#Rowing Machine for Sale

[spinboosttrend]

Revolutionizing Workouts: The Magnetic Stationary Bike with Heart Rate Integration

In the realm of fitness, innovation is the key to keeping workouts fresh, engaging, and effective. One such innovation that has been gaining traction in recent years is the integration of heart rate monitoring technology into stationary bikes. Among the myriad of fitness equipment available today, the Magnetic Stationary Bike with Heart Rate stands out as a trendsetter, offering users a comprehensive and insightful approach to their workouts.

Traditional stationary bikes have long been a staple in both home and commercial gyms, providing an excellent cardiovascular workout. However, they often lack the ability to track vital performance metrics such as heart rate, which is crucial for optimizing training intensity and monitoring progress. This is where the Magnetic Stationary Bike with Heart Rate shines, offering users real-time feedback on their heart rate throughout their workout sessions.

One of the key features of these bikes is their use of magnetic resistance, which provides a smooth and quiet riding experience. Unlike traditional friction-based resistance systems, magnetic resistance allows for precise control over the intensity of the workout, making it suitable for users of all fitness levels. Whether you're looking to engage in a leisurely ride or a high-intensity interval training session, the Magnetic Stationary Bike with Heart Rate can accommodate your needs.

What sets this type of stationary bike apart is its integration of heart rate monitoring technology. Equipped with built-in sensors or compatible with wearable heart rate monitors, these bikes allow users to track their heart rate in real-time, providing valuable insights into their cardiovascular health and fitness level. By monitoring their heart rate during exercise, users can ensure that they are working out at the appropriate intensity to achieve their fitness goals effectively.

For those seeking a premium fitness experience, there are models available from top brands such as Technogym Artis Bike and Life Fitness Elevation Recumbent Bike that offer advanced features and sleek designs. These bikes combine cutting-edge technology with ergonomic design to provide users with the ultimate workout experience.

Moreover, for individuals looking to build a comprehensive home gym setup, the Magnetic Stationary Bike with Heart Rate can be complemented with other versatile equipment such as the 4-In-1 Folding Rowing Machine for Home Gym. This allows users to diversify their workouts and target different muscle groups for a well-rounded fitness regimen.

Whether you're a seasoned athlete or a fitness enthusiast looking to elevate your workouts, the Magnetic Stationary Bike with Heart Rate is a game-changer. With its combination of magnetic resistance, heart rate monitoring technology, and sleek design, it's no wonder that these bikes are becoming increasingly popular among fitness enthusiasts. Experience the future of fitness and take your workouts to the next level with a Magnetic Stationary Bike with Heart Rate today!

For those interested in purchasing quality fitness equipment like Rowing Machines for sale in Oregon or exploring the latest trends in the fitness industry, visit spinboosttrend.com to stay ahead of the curve.

[wannaeatramyeon]

Goo Kim x Reader: One Night

G/N. Crazy Stupid Love Emma Stone/Ryan Gosling scene but make it Lookism. Masterlists

"Are you nervous?" Goo murmurs, a smile tugs at his lips when he feels you trembling.

He peers down at you and pauses. His hand, having worked its way under your top and caressing your bare skin - stops.

Tonight, you have aimed for sexy and sensual. It worked well. Fake it until you make it, and you made it when this handsome blonde at the bar invited you back to his apartment for a night of debauchery.

But your mask slips. It's hard to keep it on, y'know. When you are both half naked, about to be even more naked, there's nowhere left to hide.

Your nervousness comes out as a snort, because duh and you think some of your previous sexy and sensual points are deducted.

"Yeah," you respond with an awkward giggle. Then your mouth runs before your single brain cell can.

"- Also, something has been digging into my back all this time," Goo waggles his eyebrows at you suggestively, "No. Definitely not. I think it's a spring or something or I don't know... crumbs? Have you been eating in bed? Either way I think this is the most uncomfortable mattress I've ever laid on. Your silk bed sheets are something else though - who even has silk bed sheets? It's like something from the 80s along with waterbeds but god they feel so fucking great on my legs."

Goo is stunned into silence momentarily before he barks out a laugh.

He rolls off you and onto the left side on the bed, full body wriggling around slightly, experiencing the silk bed sheets for himself and chuckles.

"Sweetheart, you're right. And I've always hated this mattress." He sighs, adding, "I got conned by fucking influencers."

You whip your head towards him and give him a look, "Influencers?! What. Is this those fancy brands that I've been seeing them shill all over my social media-"

Goo turns towards you, a pout on his lips and eyebrows pinched together in a pitiful expression. "Yep. I've hated it since the first night."

"Then why didn't you return it!"

He shrugs and you laugh, your previous nervousness dissipating.

"I always wondered what idiot would fall for those."

"Hey!"

A brief moment of silence then-

"Did you buy these sheets from an infomercial or something?"

"Excuse me!" Goo shuffles, angles himself so he's fully facing you. Head held up by the palm of his hand and resting his elbow on the mattress.

There's mischief, life in his face that wasn't there earlier tonight. "Sue me. I have money to spend, sometimes I can't sleep, and those sales people sell things so well."

You let out another unrefined snort, amused by this guy.

Suddenly finding there's so much personality, a touch of vulnerability revealed in that statement, behind the expensive glasses, his tailored suit and his muscled body.

"Wanna see what other crap I've bought?"

.

.

You both wander around his apartment, which turned out to be a huge fucking penthouse now that he has the light on and is giving you a guided tour, in your underwear. 

Goo, no shame and expanses of skin on show, and you follow closely behind with his silk sheets wrapped loosely around your body.

He gestures at what you assume to be a coffee machine sitting proudly on his kitchen countertop. All sleek and stainless steel with dials and buttons on every surface.

"I can't even use this thing. I've had it for 2 years."

"Look," Goo opens an overhead kitchen cupboard, gesticulating like he's going to perform a magic trick, and dramatically shows you rows and rows of trendy kitchen gadgets, no doubt also purchased during moments of insomnia. Pizza scissors, spiralizer, bread maker, air fryer, pressure cooker.

"Never used."

"This," he points at the far wall, and you squint, barely making out a framed art piece of the ugliest monkey face you have ever seen. But hey, art is subjective, right-

"-is an NFT. I bought that too."

That tips you over the edge.

You cackle and cackle, doubled over and holding onto him for balance.

.

.

There's a dusty segway sitting pitifully in the corner of an unused spare room.

You jump out from round a corner, LED mask on your face and flashing a menacing red - "Boo!"and Goo actually jumps.

A lonely treadmill, placed beneath one of those fancy sit-stand desk catches your eye.  Goo smirks, "Babe, I don't even have a desk job."

Instead of spending all night tangled in his silk bedsheets together, Goo jogs down memory lane of sleepless nights and impulse buys with you by his side.

Your laughter starts to tinge all his memories.

Your good natured ribbing and mocking.

His hyena cackle joins yours, and he wonders when was the last time he was able to laugh with someone. Has he ever spent an entire night talking to someone like this?

"Ask me something personal." He requests, both now lying on his uncomfortable bed. You in his arms, hair tickling his chin.

"What do you want from life?"

"To make money."

"Why?"

"I want to be rich."

"Why?"

"Well, who doesn't want to be rich, sweetheart."

"Yeah but why do you?"

Goo remembers running errands, doing anything to earn some money. Anything for a price. His cousin calling in his services, and he happily beat up some middle schoolers to help him (and who was it again, Tabasco?) out.

He doesn't really know where his thirst for money making has come from. Maybe there's some deep set trauma from his life pre-juvie or some shit he should pay a therapist to decipher but alas.

He tells you this, all this and more. At some point, his head is the one lying on your chest and you absentmindedly stroke through his blonde locks, humming noises of encouragement, listening to his words.

Weird, Goo thinks, when he finally drifts off to sleep with you snoring gently beside him. 

The morning sun already filters through the blinds, and the hustle and bustle of Seoul has started to pick up.

How comfortable this feels. How natural your connection with him is. How this is the spark people dream about, and somehow it has hit him when he wasn’t looking for anything more.

That someone as different to him as you are, that is only ever supposed to be company for a few hours, a night at best, could spell trouble. Raise his hackles, send his alarms blaring.

When he's usually the walking red flag.

Because you’ve got him thinking. A lot. That shrewd brain hidden behind playfulness has been whirring; wondering about what happens if you become a regular fixture.

Maybe you might doom him, in the end. Maybe this will lead to a dead end and nothing more.

But he's curious enough, the spark is shining brightly enough, to see where else you might lead him to too.

[octo-crafts]

Winter break 2024/25 crafting roundup!

As usual, I went back to my hometown over Christmas/New Years and almost immediately pulled out my nicer sewing machine that, up until now, has lived at my parents' place (I'm taking it as my carryon for my flight home, or at least I'll make the attempt. Hopefully CATSA is working on the same info as the airline rep I talked to and will agree that sewing machines can be carried on) (yes the TSA explicitly says online that they're allowed, but Canadian rules are slightly different and CATSA doesn't specify online (or offer a number I can phone and ask).

Sewing!

A totebag and 2 pairs of pj pants, made over about 2 days (the fabric store was having a sale, I had fun, and will be giving people star-wars themed sewn objects for the next decade)

Badge Blanket!

I also made a little progress on my long-neglected badge blanket. I was in Girl Guides from ages 5 to 19, and this blanket currently covers the last 5 or so years of that, but will eventually get badges from earlier, once I've caught up. On the left (blurred out for privacy) are badges I earned or got for myself in some way - trips, camps, activities, crests for districts I've been a part of, etc. In the middle is my brownie scarf from the unit I was in in Denmark. Eventually, I'll add my Canadian Rangers scarf mirroring it on the bottom. On the right are traders - badges I've gotten from people I've met through guiding. Finally, the bottom row that I've folded up to show are historical badges - most are from my mum's brownie and guide days, but the beaver one and the instructor tag below it were my great-aunt's (they're not guiding badges, but she was in guiding as a kid, so I'm counting it).

Knitting!

And finally a sweater! The pattern is Critical Knits by Tsuki Mountain Fibres. In the airport two weeks ago, I was just finishing the yoke, so this is amazingly fast for me. Got a lot done while verbally rewriting the star wars sequels with my friend 😂. I might even finish it in time to wear it this winter.

[angeliqueiguess]

Late-Night Mischief (l.dh)

005. Sales Drop

w.count: 1k

Y/n had dealt with all sorts of situations during her night shifts—quirky customers who seemed straight out of a horror movie, random power outages, and, of course, Haechan's relentless antics and unfiltered comments. But nothing could’ve prepared her for what was about to happen that evening.

Mr. Kim walked into the store looking more worn out than usual. His tie hung loose, his shirt wrinkled like it had been through one too many battles, and a folder was tucked tightly under his arm as though it could shield him from the bad news he was carrying. He leaned against the counter with a sigh that seemed to echo across the quiet store.

“The sales have been down for months,” he finally said, his tone a mix of frustration and worry. “If things don’t improve soon, we’re going to have to shut the place down.”

Y/n froze, the weight of his words hitting her like a slap. Even the familiar beep of the scanner in her hand suddenly felt deafening.

“Shut the place down?” she repeated, her voice laced with disbelief.

Mr. Kim nodded solemnly, pressing his lips together in a way that made her stomach drop further.

“Head office has been demanding cost cuts. This part of town just… isn’t pulling its weight anymore. Don't panic nothing’s official yet, but I thought you should know. It’s not looking good.”

Not panic? How was she supposed to not panic? Y/n nodded stiffly, like her body was on autopilot. Inside, her heart was racing. She could already feel the looming weight of worry pressing down on her chest. This job wasn’t just a paycheck for her—it was her anchor in an otherwise chaotic life. The predictable schedule, the calmness of late-night shifts, even the routine itself had become something she relied on. Losing it wasn’t an option.

Mr. Kim gave the counter a reassuring pat, though it didn’t do much to reassure her. Then, with another tired sigh, he left her alone in the fluorescent-lit silence of the store.

For a moment, she stood there, staring blankly at the rows of overpriced snacks on the shelves. The steady hum of the lights above her felt like a cruel reminder of the emptiness both in the store and now in her chest.

The chime of the door snapped her out of her daze.

“Back already?” she muttered, not needing to look up to recognize the carefree hum that accompanied the footsteps.

Haechan sauntered in with his usual swagger, holding a bright blue slushy that he had no doubt served himself from the ancient, sticky machine that she swore she’d get rid of someday.

“What can I say? This place is the vibe,” he said with mock seriousness. “Dim lighting, totally deserted, overpriced snacks—what more could I ask for?”

Y/n gave him a deadpan stare, too mentally exhausted to engage in his antics.

“Whoa,” Haechan said, his usual grin faltering as he noticed her expression. “What’s with the face? Did someone try to rob you again? Need me to go full superhero mode?”

She hesitated. Haechan wasn’t exactly the poster child for ���reliable confidant,” but he had this bizarre ability to distract her from whatever was weighing her down. And right now? She could really use the distraction.

“They might close the store,” she finally said, her voice quieter than usual.

Haechan blinked, visibly caught off guard.

“Wait, what? Like… for real? Why?”

