrapped Frank's arm in layers of padding and wet plaster, molding it into a supportive cast.

Once the cast was securely in place, the doctor gave Frank instructions on how to care for it and left the two of you alone again. You stayed behind in the quiet exam room with Frank, pulling a couple of warm blankets over him and double-checking that his IV was running smoothly. He watched your every move, his eyes soft and full of affection. Just as you were about to leave, his hand reached out, his fingers gently closing around your wrist.

You turned back, leaning down to press a tender kiss to his lips. "I'll take you home once my shift's over," you murmured against his mouth. "Just get some rest for now."

Frank kissed you back, his grip on your wrist loosening slightly. "I love you," he whispered, his voice thick with exhaustion and perhaps a touch of lingering pain medication.

"I love you too," you replied softly, stroking his cheek. "But please, for the love of all that is holy, don't show up at my work again unless it's to bring me food." You managed a weak joke, and Frank chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that eased some of the tightness in your chest.

#frank castle #frank castle x male reader #the punisher #the punisher x male reader #marvel frank castle #marvel x male reader #marvel #mlm #fanfic #fanfiction #x male reader #xmalereader #requested

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things-about-cars-in-posts · 2 years ago

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Miata Mod Master Mᴉsɥlᴉsʇ

[I had to spell Wishlist upside down to keep the alliteration going]

So, here's my first original post in quite a while. Apparently, the last one was a whole hundred followers ago - immense thanks to all 400 of you!!! And also, Tumblr informed me I got 1000 likes and kindly generated a picture for me to thank y'all for them with!

Given that's 2.5 likes per follower, I assume they mean 1000 likes just on my original posts, which would track considering most of my posts are additions, and liking all of those either counts towards that tally as just one like to my original post, or if you liked it through a reblog potentially nothing at all, because maybe likes to reblogs aren't counted even if they're reblogs of my own posts. But don't think I'm a numbers-chaser, this is just me wondering. Really, the only reason I even look at the activity chart of my blog is because I started trying to make that line as straight as possible for giggles (and then some of my posts blew up and ruined it, ecksdee). The thought of someone having enjoyed what I wrote has me smitten every time I see it, and I can barely even comprehend the idea that it happened a literal thousand times. I still can barely wrap my head around four hundred people all having decided they actively want to hear more from me. (Usually it's the opposite, har har.) I love all of you for it. The freaks, the puritans, the children (wait I just said that OOH GOTTEM), the adults, the uncomfortably weird, the hyper-organized users that use different blogs for each one of their passions, the hyper-random users that reblog my posts right after diaper fetish art. (And if you thought that was some whiplash, imagine the guy who followed a diaper fetish art blog getting shown me.)

But this is just me buying time, isn't it. Alright alright, let's talk about the wishlist, beginning with its premise.

This is not advice. This is not a list that makes sense at all, really - most of these items are way far down the list of things I'd do with the money they cost and/or the effort they'd take. This is a dream, where those aren't a factor. Just like some people's dream car is a ten million dollar hypercar that was built directly into the bodies of five Middle Eastern oil moguls, my dream car is a Miata with exactly these bits. (And a Seven, but I really need to stop confusing y'all with them being tied for the favorite car top spot.)

This list is based on a note I started in middle school for the fun of it (which is hopefully understood as the driving motive behind this all) and gradually updated through high school and sort of left behind after that, having kind of run out of bits to add to it. It's split into six sections:

Exterior

Interior (i.e. cabin, trunk and engine bay)

Drivetrain (i.e. anything that plays a role in making the wheels spin)

Chassis and suspension (i.e. chassis and everything that connects the wheels to it)

Electronics (i.e. electronics/microcontroller-related features)

Miscellaneous

This will be a chance for me to check the prices of all the things I listed and, at the end of it, tally up their total cost and feel feelings about its enormity. But of course, we'll need to start with a thing that was not in the note, as it was a given to me: the base car. So that will be the subject of my next addition to this post.

