#Pizza Hut Lounge

[chuckecheeseshippingdiscourse]

(decided to make this a separate post)

the survey is now closed (after 2 days, lol) but I wanted to share takeaways and thoughts, in case anyone missed it:

cec is considering preserving animatronics at more locations, ala northridge. only stores that currently have them installed (and are pre 2.0) are being considered. as of now, there are less than 30 existing stages in the country. no word on what this means for studio c, or if those locations are even being taken into account at all.

the “retro” concept stores that have been speculated about for years are back on the table. proposals include themed events, adult only dance/karaoke nights, and “classic menu items”, whatever the fuck that means (jasper’s giant hot dog???)

in my opinion, if cec is going to lean into this concept, they need to take it a step further than northridge and go all out in ways that I find it hard to see them doing at this point. skip the new signage and the video wall. turn the lights down. leave decor featuring outdated art of the characters intact. admittedly these are all things that are a lot harder to justify when you’re a company that centers an IP in ways that other companies that have experimented with “retro” stores (burger king, pizza hut) do not. cec has always prioritized brand consistency so it’s difficult to imagine this as an attempt to create a completely unique experience rather than an attempt to save money by only partially remodeling a handful of stores and reaping good pr from a desperate fandom, but maybe I’m being too cynical.

the survey then proposes a few more themed store concepts, revolving around tech, art, education and nature. follow up questions mention things like interactive art installations, a homework help lounge (???), robotic waitstaff, and an entirely campground themed location.

some of the phrasing used in this part of the survey makes me wonder how seriously these options are being considered, but if they are, it’s interesting to note that they seem to have more in common with a children’s museum than a pizza place, and might hint that cec may be looking at expanding more into the LBE industry after signing that water park deal. I have more thoughts about this that I’ll save for another time.

finally, the last set of questions reveal that cec is also apparently considering an official fan club with exclusive access to archival material, meetups and a corporate sanctioned forum.

lol. lmao, even.

anyway only time will tell what, if anything comes of this. the next three years should be interesting.

#chuck e cheese #cec #pizza time theatre #I really can’t emphasize how much of a disaster an official fan club has the potential to be but some of the other ideas sound promising

[holycolorfulpig]

Pizza Hut Lounge Park City, Utah - Portraits

PARK CITY, UT - JANUARY 26: Bill Skarsgård from Nine Days poses for a portrait at the Pizza Hut Lounge on January 26, 2020 in Park City, Utah.

#bill skarsgard #bill skarsgård #it movie #pennywise #pennywise clown #john wick #john wick 4 #hemlock grove #clark #portrait #gettyimages #photos #jpgs

[iamanabsolutemess]

NEW GOTHAM LAWS:

•Stop stealing penguins from the zoo and leaving them at the iceberg lounge (penalty: permanent ban from all nightclubs and crime license revoked)

•Don't date Edward Nygma unless he has permission from higher authority -Oswald- (penalty: death although you are probably already dead)

•victor Zsasz and victor fries will now be known as cool victor and cold victor- wait no bad idea.

•citizens who vandalize Harvey Bullock's car will receive a free coupon for pizza hut

•martin is allowed to cut the line (penalty for failure to corroborate: immediate termination)

•Selina Kyle is banned from the roof of the iceberg lounge (penalty: must return stolen items)

•oswald is to be offered champagne immediately when entering a building (penalty: on a good day screamed at, bad day death by beating)

This message was brought to you by Mayor Cobblepot, Make Gotham Safe Again

#nygmobblepot #gotham #oswald copplepot #martin cobblepot #harvey bullock #edward nygma #victor zsasz #victor fries

[hometoursandotherstuff]

This is a sub that was used in one of the James Bond movies, and it’s been converted to a tiny home. If you happen to be camping on the Isle of Wight, a small English island, you can stay in it. 

It’s tight quarters, so the sitting area and kitchenette are in a small building next to it.

You see the submarine thru the window.

You would cook, eat, and lounge either in here or outside.

This is inside the sub where you sleep.

It has 2 double beds and a single, for sleeping up to 5. So, that’s the submarine.

If you don’t like the sub, you can stay in the former rescue helicopter. 

The copter also has a separate building for the kitchen. 

And, it sleeps 2 adults or 1 adult & 2 kids. If you’re more of a traditionalist, there are also several shepherd's huts and a shack to stay in, instead.  

This is the Shower Shack where there’s a “drench shower” (see the mannequin head sticking out), or use the toilets enhanced by a sound system, disco lights & hot air. 

The owners pride themselves on having the prettiest and cleanest toilets on the island. This is Bluebell. 

And, the Turdis (see what they did there?). 

You can either eat on the 2nd level of the bus or cook your own food. 

This is the Spudomatic, a huge baked potato oven. 

Or, barbecue on “Big Bertha” that also has a pizza oven.

This is a stage made from a deep sea buoy, where a member of the staff will serenade you with acoustic guitar music.

If you want to take in a movie, there’s a theater in this former silo. 

https://www.wightlink.co.uk/blog/stay-in-a-submarine-the-isle-of-wights-newest-place-to-holiday

#james bond submarine #unique campers #submarine camper #isle of wight campsite #homemade campsites #long post

[fckingsofthips]

Feedist Kinktober, Day 6 - Champion

Alex is the best gridball player in Pelican Town, by far. He trains every day during the summer, practicing his throwing and sprinting on the soft sands of the beach. During the winter, he climbs up to the gym in the mountains, and keeps his strength up. And once a year, in fall, he insists on hosting a gridball game, to maintain his status as champion. One day, he'll be headhunted, he's sure of it.

He puts posters up, with no real response. So he starts the rounds, asking his neighbours in person. Shane, who he finds in the saloon focused on a large pizza, t-shirt riding up above his naval. Sam, Abigail, and Sebastian around the corner, lazing around the pool table with sagging arms and jeans stretching over widened rears. Hayley and Emily, fighting over which cake to buy at Pierre's. Penny and Maru, filling up a bench between them and sharing a tub of muffins. Harvey, munching on some cookies in his break, an inch of skin visible between the bottom two buttons of his shirt. Elliott, lounging in front of his beach hut with a pile of crab cakes.