“Sales have been dropping,” she replied, sinking into the chair behind the counter. “Apparently, the numbers aren’t adding up. My boss said it’s not official yet, but it’s not looking good.”

Haechan frowned, taking a long, obnoxiously loud sip of his slushy. The awkward slurping noise filled the silence like a bad punchline.

“Wow,” he said at last, setting the cup down on the counter. “Okay, that’s… rough. So… what’s the plan?”

“There is no plan,” Y/n said flatly. “What am I supposed to do? Force people to buy more chips and instant ramen?”

Haechan tapped his chin thoughtfully, his expression exaggerated like he was solving a world crisis.

“You could… but I’m pretty sure that’s illegal.”

She groaned, dropping her face into her hands.

“I’m serious, Haechan. If this place shuts down, I’m screwed. I can’t afford to lose this job.”

He tilted his head, watching her for a moment. Then, slowly, that mischievous smile crept back onto his face. The one that always preceded one of his ridiculous ideas.

“What if,” he said, dragging out the words for dramatic effect, “we turned this place into the ultimate late-night hangout spot?”

Y/n lifted her head, blinking at him like he’d just suggested launching a spaceship from the parking lot.

“Come again?”

“Think about it,” he said, spreading his arms like he was pitching the next big thing. “This place is open 24/7. Snacks, drinks, ice cream, a microwave—it’s got all the essentials. The only thing it’s missing is… the vibe.”

She stared at him, unimpressed.

“The vibe?”

“Exactly!” he said, snapping his fingers. “Throw in some beanbags, add a killer playlist, maybe host a ‘fastest ramen eater’ contest—people love weird little places like this. It’s all about the aesthetic, Y/n.”

“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Is it dumb?” he countered, raising an eyebrow. “Or is it genius?”

She rolled her eyes.

“Even if I liked that ridiculous idea—which I don’t—we can’t turn this place around overnight.”

“Not with that attitude,” Haechan shot back, smirking.

Y/n opened her mouth to argue but stopped herself. As absurd as his idea was, there was a microscopic part of her—barely even there—that was intrigued. The store was dead most nights anyway. What harm could trying something different do?

“Fine,” she said finally, crossing her arms. “Hypothetically, if I said yes… how would you even make it happen?”

Haechan’s grin widened.

“Oh, don’t worry. I’ve got ideas. Big ones. Just leave it to me.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” she muttered.

He launched into a passionate explanation of themed snack nights and turning dusty shelves into Instagram-worthy backdrops. And as ridiculous as it all sounded, Y/n felt a tiny spark of hope igniting in her chest.

Maybe—just maybe—this insane plan could work. Or at the very least, it would keep her mind off the impending doom of unemployment.

If anyone could turn a convenience store into a late-night hotspot, it was Haechan.

prev/next masterlist

angie’s note: im scared of haechan's idea y'all...

taglist: @thegracerammy @yewshi @haefelt @pjsteroid @kodasity (let me know if you'd like to be tagged in the next chapter)

[snapthistiger]

exercise 07202024

bike ride to the gym

8 x 10 incline sit ups

3 x 10 pec machine

3 x 10 lat raise

3 x 10 low row

30 minutes on the step mill

bike ride to my Mom's then home

the gym workers received Hershey kisses

my Mom was sleeping. visited with my niece.

peanut butter toast for lunch

picked up a couple of grocery things on special at Kroger. some of their specials are more complicated than necessary. you have to buy 6 of certain items to get the sale price. i think they want you to make a mistake and pay the regular price instead of getting the sale price.

15 inches over the average rainfall year to date. rain predicted for most of next week

top right = bright sunshine this morning

top left = Peanut contemplating life

hope you have a peaceful afternoon and evening..

[black-arcana]

HALESTORM's LZZY HALE And JOE HOTTINGER Announce 'The Living Room Sessions' 2025 Tour

Lzzy Hale and Joe Hottinger of Grammy-winning hard rock band HALESTORM have announced an intimate tour featuring the two of them performing acoustic, stripped down versions of HALESTORM favorites and the music that has inspired the band. Dubbed "Halestorm's Lzzy And Joe: The Living Room Sessions", the tour consists of 12 dates in January 2025. A full list of dates is below.

A special BLABBERMOUTH.NET presale will begin on Thursday, October 24 at 10:00 a.m. local time and end on Thursday, October 24 at 10:00 p.m. local time. When prompted, type in the presale code "2025FREAKS" to access tickets before the general public. Check back here on Thursday for ticketing links to individual shows. General on-sale will be Friday, October 25 at 10 a.m. local time.

To give fans a taste of what’s to come at the shows, today Lzzy and Joe posted a sneak preview of a performance of "The Silence".

Lzzy states: "With this tour, we're inviting our fans to experience what it would be like hanging with Joe and me in our living room: picking up instruments, telling stories, chatting about songs that helped shaped us as a band and brought us to where we are today."

Joe adds: "Back when we decided to quit our day jobs and make music our full-time endeavor, Lzzy and I would play music wherever we could, and sometimes that meant playing acoustic covers in any bar or restaurant that would have us. That time really allowed us to develop our playing skills and dig into songwriting, and it really set the groundwork for what HALESTORM is today."

"Halestorm's Lzzy And Joe: The Living Room Sessions" 2025 tour dates:

Jan. 08 - Flint, MI - The Machine Shop Jan. 10 - Bloomington, IL - Bloomington Center for the Performing Arts Jan. 11 - Des Moines, IA - Hoyt Sherman Theatre Jan. 13 - Springfield, MO - Gillioz Theatre Jan. 14 - Little Rock, AR - The Hall Jan. 16 - Chattanooga, TN - The Signal Jan. 17 - Biloxi, MS - Hard Rock Live Jan. 19 - Pensacola, FL - Vinyl Music Hall Jan. 21 - Savannah, GA - District Live at Plant Riverside District Jan. 22 - Charleston, SC - Charleston Music Hall Jan. 24 - Springfield, MA - Aria Ballroom/MGM Springfield Jan. 25 - South Burlington, VT - Higher Ground

In a September 2024 interview with PK of Louisville, Kentucky's ALT 105.1 radio station, Lzzy spoke about the progress of the recording sessions for HALESTORM's follow-up to 2022's "Back From The Dead" album. Lzzy said: "We've had three separate sessions in the studio with — we're making a record with [producer] Dave Cobb. And he's actually a huge closet metal fan, and so he's really excited. And so we're making this great music, but we're constantly touring. So we've had, like, three different sessions in the studio. We're probably — what? — 70, 80, maybe, percent there. We have a studio in our house and so I'm doing a lot of the finishing touches on vocals and sewing everything up, doing solos and all that. And then we get back in in December to just say, 'Okay, this is good.' And then, yeah. And then there we are. So we're excited about it. We really are."

Cobb has shared in nine Grammy wins, including four for "Best Americana Album" and three for "Best Country Album". He's also been named "Producer Of The Year" by the Country Music Awards, the Americana Music Association (twice) and the Music Row Awards, and has been a Grammy nominee in the category.

HALESTORM and I PREVAIL recently embarked on summer 2024 co-headlining tour. Produced by Live Nation, the trek kicked off on July 9 in Raleigh and ran through August 17 in Las Vegas. HOLLYWOOD UNDEAD and FIT FOR A KING served as support. The tour was also the catalyst and the creative spark for HALESTORM and I PREVAIL's collaborative track "Can U See Me In The Dark?", which was released in June.

"Back From The Dead" has tallied over 100 million streams worldwide. Rolling Stone called the title track "a biting but cathartic howler about overcoming all obstacles," and that song as well as "The Steeple" marked their fifth and sixth number ones at rock radio, respectively. Associated Press said the album "will definitely be in the running for best hard rock/metal album of the year." Their previous album, "Vicious", earned the band their second Grammy nomination, for "Best Hard Rock Performance" for the song "Uncomfortable", the band's fourth #1 at rock radio, and led Loudwire to name HALESTORM "Rock Artist Of The Decade" in 2019.

Fronted by Lzzy with Arejay, Hottinger and bass player Josh Smith, HALESTORM's music has earned multiple platinum and gold certifications from the RIAA, and the band has earned a reputation as a powerful live music force, headlining sold-out shows and topping festival bills around the world, and sharing the stage with icons including HEAVEN & HELL, Alice Cooper, Joan Jett and JUDAS PRIEST. Additionally, Lzzy was named the first female brand ambassador for Gibson and served as host of AXS TV's "A Year In Music".

[weirdowithaquill]

Traintober 2023: Day 18 - Blueprints

Crovan's Gate Works is Home to many Blueprints:

Crovan’s Gate Works is one of, if not the, largest steamworks in the United Kingdom – and the single best equipped. It services steam locomotives from all four of Sodor’s railways, as well as engines from across the country and further. Many of the engines who appeared in the infamous ‘The Great Race’ movie – especially those from Europe – were actually engines being overhauled at Crovan’s Gate when Mattel sent people to do research for the film. The works has machines that can make any part needed for an engine on the Fat Controller’s railway, and beyond – but that’s not all they have.

In a dark, slightly dusty room underneath the main offices, there are filing cabinets. Row upon row of the things which stretch out through the basement. And in these filing cabinets are the blueprints. There are thousands of these blueprints carefully sorted and filed away in this room. Everything from the designs of the A1X Terrier through to the Streamlined Coronation class. It’s all in this one room.

And it was originally the folly of Sir Topham Hatt I, back in 1897.

When he was the CME of the Tidmouth, Knapford & Elsbridge Light Railway (TK&ELR), Topham Hatt began collecting old blueprints. Some people collect stamps, others collect coins – but Topham collected blueprints. He had already copied many of the Great Western’s blueprints during his time as an apprentice at Swindon Works, and these he kept with new plans sent to him by his friend William Stanier in his office.

When building the TK&ELR Coffee Pot engines, he consulted a huge number of blueprints, trying to find something he could build considering the extremely low amount of resources he was allocated. And he did utilise some ideas from the various blueprints he had acquired – specifically a redrawing of the ‘blueprints’ used for the Novelty from the Rainhill trials… only the blueprints Hatt had were extremely well-drawn fakes, which did a bit of messing with the exhaust system. Topham Hatt mixed these blueprints with several others, but the exhaust system became infamous for spewing out dirty brown water.

This led to Topham Hatt deciding that the best way to avoid such an embarrassment in the future was to get more blueprints. He managed to bargain the blueprints of almost every engine he ever bought into the deal, with one notable exception: Henry.

Henry was built using stolen blueprints which were muddled and half-right. Hatt never managed to nab the stolen blueprints for himself, which made diagnosing Henry all the more difficult. It was actually Richard Hatt – Topham’s great grandson – who found the formerly stolen blueprints. He managed to find them in a garage sale!

Percy was another engine whose blueprints did not fully arrive with the engine. The warehouse Hatt bought him from had a grand total of around 59% of his original blueprints, with the other 41% being scattered across the West Country, the Midlands and Wales. If you can believe it, Topham Hatt went on the hunt for these blueprints all throughout the 1930s, and was able to snag the last one from the wreck of a bombed house in Cardiff in 1941.

When British Railways was formed in 1948, the now Sir Topham Hatt utilised his new position on the board of the company to gain access to every blueprint British Railways had under its control. Carriages, trucks, engines – even railway adjacent lorries, ships and buses all had blueprints that Sir Topham was able to have copied and sent to Crovan’s Gate. These were all placed in a special room and have been updated since.

Sir Charles Topham Hatt also added to this collection – but for a very different reason. In the 1960s, as Sodor gained more independence – and more diesels – it became increasingly clear that the island had to repair its engines on its own. To this end, Sir Charles began having copies of engines he bought sent to Sodor so that in the event of repairs, the works at Crovan’s Gate would be able to use the original blueprints before beginning the overhaul, saving time and allowing the workers to know what parts the engine might need. Sir Charles also had updated blueprints of all of his engines drafted, as many of his older engines had been heavily modified since arriving (such as Edward, Henry and Gordon), meaning that new, accurate blueprints were required. The first of these would be Edward’s when he went in for an overhaul after his ‘Exploit’ in 1965.

Today, there are thousands of blueprints kept at Crovan’s Gate Works, with new ones added each year. These are often copies of blueprints for locomotives built outside of the UK, as it is believed that Crovan’s Gate Works has a copy of the designs for every British locomotive, carriage, and wagon to have ever run – bar those which never had blueprints.

Back to Master Post

[wewontbesleeping]

Is "i changed your name and any real defining clues, and one day your kid comes home singing a song that only us two is gonna know is about you" in thanK you aIMee a kind of funny nod to the fact that the song's title has the name "Kim" hidden in it, meaning Kim Kardashian, the person the song is obviously about. OR. is it a further fuck you to the person the song is actually about: Scott Borchetta? Let's discuss.