Because I can't make this a single post. Absolutely no chance. Even just any workaround to the image limit being about a fifth of the length of this list would be a nightmare for me to execute and for y'all to navigate. And frankly, the length of the task would make me, if not outright give up, at the very least skimp on the kind of explanations and discussions that I must assume are why you're all here. So I will need to make additions to this post (in the form of a reblog, of course) each going over one section at most. But truth be, even doing one reblog per section presents those problems, so some sections would need splitting in a number of parts. Or I could go to the other extreme and made one post per item (or when appropriate group of items), which would allow me to expand upon every which one as little or as much as appropriate while still keeping a tidy presentation. But to do this I would need to hide all the information bar the name under a Read More, because if I put as little as one picture before it by the time I'm at the end of the list every time this post appears in your dash you'll have to scroll past some hundred pictures to get to the bottom of it; also, of course, this would mean this post showing up in your dash upwards of a hundred times - though of course you could just ignore it a bunch of times and when you feel like it go through all the parts you've not read yet at once.

Right now I'm leaning towards the one post per item approach, which would allow me to work towards the completion of this abomination in small daily steps rather than in age-long parts which would also help addressing your other submissions. But it's very hard for me to figure out what y'all would prefer, as it's kind of hard for me to figure out who would actually want to read through the entirety of this. So, y'all are welcome to leave your feedback in the replies or through this non-binding format poll.

Links in blue are posts of mine about the topic in question - if you liked this post, you might like those!

#i would have set something like two or three days but since day and week are the only options week it is #tumblr milestone #thank you #i am pretty sure those were tags included with the post but you know what I feel them so let's leave them in #mazda miata #mazda mx-5 #eunos roadster #miata mod master wishlist

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essential-music · 1 month ago

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In the vibrant landscape of 1980s pop, George Michael’s Monkey emerges as a masterclass in blending infectious energy with poignant storytelling.

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Released in 1988 as part of the Faith album, the single version—reimagined by production maestros Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis—radiates a polished, dancefloor-ready sheen that elevates it beyond its album counterpart. The track’s crisp Roland TR-808 cowbell and pulsating Linn 9000 rhythms carve out a distinctive pop-funk groove, marrying electronic precision with an organic, soulful swagger. This sonic alchemy transforms Monkey into a chart-conquering force, claiming the #1 spot on the Billboard Hot 100 and cementing its place as Michael’s first dance chart triumph.

Monkey is a lyrical gem, wielding the metaphor of a “monkey” to depict the relentless grip of drug addiction on a relationship. With lines like “Do you love the monkey or do you love me?”, Michael delivers a raw, universal plea that resonates with emotional clarity. His vocal performance—sultry, commanding, and effortlessly versatile—navigates the song’s quirky melody with finesse, balancing upbeat pop sensibilities with the weight of its narrative. The unconventional structure, paired with irresistible hooks, showcases Michael’s songwriting prowess, crafting a track that’s both commercially magnetic and artistically bold.

The song’s execution is amplified by its dynamic arrangement, where tight rhythms and vibrant shifts create a canvas for Michael’s electrifying stage presence. What sets Monkey apart is its timelessness. Unlike some 80s tracks tethered to their era, its universal themes and pristine production transcend decades, sounding as fresh today as in 1988. Yet, despite its accolades, the song remains curiously underappreciated, often overlooked in favor of Michael’s more celebrated hits. This oversight belies its brilliance—a testament to Michael’s genius at 23, when he wrote, produced, and played most of Faith’s instruments.

Monkey stands as a vibrant, soul-stirring anthem, its infectious rhythm and emotional depth proving that great music doesn’t just endure; it electrifies, challenges, and inspires across generations.

Year: 1987

Composer/Lyrics: George Michael

Producer: George Michael, Jimmy Jam, Terry Lewis

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#music #music review #review #80s #80s music #80s pop #George Michael #Jimmy Jam #Terry Lewis #dancefloor #dance #Youtube

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marinesboat · 3 months ago

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Essential Safety Equipment for Boats: Stay Safe on the Water

Boating is an exciting adventure, whether you're fishing, cruising, or simply enjoying a day out on the water. However, safety should always come first! Having the right safety equipment on board can mean the difference between a great day and a dangerous situation. Here’s a list of must-have safety gear every boat owner should have.

1. Life Jackets (Personal Flotation Devices - PFDs)

Life jackets are the most crucial piece of safety equipment on any boat. Ensure you have U.S. Coast Guard-approved PFDs for every person on board, including children. Even strong swimmers need them in emergencies!

Pro Tip: Check that life jackets fit properly and are in good condition before every trip.

2. Throwable Flotation Device

Aside from wearable life jackets, boats over a certain size must carry at least one throwable flotation device, like a ring buoy or floating cushion. This is essential for rescuing someone who falls overboard.