Everybody says no, the first time he asks, the same as every year. When he suggests asking Gus to provide a buffet for after the game, the grumbles of "I don't want to" and "can't be bothered" start to give way to reluctant interest.

And so, here Alex finds himself, warming himself up for the yearly Pelican Town gridball game. He hasn't seen a single other person practicing in the weeks leading up for the game (unless you meant practicing for the post-game buffet), but that was no excuse for him not to be at his best. Granny Evelyn had prepared him a larger than usual breakfast in advance of the game, and he made sure to eat every little bit piled up on his plate, for the energy. His belly groaned in complaint through the second half of the meal, but Alex didn't hear it over his own chatter in excitement of the day ahead. He paid no mind to how tightly his shorts were fitting him, and with no mirrors in the cottage he didn't see the sliver of belly that was peaking out from under his jersey. Looking at his huge teammates, and equally big competitors, why would he notice the bounce of his belly as he jogged on the spot for his warmup?

So what if there was nobody in Pelican Town who could really challenge his title - a champion was still a champion.

#feedist kinktober #feedist fiction #wg fiction #stardew fatty

[cdyssey]

if ur still taking prompts, pre-relationship melissa/barbara where barb is getting jealous over mel’s new fling? could be a new teacher who’s a woman as well? thank you! i love how you write them, and your overall voice in your works. thank u for ur brain and ideas and love for these two!!! <3

Augh, thank you for the kind words, Anon!!! ;w; I'm so appreciative.

And, haha, I feel like it's a rite of passage in the Work Wives fandom to pair Melissa with another MILF of choice to make Barbara jealous. <3 My face claim is Alex Kingston. >:)

CW: Grief Mentions, Emotional Infidelity, Suggestive Content

AO3 Link

—

The new art teacher is named Ms. Avery Blackwood, and she just moved from Manhattan to Philly, quietly citing the need to not see her late partner in every sunset.

She mostly worked on commission in the Big Apple, painting murals and large portraits for well-paying clients, but she also did a lot of volunteer work, lending her talents to underfunded schools and women shelters when she could.

But Ava didn’t hire her for this impressive resume—(because that would be bordering on competency, of course)—but rather for the fact that the almost sixty-year old is a Pisces and quote—“damn, that’s kinda hot, not gonna lie”—end quote.

Avery drives a yellow Volkswagen that still has a faded Bernie 2020 sticker on the bumper.

She calls everyone darling and dear and likely has paint splattered across her black overalls at any given time. 

She tucks paintbrushes behind her ear and charmingly doesn’t remember that she’s done so in the first place.

But once she’s been told someone's name and attaches it to a face, she never, ever forgets.

And to top it all off, Avery Blackwood, along with these innumerable endearing qualities, is utterly breathtaking—all curly russet hair and pale hazel eyes, curves in gorgeous places, and an English accent delivered in a low, delicious voice. The kids love her for her whimsy and play. Janine’s already adopted her as her newest middle-aged mother. 

And Melissa.

Melissa is dating her.

Barbara didn’t realize this crucial fact until precisely yesterday when she was sitting in the lounge, trying her hardest not to stare at the empty seat next to her for well over half-an-hour. The younger teachers had gone to Pizza Hut for lunch, which made the absence of the second grade grade teacher all the more pronounced. A vacancy that was a presence. The ghost of a very alive person. Barbara’s daily crossword puzzle went untouched, her afternoon mug of coffee mostly full, as she mentally combed through the most rational possibilities in her head: Melissa catching up on grades, Melissa trying to get the blasted copier in the office to work, Melissa gone to grab a bite to eat all by her lonesome.

All reasonable and distinct options.

Still.

Barbara had glanced at her phone every few minutes to see if she had received a text confirming any of them, providing an explanation, an excuse, an apology.

Nothing.

Nada.

Zilch.

Just a voicemail from Gerald apologizing because sorry, honey, he’d be home late. 

Her husband is always late these days, though. His promotion’s been good for their finances—it even funded their lovely cruise this past summer—but it’s been less conducive to their relationship, disrupting every sturdy habit and rhythm they’ve cultivated together for well over thirty years. He is the indentation on the left side of the bed and the apologetic voicemails he leaves because of it. He is the hasty peck on her cheek before he leaves for work and the untouched coffee mug she instinctively sets next to hers anyway. What he fundamentally isn’t, however, is there, and she’s felt this new distance terribly, like a three-inch incision across her chest. She’s tried to bandage the untenable wound with other things—namely people. 

Namely one person. 

Namely Melissa. 

The two teachers have been spending a lot of time together lately, even out of school—getting their nails done or going to see Saturday matinees or shopping deals on school supplies together at Staples. So she’s gotten used to Melissa being around, has soothed her pathological need for routine because of this immutable fact. 

In the absence of Gerald, there has been Melissa.

A constant presence at her shoulder.

Never more than a text or call or short walk down the hall away.

Until yesterday.

Until Avery Blackwood.

At some point, she walked to the window as a preventative measure against impulsively marching to her friend’s classroom and demanding an explanation, and as she peered through the rain-splattered blinds, she saw them.

Melissa and Avery.

They were walking up the stone steps together, holding hands, and Melissa was laughing at a joke that the other woman had clearly just told, her smile impossible to miss even from a distance.

Even from another room.

Even at the ends of this world.

And Barbara’s stomach had clenched unpleasantly where she stood on the tiles, recoiling at the unexpected sight. And she had mechanically walked back to her seat and tried to sit with this feeling as it rose within her, snarling her carefully composed nervous system into disarray. She didn’t want to admit it, but in her heart of hearts—that forbidden tree she scarcely touches—she understood, even then, that this feeling was jealousy.

And it was irrational.

Ugly.

Perhaps even sinful. 

Thou shalt not covet thy best friend’s girlfriend.

Because Melissa undoubtedly deserves happiness.