-"When I picture my hometown, there's a bronze, spray tanned statue of you." Taylor's hometown? Nashville, where Big Machine is, on Music Row. And also Scott is orange as hell lol. + the tying of Aimee to "home." Scott/Nashville/Big Machine is "home." I can go anywhere I want, anywhere I want, just not home. - "And then she wrote headlines" is about the media circus surrounding the sale of Taylor's masters and the ways that Scott (and Scooter, and Scooter's clients) fed into and tried to twist the narrative. -"Everyone knows that my mother is a saintly woman, but she used to say she wished that you were dead." this one hits particularly hard in this interpretation because Andrea and Scott B knew each other well, and were close for years. She trusted him with Taylor and he betrayed their entire family. Of course she wished him dead! -"I built a legacy that you can't undo. But when I count the scars there's a moment of truth: that there wouldn't be this if there hadn't been you" Scott did discover her and was her champion early in her career, sure. But there's also the "and fuck you again" interpretation where you can read this as meaning not just her career, but specifically where she is since the masters sale, winning AOTY twice, embarking on two of the most popular tours of all time, and repeatedly breaking records and being exponentially more successful than she ever was with Big Machine. It also reminds me of the response that Scott posted after Taylor posted about the sale, titled "So, It's Time For Some Truth." He shared a text from Taylor after she signed with UMG that had the line: "What we accomplished together will be a lasting legacy." He cannot undo that legacy. You wear the same jewels that I gave you as you bury me. -"Your words were still just ringing in my head" Scott was a mentor to Taylor. She went to him for advice since she was a teenager. The words of someone who she loved and trusted who betrayed her are ringing in her head. I still talk to you, when I'm screaming at the sky/screamed "fuck you Aimee" to the night sky as the blood was gushing/you can aim for my heart, go for blood.

The thing is, the way ttpd as an album mingles muses and ties them together mean, to me, that this song is about Scott. And also about Kim, at the same time. The sale of her masters to Scooter is so closely intertwined with everything that happened with Kimye that everything past a certain point that is about one is also about the other. Scott sold her masters to the man who orchestrated The Phone Call. These are no longer two separate things that happened, these are two sides of the same fucking coin.

[mehriigss]

Which rottmnt turtle are you?

Raph:

- Forgot to turn off the oven

- Everyday is chest gym day

- Afraid of their own shadow

- Angle with a shotgun

- Dies if a single proton of peanut touches them

- Good boy(™)

- Uses the same underwear two days in a row to save water

- Didn't know how to use the #blacklivesmatter but used it anyway because black lives matter

- Can and will be convinced the earth is flat

- Sleeps with 173913 plushies

- Somehow father figure

Donnie:

- Sales baked goods

- Banned from Texas

- Chaotic awful

- Nows your IP and will use it against you

- Can and will convince someone that the earth is flat

- Disappeared three days but no one noticed

- Emotionally constipated

- Invests mony in cryptocurrency

- A U T I S M

- Is secretly coquette

- 1# Most wanted criminal 2023

Mikey:

- Makes naked furry drawings and places them in the fridge

- "Don't know don't care"

- Has used the #blacklivesmatter for the good

- A minor

- Noticed they were gone

- Menance to society

- Licks the frosting of the cupcakes and puts them back in the fridge

- Eats ice cream with their bare hands

- Bts stand

- Likes eco

Leo:

- Makes deez nuts jokes

- Depressed

- Would wear a "blue label" T-shirt

- "Prison's just an expensive escape room"

- Moonwalks their way in and out of trouble

- Makes yo mama jokes

- Sleep is optional

- Would put cheese sauce in the washing machine instead of soap

- Walking meme

- Feminist

- Could and did dropkick a child

- Spanish or vanish

[rayshippouuchiha]

Alrighty! Please excuse the poor lighting.

Behold!

There was a sale of Bernat Baby Blanket yarn in the Dappled ombres so I bought 3 skeins of 4 colors and the last skein of the blue. The aqua blanket is a diagonal granny stitch, the pink is the classic granny stitch, the yellow is a C2C (corner-to-corner) stitch, and the purple is a simple V stitch. They all have a single crochet stitch in however many rows needed to get the blankets to a similar size. The void photo-bombing is my youngest boy, Wilson. The blue blanket is in the Alpine stitch, which I love love love! Especially in the fluffy blanket, chenille, and velvet yarns. The duck I made with leftover purple yarn to test out a newly bought pattern for a commission from my husband's coworker. I'm planning to make more coordinating ducks for the other 3 blankets.

I finished this blanket during a weekend trip up to NY with a side trip to CT with my mother to visit family. We drove, so I had a lot of time on my hands to work on this. I included a close up of the yarn so you can see the colors better. My mom so loved the yarn too, I gave her the reminder of the last skein. She's got plans now. The yarn, which is acrylic medium weight, has been in my hoard since A.C. Moore closed. I'm trying to use up some yarn before buying any more.

I have another one almost done in blue, aqua, and lime green also Bernat Baby Blanket yarn. It's not done yet since I need to sew another liner in the shape of a ball and stuff it with polyfil to make it machine washer friendly. The pattern is from Moogly's squish line and can be found on her blog and YouTube channel.

Give me a sec and I'll share photos of the two projects on my hook currently. I just learned there's a 10 image limit per post.😆

holy fucking hell babe. All of these are so goddamn gorgeous and the octopus?? to die for. seriously never let anyone tell you that you're not making art cause goddamn

[annerly-san]

Love and Deep Deadlines | A LaDS Corporate AU - Chapter 2

Summary:

Amidst the cut throat culture of Onyxion Enterprises where cutting-edge innovation is overshadowed by corporate chaos, no one talks about how hard it is to be an intern.

Alongside Caleb, the sales department smooth-talker; Zayne, the cold and unflappable CTO; Xavier, a director who might as well be an intern himself; and Rafayel, the overly dramatic Creative Director who brings his own flair to every meltdown, our intern is just trying to survive the workday. Oh, and don’t forget Onyxion’s very own CEO, Sylus, a walking HR violation who gets off on terrorizing his employees.

In this company, will love bloom before the deadlines run deep, or will the company go under first?

Chapter Navigation: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | ?

Alternative AO3 link:

I settled into my desk, making the rounds to introduce myself to my peers.

The warm welcomes helped to calm my nerves as I was just asked to settle down for now and watch some training videos on the overarching strategy within our marketing department.

It was truly corporate when there were hundreds of acronyms thrown at you left and right with the expectations that you already knew them.

I let out a sigh of relief, seeing that there was a pdf of the list buried in the Sharepoint file manager under “New Employee Resources”.  We love a self-aware corporation.

The twenty page long document was intense, and my monitor and docking station had not yet arrived.  The task of watching the training videos whilst taking notes and trying to find the acronyms required the usage of multiple screens.  My small laptop screen wouldn’t cut it.

At least the documentation for most things was there for a new employee.  The printer had step-by-step instructions on how to set up the network printer and get your print from the queue with your protocore identification band.  It should work with any printer in the building.

I sent the acronym list to the printer; a printer should be around here somewhere.

I stood up and wandered through the rows of cubicles, searching for the nearest one.

The rows of cubicles stretched out like a field, divided on occasion by a floor-to-ceiling divider to separate specialized teams, and I wandered through the rows peering occasionally around to see if there was a hidden printer somewhere.

After wandering for a good while, it all looked the same to me.

I was lost.

Were all office buildings like this?  Everything looked the exact same, how would you know where to go?

I’m sure that Caleb had the same problem and probably painted his cubicle with extravagant stripes of orange and blue and filled his space with model planes and apples to find his spot better, but I wasn’t employed in any permanent position to be decorating my own cubicle like that.

I turned the corner, finding a printer was no longer the priority as there was a rising panic that I’ve lost my way back to my team’s room.

My dread was interrupted by a loud banging in one of the corridors.  Curious, I traced the source.  Tucked against a partition, was my original objective for leaving my desk - a printer!

But along with finding my goal, I stumbled on the interesting sight of a man with short blonde hair fiddling with the control panel, occasionally hitting it with his hand in frustration and giving it a kick for good measure.  His aggravated assaults on the poor machine were the source of the banging sounds that I heard earlier.

“Why are you not working?” he groaned into his hand.

Did he not know how to use the printer?  Maybe he is an intern like me?  I’m sure that if I didn’t find the printer guide earlier, I would have been doing this exact same thing.  The thought of finding another co-worker in a similar position gave me the confidence to interrupt his frustrations.  “Is the printer not working?” I asked, approaching him with a friendly smile.

He turned to face me, blue eyes locking with mine as I saw  the annoyance behind them, but he was professional enough to not let it be directed at me.  “I don’t know how to work this stupid thing,” he muttered, hitting the printer again.  “Ah, sorry.”  He rubbed his head abashedly.

I jumped at the sound, but quickly got over it.  “That’s ok!” I said with some optimism in my voice.  “Can I try?”

Interns should help one another out.  I gave him my name as an introduction, extending my hand to shake his.  “I’m new here!  I’ve just started as an intern!”  He locked eyes with me and gave me a friendly smile, nodding at my words and grabbing my hand with a firm shake.  I beamed at the prospect of a new friendship.  “I read the printer guide, do you think I can try and see if I can help you out?”

 “Please do.  Go ahead.  My name’s Xavier, by the way.”

A sense of happiness coursed through me as I thought that I could make friends with a fellow intern this way.  We could help each other out.  If we’re on the same floor, he would be in marketing as well.

I tapped my wrist on the flat panel scanner, the printer humming and blinking green as it authenticated me.  My documents populated in the queue and I made sure that the right one was selected before entering in final specifications and hitting print.

My acronyms worksheet came out on warm paper, double-sided and stapled neatly in the corner.

“Hey!  I got it to work!”

Xavier looked stunned as he went back and forth staring between the stack of papers in my hand and the printer.  “...That’s amazing…!”  He looked at me dead in the eyes.  “You’re telling me you did that without black magic?  Or several tickets with the IT desk?  Hours on the line with them into the dead of night?  Are you sure you’re just an intern?”

I laughed and gestured to his hand for his protocore id band.  “What are you printing?  Want me to help you?”

Xavier let a small smile crawl up onto his lips as he nodded.  “Yes, please!”

He watched eagerly as I showed him how to use his protocore band to authenticate with the server and pull his documents off of the cloud.

I couldn’t suppress the laughter bubbling in me as he was so thrilled that the printer could also staple and hole punch the sheets.

He finally held up his stack of documents in awe.  He called my name.  “You’re amazing!  Thank you!”

“It’s no big deal!  I’m happy to help a fellow intern out!”

“Hm?  Intern?”  He looked confused at my words, but I was too excited to focus on that part and the words came out of my mouth before I could stop it.

“Let’s be friends!  I’m new, so I haven’t met anyone yet, but I was happy to run into you here, Xavier!”  There was a slight flush on his face, and I felt that perhaps this wasn’t how you made friends in the corporate world.  “O-oh, unless you don’t want to, or you work somewhere else-.  I didn’t mean-”

“N-no, we could be friends!”  Xavier placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder.  “I…I would like that.”

I couldn’t resist the smile on my face from the excitement of my first work friend.

But I was probably gone from my desk for long enough, and now that I had my prints, I should really head back.  The issue was that I just didn’t know where to go.  Perhaps Xavier did.  “By chance do you know where the product marketing group sits?  I got lost trying to find the printer,” I admitted, rubbing my head in embarrassment.  “It kinda looks all the same here, huh?”

“Oh, product marketing?  Yea, they sit over in group D3, do you want me to walk you there?”

“That would be great!  Only if you don’t mind!”

Xavier smiled at me.  “Not at all.  Let’s go.”

I trailed happily behind him with a skip in my step.

“We’re here.  Is this your desk?”  He pointed at the desk right by the door.

“Yep!  I sit here!  Hey, if you ever need me or just want to hang out just let me-”

“Huh?  Director Xavier?”  My words were cut off by Tara’s surprise.  “What brings you here?”

My brain short-circuited. Director Xavier?

“Oh I was just showing her the way back to her desk,” Xavier pointed at me.  The smile dropped from my face and cold chills ran down my spine.  He wasn’t an intern?  He was a higher up?  I was just prancing around the cubicles with him a minute ago.  We high fived each other and made a work bestie vow.  But he was one of the bosses?

The world was collapsing before my very eyes.  My 20-page printout of the acronyms nearly fell out of my hands.

“Oh so you’ve met our new intern already!” Tara clasped her hands together happily.  “We were going to introduce you later during the all-hands, but this works better!”  Tara turned to me, pulling me by the shoulder to turn and look at Xavier.  “As you know, we all report to Jenna, and Jenna reports to Director Xavier.  He oversees product marketing, so we’re one of the few groups that he manages.  You could say that he’s one of the bosses that we do a lot of work for.”

It took all my willpower to not let my jaw drop to the floor.

He was a director and I called him a fucking intern.  I asked if we could be buddies.  What kind of intern has the audacity to ask the director to be besties with her?

This might be my first and last day on the job.

“I-It was really nice to meet you, D-director Xavier-” my voice trailed off and I struggled to maintain eye contact with him after the embarrassment of calling him an intern earlier.

Xavier was much more composed than I was.  It was no wonder he was a director.  He gave me a kind smile, reaching out his hand to me.  I took it and watched it flop awkwardly as he shook it.  Tara looked at me with concern.

