#built in desk in dining room

[kikcorgi]

Kansas City Great Room Great room - mid-sized transitional medium tone wood floor great room idea with beige walls

[confronttheconfidencegap]

Farmhouse Dining Room - Dining Room

An illustration of a small cottage dining room design with a vinyl floor

[readrtheme]

Kitchen Dining Dining Room in Orange County Mid-sized traditional kitchen/dining room combo idea with a light wood floor, beige walls, and no fireplace

[krrjuus]

Mediterranean Dining Room - Kitchen Dining Kitchen/dining room combo - large mediterranean travertine floor kitchen/dining room combo idea with beige walls and no fireplace

[hellosaidthemoonisafangirl]

Contemporary Dining Room in Columbus An illustration of a sizable, contemporary kitchen/dining room combination with light wood floors, gray walls, and stone and two-sided fireplaces

[rheya28]

Ink Heart Tattoo Shop ♥ The Sims 4: Speed Build // CC

Ink Heart is a small industrial tattoo shop that combines urban edge with a welcoming vibe. The space features graffitied and exposed brick walls, giving it a raw and artistic feel.

➽ Rheya's Notes:

● Hello my lovelies! It's been a while since I last posted a build. I'm still quite busy with school until end of August, so build releases are gunna be inconsistent. I will try my best to upload and will notify you all if anything changes. ● Anyways, for this build I used Cepzid's tattoo mod! I placed this build as a generic lot type, but you can also have it set as a cafe!

➽ Important Notes:

●Please make sure to turn bb.moveobjects on! ● Please DO NOT reupload or claim as your own. ● Feel free to tag me if you are using it, I love seeing my build in other peoples save file ● Feel free to edit/tweak my builds, but please make sure to credit me as the original creator! ● Thank you to all CC Creators ● Please let me know if there's any problem with the build

➽ Speed Build Video

00:00 Beginning 00:02 Intro 00:25 Speed Build 10:55 Photos

➽ Lot Details

Lot Name: Ink Heart Tattoo Shop Lot type: Generic or Cafe Lot size: 30 x 20 Location: I built this in San Sequoia, but it could be placed anywhere

➽ MODS

● Tool Mod by Twisted Mexi ● Functional Tattoo Chair by Cepzid Creations

➽ CC List

Note: I reuse a lot of the same cc in all my builds, specifically cc's from felixandre, HeyHarrie, Tuds, and Pierisim so if you're interested in downloading past, present, future build from me i suggest getting all their cc sets to make downloading a little easier! other creators include Sooky, Charlypancakes, Sixam, Thecluttercat, Myshunosun, awingedllama, Peacemaker, kiwisim4. This will also ensure that the lots are complete and are not missing any items upon downloading ! Joyceisfox ● Simple Live pt [4] S-Imagination ● Nota Living Room [painting] Simlicy ● Sketches Sooky ● Abstract Framed Art Wooden frame Xtc ● Graffiti Pack House of Harlix ● Bafroom ● Baysic ● Harluxe ● Orjanic pt [1][2] Bbygyal123 ● Aesthetic Collection ● Martini FelixAndre ● Berlin pt [3] ● Chataeau pt [2] ● Colonial pt [3] ● Florence pt [4] ● Grove pt [1] ● Soho [all] CharlyPancakes ● M&S Construction pt [1] ● Sleepy Head Collection ● Soak Harrie ● Klean [all] ● Kwatei ● Octave pt [2][3][4] ● Spoons pt [2] ● Jardane ● Livin Rum ● Kichen Lilac Creative ● Jewelry Collection [sign] Little Dica ● Rise & Grind Myshunosun ● Arrie [laptop] ● Gale Dining [rug] Peacemaker ● Creta [Plant] ● Post Modern living [artwork] Pierisim ● Autie Vera ● Calderone ● Combles ● David Apartment pt [1] ● MCM pt [1][3][5] ● Oak House ● Stefan bedroom ● Unfold ● Winter Garden pt [1] ● Wood Land Ranch Mlyssmakescc ● Pufferhead [wall art] Ravasheen ● Art Attach Graffiti Sixam ● Hotel Bedroom [desk] ● Teen room [wall light] The Clutter Cat ● Sunny Sundae pt [3] Syboulette ● Contemporary Haven [wall art] ● East Oak [wall art] Tuds ● 2nd Wave [chair] ● Cross [wall light]

● Tray File: Patreon Page ● Origin ID: anrheya [previous name: applez] ● Twitter: Rheya28__ ● Tiktok: Rheya28__ ● Patreon: Rheya28 ● Youtube: Rheya28__

[jinmark]

Dining Room Kitchen Dining in Orange County Ideas for a mid-sized, transitional, light-wood floor kitchen/dining room remodel without a fireplace and beige walls

[flancrossing]

Hall in Providence

[frozendistrict]

Dining Room Kitchen Dining in New York

[ucitavanje]

Providence Family Room Home Bar

[apuckishwit]

Making Room

Steve never gets into DnD.