And you already have it.

You are a married, Christian woman.

Barbara has known, for sometime now, that Melissa also dates women—mostly when she was younger and before she’d married Joseph—but now that she’s single again, having broken up with Gary the Vending Machine Guy a few months ago, she’s been getting into the swing of regularly dating again: a man named Thornton who had a Tom Selleck mustache, a woman named Selina who’d worked on a local mayoral campaign, a bartender named Layla. 

Barbara has hated all of her friend’s flings for completely valid and totally objective reasons, telling her as much—and in her humble opinion—doing the Lord’s work of helping her to see the proverbial light.

Gary was content to settle, never once trying something new. And while he was nice and funny and good, he took it for granted that Melissa wanted a staid and unchanging lifestyle too.

Thornton, well, he didn’t root for the Eagles, so that was a no-go despite his impressive mustache.

Selina, bless her heart, never stopped talking about politics.

And Layla—mmm, the nerve of her—didn’t care much about politics at all.

But Avery Blackwood, who is impossibly kind and witty and passionate about helping others, is perfect. There is nothing about her to nitpick and everything about her to root for. She’s probably good for Melissa.

Maybe she’s even the one.

And if jealousy was the awful feeling that Barbara had to swallow in that moment, then happiness was the emotion she had to hastily fake, capably simulating it with a porcelain facade of a smile when the two women finally made it into the lounge, still holding hands.

Melissa was self-conscious—as she always was when she was introducing her new partners to Barbara—her cheeks tinged rather pink.

And Barbara had been so perfectly gracious, as she always was when she was meeting Melissa’s partners—arranging her gritted teeth into a bright and pearly smile.

“You two are simply radiant,” she had mused, and it had broken something inside of her to do it.

She could not articulate to herself why.

She could not pray about it to God either.

—

It is Wednesday—the next day—and Barbara is sitting at her desk, savoring her second mug of coffee before the bell rings, when she hears a gentle rapping noise to her left. She looks up and over to see Melissa leaning against her open classroom door, her striking hair a little damp from the rain, spilling over her shoulders in dark, elegant waves.

“Hey, you,” she smirks, huffing a little, her cheeks flushed. Apparently, she’d jogged here, and the overall effect of all this—her wet hair and rosy face, her casual posture, the way the top two buttons of her shirt are carelessly undone, the vee-shaped divot suggesting the ample curves of those smooth, rolling—

—does nothing for Barbara.

Obviously.

“Hey, yourself,” she rasps hoarsely and hastily takes a throat-clearing sip of her coffee. Her damn sinuses. They always get to her at this time of the year. “What’s got you all flustered, Ms. Schemmenti?”

“Nothin’ in particular,” Melissa shakes her head, still grinning. “Just wanted to catch ya before the bell and apologize for yesterday. Sorry that I skipped lunch.”

And went out a date with Avery Blackwood.

And held hands with her. 

Maybe even kissed her.

Barbara imagines Avery’s fingers in her friend’s hair, twisted in those thick, scarlet tresses. She sees Melissa’s arms around the other woman’s curving waist, the space between their bodies negligible. Envisions them trading shades and flavors of red lipstick, can almost hear the sensuous heaving of their mingled breaths. Impatient grunts. Maybe even the occasional moan. And that same awful feeling that had consumed her as she had stood by the window yesterday begins to climb up the rungs of her throat, constricting it, choking what’s left of her resolve to maintain an impeccable front.

And it is initially rather oblique to her—incomprehensible and frankly terrifying—why she should be feeling jealous of the idea of Melissa kissing another woman. It is one thing to be saddened at the idea of losing time with her closest friend; it is another to want to wretch at just the mere thought of the second grade teacher’s lips turning into another art project for one Ms. Avery Blackwood.

But in the end... she supposes she just misses Gerald, his little romantic gestures, his chaste kisses, his once attentive care.

Maybe she’s just lonely.

“Pssh,” she forces herself to smile all the same. “no need to apologize, girlfriend… I was simply happy to see you so happy…”

“Oh, yeah?” Melissa’s own smile brightens, her blush deepening until her face is nearly as red as her hair. Barbara is uncomfortably aware that the other teacher likes receiving her approval, perhaps even hinges some of her self-esteem on it. It’s been this way since her divorce and Joseph wrapped a horrible bow on their marriage by finally cheating on her.

That betrayal had unraveled Melissa Schemmenti.

Had made her feel like she was impossible to love.

And Barbara had seen all of this very clearly, had done everything in her power to put her friend’s broken pieces back together again, laboriously reconstructing her by telling her—almost everyday—that she was so loved and so cared for.

Lord, and how she’d done everything shy of kissing her to prove it.

“Yes,” Barbara nods, softening at these memories, chastising herself for forgetting them in the first place. Her entire project these last five years has been to help Melissa find happiness again… even if it comes at the expense of her own. “I’ve missed seeing you smile like that.”

And it’s true enough.

For the first year after the divorce, Melissa didn’t smile all that much anymore. 

Not like she used to anyway.

And it had killed her inside, had hurt her and hurt her and hurt her, every single God blessed day to see the lifelessness in her eyes, to endure the unchanging monotony of her voice.

She remembers tearing up the first time she heard Melissa belly laugh again—maybe two years after the fact. They’d been at her house, making batches of Christmas cookies for their students, and Barbara had hastily opened a bag of flour, causing the dust to explode all over her face. Melissa had laughed and laughed and laughed some more at what was assuredly a hilarious sight until her own face turned red, the sound warm and vibrant and everything lovely in that dimly-lit kitchen.

And flour all over her cheeks and everything, Barbara had nearly wept, unhinged at that beautiful, nearly forgotten noise. Oh, God, how she’d pulled her friend into a hug then, smearing flour across her face too, kissing her—so very softly—on the crown of that vivid head.

Because Melissa was laughing.

Melissa was happy.

Maybe more accurately still, they were happy together.

“Smile like what?” Melissa tilts her head quizzically, her dark brow pinching somewhere in the middle.