At this point, it doesn’t matter anymore.

“It was really great meeting you too.  If I have printer problems again or if you also want to hang out, I’ll be sure to drop by now that I know where you sit,” he stated before clutching the bundle of papers he printed close to his chest.  “Thanks for your help again.  I’ll see you around.”

My cheeks flushed red as I watched him leave - my eyes were burning holes into the cubicle walls.

Tara patted me on the back.  “Well look at you!  We were going to set up intros next week, but you’re such a go-getter!  Nice work!”

I felt my soul leave my body.

I wanted to go home.

I wallowed in my despair in the corner of my desk. My monitor and docking station were set up in a daze as I stared blankly at my screen, training content passing in one ear and right out the other.

What kind of employee calls their director an intern, asks to be friends, and hang out with each other?  And on their first day?

I buried my head in my hands as the memory of our interaction resurfaced in my head.

A loud ping from my laptop woke me from my trance.

[Caleb]: hows ur first day so far?  u hungry?

[Caleb]: wanna get lunch w me?

The messages from Caleb reminded me of the time.  At least I could catch a break after all of this.  I messaged Caleb back.

[Me]: bruh im gonna die ;(

[Me]: leggo to lunch pls.. where food at

I waited a few seconds, seeing Caleb’s chat icon pop up to indicate that he was typing.

[Caleb]: hold tight pipsqueak

[Caleb]: im on my way to get u ;)

[Me]: pls rescue soon ;(

I rolled back in my seat. The tapping of my fingers against the desk didn’t do much to calm my nerves. My mind was still spinning from the morning’s catastrophe with Xavier. I slumped further into my chair, practically melting into my seat. Lunch couldn’t come fast enough.

A series of soft taps outside the team room caught my attention, and then I heard Caleb’s voice. “Hey hey! How’s my second favorite team in Onyxion?”

Heads turned immediately—Caleb had that effect on people. He exudes effortless cool, his suit jacket slung over his shoulder and his collared shirt had a few buttons open with his tie hanging loose, a casual, almost lazy smile on his face.  He definitely wasn’t the type of person to mistakenly call their director an intern on his first day of work.

“Caleb!” “Oh, hey, Caleb!” “What’s up, dude?”

The chorus of greetings followed, with a few of them getting up from their desks to greet him like some kind of office VIP.

“Came to drop by?” someone asked, clearly curious why he was here.

Caleb grinned, glancing around the room. “Actually, I’m here to grab lunch with a special someone~!”  A few people paused mid-greeting, confused.  “My sister~!”

“Sister?” one of them asked, eyes darting around the room. “Who?”

Caleb looked around the cubicle openings before landing on mine with a wide grin.  He nodded in my direction, grin never leaving his face. “Right there!  That’s my Pipsqueak!”

All eyes snapped to me. I froze, feeling the weight of everyone’s gaze.  Had I not had the most mortifying experience of my life with Xavier, I would have been embarrassed by Caleb’s declaration of his nickname for me in front of all my peers.

“You guys didn’t know? She’s my baby sister,” Caleb clarified with a wink, clearly enjoying the reveal a little too much.

Tara blinked, processing the information before offering a warm laugh. “Well, that explains the VIP treatment!  It’s super hard to get Caleb out to lunch!  Why didn’t you say anything?”

I tried to smile and shrug, despite my burning cheeks.  Caleb chuckled and nudged me playfully. “Ready to go?”

I nodded quickly, eager to escape.

Once we hit the elevator, I let out a breath. “You couldn’t resist, could you?”  I punched him in the arm for ousting me as his sibling in front of all my coworkers.

Caleb grinned, completely unapologetic. “What? It’s more fun that way. Besides, now they know who’s watching out for you.”

I punched his arm, though there was no real force behind it. “You’re such a show-off.”

“Always,” he said, laughing as the elevator doors closed behind us.

We exited the elevator and made our way to the cafeteria. It was bustling with employees, the sound of chatter and clinking dishes filling the air. Caleb, of course, navigated through the crowd effortlessly, giving nods and smiles to people as we passed. It was like watching a politician on a campaign trail—everyone knew him, and more importantly, everyone liked him.

“Why do I feel like I’m walking next to a celebrity?” I muttered as we got in line for food.

Caleb smirked. “Because I am one.  Consider yourself lucky, pipsqueak.  You get to dine in the presence of an office celeb!”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “Of course you are.”

We grabbed our trays, and Caleb, true to form, picked up more food than anyone could possibly eat in one sitting. “You’re going to regret not grabbing a second sandwich,” he teased, nudging me with his elbow as we made our way to a table.

Just as we sat down, I spotted Xavier entering the cafeteria. I sank lower into my seat, hoping he wouldn’t see me. The embarrassment of earlier was still fresh in my mind.

“You okay?” Caleb asked, noticing my sudden change in posture.

I waved him off. “Yeah, just... avoiding someone.”

Caleb raised an eyebrow, leaning in with a grin. “Who? Someone I need to beat up for you?”

I snorted. “No, it’s just... Xavier.  Director Xavier…”

“The director?” Caleb’s eyes widened with mock surprise. “What did you do, pipsqueak? Spill it.”

I sighed. “I may or may not have called him an intern… and then asked him to be my friend… and to hang out with me…”

Caleb burst out laughing, causing a few heads to turn. “You... you called Xavier an intern?” he wheezed, wiping a tear from his eye. “Oh, that’s priceless!  OH MY GOD, AHAHAHAHA!!!”

“Caleb, shhh!” I hissed, glancing around to make sure Xavier wasn’t within earshot. “I didn’t know he was the director!  My boss reports to him!  He’s like my big boss!!”

Caleb was still chuckling, clearly enjoying my misfortune far too much. “Well, at least you made an impression.”

I groaned, burying my face in my hands. “He’s going to think I’m a complete idiot.”

“Eh, don’t worry about it,” Caleb said, taking a big bite of his sandwich. “He’s a good guy. He won’t hold it against you. And besides, if he does, just let me know. I think I can take him in a fight.”

I shot him a look. “Don’t you dare.” Memories of Caleb getting into full-blown brawls all throughout school popped into my mind. He had a knack for turning a mild disagreement into a fistfight, and no one was ever quite sure what triggered him. A lot of people learned to steer clear of him after that, especially when they saw how quickly he could go from bright and happy to throwing punches in unbridled rage.

“Caleb...” I warned, but he just shrugged with that lazy grin.

“What? I’ve mellowed out. Mostly.” He winked.  “I wouldn’t punch a fellow co-worker unless they really deserved it ok?  And I’ll happily skip a paycheck to punch someone that made you mad at work.”

As Caleb and I sat there, still bantering back and forth, I saw Xavier heading our way with a tray of food. I froze for a second, but Caleb didn’t miss a beat.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Director Xavier!” Caleb called out, loud enough for nearby tables to turn and look.  “You got a dining buddy yet?  We got a seat open!”

Xavier raised an eyebrow but smiled as he approached. “I know that you get to know people fast, Caleb, but how do you know the new intern already?  I just met her today.”

Caleb chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “What can I say? You gotta network when you’re in sales.” He winked in my direction.

Xavier smiled at me as he sat down, setting his tray on the table. “Well, you’re a lucky intern. Caleb is a hard guy to get lunch with.  He told me the other day that I had to book a few weeks in advance.”

I had a feeling that it was sarcasm on Caleb’s end, but Xavier took it seriously.  I bit my lip to maintain a straight face.

Caleb grinned, not missing a beat.  “What can I say? I’m in high demand.” He took a sip of his drink, then leaned forward with a smirk. “But I can always make an exception for my sister.”

Xavier raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Sister? I didn’t know you had family.”

“Not by blood,” Caleb clarified, casting a glance at me. “But close enough. Grew up together, so she’s practically my pipsqueak now.”

I smiled awkwardly, feeling a bit exposed.  I let out an awkward chuckle.

Xavier gave me a kind smile and glanced at us. “You know, I’ve worked with Caleb on a few projects before, and I can tell you—if he’s got your back, you’re in good hands.” His tone had sincerity behind it.

“See?” Caleb chimed in, pointing a thumb at Xavier. “Even he gets it.”

My initial discomfort with Xavier’s presence at the table quickly dissipated as the conversation flowed between the three of us smoothly.  He had a very laid-back personality that was very approachable once you got to know him.  Had I not been in a line of direct reports to him, I’m sure we would have been good work friends already.

The lighthearted banter continued for a moment until Xavier’s smile faded, and he turned to Caleb. His voice dropped in volume as he didn’t want others to overhear.  “Have you heard about what happened in the finance department? Sylus wasn’t happy.”

Caleb’s expression darkened slightly. “Yeah, I heard.  He’s pissed.  Which isn’t good.”

Xavier nodded, his usual easygoing demeanor slipping as he glanced around the cafeteria, lowering his voice. “I wouldn’t be surprised if this means restructuring.  With what happened in that department, I’m not sure if there’s going to be something worse.”

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, the playful mood from earlier now replaced with a sense of unease.

“You really think it’ll be that bad?” Caleb whispered to him, voice barely audible as he tried to keep the conversation discreet.

Xavier sighed. “The repercussions are company-wide.  You know how Sylus is.  He’ll trim the fat and parts of the actual cut.  He’s find with those losses as long as he can made a point.”

“I-Is something happening in the company?”  Xavier and Caleb looked over at me in surprise, not realizing that I was able to sense that something was awry and was a cause for concern.  Caleb’s gaze softened, noticing the worry growing on my face, and he gave me a reassuring smile. “We’ll be fine, Pipsqueak. Don’t worry, this is more of the director and above level stuff.  You got nothing to worry about.”

Xavier nodded, though his expression remained serious. “Caleb’s right.  This kind of thing doesn’t affect you or your role.”

The lunch wrapped up shortly after, but the unspoken tension of what Caleb and Xavier spoke of hung heavy in the air.

As we wrapped up lunch, Caleb nudged me playfully. “Back to work, Pipsqueak. Don’t want to keep your fancy new team waiting.” He shot a glance at Xavier. “And don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on her.”

Xavier chuckled, standing up with his tray. “I have no doubt about that. Good luck with the rest of your day, and don’t be afraid to swing by if you need anything.” He gave me a reassuring nod before heading off, leaving Caleb and me alone at the table.

As we walked back toward the elevators, I couldn’t shake the weight of the conversation between Caleb and Xavier.

Once we reached the elevator, Caleb pressed the button and leaned against the wall, studying my expression. “You okay?”

I took a deep breath, “Sylus…is the CEO, right?  Why’s he upset?  What happened with the finance department?”

Caleb ruffled my hair like he used to when we were kids. “Hey, hey, I told you that it’s just the big boss stuff.  You know CEOs and the boss people, finance guys always make them mad.  The usual stuff.  It’s really nothing that an intern needs to worry about.”  He locked eyes with me, and I knew he was hiding something.  But the smile on his face betrayed the slightest bit of tension that I was able to tell from years of growing up with him.  Yet I knew not to press him further on it.  He was more stubborn than me when it came to these things.

I swatted his hand away with a laugh. “Ok, ok.  Anyways, thanks, Caleb.”

The elevator doors opened, and I stepped inside, glancing back at him. “See you later?”

“Of course. Don’t get too comfortable. I’m picking you up at the end of the day,” Caleb replied with a wink.

The doors slid shut, leaving me alone in the quiet elevator. As the floor numbers ticked by, I recalled my first day so far.  How eventful.

As I settled back into my desk, a soft ping from my laptop caught my attention. An email notification from the company’s internal communications system appeared in the corner of my screen: Onyxion Announces New Acquisition of EverTech Biomedical Solutions .

Curiosity piqued, I clicked on the link, which led to a sleek press release page with an embedded video at the top. There he was—Sylus. He stood tall and confident, answering questions from a group of reporters with ease, every word meticulously measured yet effortlessly charismatic.

I leaned in, watching as Sylus spoke about the strategic acquisition, how EverTech would integrate seamlessly into Onyxion’s existing infrastructure, boosting their innovation pipeline and expanding their product portfolio. His tone was smooth and authoritative, but it was more than that. He had a way of speaking that made everything seem possible, like every challenge was just another stepping stone.. The way he fielded tough questions with calm precision was impressive, and I couldn’t help but feel a surge of admiration. This was the kind of CEO that made waves in the industry—someone who commanded respect and attention without even trying.

Whatever the finance department did to make him upset, must have messed up majorly.  The conversation that worried me before disappeared from my mind completely as I continued to watch Sylus on my screen.

Watching him, it was hard not to feel a mix of awe and... maybe a little envy. He seemed to have everything figured out—the vision, the confidence, the power to turn ideas into reality. Everything I wasn’t sure I had. The kind of person who could get things done, while I still felt stuck, unsure of how to make my own ideas matter.

He’s the kind of person I’ve always wanted to be.

I shifted in my chair, a flicker of self-doubt creeping in. Sure, I had ideas. Sometimes I’d think about what I could do if I had the chance, if I had the kind of authority someone like Sylus did. But that was just it—I didn’t have any of those things. I was just an intern, watching from the sidelines, wondering if I’d ever be capable of contributing on that level.