Not even after Eddie convinces him to join a one-shot over one Christmas when the kids are all back from college and jobs and far-flung adventures. He's not a jerk about it or anything. He sits and makes a character with his boyfriend and he does his best with the role-playing and he only asks Dustin for help with the dice seven or eight times (and everyone had promised to give him an even dozen before they gave him shit about it, so it was fine). It's fine. He's not mad that he spent the time doing it with Eddie and the kids (some of them taller than him now, in spitting distance of college degrees and first apartments and jobs and spouses and lives, but they'll always be kids to him).

But afterwards he kisses Eddie and says it really and truly isn't for him, sorry babe.

And that's okay.

When he and Robin are scavenging through yet another thrift store for furniture and dishes and lamps for the apartment she and Nancy are getting in Indianapolis (he's so sad that her room in the little house he shares with Eddie is going back to being a guest room, but he's so damn happy that she and Nance have stopped dancing around each other...and they're only moving about half an hour away, he'll still see her all the time), and he spots an impractically long desk/table, onviously custom-built, with an absurd number of drawers and compartments built into it, he buys it immediately. He wrestles it into Eddie's van that they borrowed for the day, and smiles apologetically when Robin has to hold like three boxes on her lap. He gets it into their dining room while Eddie's at work, graciously gifting their own table to Robin and Nancy, and it's worth all the hassle (and the fact that one end of the table pokes about a foot into the living room space) when Eddie comes home to something big enough for even his most complicated campaign maps and with plenty of storage for all his dice and miniatures and source books.

And sturdy enough for Eddie's most...enthusiastic...thanks, they find out that night.

Steve never gets into DnD.

But every time Hellfire (whatever incarnation of Hellfire it is, be it the Hawkins crew or some of the guys from the little record shop Eddie works at in town, or some combination) meets up for a game, they get used to Eddie yelling, "Stevie! Evens or odds?" everytime a situation calls for a luck die. They learn that complimenting the snacks Steve sets out will sometimes get them advantage on a roll. They watch Eddie snag Steve's wrist as he passes in or out of the dining room and get him to roll a D20 for various and random reasons. Steve always obliges, before drifting back to the couch with a beer or a slice of pizza and whatever basketball or baseball game is on.

Steve never gets into DnD.

But sometimes Eddie spreads newspapers over the Campaign Table (TM) and sets pots of paint and rows of miniatures out, and he and Steve sit together for a few hours, Steve slapping on the basecoats with a single pot of white, gray, or black and Eddie going to town on the details while they chat about their day, playing footsie under the table or stealing kisses while they wait for something to dry.

"Babe! I need a name for the friendly barkeep who knows more than he seems!"

"Carl."

"He's a half-orc!"

"Those are the big green guys, right?"

"Yeah!"

"Hmmm. Big Carl."

"Perfect!"

Steve never gets into DnD. But he loves Eddie, and he loves how into DnD Eddie is. So he makes room in his life for this thing that Eddie loves.

***

Eddie never gets into sports.

Like, objectively he understands that some people enjoy running around getting all sweaty, trying to keep some kind of ball away from other people and make it go into some kind of receptacle. And he certainly appreciates the view of some of those people in tight little shorts.

Particularly Steve.

Like honestly? If it wouldn't get him labeled a total creep (and they weren't so careful about giving anyone a reason to question the assumption that they're just two young friends living together to save money until they find respectable women to marry)...he'd park his van out by the little middle school where Steve teaches gym and coaches basketball and baseball every day during his lunch break, just to watch his boyfriend run the mile with his students in those shorts that hug the muscles of his thighs just right.

But he doesn't like sports apart from the strictly prurient interest he has in watching Steve wear sports-appropriate clothes.

He tries. He wants to know just what it is that keeps Steve glued to the TV when his favorite teams are playing, wants to understand why Steve yells and groans and jumps up with wild cheers, spilling popcorn all over the living room floor. He just...doesn't get it. Steve tries to explain March Madness to him one year and it makes no more sense than when Wayne tried to when Eddie was a kid. Eventually he just shrugs, kisses Steve's nose, and goes back to petting through his boyfriend's hair with a, sorry, baby, it's not for me.

And that's okay.

He gets up early the week Steve is overseeing baseball tryouts, to make sure his boyfriend has a travel mug of coffee fixed just the way he likes it, and a good breakfast waiting for him when he gets out of the shower. Steve is unquestionably the cook in their relationship, but Young Eddie ate a lot of breakfast for dinner over the years and Adult Eddie makes damn good pancakes, omelettes, and French toast.

Eddie never gets into sports.

But he gets Lucas to break down exactly what kind of notes and stats Steve will be keeping track of and draws up a template "character sheet" for baseball players, spending an hour at the local library laboriously making copies with their cantankerous mimeograph machine.

He sure as shit never gets up at the crack of dawn to go running around the neighborhood the way Steve does...but on days when it starts raining or snowing halfway through Steve's run, he'll drag himself out of bed and throw some towels in the dryer, so they're nice and warm when Steve comes back inside.