3. Fire Extinguishers

Fires on boats are rare but can be catastrophic. Having a marine-grade fire extinguisher is mandatory for most boats, especially those with enclosed engines or fuel storage. Make sure it’s properly maintained and easily accessible.

4. Emergency Signaling Devices

In case of an emergency, you need a way to signal for help. Essential items include:

Flares or Distress Signals: Help rescuers locate you, especially at night.

Whistle or Horn: For alerting nearby boats.

VHF Radio: A reliable way to communicate with the Coast Guard and other boaters.

5. Navigation Lights

If you're boating at night or in low-visibility conditions, proper navigation lights help others see you and avoid collisions. Regularly check that your lights are functioning correctly.

6. First Aid Kit

Accidents can happen anywhere, and being on the water means medical help might not be nearby. A well-stocked first aid kit should include bandages, antiseptics, pain relievers, seasickness medication, and other essentials.

7. Bilge Pump or Bailer

If water starts entering your boat, you’ll need a way to remove it quickly. Automatic bilge pumps are ideal for larger boats, while smaller vessels should have a manual bailer or bucket.

8. Anchor with Rope

An anchor helps you stay in place, preventing your boat from drifting into danger if the engine fails or strong currents arise. Make sure your anchor is the right size for your boat and the waters you navigate.

9. Emergency Tool Kit & Spare Parts

Mechanical issues can leave you stranded. A small tool kit with basic supplies—such as screwdrivers, wrenches, spare fuses, and extra fuel filters—can be a lifesaver.

10. Weather and Navigation Tools

Staying informed about weather conditions can prevent accidents. Equip your boat with:

A waterproof GPS or marine chart

A barometer or weather radio

A compass in case electronic systems fail

#marine life #aquatic #seaside #beach #boat

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cyarsk5230 · 11 months ago

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Cmas count your days

The Real Racist Story Behind Beyoncé’s Upcoming 'Cowboy Carter' Album

The legendary pop star is on a revenge tour with "Cowboy Carter," her first Country album.

Ever since Beyoncé showed up at the Grammys last month rocking a pristine cowboy hat and followed up a week later with a Beyhive-breaking album announcement and surprise two-piece release at Super Bowl LVIII, the internet has been alight with conjecture on why she took a very unexpected foray into Country music.

Will she ever release straight pop music again? Is she coming for Taylor Swift’s crown since that chick keeps getting awards she deserves? Is she simply seeking to dominate various genres, as she did electronic music with the 2022 “Renaissance” album? Is a Celtic New Age album next??

Well, Beyoncé gave us some insight on Instagram this week, posting the album cover to her upcoming eighth studio album “Cowboy Carter,” along with a message to kick off the 10-day countdown to the album’s March 29 release.

“It was born out of an experience that I had years ago where I did not feel welcomed…and it was very clear that I wasn’t. But, because of that experience, I did a deeper dive into the history of Country music and studied our rich musical archive,” she wrote.

She (unsurprisingly) didn’t expound on the “experience,” but it’s largely assumed that Bey was referencing her 2016 performance at the Country Music Awards, where she joined The Chicks (formerly The Dixie Chicks) to perform “Daddy Lessons” from her magnum opus “Lemonade.” (The group had been performing their version of her song on tour.)Beyoncé and Dixie Chicks - Daddy Lessons ( LIVE at CMA Awards 2016 )

Despite apparently being the most highly rated 15 minutes in the history of the CMAs, the (white) folks in the audience and at home didn’t know what to do with an actual Black woman daring to hit “their” stage without a mop and some Clorox.

The CMAs apparently got so much negative flak from the performance of Bey and The Chicks (who infamously endured their own battle with Country’s rootin’ tootin’ powers that be) that it folded like gym towels and took the performance off its platforms — only to buckle to even greater outrage a day later and put it back up…proving that the CMAs mama still apparently tells it what to do. Natalie Maines on the Racist Comments She & Beyoncé Got After Performing at the CMAs

That one of the five largest music stars on the planet somehow managed to get shade from the Grammys and the Country Music Awards notwithstanding, Justin Timberlake hit the CMA stage one year earlier to perform with nominated artist Chris Stapleton. He and Bey are effectively pop music peers, but no angry phone calls or de-platformed video for him. Hmm…I wonder why(te)…?