Still, as the video played on, I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something about Onyxion—about Sylus—that resonated with me. He wasn’t just another CEO. He was shaping the future, and part of me, deep down, wanted to be part of that. Even if I wasn’t sure how, or if I was good enough.

The video ended, and I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. There was something undeniably magnetic about Sylus, and I couldn’t help but feel a spark of admiration. Not that I’d ever have the chance to interact with him directly. People like him existed in a different world, one I wasn’t sure I could ever step into.

Another chime from my laptop reminded me to get back to work. I sighed, turning back to my training videos, but my mind was still lingering on the thought of what it would be like to be part of something bigger. He has the kind of vision I want to support... if I could even figure out how.

[randrvending]

The Ultimate Vending Adventure: Rowe Machines in the Heart of Las Vegas

R & R Vending is a Las Vegas based full line vending company that provide traditional vending service. We provide snack service, soda service, healthy snacks and hot beverage service  through the use of top brand name commercial vending  machines.  We use the highest quality state-of-the-art vending machines from commercial manufactures like Vendo, Dixie Narco, Royal and Automatic Products.

So, whether you're a local or a visitor, let Rowe Vending Machines be your go-to source for satisfying snacks and refreshing beverages in the entertainment capital of the world.

[shaanks]

I wrote something. Lmfao. It was initially just meant to kind of expand on my text post from earlier, but it turned into a little ficlet so I figured I'd share it. Why not, right?

fem!oc x Eustass Kid. sfw, cw: memory loss, unreality. (everything will be tagged in the actual tags section for blacklisting purposes)

word count - 2392

genres: hurt/comfort, horror if you squint, fluff towards the end, modern AU for the aesthetic lmfao.

**

There was a sound like an explosion, the blare of a car horn wailing over screaming metal, the scent of rubber hot and acrid in the air. In the light of the vending machine, Av jumped, whirling around, air catching in her throat only to find—nothing.

The street behind her was empty, devoid of everything but the blinking yellow of a streetlight, and the gentle pattering of rain. The asphalt was pristine, the clean lines slick with rain shone gold in the intermittent light, the sidewalk empty of trash, of age, of anything that might suggest human interaction.

Av craned her neck, head half-turned away from the bright white glow of the machine, looking up at the apartments around her. Neat, identical rows, 10 across, 10 high. All of the windows were darkened, the curtains drawn; each balcony held one or two suggestions of an occupant—a hanging plant here, a chair there, the peek of a bike seat or a laundry line extended across the space, but it was impersonal. Nondescript. A facsimile of habitation, without any indication of personhood, of decision, of individuality.

She looked down, frowning at her shoes, the light of the vending machine ever-present in her periphery. Her sneakers, at least, looked old. Well-worn, if a little plain, the white soles marked with dirt and use. She could see that the shoelaces were wet from the rain, could feel the water soaking through the threadbare canvas, her fingertips grasping at her jacket sleeves in absent concern. That was real. She felt real. Beneath her the ground felt solid, her face felt cool and damp in the slight breeze.

But what had made that sound? Another glance behind her confirmed the space to be empty still, and she hadn’t heard anything else. No voices raised in alarm, no distant car alarms blared to life, jostled by the impact—or what she had assumed must have been one. The night seemed undisturbed, save for the pounding of her heartbeat, just a little too loud in her ears.

Worrying at her lip, she turned back towards the glass display case, eyes flickering along the rows of drinks for sale. Black coffee with sugar, black coffee with no sugar, coffee with cream, with sweet cream. Six different energy drinks, a glass bottle of 7-UP that looked like it was from 30 years ago, and a solitary bottle of unlabeled water.

Surely that sound had been important, hadn’t it? It had been real enough to make her ears ring, to spike adrenaline through her like a live-wire.

Black coffee with sugar, black coffee with no sugar, coffee with cream—

Av frowned deeper, digging around in her pocket for the soft pack of cigarettes and her lighter. She was forgetting something, she knew she was, something that fluttered infuriatingly around the edges of her mind like a disoriented moth. She slotted the cigarette between her lips, the paper filter sticking slightly from the damp, the flame of the lighter momentarily adding a heat and warmth to the night that felt almost alien.

Smoke filled her lungs, hot and acrid like burnt rubber.

Six different energy drinks, a glass bottle of 7-UP that looked like it was from 30 years ago—

Inhale, exhale, plumes of breath and smoke that rose from her lips towards the dreary, impenetrable darkness of the sky above her, towards clouds that roiled thick and heavy with rain and nothing else. Surely, she thought, nothing else, although part of her knew that even when she’d tilted her head up to examine the apartment building, she’d been careful not to look any higher.

The worn rubber of her sneakers tap tap tapped against the sidewalk, making small wet spattering sounds as the movement displaced a puddle, and still she stood, smoking, making no decisions.

‘I should be cold,’ she thought, exhaling again, flicking ashes onto the street in a move that felt almost spiteful against the unnatural perfection upon which she stood. ‘How long have I been out here? What time is it?’

Her body shook a little, though she felt no colder than she had moments ago. She couldn’t bring herself to speak, her voice stopped in her throat—by disuse, perhaps. Or by fear.

The sound of sizzling brought her attention momentarily to the present, as a fat droplet of water fell, extinguishing her cigarette halfway through. Av took it from between her lips and stared at it. It felt...cruel. Intentional, perhaps. Irrationally, she wondered whether the street itself hadn’t responded to the slight bit of ash by extinguishing its source. Something about that wording made her shiver again, and she glanced around for a trash can, somewhere appropriate to throw it away, but of course, the street was devoid of any such thing.

A desire welled up inside her to simply throw it on the ground, to grind the ash and paper and unused tobacco into the sidewalk just to see what would happen...but in the end she thought better of it, and tucked it into her pocket instead. Her clothes would probably stink, but that was okay, she could just hang them out to dry.

Hang them out to dry. Out to dry.

Black coffee with sugar, black coffee with no sugar—

Did she have a clothes line? A balcony? She couldn’t remember for some reason. Had she even locked the door on her way out?

Av glanced around, the bright blue-white of the vending machine blinding in her periphery. Did she live on this street? Had she walked far to get here?

Was one of these nondescript apartments hers?

—the blare of a car horn wailing over screaming metal, six different energy drinks, a glass bottle of 7-UP that looked like it was from 30 years ago—

The sound was deafening, the smell of coffee like cigarette smoke like burned rubber like asphalt like hot metal stinging her nose and she squeezed her eyes shut, tepid fingertips curling into fists over her ears, she wanted to scream, to run, but she couldn’t remember where she lived, where to go, the sky pressed down on the wet asphalt and the white-blue burned out the gold of the street light and the darkness was bright bright bright through her eyelids and—

“You okay?”

Av yelped, her voice tearing free of a throat that felt like musty old paper, as she whipped around towards the sound. The voice.

There was a man standing about ten feet away from her, the campus buildings behind him looking ghostly and pallid in the blue-white of the vending machine light. Av blinked, the ghosts of a car horn, of a flashing yellow light, of melted rubber and blank apartments and a roiling dark sky fading from her mind like a half-remembered dream.

They were at school, she thought, the words wafting over her mind like a cool breeze, like rain. School. University? He was an adult, at least, and she felt like she must be one.

The man had retreated several steps at her startled sound, and he raised his hands slightly in placation before tugging at the straps of his backpack, pulling them tight in a motion that seemed too absent to have been intentional. He was nervous?

‘Most people get nervous when strange women linger by vending machines and scream when you address them, I’d wager,’ she thought, sighing with something between exasperation and relief.

The sound was normal enough to lower the man’s hackles. He was awfully tall, and seemed aware of it, ducking his head slightly and squinting into the light of the vending machines to see her better. Golden-orange eyes flickered in the light like traffic lights, on and off, on and off as he took a tentative step towards her. Calculating, like he was trying to make himself seem less threatening, like he didn’t want to spook her further.

It had been too long since he’d spoken to her, too long that she’d just been staring at him with distant, distracted eyes, but the startled noise had done little to awaken her actual voice. It was an effort, like raising an anchor from the bottom of the sea, to answer him, the words sounding willowy and thin in her ears.

“Ah yeah—sorry. Long day,” Av rasped softly, gesturing around. The big guy grinned a little, droplets of water falling from thick, red hair, and she found herself frowning again.

“Figured,” He said, tilting his head slightly, watching her expression carefully before continuing, “stopped by chem to bring you lunch and they said you didn’t show. S’not like you,” He paused, tilting his head the other way, and she felt her heart begin to race.

She knew him. They had classes together, he was bringing her lunch. Friend? Brother? Boyfriend? She felt her cheeks heat up at that last, glancing over him, and decided perhaps that must be the case. He’d closed the distance at some point when she’d been digging through her memory for clues, and she almost jumped when he smudged a thumb over her cheek, running a raindrop across the blush. Would have jumped, in fact, if the motion hadn’t seemed so tender, so intimately familiar.

“I don’t remember why I’m out here, Kid,” his name fell from her lips without thinking, more muscle memory than conscious thought, that willowy quality of her voice accompanied by embarrassment, by a fear that made her feel small.

He didn’t answer her for a long moment, those strange golden-hued eyes flickering intently over her expression. If he felt anything beyond concern, he gave no indication of it, instead lifting his hand from her cheek to ruffle it through her hair. Eustass Kid was warm. She sighed into the contact. Maybe she had been cold before. Maybe there just hadn’t been enough contrast to notice.

Eustass Kid. Black coffee no sugar. Black coffee with sugar. Black coffee with c—

“Hey hey,” he finally said, pushing her hair back from her forehead, tipping her head up to look at him in the process. The sky behind him loomed, too dark, too thick with clouds, wrong in a way that she couldn’t settle upon.

They were at university. She was taking a chemistry class. This was her boyfriend.

Six different energy drinks, a 7-UP b—

Her eyes settled back on his, her hand moving to grasp at his shirt and she breathed. Breathed.

Kid seemed to mull over his words, rolling them around in his mouth as he tried to find the right order, the right tone. He opened his mouth, thought better of it, closed it again, and then sighed softly, running his thumb over her forehead now, in an arc up into her hair.

“Doc said this was gonna be a shitty day. This time of year’s probably gonna suck for a while.” His voice sounded rough too, she noted, his expression pinching into a grimace around the words he seemed reluctant to say.

A scar, still angry and red and new, dipped jagged over his eye, down onto his cheek, spilling like red paint into her vision. How had she not seen that before? Had it always been there? She raised her hand from his shirt, fingertips ghosting up towards his face. He made no move to stop her, just watched until her hand was close enough to lean into, his skin warm against her palm.

There was a sound like an explosion, the blare of a car horn wailing over screaming metal—

Av’s face crumpled as she stroked her thumb over the scar.

“Because of the accident.” she whispered, her voice soft and wet like pattering rain.

“Yeah,” he kissed her palm. She nodded.

She still couldn’t remember much about the street, about the car that had swerved into them, about the hours and days in the hospital. Just the sound of the car horn, the way the tires had screeched and bled acrid smoke into the night air, the way not one light had turned on in the balconies overhead.

The doctors had said that memory loss was common in cases like this, with head injuries, with sudden traumatic events. The symptoms would fade, she’d been assured. Routines would help. Familiar scenery. A return to normalcy. All these things would speed her recovery. And yet, as with everything else, she still couldn’t quite remember how long they said it would take.

Her therapist had suggested grounding exercises for when she got lost, or her mind began to race, but the only thing she seemed capable of remembering with any consistency was the stupid vending machine outside of the dorms.

Kid followed her gaze to the faded offerings behind the glass, expression twisting into something half amused as he knocked against it with his knuckle, releasing her head to do so.

“S’funny, you’d think they’d restock the fucking thing eventually,” he said, the gravel of his voice low, thoughtful. “Hasn’t had anything in it since we’ve been here except—”

“A solitary bottle of unlabeled water,” Av supplied, grimacing a little at how practiced and robotic it sounded, but Kid just laughed.

“Yeah, that. Couldn’t even spring for some fuckin Dasani,” he muttered, fumbling in his pocket for a second before retrieving his wallet. He fished out a crumpled dollar bill and fed it into the old machine, fighting with it for a moment before it finally accepted the offering. The sound it made when he hit the button was like grinding metal and she tensed at the sound; wordlessly, he pulled her against his large frame, and this time when she breathed there was no hint of burning rubber or wet asphalt. He plucked the water bottle from the basin when the thing finally decided to relinquish it, and pressed it into her hands with a flourish.

“Bone apple teeth,” Kid intoned, grinning as if to show off his, and it was so absurd in that moment that she laughed, breath pluming up towards the sky. His grinned widened, clearly pleased that the joke had landed—relieved to hear the warmth in that sound.

“C’mon,” he squeezed her, turning her away from the blue-white light of the vending machine, towards the comforting darkness of the night. “Let’s go, it’s fuckin freezing out.”

Av, fingers blissfully cool around the water bottle, smiled back. “Yeah.”

**

[zephfair]

GO-FHMR Chapter 3

Chapter 3 is down below the gif, under the cut.