Eddie never gets into sports.

But he takes every overtime shift he can for a month, so he can take Steve to Chicago for his twenty-fifth birthday to see the Bulls play. The seats aren't great or anything, and it's noisy as fuck, crowded as fuck, and he has no idea why his boyfriend is losing his mind every time that Jordan guy so much as touches the ball...but Steve's eyes are sparkling, the color is high in his cheeks, and when they get back to their hotel that night, they've barely closed the door before Steve is shoving him against it, devouring his mouth.

"Hey Eds, Ohio State or Georgia Tech?"

"For what?"

"I'm doing my brackets for the pool I've got with Hopper and Lucas!"

"Um, whoever's in red!"

"Ohio State it is, thanks babe!"

Eddie never gets into sports. But that's okay. He loves Steve, and he loves how happy Steve is when he's playing, or coaching, or running (God help him, he fell in love with someone who gets up at six am to run. Without anything chasing him.) So he makes room in his life for this thing that Steve loves.

Because certainly, love grows in shared passions and matching interests. But it also flourishes in the carefully tended space you make just for the things that make your person happy...even if it's just not for you.

[hometoursandotherstuff]

This 1924 uh, er...roof is a bargain for $240K. It's located in Garden City, KS and has 2bds, 2ba.

Not bad, right? The entrance actually reminds me of an earth ship home. This is a nice, sunny, plant room with a built-in seat.

It must've been remodeled b/c it's giving mid-century modern vibes. The living room is spacious, has a great fireplace and a built-in desk with a storage armoire and wood plank beamed ceiling. I like the tile floor and the lighting, too.

Needs a good cleaning, some decor, and it will be a beautiful room.

This is unique- doors open to reveal a terrace to the plant room.

There are so many interesting features to this home, like a large walk-in closet.

There are also open levels. Lots of them.

More stairs. Could this be a bedroom? There's a full bath and a curtain for privacy.

The bath was definitely remodeled in mid-century. Look at the sinks.

Lots of shelving in the hallway. At least I think it's a hallway.

More stairs.

Look at the bathroom sink in there- it's in a recessed box-like structure with a light.

This is the dining area with an overhead chandelier and built-in cabinets.

And, the kitchen.

It's nice and on one of the upper levels, so the window has a view of the room below.

Kitchen and dining room.

The family room has a lovely fireplace.

Across from the family room is another open area. I don't know what you'd use that for. Maybe a home office.

Through the doors of the family room, there seems to be a small loft area and more stairs.

On the way down the stairs there's a planter.

This house is like a maze. Looks like a closet and bath.

And, down here is the laundry room.

I like this house, but right now I'm lost. I think it's the stupid photos they took.

At last, I think I found a bedroom.

We're back in the plant room. If you look up, you can see one room above and another room below.

The back of the property has a large cement area and fence.

Inside the fence is a huge dirt yard and a cement patio.

There's a shed, too. It really needs some landscaping and looks like there's plenty of room for a garden. It's an 8,681 sq. ft. lot.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/901-E-Pine-St-Garden-City-KS-67846/77195908_zpid/

[nerdmom1718]

Is Link ambidextrous?

We know Link uses his sword with right hand, but I think Link is actually ambidextrous.

I think he has been left handed like other Links when he was a kid but he practiced to use sword with right hand.

I found something that show us Link is ambidextrous. And about more Zelink details.

This is a Link’s desk in Hateno house in TotK (same with BotW Hateno house) Now Zelda is living in this house but desk is still for Link’s use (left handed)

This is a Zelda’s secret room in Hateno house and the desk is for Zelda’s use (right handed)

This is a living room(?) in Hateno house (only TotK version) There are pen and papers on the shelf set for left handed (Link)

This is a study room in Link’s Tarrey Town house. The desk is set for right handed (Zelda)

This is a dining room in Link’s Tarrey Town house. We can see Link is using this table alone now. The table is set for left handed (Link)

And also I found another small detail!

We have brown and blue cups in Hateno house. It is same with BotK version Hateno house. But I think Zelda liked that blue cup when she moved in here and it became Zelda’s. Because she used a similar blue cup in her study room.

I checked every house in Hateno Village and there were many different design of cups. So Nintendo didn’t have to use similar blue cup in the study room.

(I found only one house looked like copy and paste of Link’s house but I think it was mistake because it was literally looked like copy and paste)

And you see brown cups on the table in Tarrey Town house. Same brown cups in Hateno house.

So Link has been using a brown cup and Zelda has been using a blue cup when they were in Hateno house.

But there are only Link’s brown cup on the dinner table and we don’t see Zelda’s.

I checked kitchen shelf and I found Zelda’s blue cup on the shelf.

So Link bought the same blue cup for Zelda in his new house!

So… Link has been living in the Hateno house with Zelda. Or he has visited her a lottttttttttttttttttt.

And he built a new house and made a study room for Zelda and prepared Zelda’s favorite cup in the new house.