Indeed, Country music and racism have been bedfellows for quite some time, as the genre is the domain of the rebel flag, minimal bass, the wrong side of the Mason Dixon Line and earnest tunes about the “real America” that doesn’t involve you woke Negroes. That’s why when Black artists do permeate Country, their narrative almost always involves how they navigate a genre that isn’t very friendly to them.

Yet when Country borrows from Black artists to powerful impact, as Luke Combs did with his chart-topping 2023 remake of Tracy Chapman’s 1988 classic “Fast Car” — which brought her back outside after decades and with immaculate skin — all is good among the racists, I guess.

So, just as when an openly gay, dark-skinned Lil Nas X had the good ol’ boys stomping their trucker hats in the dirt when he dominated (and confounded) Country for at least a year with his “Old Town Road” remix, Bey will drop “Country Carter” next week and her nonpareil influence will have residents of every Martin Luther King, Jr. Blvd. in the country buying their first Country album.

Shit that the genre has never seen is about to go down. So, gird your loins, white folks: Country music is about to have way more bodysuits and silver.

Sent from my iPhone

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acceptccnow · 2 years ago

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Secure and Efficient: Modern Techniques in Credit Card Payment Processing

Article by Jonathan Bomser | CEO | Accept-Credit-Cards-Now.com

In the whirlwind of commerce, the bedrock of modern business operations lies in the art of Credit Card Payment Processing. Efficiently and securely managing credit card payments is the linchpin, especially in the high-stakes arenas of high-risk credit card processing, e-commerce, credit repair, and CBD merchant services. This exploration delves into the avant-garde strategies and techniques that businesses are deploying to ensure a marriage of both security and efficiency in credit card payment processing within today's digital landscape.

DOWNLOAD THE SECURE AND EFFICIENT INFOGRAPHIC HERE

Charting the Evolution of Payment Processing

From the analog days of paper checks and cash transactions, the trajectory of payment processing has undergone a metamorphosis. In the current digital epoch, where electronic transactions reign supreme, staying abreast of cutting-edge payment processing technology is imperative. Whether navigating the labyrinth of high-risk industries or steering the ship of e-commerce ventures, the mandate is clear – stay secure and efficient.

High-Risk Credit Card Processing: Navigating the Perils

Industries like credit repair and CBD often find themselves sailing turbulent high-risk seas due to stringent regulations and perceived risk factors. However, being earmarked as high-risk need not be a roadblock; it can be a catalyst for thriving. The key lies in embracing modern techniques tailored for high-risk credit card processing.

Effectively navigating risks calls for strategic partnerships with payment processing providers who specialize in high-risk transactions. These providers offer bespoke solutions, navigating the labyrinth of complexities and shielding businesses from potential pitfalls.

E-commerce Merchant Accounts: Anchors in the Online Sphere

In the theater of online commerce, e-commerce merchant accounts emerge as stalwart anchors. These accounts empower businesses to securely hoist the sails for payments over the internet, whether it's a nimble online store or a grand e-commerce platform. The article underscores the pivotal role of reliable e-commerce merchant accounts, advocating for features that align with diverse business needs, from seamless integration capabilities to robust fraud prevention tools.

Credit Repair Payment Gateway: Paving Effortless Paths

For credit repair enterprises, a dedicated credit repair payment gateway becomes the captain's wheel. This specialized gateway streamlines financial voyages, ensuring the secure handling of sensitive financial data. The article accentuates the importance of selecting credit repair payment gateways with formidable security features like encryption and tokenization. A user-friendly interface and compatibility with various credit cards become the north star for elevating the customer experience.

CBD Merchant Processing: Sailing the High-Risk Seas Safely

CBD merchants, navigating the high-risk seas due to the industry's association with cannabis, find solace in modern techniques. To chart a course to success in CBD merchant processing, adopting strategies that mitigate risks and ensure smooth operations becomes imperative.

Strategic alliances with CBD merchant processing providers, well-versed in industry intricacies, are paramount. These providers furnish tailored payment processing solutions, and coupled with specialized credit card payment services, enable businesses to efficiently and securely accept credit card payments.

The Dominance of Payment Gateway Solutions

In the contemporary business amphitheater, payment gateway solutions emerge as indispensable orchestra conductors for facilitating online transactions. Acting as the harmonious bridge between websites or apps and financial institutions, the right payment gateway orchestrates a seamless payment symphony. The article urges businesses to select payment gateways boasting a symphony of features, including real-time transaction processing, advanced fraud detection, and harmonious integration capabilities.