Still nothing but fluff and tropes, G-rated. I should warn for Goat-related violence; no animals were harmed in the writing of this story but Ganseys are excluded from this warning. Author has a fond and possibly unreasonable love of goats. 💖

Chapter 1, Chapter 2

Chapter 3 below the cut

Although Ronan had promised they would be able to talk, they didn’t even have time to sit down together, and it seemed like the whole damn town plus the rest of the county decided that was the day to visit Lynch Farm.

“Matty and Declan were supposed to come this weekend to help out, but you can see that didn’t happen,” Ronan grunted to Gansey as he finished wrapping a large blue spruce.

“Can I offer a hand?” Gansey asked. Ronan looked him up and down then shook his head and hefted the tree onto his own shoulder.

“Go see if the maggot can set you up at the register or something,” he said, carrying the tree to a customer’s vehicle.

Gansey looked down at himself in bemusement. He’d thought to pack clothes for roughing it, assuming that he’d be doing some hiking to follow up on ley line activity, so he didn’t know what Ronan was thinking. His jeans were rather new, along with the hiking boots he’d only worn out in the Welsh fields that fall, but they were perfectly serviceable. He’d layered a henley under a Land’s End fleece under his oldest Columbia jacket. What was the problem with that?

He wandered around the barely controlled chaos, looking for “the maggot” who he assumed was actually Blue.

Gansey had woken early with a tempered sense of joy, his delight from the night before wilted by the harsh sunlight of morning and the text from Adam. Gansey still wasn’t sure where he stood with Adam. Had they actually broken up? Did he want to break up? Did Adam want to break up? If they did break up, what would Gansey do?

The thoughts swirled in his overactive brain as he got ready and started to look forward to seeing Lynch again. Patty had the “fancy” breakfast ready since he was early and the handful of other guests were already at the table. He sat through quiche and homemade cinnamon rolls and a fruit cup and smiled sincerely at Patty when she replaced the delicate china coffee cup with one of her huge mugs filled to the brim.

He left as soon as he could and figured he’d get to the Barns before any of the real action started. But he was wrong. The driveway already had a line of cars waiting to pull up into one of the fields that was roped off for parking.

He’d seen Ronan immediately, that tall figure weaving between customers, pointing over their heads, occasionally bellowing a directive to someone.

“I can’t believe you’re so busy already!” he’d said as he carefully watched Ronan feed the tree into the wrapping machine.

“It’s only going to get worse,” he warned.

Now Gansey tried to categorize what he saw around the Barns. The house at least on the outside looked much the same. There was temporary fencing around it and the family parking lot so that customers couldn’t get in. Signage and stacks of hay bales steered customers to the parking field.

From there, they headed to one of the biggest barns, one that had definitely been updated. Pre-cut Christmas trees leaned against the fence outside and stood inside the corral in haphazard rows. There were stalls set up offering other holiday products like pine wreaths and garland for sale.

Inside the barn, Gansey was surprised to see and smell live animals. One half of the interior was clearly designed for a petting zoo and featured some goats, pigs, a sheep, and a miniature horse.

The other half of the barn featured more handmade decorations and locally made baked goods for sale. There was a huge golden colored chair set up on a dais in a corner that made Gansey wonder what in the world.

But he was even more befuddled by a line of axes hung on a wall and was staring at them when a voice called out, “You ready to work, Dick?”

His eyes dropped to Blue who was running the cash register right below the axes.

“Why are you displaying an entire arsenal of potential weaponry?”

Blue’s nose scrunched as she translated then glanced up at the axes. “Potential weapons or not, some people love tromping through the forest to chop down their own tree, so we rent them an ax and give them a little map so they can choose from trees we’ve pre-selected. Believe it or not, a lot of planning goes into this entire operation.”

“I can definitely believe it,” Gansey said, stepping up to the register. “I just saw Lynch and he told me to see you about assigning me a job for the day.”

“Hmm,” she said, giving him the same thorough look that Ronan had. “How dirty are you willing to get exactly?”

Gansey’s outraged insistence that he was ready for anything lit Blue’s competitive streak, which Gansey later bemoaned.

She started him off as runner between the various sections of the farm. It was good practice to learn where everything was, and he met Maura, Blue’s mother who ran the refreshments stand, and Persephone who used a large kitchen built behind the house to bake their own treats. He was also introduced to Blue’s relatives Calla who kept a wary eye on the lookout for theft and made sure all the areas were fully stocked; Jimmi who made and sold many of the handmade decorations; and Blue’s cousin Orla who did something that Gansey wasn’t clear about but that involved her winking at him every time he passed her.

Blue pointed out the group of smiling teenagers who manned the actual tree lot, carrying, wrapping and doing the heavy work without visible effort. She also showed him the machine he’d seen Ronan use and warned him to stay away from it. And to also stay clear of the chainsaws they tried to keep out of sight behind her counter.

Blue also introduced him to Opal, the young woman in charge of the petting zoo.

Gansey had an adventure of his own when Opal asked him to run back to the “goat zone” and bring another bag of food pellets to the petting zoo. She explained that the other barns housed a variety of animals that Ronan cared for and were generally grouped by type. She had just shouted a warning about “watch a bug” as Gansey hurried away.

He got another glimpse of Ronan entering the very barn he was leaving. It was like that all morning. He’d see Ronan from across the parking lot as he hurried to the kitchen. Ronan waved once from the center of the tree corral as Gansey carried a stack of fresh wreaths into the barn for Calla. And he’d heard Ronan clearly bark a laugh at him from somewhere nearby when he’d tripped over the long garland he was trying to unwrap from around himself to carry to a customer’s car.

But they hadn’t had a chance to talk yet. And Blue had warned him that while Gansey was welcome to take lunch, the others just grabbed snacks and drinks as they had time.

Gansey had to admit that he was about ready for a break. He’d take the goat feed back for Opal then grab something and maybe go rest in his Range Rover, if Blue didn’t want him sitting down at the refreshment tent or behind the counter with her.

As soon as he entered the small barn with the low roof, he knew something was wrong. The other barns he’d visited were loud with animal noises, and the creatures tended to turn toward the opening door, assuming that incoming human interaction would be accompanied by food.

But the goat barn was silent as he flipped the bar and pushed one door open. He walked in before he thought about it and looked around.

Like all of Ronan’s farm, the barn was neat and clean and everything well taken care of. Gansey was impressed by the amount of work the upkeep must take. Pointy heads and tiny horns were visible above most of the stall doors, and while jaws worked at chewing cud, not one of them made a sound.

Gansey looked around again and spotted the bags of feed stacked up inside an unused stall. He said hello to the goats he passed and they watched him cross the width of the barn without a sound. Gansey was starting to get nervous when he heard the loud snort.

He turned to the left, assuming it was just a vocal goat, when he heard it again followed by a maaa-ha-ha-haha full of evil foreboding.

There, at the end of the aisle, stood a freed goat. This was a proto-goat. The shaggy, bearded, muscled goat that Billy Goat Gruff was modeled on. The goat that outsmarted then pushed trolls off a bridge. A goat unencumbered by rope or stall or corral. A goat that tossed its head, displayed its wickedly curved horns, and bleated its challenge again.

A goat that could accelerate from zero to whatever-the-fuck top speed Gansey could run slightly faster than Gansey could.

When the goat started to charge, Gansey hauled ass toward the stack of feed bags, that lone stall gleaming like a beacon of hope. He got as far as the door when the goat reached him.

Its horns made brutal and sudden contact with the nearest portion of his anatomy which happened to be his ass. Gansey swore and hopped in pain, and the goat butted his ass again. He yelled and heard a ripping sound as the goat tore something off his body.

Gansey didn’t waste any more time, he jumped over the low door of the stall which unfortunately was low enough for the goat to easily clear as well. Gansey dove onto the sacks of feed, hoping there was room behind them for refuge, but they were stacked too close to the wall. He hung on top the feed sacks and felt pressure on the leg of his jeans and heard another fabric tearing sound.

He kicked backward, but the goat dodged it with ease and a taunting maa-haha. Gansey kicked again and the goat stopped the boot with his teeth and started yanking it off his foot.

Gansey’s yells were loud, but not loud enough to block the sound of his rescue.

“Beelzebub! You foul fucking demon! Leave him the hell alone!”

Gansey had the wild thought that why was Ronan attempting an exorcism when he really just wanted to goat to stop attacking him.

Then he realized that Ronan’s shouts were getting closer.

“Help!” he called, struggling to keep his foot, let along his boot, attached to his body.

“Beelzebub, get off! You goddamn shitty excuse for a goat, I said, get off him!”

There was another bleat, somehow more plaintive, then the pressure was gone from Gansey’s foot. He scrambled to pull his legs up under him and turned on top the sacks, panting from the ordeal.

Ronan stood holding the goat in a modified headlock, looking for all the world like a casual dog owner who was holding his pet back at the dog park. Only Gansey could see Ronan’s muscles working under the thin thermal shirt he’d stripped down to, controlling the goat’s horns and keeping it back from Gansey.

“You okay?” Ronan asked.

“No! That thing tried to eat me!”

Ronan let out a burst of a laugh that sounded disturbingly like the goat had. “Bub wouldn’t eat you. He’d just headbutt you until you were tenderized.”

“Why do you let him roam loose?!”

“I don’t let Bub do anything,” Ronan said wryly, then swore as he caught the goat when it tried to pull free. “Hold on a sec, I’m gonna put him away.”

Gansey waited until Ronan manhandled the goat out of the stall before he slid down to stand on shaking legs. He rubbed his ass and winced then swore when he realized the first ripping sound he’d heard was one of the pockets off his jeans.

“You are hurt,” Ronan insisted when he returned. He grabbed Gansey’s shoulders and ran his hands down Gansey’s arms.

“I’m not hurt there,” Gansey swatted him away. “He got me somewhere else.”

Ronan thought for a second and just barely muffled a laugh. “Let me guess,” and he turned Gansey around.

Gansey shut his eyes when Ronan ran his hand gently down Gansey’s low back, over his belt and even more gently over his ass. Gansey still hissed, not as much in pain as in surprise. Ronan’s touch stayed so careful and went over to his hip, squeezing there.

“Did he break anything? Or just bruise you?”

Gansey winced. “Just bruised but damn, that’s going to leave a mark.”

“You’re right, you’re going to have a hell of a bruise. I can get you some Advil and an ice pack.”

All Gansey could feel now was the warmth and pressure of Ronan’s hand still curved around his hip. He reluctantly stepped away. “I’ll be fine. My jeans, though, not so much.”

“Yeah, he murdered your back pocket, and looks like he tried to rip off that leg too. There’s big tear behind your knee. And your boot is covered in goat slobber.”

“They’re waterproof. And thankfully sturdy because my foot is not teeth-proof.”

“Are you sure you’re OK? I just heard Opal tell you to watch out for Bub in case he got loose, but I knew you had no idea what you were getting into.”

“That goat is named Bub?”

“He’s Beelzebub, pretty appropriate, I thought, but the girls nicknamed him Bub. And we found out he’s some kind of escape artist because he can open damn near any kind of latch if we don’t keep a padlock on his stall. I was afraid Opal might not have double-checked it, and Bub is fine with those of us who feed him, but he does have a problem with strangers.”

“I take it he’s not part of your petting zoo.”

Ronan shook his head, “No, he’s too unpredictable for that. We don’t need him headbutting young children and tearing people’s clothes to bits.”

“He chased me across the barn,” Gansey didn’t care that his voice was plaintive verging onto whining, especially when it made Ronan hide a little grin. “I tried to get into the storage stall but he jumped in too and then I couldn’t take refuge behind the stacks of feed sacks.”

“And then he hit you in your vulnerable spot,” Ronan finished, not trying to hide his grin any longer. “I’m glad you’re OK except for the bruised ass. You might have trouble sitting for a couple days. Or,” Ronan reached out and ran his finger through Gansey’s belt loop, the one right above his hip bone, “I can always kiss it better.”

“Lynch, after all the times I’ve heard you tell someone to kiss yours, I never thought you’d be the one offering,” Gansey retorted.

Ronan huffed and let go of his belt loop. “You’re right. I guess you’ll have to earn it. But from the look of things, you’re doing all right at earning your keep today. Go get that ice from Blue and take a break. Standing up, preferably.”

“Ha. Ha,” Gansey did not find the situation as amusing as Ronan did.

Ronan squeezed his arm then threw his arm around Gansey’s shoulders. “Come on, let nurse Sargent make it better. Her bedside manner’s probably better than mine.”

Gansey leaned into Ronan’s side as they walked out of the barn. The more he remembered those halcyon days with Ronan, the more he remembered how touchy Ronan had always been. Gansey was the younger sibling with a very proper older sister, so he’d never experienced family wrestling like the Lynch brothers at any opportunity. Ronan seemed to need physical contact all the time, but it was one thing as innocent boys hanging all over each other.

It was a different thing altogether when they were grown-ups and Ronan looked like <i>that</i> and ran his hands all over Gansey <i>like that</i> and Gansey had to keep forcing himself to remember that he also had a boyfriend… or possibly ex-boyfriend and all the physical attraction he was feeling for Ronan had to be replaced with friendly camaraderie.