I think this is very romantic 💚

[azrielslightintheshadows]

Hello! I hope all is going well for you. Firstly i wanted to say thank you so much for these wonderful fics you have been posting lately. I am so happy i somehow stumbled upon your page and now am able to read so many beautifully written stories.

I was hoping you could write a fic with azriel where him and reader have known each other for a while, but later on when elain come in the picture along her sisters, reader feels left out because azriel isn't there with reader anymore and is spending more time with elain's company and this makes reader feel neglected because she can't voice her feelings for him. Perhaps rhysand or cassian see reader slowly being left out and decide to approach her and reader lets all her feelings out, so they can talk to azriel and azriel fixes everything with the reader...they could end up being mates...upto you. Thank youu❤️❤️

Idiot.

Azriel x f!Reader

Masterlist.

Warnings; angst, swearing.

Hello! Thank you for your kind words. I hope you enjoy it! I can rewrite it if you don't like it!

When you met Azriel you instantly fell in love with him, the darkness that surrounded him never bothered you and when he realized that, he opened up to you and after some years he considered you his best friend. It hurt at first and no matter how much you wanted to tell him about your feelings, you were too scared of ruining your friendship and losing him. So, you ignored the ache in your chest and prayed to the Cauldron that he would fall for you too. You never completely understood why you felt that pull to him, it was like you were hypnotized. His sharp face with those high cheekbones and the strong jawline, those full lips and hazel eyes and not to mention the body that looked like it was carved by the Mother herself to tempt the world. He was made from sin and the most dark and unholy dreams, his huge membranous wings adding to that terrifying aura around him. But what could bring everyone on their knees was his personality; If you managed to get past those adamant walls he has built around him you would be mesmerized by him, his personality is a light that pushes all his darkness away. Only a fool wouldn’t be enchanted by him, and you sure as hell aren’t a fool.

So now that the other two Archeron sisters burst into your life and the middle one showed interest in Azriel every ounce of patience you had dissolved. Azriel would wake up, find Elain, spend his day with her, have dinner with everyone and then disappear into his room. Not even a second spent on you, his alleged best friend.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

You were having breakfast with Cassian and Nesta in the house of wind when Azriel walked into the dining room.

“G’morning” Cassian mumbled as he chewed.

Azriel nodded and headed to the balcony.

“Az could you come pick me up around 4, I want to go to the bookstore.” You asked with a hopeful smile.

“I don’t think so, ask Cassian or Rhys” he replied without even looking at you and flared his wings, shooting up.

You turned your gaze to your plate and blinked the tears away.

“I can take you there” Cassian’s voice was soft, and his big palm rested on top of your own.

“It’s okay, excuse me” you whispered and got up leaving the room as quickly as you could.

“He’s such an idiot” Nesta said and continued eating.

Cassian was staring at the wall across him, his hand scratching his chin as he was lost deep in thought.

“I have to go” he said suddenly and got up. Nesta only nodded.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“I’m telling you Rhys he is completely ignoring her. She looked so broken today” Cassian exclaimed and hit the desk with his hand.

Rhysand was staring at him, trying to remember the last time he had seen you and Azriel together.

“I believe you Cass, I will watch them today during dinner and if he is ignoring her, we will talk to him together.” He replied and waved a dismissive hand at him.

Cassian left the office; he passed one of the big windows and glanced outside. Azriel and Elain were standing in the garden, Elain was explaining something as she pointed to some flowers. The warlord shook his head and left; he knew that if he stayed longer, he would snap.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Everyone gathered in the dining room of the house of wind for dinner, Cassian and Rhys sharing a look and taking their seats. You entered a few minutes later and glanced around the table, your usual seat next to Azriel was taken by Elain, the only empty seat was between Cassian and Mor.   “Az, do you want to change seats with me?” Cassian asked the moment you sat. Azriel furrowed his eyebrows.

“Why?” he asked.

“Because you and y/n usually sit next to each other.” Cassian shrugged.

“Oh, no its okay” Azriel replied.

You let a shaky breath and picked your fork. Rhysand sighed and shook his head.

You didn’t know what happened during dinner, you were too busy keeping the tears back and thinking everything that was going on with Azriel. When everyone was done with their food, they moved to the living room with a bottle of wine. You tiptoed to your bedroom knowing that no one would notice and laid on your bed, letting the tears and sobs escape your body.

Cassian and Rhysand noticed though and they followed you. They stood in front of your door, their hearts breaking with every sob you let. Cassian opened the door, and they walked inside.

You felt the bed dipping.

“Az?” you asked as you turned to look.

Cassian’s expression turned from sad to angry. “That fucking idiot.” he growled.

“Y/n what’s going on?” Rhysand asked.

You were so tired of keeping all those feelings hidden, you couldn’t take it anymore, so you told them everything. How you instantly fell in love with Azriel, how you kept your feelings hidden in fear of losing him and how he broke your heart by spending all his time with Elain.

The two males frowned as you spoke.

“He is such an idiot, I told him to confess his feelings to you. He never listens” Cassian exclaimed and got up.