“Like you’re at peace,” she says warmly and beneath her desk, digs her fingernails into the palm of her other hand. Because it stings—more than she ever thought it would—that her friend would finally find contentment in someone who wasn’t her.

Melissa opens her mouth and then abruptly closes it, rendered speechless with visible tenderness and delight, pink feathering her high cheekbones. 

Goodness, she’s radiant, Barbara thinks, continuing to grip her palm, idly clawing at it, grounding herself in the distant ache.

“It’s still early yet, Barb,” the younger woman finally croaks, attempting to be playful but clearly and audibly touched. “Don’t jinx us.”

“Ach, never,” she intones, clumsily disguising a sudden gasp of pain as a laugh.

When she looks down at her hands, she sees that she has nicked herself, has accidentally drawn blood.

—

Avery is the one who proposes it—a joint lesson where Barbara will read The Cat in the Hat to her kids, and Avery will help them with a coloring project shortly afterwards. She comes to Barbara’s classroom after school one day—perhaps a week after the kindergarten teacher first saw her and Melissa from the window—so they can plan the specifics. With her impossible hair tied in a messy bun atop of her head and the loosely rolled sleeves of her oversized shirt speckled with paint and her slightly lined eyes bright with infectious zeal, it’s easy enough to understand why Ava calls her a “fine ass Miss Frizzle.”

And in hindsight, Barbara now knows why Melissa had been the first to agree.

“Genius,” Avery enthuses, lightly brushing her shoulder against Barbara’s own. “I mean, absolutely bloody brilliant—do you really create vocabulary card decks for each book that you’re reading? And for every student? Because if you do, then Melissa was absolutely correct when she called you a god.”

Her cheeks darken at the excessively kind words—both the art teacher’s own but more so Melissa’s purported ones. She never admits it, but she quite likes receiving her friend’s verbal approval too.

“Melissa thinks far too highly of me,” she says diplomatically, though a pleased smile rises to her lips all the same. “But I suppose she probably says the same of me.”

Neither of them are particularly good at loving each other in moderation. Gerald once teased that she loved Melissa more than him, and Barbara had just as jokingly agreed.

“Something to that effect, yes,” Avery laughs, the sound jocular and lovely, though her playfulness somewhat quickly cedes to thoughtfulness. She regards Barbara with a fond expression, tilting her curly head as though she’s trying to figure out how to capture her best angles in paint. “Mel really does think the world of you, you know. Says that you were there for her when she was really going through it with her ex…”

“It’s what any friend would do,” Barbara says quickly, flushing a little, not entirely sure if she’s touched that Melissa would share such an intimate detail about their friendship or irritated that she did.

Partially thinks that sharing the fact takes some of novelty away from it.

Ludicrous, she knows.

Absolutely ridiculous.

She’s well-aware.

(What is awareness to raw emotion, though, intellectualization to the irrationality of her deepest and most detested feelings?)

“What a good friend would do, dear,” Avery corrects firmly, thankfully oblivious to her inner conflict. “It’s in times of crisis when you learn who your true friends are. When my… you know, when my Morgan passed, so many people I thought were in my corner suddenly poofed, vanished, disappeared into the aether. And the ones who stayed—who helped me through the darkness—were often people I least expected. But they were so kind to me. They held my hand while I was in the straits, and they refused to let me go…”

Even though Avery’s gentle expression remains unchanged, Barbara can see the sadness in the forest of her eyes, can hear its plaintive notes in her rich, lilting voice. She cannot begin to fathom ever losing Gerald, even as complicated as things are between them now. She still loves him, of course. He’s the father of her kids and the other person in their shared bed of thirty-four—nearly thirty-five—years. She’d simply be lost without him.

She thinks it would be the death of her to lose Melissa, to never see that bright, red mouth smiling crookedly at her from across the room again. They’ve only known each other for nineteen years, but it feels like forever. And if Gerald is the other person in her bed, then Melissa is the filled seat next to hers in the teacher’s lounge, the hip lightly brushing against her own, the leather-clad shoulder she knows she can always lean upon.

They’re her people—her husband and her work wife—and she’s absolutely selfish; she wouldn’t be able to easily let either of them go.

So she reaches out accordingly, placing a hand on the small of the art teacher’s back in this imagined empathy of total, devastating, and unrecoverable grief.

There would be no Barbara Howard anymore in the aftermath of losing her beloved Ger or her precious Mel.

There would only be an empty husk of the woman she once was.

Her unhallowed and hollowed ghost.

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” she offers sincerely—with everything in her—but Avery only shakes her head and smiles at her gratefully. Her innumerable curls shiver at the movement.

“It was a long time ago, and things are much better now,” she returns softly, reaching over and lightly squeezing Barbara's free hand. “I have my necessary distractions—a new home to ruin with all my artistic endeavors, a different job to brilliantly occupy my time, and, well, Melissa now.”

Barbara doesn’t discipline her immediate reaction fast enough, frowning deeply at the inclusion of her friend’s name on this particular list.

“Oh,” Avery says hurriedly, catching the microgesture in an instant, pops of color rising across her smooth cheeks, “I don’t mean to say that I’m using Melissa as a way of coping. I like her very much… she understands loss…”

“She does,” Barbara says, not exactly coldly, but perhaps with a touch of admonition, eyeing the other teacher carefully. She lets her hand fall away, primly templing it with the other. “She absolutely understands loss—perhaps far too well as you might know."

Her nana who practically raised her and so many other relatives besides.

An uncle who was killed.

Joseph, that awful man.

Their acrimonious divorce.

Her estranged sister.

“I do know,” Avery agrees, her pale eyes suddenly bright in the harsh fluorescence of the classroom. “And I didn’t mean to insinuate—I mean, I would never hurt her. Melissa is so dear to me."

“I believe you,” she smiles tightly but truthfully. She thinks the art teacher occasionally wears her emotions on her sleeves—as transparently as the paint that is already there—and she half-admires this vulnerability.

Could never be so candid herself. 