His libido needed ice more than his bruised bottom.

Ronan marched him right up to the register, nodded at the families waiting in line to check out, and loudly announced, “Sargent, get Dick some ice and Advil because the goat got him right in the butt.”

The parents in the line looked askance, Blue rolled her eyes dramatically, and the kids milling around laughed. “Butt,” one little girl repeated with a giggle.

“That’s why you better not turn your back on a goat,” Ronan told her very solemnly. “They’ll hit you in the butt.”

Several of the children started chanting “Butt! Butt!” and now the parents were giving Ronan different looks. He didn’t care, but Gansey ducked out from his hold and scurried behind the counter with Blue.

Ronan passed out some candy canes to the kids and palmed the little girl’s head, making her squeal in delight. “Don’t forget to make your mom and dad get you a picture with Santa,” he said gruffly.

“Santa is actually not arriving for another half hour or so,” Blue quickly reminded him. She smiled at the little girl too, “But we’ll get you a picture with him as soon as we can.”

The child grinned at her too and waved the candy cane. Ronan nodded at Gansey again and went back to work.

Gansey leaned against the wall of the barn and watched all the action until there was a lull at the register. Blue quickly tossed him a bottle of water and shook out a couple pills from a first-aid kit below the counter. “Can you take over the register while I run down to the kitchen and get you some ice?”

“It’s really not that bad, I promise,” Gansey did take the water gratefully and accepted the pills. “But I do think I’ll take my break now.”

“You’ve earned it,” she said and held out her fist. Gansey stared for a long second then made a fist and bumped her back.

At her urging, he headed over to the refreshments stall and picked out an apple dumpling that Maura topped with a scoop of vanilla ice cream he didn’t request. She also poured him a coffee that he thanked her heartily for.

Then he limped back to the barn and perched on the edge of a stool to eat. Of course Ronan passed through a minute later to say “Look at you, sitting there half-assed.”

“That’s only a four point two, Lynch. Try again later,” Blue said and he stomped off back outside.

Gansey shed his coat and fleece and ate his lunch, smiling at the customers who chatted with Blue cheerily about their trees and were excited about decorating for the holidays.

Then his phone buzzed a text alert. Without thinking, he pulled it out and his heart sank when he saw it was from Adam.

It just read RSVPed 2 and was followed by a screenshot of an Order of Events for Adam’s firm’s holiday party. Gansey had never wanted to attend anything less in his life.

“Bad news?” Blue asked. When he looked up, she gestured to him. “From the frown on your face, you just got some really bad news. The wife wants you to come home early?”

“No, no nothing like that. First of all, there is no wife. Secondly, it’s … nothing,” Gansey finished, not sure how much he wanted to share when he wasn’t even sure what was going on.

Blue turned her attention back to the crowd and Gansey decided to text No, I’ll be in Henrietta. Unsure how long I’m staying.

He was suprised when the screen showed that Adam was typing already.

This means we’re over

Gansey’s stomach clench and he felt light-headed for a moment. Is this how Adam broke up with him? Was this really it after all those years? Just a text?

Adam then texted just a ?

Gansey’s hand shook but he was able to send back If that’s what you want?

There was no acknowledgment and no reply. Gansey put his phone away and took a deep, shuddering breath.

“Are you in a lot of pain?” Blue asked, with a concern that Gansey appreciated. “Do you think you need to go to urgent care?”

Ronan appeared like magic beside them. “Gans, you look bad. Did Bub hurt you more than you’re letting on?”

“No, no it’s not that, I’m fine, really,” Gansey tried to smile reassuringly but from their exchanged looks, he failed. “It’s a matter back in D.C. It has nothing to do with getting headbutted by your goat.”

“Do you have to leave to deal with it?” Ronan asked.

When Gansey shook his head, Blue asked, “Is there anything we can do to help you?”

Their sincerity and care touched Gansey in a way he’d rarely felt. “Thank you. Both. But it’s nothing to worry about today. Things will work themselves out. Somehow.”

“if there’s anything we can do, you have to let us know,” Ronan reached over and squeezed his arm in a way that was truly reassuring. “After all you’re part of the family now.”

“I am?”

Blue nodded. “It’s the final initiation. You survive Bub and if your ass makes it through, you’re one of us.”

Tears filled his eyes before Gansey could help it. His emotions were too high and too raw, and it was embarrassing that such a silly statement could affect him so. “In that case, I’m happy to accept the honor. Now, what can I do next?”

Ronan squeezed him again then took off when one of the tree helpers called for him. Blue started to say something when Orla squeezed behind the counter with them.

“It’s time. Our special guest is ready,” she said and started poking at the iPod kept safely behind Blue.

“Hands off! How many times do I have to tell you that I’m in charge of music!” Blue snatched the iPad back. “Now go help him in and I’ll play the song.”

Gansey had been aware that there was music playing through loudspeakers scattered all over the farm, but he’d been too busy to concentrate on it. That changed when Blue started “Here Comes Santa Claus” and cranked up the volume of the sound system.

Santa walked into the barn, ho-ho-hoing and carrying a large sack of something. Gansey watched him work the crowd then take his seat on the dais. Parents immediately starting lining up with starstruck kids and got their cell phone cameras ready. Orla finished setting up a professional camera for portraits.

“Here,” Blue said and plopped something on Gansey’s head. He reached up and pulled off a green elf hat with a bell on the end of the bauble. “Why don’t you go help Santa? It’ll take your mind off things and give your butt a break from the manual labor.”

“I’d rather carry the trees,” Gansey said honestly.

“Too bad. He just needs someone to make sure the kids are controlled and the next one in line sits on Santa’s lap. Then you hand them a candy cane, smile and send them on their way with the paper showing the photo rates.”

“But the trees…”

“Ronan and the boys are handling the trees,” Blue said firmly. “Besides, this will give your bum a break. No more pulled muscles.”

She ruined the good will by swatting his butt lightly with a rolled up newspaper when he grudgingly agreed.

Orla insisted it was only a couple of hours, but those hours felt twice as long as the entire morning of physical labor.

The kids were not the problem, surprisingly, even though Gansey had little to no experience in child-minding. These kids followed instructions to line up then excitedly entered the little gate and sat with Santa with few issues. The parents, however, had all kinds of demands and complaints and after Gansey stuttered through a couple interactions, Orla took over dealing with pushy parents.

Gansey’s only mortification occurred when one distracted mother pointed her oldest youngster at Santa, handed her crying toddler to Gansey then reached down to pull her baby out of the stroller. It happened so fast that Gansey and the toddler stared at each other for a few long seconds in shock. Gansey had the impression of red, sticky face with wet eyes, and he had no idea what the toddler saw but the child stopped crying and started babbling at him.

Gansey peered around for help, but received none although Blue and Ronan stood side by side at the counter, both with their phones pointed directly at him. Then he heard a shutter sound and saw that Orla had also pointed her camera at the action. She winked again.

The mother snatched the toddler back with no thanks and plopped it on Santa’s lap beside its sibling. Gansey retreated in relief.

When another of Blue’s innumerable cousins came to take his place, Gansey bowed out in a hurry.

“That was the longest afternoon of my life,” he confided to Blue.

“It’s not over yet. Look, I want to let you know that we’re just powering through this weekend with limited to no meal breaks. Ronan makes sure the kids get fed, but the rest of us are just pushing through. You, though, you don’t have to stay.”

“No, I don’t mind. It’s good for me,” Gansey said, knowing that it was definitely keeping his mind and anxiety off Adam. “And I haven’t had a chance to really talk to Lynch yet.”

Blue’s smile was a reward enough, then she handed him a protein bar. “Eat and drink what you can then help Opal get the petting animals settled for the evening. They’ve had enough stimulation for the day. And so have you.”

Gansey agreed and munched through the bar. He used a porta-potty and took his time walking back around the farm observing the shoppers.

He eventually spotted Ronan standing inside the corral straightening a tree. Then he leaned against the fence and just took a moment to look around.

Gansey walked up behind him and leaned his arms on the top board of the fence. “You’ve done an amazing job here, Lynch. This place is incredible.”

Ronan didn’t startle but Gansey saw the side of a tiny smile. “It’s not mine alone. Sargent and her swarm of witches do a lot of the work.”

“Lynch! Don’t call them that!”

“Why not? It’s the truth.” At Gansey’s disbelief, Ronan explained, “Her mom and aunts and multitude of other hangers-on are the psychics in town. That’s close enough to witches for me.”

“Fascinating,” Gansey said. “I wonder if they have any knowledge of the ley lines and the local legends of paranormal activity.”

“Are you still studying that Glendower shit?”

“No. Yes. It’s not shit.”

“I just remember that year, looking up all that stuff about your Welsh king and drawing maps and planning where we’d go to research if we could ever get a ride.”

Gansey sighed. “That’s the last time I was able to do it all for fun,” he said. “When Father pulled me out of Aglionby, part of the deal was to forget all about my ‘obsession.’ He did allow me to major in history in college, but he and Mother assumed I would go on to teach. It wasn’t until I completed my Ph.D. that I’ve been free to research and write about what I want. And that’s why I’ve come back to Glendower and Henrietta.”

“Well, I’m glad you did,” Ronan said. “How else could I get all this free labor and another human sacrifice for Beelzebub?”

“You’re still not as funny as you think you are, Lynch.”

“I’m fucking hilarious,” Ronan said and turned to smile directly at Gansey. “I’ve been meaning to tell you that’s a nice hat by the way. Suits you.”

“Hat?” Gansey reached up and pulled off the green elf hat he’d totally forgotten he was wearing. “Now my hair will be…” he could feel the static of his hair standing up from the fabric of the hat.

“It’s a little sticking up. Here, take mine if you’re ashamed of your elf status.” Ronan whipped off the fleece beanie he’d been wearing all day and the evening before.

“Your hair!” Gansey couldn’t stop his cry.

Ronan’s hand flew up to touch his short, dark bouncy curls and undercut that didn’t have nearly as much static electricity as Gansey’s. “What about it?”

“It’s so short! Your curls were so long! I remember when you’d tie it back when we were riding our bikes and you were so…” Gansey trailed off before he could blurt out cute.

“You would’ve shit yourself if you’d seen me in high school. I shaved it all off and kept it off until two, three years ago? I wasn’t sure what would grow back, but this is about as long as I can stand it these days.”

Gansey lifted his hand an Ronan didn’t say anything as he ran his hand softly over the curls, pulling one to let it spring back, then stroked down the velvety softness of the short undercut. Gansey snatched his hand back when he realized that Ronan’s eyes had fallen shut and he was learning into the caress.

“Well, it suits you,” Gansey finally said. “And I don’t mind the elfen hat.” He jammed it back down to cover the mess of his hair.

Ronan opened his eyes and sighed. “I told Sargent to make sure you know that you can leave at any time. We’re working crazy hours this weekend, but you don’t need to stick around. I know I promised we’d catch up, but maybe we should do it later.”

“And I told her that I’m fine with staying and helping out. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be.”

“Good,” Ronan gave him the soft smile Gansey was rapidly coming to enjoy. “If you want to tough it out, we’d love to have you stay for dinner. Those of us who close up eat in the house after we’re all done.”

“I’d love that. Thank you. Now, I need to help Opal put the petting zoo back in their barns.”

“Make sure she does the goats herself,” Ronan suggested.

“I am not going into that goat barn again,” Gansey said firmly. “I understand why you have the tiny goats for the petting zoo but why the monstrous, murderous one?”

“Goats are natural Christmas tree recyclers,” Ronan said then explained. “People can bring their old trees back to us and we make sure they’re turned into other natural products so nothing is wasted. We get them turned into mulch and we feed them to the goats.”

“Goats can eat the pine needles?”

“Goats can eat any damn thing they want to,” Ronan said. “But yes, it’s all natural.”

Gansey pulled up the only knowledge he had of goats. “Do you have those fainting goats? The ones you see in videos? When they get startled, they faint?”

Ronan scoffed. “I don’t want those poor little guys bred for neurological problems. If I want a fainting goat, I wanna make that motherfucker faint myself.”

“That’s terrible!”

“But humane.” Ronan twitched the end of Gansey’s hat and made the bell ring. “I better get back to work. See you at dinner.”

Gansey watched him go then headed back to Opal and the animals. The rest of the afternoon and evening were a blur of near-constant activity with occasional breaks when Blue threw a food item or bottle of water at his head and he caught it in self-defense.

He was leaning against the side of the barn when the blare of a loudspeaker caught him unawares. It started playing a catchy pop Christmas song at three times the volume as the previous songs and when it hit the chorus, the female singer hit high notes that shook the speaker.

Gansey ducked into the barn to find that the line was empty for the first time all day, and Blue and Calla were counting out the register.

“What is this music?” he asked.

“Our sign from above,” Blue said, not letting him distract her. Once she and Calla had agreed, she explained, “When we’re ready to close down, we play this song as a sign to Ronan and anyone left in the lot to wrap it up. It’s the only time I let this obnoxious song play.”

“C’mon maggot, it’s a fucking holiday classic. What’s Christmas without a little Mariah?” Ronan asked as he carried armfuls of supplies into the barn.