Credit Card Payment Services: Elevating Operational Sonatas

Operational sonatas take center stage in the grand performance of credit card payment processing. Businesses adept at orchestrating payments swiftly and accurately gain a competitive edge. Modern credit card payment services, offering a symphony of features like mobile payments, contactless payments, and online account management, become instrumental in achieving this symphonic efficiency. The article champions the adoption of these services to serenade a broader audience and provide a harmonious payment experience that crescendos into customer loyalty.

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Embrace Modernization for a Flourishing Finale

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curator-adler · 1 year ago

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I found a story authored by persons unknown. It appears to be another account of humanity's diaspora and travels through the void.

In his thirty-two years alive, James had never experienced such quiet. The cramped, busy cells of the Vimana were always filled with conversation, the shuffling of feet, and the exchange of navigation data. Today though, no voices echoed, everyone’s feet remained rooted in place at their stations, and all information was conveyed digitally to reduce miscommunication. For today was the first day since any of them had ever been alive where the Vimana changed course. Its departure from the Flotilla had not been an easy one; with countless objections from equally countless crews, all decrying their decision as irresponsible at best, and willfully damning at worst. Even so, no-one stopped the vessel as it slowly turned, decelerated, and calculated an intercept.

No-one aboard could leave their fellows to their fate. Her captain broke the silence.

“Navigation, status update.” His voice was flat; devoid of the turbulent emotions he undoubtedly felt. He could have issued the command electronically, but James suspected they all needed to hear something other than hushed breaths.

A stiff woman’s eyes darted between equations, diagnostics, and vector information as she responded.

“Vimana has successfully charted an intercept to the last known vector of the Greybeard. We should be able to detect her beacon, barring total destruction, within a seven parsec radius of her location, time to intercept between four to eight hours local time depending on if they ever managed repair.” James marveled at the woman, his wife Anika, as she spoke. He couldn’t see a single muscle move that she didn’t need. An individual of exceptional efficiency in everything she did. There was none aboard that could match her speed and accuracy in navigational calculations.

If they ever managed repair. James anguished at the meaning behind the simple sentence. The Greybeard had reported a cascading drive failure only three hours before the Vimana changed course, but the relativity wake caused by the Zephyr drive means entire decades could have passed for their crew in those few, short hours. Anything could have happened to them. James knew people on that ship, good people. Likely dead or, best case, twice their previous age now. The silence once again smothered the vessel like the very wave they ran from. The vector was set, the flotilla abandoned. Nothing to do but wait and listen.

The Blackwave- James began to think, the captain’s sharp voice cutting the thought short, seemingly finishing it.

“Time to Blackwave overtake, Navigation?” Anika’s eyes flashed as she parsed the math in her mind’s eye.

“At this vector, seven point eight-three hours, local time.” James noticed an almost imperceptible change in the captain, as if he was grasped by despair itself, only to scare it off. Nonetheless, the captain stared ahead, his countenance statuesque.

“Continue on-vector, Navigation.”

#cosmic horror #worldbuilding #abyssalstars #writing #sci fi and fantasy #space #fantasy

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s1000dcodeandpixels · 1 year ago

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IETM for Beginners A Quick Guide to IETM Code and Pixels

IETM: Interactive Electronic Technical Manual

Training Aids to Defence Client

If you are a supplier of defence then along with the system/equipment you also need to provide Training Aids

(CBT) — Computer-Based Training

Charts and Bloups

Video Film

Training Work Modules

Manuals Hard Copies

IETM

Evolution of Documentation in Defence

Before — Hardcopies and PDFs in DVDs (Upto 2015)

What is the meaning of the IETM?

Manual: Manual means any literature organized or written in a prescribed manner to guide the user.

TechnicalManual: This means the literature is technical, like user manuals, maintenance manuals etc. Hard copy

Electronic Technical Manual: This means the manual is available in the form of an electronic version which simply means digital format or softcopy. It can be a PDF file or a database-driven software application.

Interactive Electronic Technical Manual:

Let us first understand the meaning of Interactive. The meaning of interactive is two people or things influencing each other.

Allowing a two-way flow of information between an electronic device /computer and a user; responding to a user’s input.

Involving the actions or input of a user. Especially

It means when the Electronic User manuals Interact and respond with the user, that is you, it will become an Interactive Electronic Technical manual.