But she thinks it’s rather dangerous too, this capacity for laying one’s soul bare before another. Lesser people would take advantage, and they do everyday.

“Sometimes, though, we hurt people without ever really meaning to,” Barbara continues, taking on the familiar tone of Mrs. Howard.

Kind and didactic.

A little sanctimonious, maybe.

But well-intentioned.

Always.

She just doesn’t want to see Melissa hurt again.

“Even if we care about them—perhaps especially when we do."

The other woman flinches, as though she's been slapped, so Barbara hastily adds, "Not that you would, of course, but it’s something to keep in mind, yes?”

Avery is quiet for a long time after this, all of her usual mirth sieved from her, replaced with a world weariness and an aching, almost tangible sorrow. Barbara doesn’t think she did this to her, though; rather, she intuits that this is the person behind the painted smile.

This is the artist as herself and not as who she presents herself to be.

She feels sorry for her; she stands by her implicit warning all the same.

Melissa will always come first to her—her happiness, her security, her invaluable peace of mind—and she'll do anything to protect those holy treasures.

(She wishes—more than anything and with inordinate guilt—that she could provide them for her.)

"Fair enough," Avery eventually agrees.

Her ensuing smile is exquisite; it does not touch her eyes.

—

That evening, Barbara is curled up in her favorite recliner, watching Family Feud but not really seeing it, a glass of Prosecco idly supported between her fingertips. Gerald’s going to be late again—surprise, surprise—and she put on a whole pot of chicken and dumplings for nothing. 

Oh, sure, he’ll eat a bowl tonight when he gets home around eight or nine, but she’ll have already eaten herself and will likely be in bed to prepare for the school day tomorrow. And if she is, her husband might even sleep in the guest room tonight so as not to disturb her.

He’s polite like that.

But Gerald’s versions of politeness often leave her feeling lonelier than ever before.

So when her phone suddenly rings right at the commercial break, and Melissa’s smiling face washes over her screen—(a picture she’d taken on their most recent movie date)—Barbara is perhaps a little too eager to pick up the phone, pressing it to her ear like a lifeline.

She’s wholly unprepared for the greeting that follows.

“What the hell did you say to Avery?” 

“What?” Barbara splutters, uncomprehending and half-offended and so horribly afraid. She sits up abruptly, accidentally spilling a little wine on one of her favorite silk blouses. “What in Heaven’s name do you mean, Melissa? I didn’t—“

But the younger woman cuts across her viciously. “Things were all fine this morning, but then she goes to your classroom, and not even five minutes later, she’s in mine, tellin’ me we should take things slower!”

Barbara closes her eyes, suddenly and completely nauseous. The art teacher had apparently taken her words to heart, had evaluated them and perhaps found that they struck a meaningful chord. 

Avery is still grieving her partner.

And grief is a monstrous thing.

It colors everything it touches—thoughts, memories, conversations, and deeds.

Relationships too.

(Maybe even relationships especially.)

“Are you saying that she broke up with you?” She rasps, her voice choked, wrung with unspeakable shame.

And something else as well.

But that something else is far more insidious to ever name.

(Hope.)

(Self-righteousness.)

(Glorious, sweeping relief.)

“No, I’m sayin’ that here you go again, messin’ with my relationships,” comes a quick and scathing reply. “You didn’t like Selina or Layla or Thornton. Fuck, you didn’t even like Gary, and you set me up with him in the first place!”

Every word lands across her stomach like the entry of a new knife, gushing blood. It’s true that she’s voiced her reservations about each and every one of Melissa’s most recent partners, but not for any malicious intent. She’s only meant to help her friend, naming the flaws in these various flings that her friend couldn’t see. 

That is altruism from her limited perspective.

Meddling is a form of love.

“You’re being incredibly unfair,” she hisses, angrily wiping at the tears that have started to form at the corners of her eyes. “I’ve only wanted the best for you, Melissa, and you know that.”

And none of those individuals—as kind as they were or funny or sexy or available—were good enough for Melissa Schemmenti.

They were nice people.

That didn’t mean a blessed thing to Barbara.

“Yeah, well, from where I’m standing, you don’t give a rat’s ass about me—you just want me to be as miserable as yourself.”

And, oh, it is this indictment that is the cruelest of them all, and Barbara immediately wants to cry and shudder and scream so loudly that she can be heard from miles upon miles away. Another part of her still wants to fight back, teeth bared and hackles raised, wants to snarl so many unsavory things. 

That her marriage is none of Melissa’s business.

That if she was so uncaring, then who has unfailingly been by her side these past five years, fixing what Joseph Lombardo so callously broke?

That she loves her.

You know that I do, Melissa.

I have loved you far more and for far longer than almost anyone.

Do you not know that?

Have I not proved to you—over and over again—that I care?

“I’m not miserable,” she mewls instead, the words pathetic even to her own ears. She sounds like a petulant child, but her deepest honesty would be overwhelming and too much.

It would sound like a vulgar confession. 

A romantic one.

Her glass violently trembles in her hand. 

“Keep telling yourself that, Barbara," comes an incredulous, broken laugh, "but don’t talk to me about my shit again until you’re finally ready to be honest about your own.”

And with that searing proclamation, Melissa hangs up with a brutal click, leaving Barbara alone again in her big, empty house.

The abrupt silence bruises her.

Wraps its fingers around the pillar of her throat.

She sits in her recliner and simply suffocates—for minutes after that, and then hours, a monolith carved from stone as tears serpentine down the weathered crevices of her face like water over an ancient fountain. She wipes at them only every now and then. Can’t entirely bring herself to care.

Darkness falls through the bay window in the living room, laying across her like a steel cage. She drinks and refills her wine and drinks and refills her wine until the bottle is  empty, and her mind is a buzzing tape recorder, replaying that last conversation in her head until she’s making up replies that she didn’t say.

She is not miserable, Melissa.

She is a married, Christian woman.

She cannot fathom those two ever being one and the same.