“It’d be a happier holiday, that’s for damn sure,” she said.

Gansey watched as they and the rest of the helpers moved everything portable into the barn and made sure things were safe and secure for the night.

“That your Range Rover in the field?” asked one of the helpers, a man at least a decade older than Gansey whose most defining feature was his lively gray eyes.

“Yes, is it in the way?”

“You should move it down next to the house. After all, I hear you’re family now.”

“I’m Gansey,” he said, flattered by the notion that somehow everyone knew he’d been accepted into the group.

“Call me Grey,” the man said and accepted Gansey’s hand for a shake.

“Are you related to Blue?”

Grey chuckled. “That’s a safe assumption with this crowd. I’m Maura’s partner. And I have to tell you that you did a fine job this afternoon as an elf.”

Gansey stared in realization. “You were Santa?”

“Yes, for my sins,” Grey sighed. “It’s really only because I’m the oldest male figure in this group and so I was volunteered for it.”

“You did very well dealing with all those children.”

“It’s all right when they’re temporary. And I have the disguise so no one know it’s me.”

Gansey laughed and went off to move his SUV to an empty spot outside the house. By the time he returned to the barn, Calla and the money had disappeared to somewhere, Blue was shutting off the lights, and Gansey helped her push the big doors closed.

She led him to the back door of the house, where Gansey remembered shucking off muddy shoes and wet coats before entering Aurora Lynch’s domain.

There was now a trough-style sink in the mudroom where he and Blue washed their hands thoroughly. He jumped and shrieked when something nudged him in the back of his knees.

“Easy now, it’s not a goat,” Blue teased. She leaned over to rub the head of a shaggy black dog who leaned against her legs and panted happily. The dog’s tail slapped Gansey’s leg again.

“Oh, hello,” Gansey politely held a hand down so the dog could sniff. Once that formality was taken care of, the dog nuzzled his hand until he petted it.

“This is Chainsaw, Ronan’s baby, aren’t you girl?”

“Chainsaw? That does sound like a Lynch christened name.”

The dog followed them inside and settled under the huge dining room table that was already set. Blue motioned Gansey to choose a seat, and he sank down gratefully but cautiously. Maura and Gray were setting out casseroles that Persephone had made and Jimmi poured drinks for everyone that joined them.

When Ronan entered, everyone else took their seats. Ronan stopped at the head of table and looked at each of them. “I just want to say thanks, for everything. I know today’s been long and shitty but you all are great. Just two more days of this and things should calm down. In the meantime, eat up and sit down while you can.”

“Real inspirational, asshole,” Blue told him. But their shared look spoke volumes.

Ronan flipped her off then sat down and began to load his plate. Gansey assumed the warm sentiments and speeches were over, so he followed suit. There wasn’t much small talk during the meal since everyone was tired. Gansey picked at the hot apple pie someone put in front of him for dessert and fought to stay awake.

Then everyone was getting up and grabbing their own plates, and Gansey followed them to the industrial kitchen where Persephone loaded the big dishwasher. He stumbled his way back to the house with Blue, and began to remember that he had to drive back to Henrietta.

“I’m going to make sure they get off okay and lock the gate,” Ronan announced as he followed the women and Gray out to their cars. “Gansey, will you stay for a minute?”

He nodded and stifled a yawn.

Blue yawned widely with no attempt to hide it. “I’m going to make some cocoa. Why don’t you wait for Ronan on the porch?”

Gansey walked slowly through the house, down the hall toward the wide front porch, Chainsaw trailing behind him. He noted the differences but also realized that a lot remained how he remembered it. That included the swing that still hung on the porch. He slumped onto it as the cars drove down the drive slowly, and he might have dozed off until Ronan dropped down next to him.

“How’s your ass?” Ronan asked.

“All the better for you asking about it,” Gansey yawned. Ronan slung his arm over the back of the swing, creating a long line of heat across Gansey’s back. Ronan pushed his feet into the porch, making the swing move gently. Chainsaw lay in front of them.

Blue joined them a moment later on the porch with three mugs. Gansey accepted and took a swig that made him choke in surprise.

“You don’t like Irish cocoa?” Blue asked in an overly innocent voice.

“That’s a lot of liquor in there,” Gansey coughed. “And I think you’re mistaking Irish coffee.”

“Well, Henrietta cocoa then,” Ronan said, enjoying a long drink. “Perfect to wind down the day.”

“But I have to drive back to the B&B,” Gansey argued.

“Just stay here,” Ronan said. “You can’t drive down to Henrietta like this. I’ll call Patty and tell her you’re staying over so she doesn’t freak the fuck out.”

“I don’t want to overstay—”

“We don’t want you to crash on the way,” Blue said. “I’m staying in Matthew’s old room. You can take Declan’s.”

Gansey let his eyes close just for a moment. Ronan’s arm had curled closer around him, and his body was warmth all along his side. He knew it wouldn’t be safe to drive in his condition, and frankly, he didn’t want to move.

“All right,” he agreed.

Blue finished her cocoa and announced, “I’m taking first shower,” before she went back into the house.

“I don’t have any clothes,” Gansey mumbled.

“No big deal. I’ll give you some of mine.”

“Won’t fit. You got so tall.”

“Your jeans won’t get any cleaner, if you’re hanging around tomorrow.”

“I don’t want to be in the way.”

“You aren’t. I want you to stay. Come on, get up. You can have second shower.”

Gansey did not want to leave the swing and the heat of Ronan, but he did let Ronan take his hands and pull him to his feet and right into a hug. “I’m glad you’re here,” Ronan said in a very quiet, private voice, just for the two of them.

“Me too,” Gansey confided.

He knew Ronan escorted him into the house and toward the bathroom. Then Blue made sure he had clean clothes from Ronan and pointed him in the direction of the bed.

Gansey spared a thought that he was going to be so stiff in the morning, then he fell asleep without hesitation for the first time in years.

CHAPTER 4

[phoenixyfriend]

Ko-Fi prompt from KemiKitty:

id enjoy hearing about concerts and ticket money if you want

Referencing my “how does this make money/how does this lose money” in this post.

Whoo! I actually really enjoy talking about money flow like this. Digging into examples like this helps with understanding the interconnectedness of the economic systems we inhabit, and with why things cost What They Do.

Disclaimer: I have not worked in this industry. I just majored in business, watch a lot of documentaries/video essays, and like to break down business and economic topics. When I got to performances, I try to figure these things out as an observer (dinner theater from watching Lindsey Sterling before she got super famous, more Traditional concerts at Staller Performing Arts center, Broadway shows) and asking questions of tour guides when at places like the Vienna Opera House.

Our Example: A moderately popular performer, in an enclosed performance space with a stage, fixed seating, and food service.

Let us consider a performer of middling popularity. They go on tours, but only in the lower 48 states, not yet internationally. They do single nights at an independent venue, which has either dinner tables or rows of audience seating. Let's say... 350 seats, in a middle-sized city, with $30/ticket on average, with wiggle room depending on seating, VIP passes, and discounts (groupons, senior, military, annual passes, etc).

So, who is getting paid, and who is paying?

Money coming into the venue, tied directly to this one event:

Tickets The people who came to this concert are paying for the tickets. 350 seats, at an average of $30/ticket, that's about $10,500. Most of this money does not go to the venue, but may pass through it, or leave a cut with it. (Depends on the ticketing software; we're saying this is an independent venue, not part of the ticketmaster situation, so it's a maybe.)

Food and drink The venue sells snacks, possibly full meals, if it's a dinner-and-show location. It may sell alcohol. It almost definitely sells drinks, maybe has vending machines if nothing else. If attendees cannot bring their own food and drink, and don't want to leave the building so they don't miss the show, then the venue can mark up the food they sell.

Merchandise Dependent on the type of merch and the venue, this may be a flat fee, where the performer puts down a few hundred dollars up front to set up a table for after the concert, or it might be taking a small cut of whatever is sold that night. They might not charge anything, but we'll include it as a likely avenue of income. I can see some kinder venues waiving the fee for newer, up-and-coming artists, but generally you can assume that the venue will take a cut.

Money flowing out of the venue, tied directly to this one event:

The Performer and their team The ticket costs will go primarily to the performer, their backup dancers/singers/band, their manager, and whatever fund they have for things other than wages, like a tour bus rental fee, the label, the driver, the night's post-concert laundry costs, and so on. The chances of all that money going to a single performer is very low; you can generally assume they have backup, management, additional costs, and someone pulling the strings. There are exceptions, like unaffiliated stand-up comedians or other, genuinely solo acts, but for the type of event I'm outlining, these are all contributing factors. Performers may bring their own lighting/sound techs. The venue also might provide their own. For a larger venue, I'd assume both are involved; one who knows the concert's program, and one who knows the venue's setup.

Venue staff The ushers, lighting/sound technicians, the bar staff, the cook, the janitor, security, and anyone else who is working night-of is getting paid. We can equate their pay to the money coming in from specifically the food and drink sales, along with tips for the waitstaff in particular. By this, I mean that the correlation is such that, should sales fall, the corresponding cut in costs is employee labor (the bar staff and cooks), rather than the performers (whose costs are calculated in relation to the money they bring in relating to the ticket sales).

Food and Drink Raw ingredients for the food, wholesale costs for the liquor, napkins, single-use straws, and so on.

Printed Programs Someone has to print the little booklet that tells you who's performing tonight, who's performing for the next few months, and anything else you need to know. If it's a big-name cultural center, they may even include some interviews! But ink is expensive, and that's a lot of paper.

Money coming into the venue, not connected to the specific event:

Advertising Does the venue have posters around for local businesses? For insurance companies? For upcoming events? Someone is paying them for that. Does the venue intersperse the pre-show music over the speakers with the occasional ad spot? Someone is paying them for that. Does the venue have ads in the program booklet? Someone is paying them for that. For a really, really large venue, the kind with dozens or hundreds of employees and massive lighting/sound setups, they are liable to get most of their income from advertising.

Government Grants and Private Donations Depending on the venue, they may donations or grants. This is more likely to apply to a university/community performing arts center than a for-profit dinner theater, but it's a possibility.

Merchandise The venue may have merch that is unrelated to the performance of the night. A historic or novelty location is most likely to have success with this, selling beer glasses with their logo or a t-shirt with 'home of the [band from several decades ago]' printed across the front.

Money flowing out of the venue, not connected to the specific event:

Administrative/Overhead Employees Management, bookkeeping, legal, marketing, and so on.

Utilities Electricity, water, sewage, gas, telecomm, and so on.

Taxes, Licenses, Fees Sales tax, property tax, liquor license, etc.

Mortgage or lease The venue's business owner is not necessarily the one to own the property outright. They may pay rent to a property owner, or mortgage to the bank.

Maintenance - Building Codes Any large building is going to need plumbers, glass techs, electricians, roofers, and so on coming by with regularity. (This part, I actually do know; I used to do repairs dispatching, and you'd be amazed how frequently a big box store needs someone to come by about the toilets.)

Maintenance - Venue Codes There are certain things that an entertainment venue needs to do that other businesses... don't. Namely, fire safety. It's a huge deal. Staying up to code can be expensive, especially if you need to get your backstage/wing curtains chemically treated again, which can be anywhere from one to five years, or the next time someone spills water on it. (That's the main reason open containers of liquids aren't allowed backstage.)

Marketing Just like people pay the venue to advertise, the venue pays for others to advertise it. This could be in the local newspaper or online, but if a given performer isn't someone semi-famous on tour that has a following, then something else needs to draw in a regular paying crowd.

Miscellaneous Overhead There is a lot of overhead for any business of moderate size that has its costs spread out over the year. This includes hiring an accountant for tax season, purchasing uniforms for employees, replacing cutlery and plates and furniture as it wears out or gets lost, repainting the walls every few years, office supplies when the printer for the programs wears out, and so on.

Is this everything? Almost definitely not.

But, hopefully, I've untangled a few things that you may not have considered before.

Those tickets and drinks you bought cover a lot more than just the performer!

...unless it's through ticketmaster, in which case it's probably just the monopoly.

----

If you enjoyed this post, please support me on ko-fi! You can also prompt me for a business/econ topic of your choice here.

[snapthistiger]

exercise 07102024

bike ride to work

8 x 10 incline sit ups

3 x 10 pec machine

3 x 10 lat raise

3 x 10 low row

30 minutes on the step mill

3 x 10 cable press

3 x 10 cable row

worked lifeguard job 8a to noon

bike ride to my Mom's, the library, the city business center, Kroger, then home

the gym workers received mini Hershey bars

work was ok. watched swimmers for 2 hours and then cleaning for 2 hours. i picked up work shifts on Thursday and Saturday

visited with my Mom and the sitter and they were doing well. my Mom has recently said she is hearing music when no music is playing

returned 1 book from my Mom and picked up 2 new books for her

payed the utility bill at the city business center

picked up the sale paper at Kroger

top left = competition pool with only 1 swimmer in the left lane

bottom = beautiful clouds and sky

today brought to you by the color blue

hope you have a peaceful afternoon and evening..