“Don’t worry y/n we will handle this.” Rhysand said and they both hurried off.

You were gaping at the door. Feelings? Confess? What? You were so confused that your brain felt like it would explode.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Cassian marched into the living room, grabbing Azriel by the collar of his shirt and dragging him outside. The shadowsinger didn’t fight his brother, he knew that Cassian could be a brute when he needed something. What he didn’t expect though was the angry look on Rhysand’s face when they reached the balcony. “What the fuck is going on?” Azriel shouted as he fixed his collar.

“You are a fucking idiot that’s what’s going on” Cassian growled. “Rhys?” Azriel asked ignoring the warlord.

“You’ve been ignoring y/n from the moment Elain stepped into our court. When was the last time you spent time with her?” Rhysand asked.

“I’ve been helping Elain adjust like you asked me to” Azriel exclaimed.

“Elain is fine for a while now.” Cassian said.

“She wants to hang out with me, she feels safe when I’m there” the shadowsinger explained.

“She wants to hang out with you because she likes you” Rhysand snorted. “That’s not the point of this conversation” Cassian growled. “Y/n is in her room crying her heart out right now because she is completely in love with you.”

“What?” Azriel’s eyes were wide as he turned his gaze to Rhysand. The High Lord nodded and Azriel spun around and sprinted off.

“Finally” Cassian screamed.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Your door burst open and Azriel stumbled inside, his eyes wide as he scanned your room.

“Angel please don’t cry” he breathed when he saw your face and approached you.

You couldn’t speak, you just stared at him as he knelt in front of you cupping your face.

“I’m so so sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you angel. Rhys ordered me to help Elain adjust and then I kept spending time with her because I thought she needed me. I didn’t realize I was neglecting you, Cauldron I’m such an idiot.” He sighed. “Cassian said that you have feelings for me, is it true?”

You gulped and nodded.

“Even after all of this?” he asked.

“Yes” you whispered.

“Good. Because I’ve been in love with you from the moment I saw you for the first time. I feared losing you if I told you. I couldn’t believe that a sweet creature like you could love a monster like me.”

“Don’t say that! Please… you’re not a monster Az” you exclaimed.

“I kill faeries for a living”.

“You protect your court and family, and those faeries that you kill are not innocent. If someone can’t understand that then they are stupid.”

“My sweet angel….” Azriel stopped talking and furrowed his eyebrows.

“What?” you asked him. “Do you feel that too?” his hand went on his chest.

You felt it too, like a string unwrapping and then it snapped making both of you gasp and lean back.

“My sweet mate” Azriel whispered and smiled. You couldn’t believe it, your heart skipped way too many beats.

“My mate” you said, and tears filled your eyes.

“Do you forgive me?” Azriel asked.

“Yes. But you will stay away from her at least until I get used to the bond” “I will” he nodded “I love you my beautiful mate” “I love you Az” you smiled and he kissed you.

Requests are open but delayed!

[copperbadge]

Last night I decided it was time for some good ol' fashioned Danish antidepressants: A LEGO KIT.

[ID: Two photos taken from the head of the bed; in the first, my cats are visible loafing near the foot, beyond a lap tray with lego bricks on it. In the second image, Dearborn the tortie stares at the camera while I show off the start of the build in the foreground.]

Normally I'd sit at the dining table for this, but Dearborn has begun to get antsy in the evenings because she and I tend to hang out in the living room while Polk won't leave the bed (I leave the heated pad on during the day for them) and Dearborn doesn't like it when the whole clowder isn't together. So, I've taken to doing evening projects on the bed, if I can.

[ID: Three images of the build in progress; the first shows a strange-looking elongated piece, brown at one end and blue at the other with a circular black area in the middle. The second image shows this piece plus two sinuously curving blue pieces made of multiple lego bricks. The third image shows the curving pieces snapped onto the long piece to form a ukulele, with the circular black area representing the central hole in the sound board.]

This is the Tropical Ukulele 3-in-1 kit, where you can build a ukulele but the same bricks will build a little dolphin or a surfboard if you prefer. I really like how it came together -- you build the sound board and neck first, then stick the curved edges of the body on. The result is that it looks like random shapes until you snap the body on, and then it looks like a ukulele very suddenly, which is extremely satisfying.

Polk did some quality testing.

[ID: A photograph of Polk the tabby, who has become interested in the build and is sniffing the "head" of the ukulele where the tuning pegs are sticking out, her ears slightly awry.]

It's very pretty, and the instrument has a nice weight to it; it also feels like maybe lego has done some reworking to make their bricks slightly more snug when snapped together, because it feels like it held together more securely than the typewriter I built a few years ago. I also got to build flowers for the first time, which are something Lego is offering more and more frequently. They're fiddly as hell to build but the end effect is great.

And I love that the head is slightly hinged -- the "strings" go on very loosely, and they're flexible so they were kind of bent all over, but then you tilt the head back slightly and they go taut and stay that way.

Overall very satisfying build and lovely final product, 11/10 would strum if I could.