#work wives #melissa schemmenti #barbara howard #abbott elementary #s: abbott elementary #reginianwrites #lots of gay yearning <3333 #one of my favorite things to write

[grouchythefish]

So I saw your reblog about truckstops, and as someone uniquely qualified to answer your rhetorical questions, this excited me. My qualifications include living within fifteen minutes of and having two family members who currently work for the Iowa 80 Truckstop, having worked there for six months after high school, and then having a parent who worked there for seven years before working for the other truckstop across the road.

The truckstop I worked for, Iowa 80, is located in Walcott, Iowa, is the world's largest truckstop. They almost lost that title to their sister location and had to expand their square footage. Inside this truckstop is a 24-hour restaurant, a laundromat with at least fifteen washers and dryers (I haven't counted), a dentist (who I highly recommend for dental emergencies), full scale showers for purchase that include private restrooms (some are fully wheelchair accessible), a small movie theater, a hair salon, a chiropractor, a small office that's used as a church/worship space for truckers with resources for local actual churches and advocacy groups, a food court rivaling our local mall, a game room, a gift store, and finally, the showroom. There's also a small truckers lounge with free internet access and lots of space to sit and converse.

The only thing missing from the post is places to sleep. You could technically sleep there. It is a 24-hour business, and I have seen people take their dogs inside during storms and camp out on the floor of the showroom before. But there's not like... beds or anything. There are a few hotels nearby, but as can be expected due to the nature of the trucking industry, they're all motels and cheap places to sleep that's not the bed inside your truck.

The showroom is large enough to house a full semi with trailer (used for storage), with an electronics section, chrome department, and a small graphics printing section called the custom shop, where you can have embroidered t-shirts and vinyl stickers made of your company's logo, or whatever you want. For sale on this floor includes all kinds of accessories and electronics for truckers, as well as a small media selection of DVDs, CD's and audio books. They also have a section for mattresses for your semi, as well as they used to have a small spot to buy musical instruments.

The foot court and convenience store are a huge room with a Taco Bell, Pizza Hut, Wendy's, combination Einstein Bros Bagels and Caribou Coffee, Dairy Queen/Orange Julius. There is also a full-scale convenience store, with every soda, snack, and candy you can imagine.

In the gift shop, you can buy your normal stuff. T-shirts and such. But you can also buy katanas. For some reason. And I used to have to sell those at 3am. They also at one time sold a whip. But no guns or alcohol, thank god. That would've been too much for the family-friendly label that the family that owns the company has.

There's also a service center, with access to truck diesel, DEF, etc. It has a Chester's Chicken, a Blimpie, and a smaller little gas station selection of candy and drinks and such.

Now, if you want alcohol or lottery, you gotta go across the road, to Pilot.... which is where my mom defected to after like six years of working for Iowa 80. They sell booze. But there's not only one, there's TWO of them, across the road, and across the interstate from Iowa 80. One has an Arby's, and the other has a Subway.

In this small section of town, there's also a McDonalds, but it's not part of everything else. It's just there, between the little Pilot store and one of the aforementioned motels.

You now know everything there is to know about my weird situation with Iowa 80/Pilot.

But there is one thing I gotta say, this is pretty unique. Most rest stops, and gas stations are like Pilot. Located off the interstate, a little shop to get gas and snacks, a restroom, and some space to stretch your legs. Iowa 80 is a big ass building and part of a family owned business with multiple sister locations. In the US, most rest stops and such are just a gas station, maybe a bathroom with a place to get out for vending machine snacks and a spot to hide from bad weather.

Okay that's all bye~

Omg thank you so much for sending me this!

No place to sleep does make sense since most transport trucks have beds built in anyways.

Most truck stops here are basically just roadside food courts with a gas station outside and sometimes with a tiny gift shop that might have t-shirts and keychains. I pass 5 on my way to and from work (god my commute is far too long) and all except one are owned by the same company (OnRoute) and are pretty boring.

Now that I'm thinking about it, I'm pretty sure the only truck stops I've been to with anything more than that have all been in the US on roadtrips. Though obviously none as exciting as the one you are describing (Jesus Christ a movie theatre and a dentist??)

I kinda wanna own a truck stop katana now.

[kasey-writes-stuff]

Soft tickles

Boomer and Punz had met up for the first time! Boomer had made the flight to Florida and despite the flight being only a couple hours and there being no jet lag boomer for some reason felt pretty winded and like he could be easily overstimulated so he was more than happy when Punz asked if he just wanted to hang at his place for the day instead of going out and then going back to his place! The two were currently lounging on the couch when Punz began to grow hungry and figured boomer probably was as well.

“Hey boomer?” No answer boomer was zoned out into his phone.. he tried again “boomer?” Again no answer “boomer?” he shook his head softly poking boomers side as he said his name again “boomer!” Boomer squeaked softly as he jumped “eek! What?!” Punz’s eyes widened “well I was about to ask if you were hungry and what you wanted to eat but I think food can wait a bit” Punz began advancing towards Boomer and boomers eyes widened.. he would usually never expose this especially so soon but he knew if he got playful or rough tickles he would get overstimulated so he very quickly yelled “NO PLEASE UNLESS THEY’RE SOFT!” Punz stops confused slightly “what? You’re like cool with this as long as it’s soft? Okay” he pulls boomer against him laying back slightly with boomers back on his chest and torso.. Boomers eyes widen “W-what you’re you’re like chill with me liking this and everything? And you’re chill with me wanting it soft?” Punz shrugs and nods slightly “I mean yea it’s just tickling and makes it more fun that you like it and you wanting it soft is fine your comfort matters so it’s fine, but I am curious do you like only like soft or ?” Boomer shakes his head softly “Dude you have no idea how stressed I get over liking this and everything like I get so worried about thinking I’m weird for it and everything… Oh no no I like playful and rough as well it’s just I’m sorta tired right now from the trip so anything besides soft would be overstimulating”