[ID: The finished product, resting on my lap desk on the bed; a light blue ukulele with silver "strings" sits securely on a curving base. In front of it are two large colorful tropical lego flowers; there is also a third flower attached to the ukulele at the base of the neck.]

[oftenwantedafton]

the new hire | steve raglan x female reader

rating | explicit

part 3/?

words | 3k

ao3 link

It feels different, opening up the restaurant alone the following evening.

You find yourself wishing for Steve’s presence for multiple reasons, not the least of which being at least it was somewhat comforting having another person beside you. You’d brought a flashlight this time, a little better prepared. It helps allay some of the discomfort as you proceed through the darkened dining room, glancing warily at the curtain shrouded stage before making your way to the back of the building. Once the lights are on you feel moderately better, trying to shake off your fears as you enter the security office.

As promised, there’s a folded pile of clothing waiting for you beside the keyboard that controls the monitors. A card bearing your name rests on top, the writing familiar. Raglan’s, of course. It seemed silly. Who else would be here? Who else but yourself would ever find these garments? The colors of the uniform aren’t so different from what you’d worn the previous shift. You realize you’d never told the social worker your size. You set the card down and lift the shirt, stretching it out in front of you. It seemed okay. Maybe a touch small. Same with the pants. Well, you’d make it work.

You glance around the room. Storage locker, coat rack, an out of date calendar and a poster of the lead mascots tacked to a corkboard on the wall. No windows. You should be safe getting changed here, but…you couldn’t shake the feeling you were being spied on. You bring the uniform with you to the nearby employee restroom and get changed in there, still feeling a little creeped out. The outfit does fit, albeit snugly. The buttons of the shirt strain more than you’d like. Not ideal, but again, who the hell was going to see you? It shouldn’t really matter.

This task completed, you return to the office and settle behind the desk. Your eyes scan the monitors for any signs of movement. Nothing. The card with your name still sits on the desk. You stare at the writing, debating about tossing it into the small wastebin beneath the desk, but it ends up in your pants pocket instead. You can’t say why. The business card remains on the desk. You figure in an emergency you’re going to want to have it readily accessible, not digging around frantically for it. Maybe you’ll bring tape and affix it near the phone permanently. That phone. So old fashioned. Still corded. You suppose it makes sense if this place had been shut for awhile. That was why everything seemed so out of date. Why would the owner bother replacing the older tech? Why didn’t they just sell the place, period? Even if its days as a pizzeria were long behind it, wouldn’t this piece of real estate sell for a good amount? Homes always needed to be built. It seemed foolish to just let it continue to rot here.

The hours drag and your mind wanders. You’d left the game token at home, remembering its presence after you’d gotten undressed. Such nimble fingers, performing that little trick he had. What others did Steve know? Oh, this is going to keep you occupied for awhile. Thinking about him leaning towards you. His mouth so close. You want to know what it feels like to have that facial hair brush your skin. Tickle between your thighs. Scraping and chafing and…

Something moved. That screen there, the camera focused near the stage. You swear you’d seen…yes. Right there. A shape moving in the shadows, hovering just beyond where the minimal lighting can reach.

Your heart pounds. What should you do? How had someone gotten in? You reach for the flashlight, considering the phone and the man you’d just been fantasizing about. You should call. You should tell him…what, exactly? That you think you see something moving? You can practically hear his ire now. Waking him up for that. You should at least check the situation out first.

You grab the flashlight and step into the hall. You feel like you’re making too much noise. You try to tred more gently. Maybe sneakers aren’t the best choice of footwear. Steve hadn’t specified what you should wear. You don’t have a large selection and you’d thought maybe something athletic would be…well. It sounded foolish now. Better to run in? Is that what you’re going to do?

What are you going to do if there actually is an intruder? Would you make it back to the phone in time? Should you even use the flashlight, make your presence known? Maybe you should use the shadows to your advantage, too.

You’re still agonizing over the decisions as you reach the dining room. Your steps slow to a crawl that you hope is somewhat stealthy. You squint. Maybe you’d been mistaken. Sleep deprived and distracted and…

A rabbit moves forward, the barest shift, still swathed in the darker recesses of the room. You can make out the outline of the giant mascot, this one missing half of an ear. The eyes glow with a dull silver light. You swear you can hear it breathing. Feel it watching you. Waiting for you to approach. Your blood runs cold. You’re frozen, immobile. Your palms grow sweaty and you nearly drop the flashlight. The tall animatronic has made no further movement. A standoff, just like in those old spaghetti westerns. Each person waiting for the other to draw first, hand to hip, gun in hand, bullet lodging in chest. It doesn’t seem likely that the robot could move faster than you, but then again, it doesn’t seem likely that a robot could have moved off the stage of its own free will.

The rabbit steps towards you, the foot meeting the carpet with a loud thud, the sounds of the internal servos whining a terrifying screech. You can barely discern the color of its fur, a sickly sort of putrid yellow-green. There are dark spots, holes that make you think more than just the ear is damaged. You swallow and your throat aches. You know you’re panting, not from exertion but from fear. You have to call Raglan. Right now.

You turn and rush towards the doors that lead to the employee restricted area. There is no sound of pursuit, but you’re not taking any chances. You don’t pause to look back over your shoulder, don’t stop until you reach the office, slamming the door shut and locking it. Wondering if you could move the locker, tip it to block the entrance and create a more secure barricade. You try to move it but have no luck. Too heavy. The chair would be useless. You can’t move the desk because of all the monitors. There’s nothing. You’re out of options.

You glance at the camera footage, paying particular attention to the one focused on the stage, where you’d seen the rabbit. Nothing there now. Was it in pursuit? You clamp a hand over your mouth, trying to stifle the strained drags for air, letting your flared nostrils do all the work. Still too loud. You hold you breath, pressing your ear to the door. Nothing. Not a sound. Surely you would hear those heavy footsteps if the animatronic was approaching.

You lift up the receiver, the business card in your shaking free hand. Still wavering with indecision. Do you call? Is the job really worth risking your life over? In the end, you dial the number. It takes you several tries. You keep hitting the wrong sequence, your nervous fingers stumbling over the buttons. It rings. And rings. And rings. Was he deeply asleep? Did he have the ringer off?

“Hello?” The voice of the career counselor sounds a bit breathless, as if he’d rushed to answer. You’d been expecting him to sound irritated, drowsy.

“Mr. Raglan.” You’ve never actually addressed him before, but the formal approach seems best. You’re staring at the monitors as you speak, all of them now, in case the rabbit has moved to another area, but you don’t see anything suspicious. “There’s someone here. At least, I think they’re still here. I saw them on the monitors, then I went to go check and—”

“—Slow down. You saw who, exactly?”

“Um.” You bite your bottom lip, knowing how absurd this next bit is going to sound. “I saw one of the animatronics walking around. The rabbit.”

“You’re imagining things,” he says dismissively. “None of the robots can leave the stage. Bonnie is permanently stationed there, just like Chica and Freddy. You can’t have seen—”

“—It wasn’t Bonnie. He’s blue, right?” You’re staring at the poster of the trio on the wall. The shape was the same, but the color…

“Yes,” Steve replies, sounding hesitant.

“This one wasn’t blue. It was like yellow or green. And all messed up. One ear torn off. Holes everywhere, like the thing was trashed.”

“The animatronics can’t leave the stage,” he repeats firmly.

“Well this one did. Wherever he came from. Its eyes…they were silver. Weird looking, not like the others’.”

“None of the mascots have silver eyes. You’ve imagined this entire incident. You’re probably not getting enough sleep, I told you—”

“—I didn’t imagine it,” you interrupt. “I know I didn’t. I’m not crazy.”

“You expect me to believe what, one of the animatronics just came to life and decided to go for a stroll? No. You didn’t see anything. You’re confused.”

“I’m not.” You feel tears of frustration building in your eyes. He doesn’t believe you.

“You do realize the time, don’t you? It’s three ’o clock in the morning. I have to be up for work in two hours. So I can help people like you get a job.”

The man despises you. It’s obvious. “You said to call any time. You said you were a light sleeper.” Your voice sounds small, pitiful. Weak.

“Yes, I did state those facts. I did not say to call because your sleep addled mind decided to conjure up some mysterious decaying monster stalking the pizzeria.”

“You said to call…” Your voice trails off. You know how it sounds. You do sound hysterical. Had you really just imagined the entire encounter? Could you really create such a convincing, vivid scenario?

A heavy sigh on the other end of the line. “You want me to come down there?”

Oh? Maybe he didn’t despise you, then, if he was making this offer. Disappointed in, maybe. Exasperated by. But no outright hatred. “Could you? I’d feel better…”

“Fine. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

“Thank you, I really appreciate—”

The dial tone cuts you off. He’s hung up. You set the receiver down, glancing at the monitors. Nothing. Had you really made the whole thing up? You know you have some issues, but this? Really?

You’re torn between wanting to wait by the front door and hiding in the office. What if you were right, and something was still in the dining room, hiding, waiting for the right opportunity to present itself. What if it attacked Steve?

What do you think you could do if it did?

Maybe it’s somewhere else. Somewhere closer. Stealthier than you’d thought. Ready to strike the moment you emerge from the office.

You heave a sigh of relief when you see the career counselor on the cameras. He’d taken a little longer than his claimed ten minutes. He’s carrying something. Cups? Something white clutched in each hand. You follow his path through the building with your eyes, anxious when there are no cameras to capture all of his movements. There is no view of the back corridor.

Something taps on the door. Not a human hand. A foot, kicking lightly. “It’s me. Unlock the door.”

You scramble to open it, another wave of relief flooding through you as you watch the career counselor enter, setting a pair of styrofoam cups on the desk. His eyes flick to you, first lingering on your face before tracking downward. You’re suddenly reminded of your snug work shirt and you flush.

“Let’s go look for your rabbit. Or did you want to stay here?”