Punz nods “okay okay understandable so you ready?” Boomer nods softly “Yea yea sure, oh and uh for food after anything is good with me pizza or wings whatever” Punz nods “both maybe?” Boomer nods again “yea sure sounds good” Punz smiles “alright then let’s get started” Punz begins gently spidering his hands around boomer’s sides and stomach making him squeak as he twists softly, giggles flowing out of his mouth! “Eek! Frihihicckk nahahhaha!” Punz snickered softly “Dude you must be insanely ticklish cause I’m barely doing anything!” Boomer began to blush a dusty pink as he covered his face “duhuhuddehehe shuhuttt uhuhuppp!” Punz smirks “oh? Does it make it worse hmm? Does it make you flustered?” Boomer whines through his giggles “duuudddhehhe!” Punz laughs softly “I’m right I’m right woo!” He switches to scratching up and down boomer’s ribs getting close to his pits but not quite going in… boomers squeaks softly giggles picking up as he squirms softly “eek! Ahahhaha naahahha! Shihihizzz!” Punz cooed softly “awe does boomie have ticklish ribbies hmm?” Boomers blush was bright red as he shakes his head

“Duhuhuddhehehe ahahha shuhuhutt uhuhuppp yoouurrhehehe sohoho mehwhhahhann!” Punz scoffs “you wanna see mean?” He keeps relatively the same soft scratching but speeds it up as he moves his hands into boomers armpits while whispering tickle into ears! Boomer squeals nearing soft laughter his armpits being possibly his worst spot! It’s not long and he calls for Punz to stop “EEP NAHAHhahhahah OHOkahahayyy ohohokkahahyyy stohohohopp!!!” Punz quickly stops and releases his hold on boomer but boomer stays there a few moments giggling residually before sitting up “uh… thanks” Punz nods “no problem dude, so where do you want pizza from?” Boomer shrugs “uh Pizza Hut?” Punz nods “you got it” not long and he has pizza and wings ordered along with some soda “hey boomer?” Boomer looks over to him “yea?” “I just wanted to say you know anytime you want tickles you can just ask or just like lay on me and raise your arms or something and um I uh…” he rubbed his neck blushing softly “can I uh can I do the same with you?” Boomer blushes and then breaks into a massive grin “thanks and of course big dog!” Punz smiles softly and waits a moment and then lays across boomers lap arms over his face, boomer smiles even wider “soft or what?” Punz shrugs “playful or soft either one” boomer nods “just say stop or whatever when you’re ready for it to end”

And so with that the story ends

#Kasey’s Punz week #Kasey writes stuff #ler!punz #lee!boomer #there’s a hint of ler boomer and lee Punz at the end but not enough to tag it as switch

[woppy-my-beloved]

Damon Herriman

UT: Pizza Hut Lounge Park City - Portraits

Photo by Aaron Richter/Contour for Pizza Hut

#damon herriman #getty images #getty images inc. #getty

[gold738]

Royal Pines Resort - Gold Coast Australia

The Gold Coast Australia is world renowned for its glorious year round sub-tropical climate and easy going atmosphere. The region is blessed with superb pristine beaches washed by the azure Pacific Ocean. The sun always seems to be shining down on the tanned and happy worshipers who are able to enjoy the many pleasures of this part of Queensland virtually twenty-four seven. It is no surprise that when it comes to fun in the sun with a difference; and the Pines Resort Gold Coast is the place to be.

This part of Queensland is between Brisbane in the North and Sydney in the South. It is numbered about sixth in terms of its size in the whole of Australia, and has a standing population of five hundred thousand, which expands greatly at peak vacation times.

There are lots of amenities and attractions not least of which is the renowned Surfers Paradise. It truly is paradisaical too because it boasts great surf most of the time. Not surprising that surfing fans congregate here from all around the globe. Leaving the beaches behind and entering into the interior one will find several national parks like Lamington and Tamborine, which are world Heritage protected.

The many hiking trails that stretch into the interior for miles through the rain forest are perfect for walking jogging or simply strolling and enjoying the scenery. At several points you will notice lookouts where you can enjoy the most amazing vistas to the far distant Pacific Ocean.

Just a few of the amenities are Theme Parks such as Sea World, Dreamworld, Wet and Wild, and Movie World. These are all situated in the suburb of Southport. Here you will discover many excellent dining, night life and sporting facilities are.

There are of course many fine resort hotels on the Gold Coast. One of the finest is the five star Pines. It is a truly magnificent resort hotel, glistening calico against verdant sleekly groomed gardens of nearly five hundred acres. This three hundred plus roomed establishment is one of Queensland's largest and most luxurious. It is highly recommended for couples, business people on conventions and wedding parties in particular Surfers Paradise .

The awesome facilities on offer include; four ethnic restaurants, a massive convention centre, top grade day spa, state of the art health club, both indoor and outdoor swimming pools, concierge, twenty four hour front desk, lifts, ATM, bar/lounge, and the famous championship golf course, used by the likes of Jack Nicklaus. The choice of cuisine is breathtaking; you can decide between; Mexican food, German, Greek, Chinese, Thai, Italian, Indian, Chinese, Irish,

The list goes on. Of course, if you simply feel like the gastronomically delights of the pizza hut, bakery, pie shop, buffet bar etc. It is all available right on your doorstep!

If you are looking for a holiday that is totally unique the Gold Coast Australia based at the Pines Resort Gold Coast or somewhere else is certainly an excellent choice. You can choose from a relaxing holiday lazing on the beach topping up your suntan or a more active sporting vacation. The choice is yours, and if there is one problem you will have it is the happy one of deciding just which delightful slice of the Gold Coast pie you want!

[theboysfromaustin]

They're building a Pizza Hut in our town, though there's been zero work on the lot in at least a month.

I'll keep going to the dine-in one in Burneg, though, because those are inherently better. They remind me of being a kid in the 90s and taking unfair advantage of the Book It! program. Also of being in college, lounging in a booth, studying my criminal justice textbooks.

[higruejay]

Friends I may never see again because you pretty much do not keep up with people you met in the hospital, but I cherish in my heart so deeply:

The girl I first met through hostility, dubbing her new name Spandex, until we learned we both were suicidal anorexics with anger problems. How we boooonnded and got to process our [stuff]

To the guy I first met as he sat perched on top as the cabinet, saving us as Spider-Man one minute and when the real evil came, full on Jedi. I bow to you. And we actually got to hang out after but he got married and I had to respect that. Great guy.

The guy on a mission to bring down the entire hospital complex after malpractice took his true loves life, one intense intense intense drawing at a time. I wish I still had the one you drew for me of the Reaper but you know, destruction…

To the woman with the most steadfast husband, having the time of her life in her Metallica beanie. We never got to do that clothing swap :-(

The guy who knew how to just step out of the matrix and hold down a wife, kids, and house. Through his shades he told no lies. We never got to start that fashion company….

The young man that dreamed of opening a Russian lounge and honestly was just enjoying the moment, enjoying the sun here and there.

My mother from another who taught me about bimbimbop(spelling?). Even though you were literally going through torture you were still soooo kind.

My GIRL, who would swipe swipe swipe that card and we’d be eating Pizza Hut, Chinese, whatever for nights, so hyped for dinner time. Then before bed we’d jam out to Final Countdown and remember how amazing we are. You were too good for that guy.

Gentle buddy in die hard love with that one celebrity and honestly is so talented might just met em one day. You taught me vision is so powerful but damn brain bleeding? Maybe gentle vision? Still, amazing.

My little sis, girl how you not goin eat IN the hospital, but yes girl, RADICAL ACCEPTANCE. I know that family of yours is still cherishing you. Reminds me, I need to find a new fantasy series, I should of wrote down your recommendations.

White girl. I’m sorry. I should of just braided your damn hair. You were so pure, I wish I could tell you I got a great paying job now! We never got to go out and turn up :-(

The seasoned, soon to be retired father and artist. Your mind is incredible. I really hope the sports thing worked out.

My maiiiinnn man, motorcycle man, you are a real one. I know they changed the rules solely because of you.

The old white man from the mountain. Scariest white man I’ve ever met, biggest heart I’ve ever met. Never sell my soul for fame. And I got your mocha! Man you saved my life!!!!!!!!!

Oh Mama, hustler, traveler, FRIEND. We never got to go to Vegas :-(. I miss our nail painting sessions and clipping things out the catalog. Bonding.

Hey man, who knows maybe we ARE robots… I don’t think so, but we had the best time watching movies and eating candy.

My girl Avacadoooooooo . Brandy’s true number one fan. May I flip a table as perfect as you one day, I too dream of putting a banger in his place if I’m ever disrespected. You are the most loving person I’ve ever met, your Mom is incredible.

My pastor, I’m telling you, you are a pastor. I don’t know if you’re back in Mexico but I never sit at a dominoes table the same anymore.

Buddy, YOU BETTER STILL BE SOBER, and I hope you got your love back, you never really lost her though… And yes, avacodooooooo absolutely scared the shit out of you.

The man with the feds, Hollywood, demonic/witchcraft babymama, and own parents against him. I will never stop fighting for my right to be treated right because of you.

My first friend from the system, yes get as far away from that family. You are the embodiment of patience and enduring.

Friend, I really hope you are making that dope chain mail, medieval stuff you love and MOVING your body, even if just a pinky and a leg stretch.

My DJ, I hope you still enjoy my playlist. I wish I remember what’s on there. I hope you’re doing something even better than what you lost.

Loverboy, white man soul you are smooth and hilarious, I hope you stopped being triflin and did right by that girl.

My boy, Kanye West’s only fan, Taylor Swift isn’t good enough, pure of heart and valor white boy. BASSNECTAR. We had the best jam sessions, I don’t think I’ve ever played the guitar as good as I did ever again after that.

The tranquil retired school teacher. I wish I had a teacher like you.

The traveler; some great conversations. No one vacations like you.

Friend, I really really really really really hope you’re ok and well. Needing a bulletproof vest is beyond my imagination.

I could cry thinking of you! Man you were right none of us stayed in touch yet I remember you giving another person money to help them on the outside, after having just met them like a week or two ago. Compassionate. And yes that one med was a game changer.

And not the last, certainly not the least, my spiritual mother, friend, teacher, healer, and stomp down a naysayer, [insert your spiritual name]. Woman. THANK YOU. You advocated for me, loved me, and saw my shine when I felt snuffed out. As I die one day I will remember dancing down the hallway in your fur coat. I really hope you are close to your family.

Soooook many souls, stories, and memories. Too bad a lot of them are blacked out.

[restorapos]

See the list of the best Italian restaurant in Dhaka -

The Garden Kitchen at Sheraton Dhaka

Elements

Favola at Le Meridien Dhaka

Prego

Grandiose Restaurant

Pizza Hut

Bella Italia

Azzurri Cucina Italiana

Pizza Guy

Tuscany

Bubble Flavor Lounge

Ibiza BD

Café Eden

Bene Bistro

Jerry Bees

Spaghetti Jazz

Read this article to learn details about the best Italian restaurant in Dhaka.

#dhaka #restaurant #italianfood #italianrestaurant #bestrestaurant

[richardarmitagefanpage]

Three years ago today, Richard posed for a portrait in the Pizza Hut Lounge in Park City, Utah.

#reblog if you use #give us credit to use outside tumblr #richard armitage #richard #the lodge #horror #movie #severin fiala #veronika franz #portrait #pizza hut lounge #park city #utah #three years ago today #janyary 24 2019

[karihighman]

#the rookie #eric winter #melissa o’neil #they pretty #bless eric winter for looking like that #Melissa’s smile is so bright #comic con 2019 #abc network #Pizza Hut lounge #upfronts #stolen from twitter #meric #that’s their friendship tag #couldn’t forget these two

[anyataylor-joyfanpage]

Anya Taylor-Joy at Comic-Con 2018 Pizza Hut Lounge

#Anya #AnyaTaylor-Joy #Taylor-Joy #Anya Taylor-Joy #2018 #Comic-Con 2018 #Pizza Hut Lounge #Photoshoot #ILoveAnya #ILoveThisPics #Funny Pics