“No. I’ll come with you.”

You bring the flashlight, this time determined to illuminate everything you can. Not sure if you’re more dissappointed that you don’t find anything than if you had proven yourself right. There were no signs of trespassing, nothing disturbed. You jump a little as Steve draws back the stage curtain, granting you your first up close and personal view of the trio of animatronics, but they remain motionless and look as dusty as the rest of the place. There are no footprints on the floor other than the ones you’re making now.

“Satisfied?” You nod reluctantly, snapping the handheld light back off. You walk back to the security office slowly, like a reluctant dog knowing it’s about to be scolded, tail tucked between legs. The older man perches on the corner of the desk, one hip cocked over the edge while you drop back into the chair. He lifts one of the cups and folds back the plastic lid shielding the opening, taking a sip. He gestures to the other one and you automatically lift it but make no move to drink. You think you’re going to struggle with sleep as it is; you don’t need an extra jolt of caffeine this late in your shift.

“Why aren’t you drinking your coffee?”

You look at the bearded man. He still looks remarkably well groomed, considering the late hour. Or early, depending on how you looked at it. He doesn’t look like a man who’s just been woken up, rolling out of bed, hastily preparing to leave the house. He’s already dressed in his office attire. It doesn’t really make sense. Nothing about tonight does.

“I don’t know if I should have caffeine at this hour.”

“Nonsense. It will do you good.”

You doubt that, but you find yourself unsealing the lid and taking a cautious sip. Too hot and extremely bitter. You wince.

“Prefer it sweeter, do you?”

“I probably would.”

Steve reaches into his pants pocket, digging out some packets of sugar.

“Thank you.” You reach for them but he yanks his hand back, much as he had done with the keys the previous evening, shoving them back into the depths they’d been stored in.

“Do you think you’ve earned a reward, after your behavior this evening?”

His voice is calm but you know better. You already know, in that short amount of time you’ve been acquainted, that this reserved, casual tone is far more dangerous than anything else he might exhibit.

You swallow thickly, setting the cup back on the desk. “Steve, I’m sorry, I honestly thought…”

“It’s Steve now, is it? Are we on such friendly terms?” He places his cup near yours, his lifted leg sliding off the desk. The older man stands beside your seated form, looming. “Are we that intimately acquainted, do you think?”

“I was just doing my job. Trying to keep the place safe. I’m really trying hard, I want to make this work. I’m tired of moving around and changing jobs.” It’s more of a confession than you’d intended on offering up.

If he’s moved by this insight, he certainly doesn't reveal it. “Are you that starved for attention, that you felt the need to make up such a wild story?” He’s gripping the back of your chair again, leaning close like he had yesterday.

“No, I didn’t…”

“Or did you just make up the excuse so I would come down here?”

“I…what? No, I…”

“You didn’t want to see me, then?”

You can hardly keep up with his accusations. How are you meant to answer? What is it he wants to hear?

“Be careful how you answer. Be very, very careful.” His face moves forward and for one heart pounding moment you think he’s going to kiss you, or bite you, or God knows what—he’s transformed, these last few moments, his eyes shining wildly, his mouth panting, glistening with spit, his demeanor no longer calm. He doesn’t look angry so much as hungry, ravenous, and the worst part is you don’t even care if he decides to rip your throat out right then. You feel his furnace-like heat, smell coffee and mint from toothpaste mingling on his breath, and you want to taste it, drink it in, let it wash over you, let him put his cruel mouth and his large hands all over you. You’d let him ruin you and thank him for it afterwards, if there was anything left of you to express gratitude.

Instead his mouth veers, avoiding yours and hovering near your ear instead, the sensation still pleasant when his breath tickles you there. “Don’t lie to me. I’ll know if you do.”

“I wanted to see you,” you whisper near his cheek, your lips brushing facial hair. Nearly a kiss. So nearly.

“How badly do you want me to sweeten that coffee for you? Would you beg me for it?” He draws back to see your features, savoring the need and want that must be so raw there.

“Please. Please give it to me.”

He smirks, his fingers sliding through your hair just above the nape of your neck in a gentle caress, then abruptly jerking your head back, your slack, startled mouth positioned just below his.

“You think you deserve it?”

You surprise both of you when your tongue bravely darts out, stroking across his bottom lip, painting a little wet stripe there. He growls, tugging until your scalp burns as the roots are strained, his mouth crushing yours.

You can’t stifle the moan that escapes you. His tongue moves everywhere, tangling and swirling, tight and loose, over and under, poking and prodding, stroking and exploring. You suck on his bottom lip and he nips at yours and then all too soon he breaks away, relaxing his grip, his breathing more ragged than ever, the blue eyes now black with desire.

He straightens, chest still heaving, and you want to pull him back down, guide him to all the places you need him most. You watch him drop a couple of sugar packets on the desk, the amount clearly smaller than all that he’s in possession of, and you suddenly understand the rules. You only get a small sample. A teasing taste, like the kiss he’d just granted you.

You’d have to work hard to earn more.