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[varunnehra]

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[hanalulugguk]

You've been gone 10 years, and it's made you bitter

Part of Sweet - a Gojo Satoru mini series

One

Note: As incredible as his mind is, gege deeply hurt me with chapter 236, this came to mind after reading it when i felt like gojo satoru, strongest sorcerer, was robbed. So this my personal characterization of him <3

Warnings: none for this chapter

unedited

Even though the distance was grand, you could still hear the loud cheers and screams coming from the training courts at the compl;et other side of the school upon entering the school premise after venturing up the long path to the top of the mountain. You take the peaceful walk from the gate to the inside of the building. 

You take your time walking the halls, looking around and stepping into random old classrooms that you remember having spent hours in during your late teens. Navigating your way to the principal's office to the best your memory can serve you. You almost walk past it, the name change throwing you off. You take a deep breath  before knocking against the wooden door, you hear a faint ‘come in’ before you pull the door open. The yellow lighting of the room is dim, and poor. You notice before you step inside that it’s different than you remember it. 

There was no longer a desk at the far end of the room by the window, there was no longer an absurd looking orange couch pushed to the far right of the room with 2 ugly looking metal chairs on either side of it. It’s entirely empty. Once you step inside though you do notice the water cooler in the corner of the room. 

“You’re early,” yaga almost freaks you out from his position in the far end of the room, in the least dim lit area of the room. “Did i interrupt nap time? Why is it so dark here?” you make your way over to where yaga was seated. 

“I can see your sense of humour is yet to waver,” he doesn’t look up from the stuffed doll in his hand, continuing to delicately stuff more cotton into the small opening, needle and thread placed neatly on the mat in front of him along with other doll skin. 

“It never will, and you know it” you jab back as you take a seat next to him, you still cannot see his face fully, but you can see the corner of his lip lift. You sit in silence as he tries to thread the needle to sew the last bit back, after a few minutes of him obviously struggling you grab them from his hand, threading it for him before ripping it from the rool and tying it to secure it. He doesn’t protest when you take the neon green bear from his lap and start to sew the last bit as he watches you. 

“How was your trip here?” you shrug in response. “Same as always, long and tiresome. Next time you ask me to come, I expect to be pulled up on a trolley. These stairs never get easier.” he lets out a breath of a laugh, eyes trained on your working hands. 

“How was europe?” he asks further, “sorcery work is much less busy anywhere outside of japan. Not much to take care of there. It was good.” you hold the bear up once you’re done before turning it for yaga to see, he offers a small smile as he takes it from you. 

“Nice to have you back,”

“It’s only for a month, don’t get too used to it, don’t want any weeping when i’m leaving. “ you joke and he nods, “i know, that was the deal, only a month.” he agrees with you as he places the bear onto the mat at his knees. “I’m not used to the plaque with your name on it,  almost missed your office, or play room. Why’d you empty it so much?” you ask looking around again at all the empty space from when you were still here, walking these halls as if they were your own, which to some extent is true. 

“Felt better, more calm.” he explains as he follows your line of vision, zeroing in on the small photo frame hung up right next to the wall, the one of all of you when you were still in your first year. shoko , satoru, suguru and you as you stand with big smiles around yaga, a cake in his hand and a rainbow polka dot party hat on his head. 

You hum in response to him, “i can get that.” your voice is low, quiet, as the two of you longer on the photo for a little while longer. “So when am i to meet the students?” you ask looking back at yaga who stands with a huff, “now if you’d like.” he looks down at where you remain seated. 

“They’re in the training court with gojo.” you pull your lips into a thin line before offering him a big smile. “Sure.” he extends his hand to you and you gladly take it as he helps you up. 

The two of you step into the hall, you trailing the smallest bit behind yaga, you savor the silence, knowing that although it had been years since you’ve seen each other, you’d prefer to skip the aspect of catching up on what is unnecessary to share, and he knows, so he doesn’t push. As you get closer to the exit leading to the training courts, the chaos gets louder and louder. 

“Are they anything like us?” you ask as you step out into the sun, taking a quick skip to catch up to his pace where you had stalled.  “no one could compare to the lot of you. Worst class i had ever taught.” although it may seem harsh, you can sense the fondness in his tone, and you know, with him saying it that he cherished you. All 4 of you. You shrink into yourself for a second as you grin at his words.

“YA, megumi! You can do better than that, don’t let a girl beat you.” you hear him before you see him. As the two of you round the benches you catch sight of the source of chaos. The students were posed in 2 groups of threes. Two pairs in combat formation with an orange ping pong on each of their heads whilst one spectated each pair. You note the panda but don’t ask any questions. Satoru was seated on the bright green grass, both legs spread in front of him, wide open as he leaned back on his palm, his back in your direction. 

“Why is it that every time i come you are layed back whilst all of your students do the work?” yaga asks satoru who didn’t bother turning around, his sight loud as you catch the motion of him reaching to push his glasses up the bridge of his nose. The students all stopped their training seeing hearing principle yaga’s entrance.

“Well i learned from the best obviously.” gojo responds back nonchalantly as you stop right behind satoru, yaga right next to you. “And since when do you spectat? Has your trust me hindered that much?” he asks leaning his head back to look at, who he thought would be yaga, but instead the top of his head bumps your knees, gazing up at you with pure boredom before his eyes, slowly, widen upon contact. You offer him a smile as yaga speaks up again. 

“I’ve come to introduce someone,” the students whispers, if they would be called that, reach you as you break eye contact with satoru to meet their eyes. They tredge carefully, you’re not sure if it’s yaga’s presence or your foreign one. 

“Due to recent events, and some doubts in your training,” he takes a quick glance at satoru who doesn’t quip up with anything in return, “i’ve brought on some temporary help to grow your abilities in a more reliable way. This is y/n one of the only 5 special grade sorcerers. I believe she’d be great at teaching you something useful.”  

You give a moderately big smile as you offer a small bow to the students, few bow back whilst the rest either give a small wave or nothing at all. You do notice though the boy with bright pink hair and his enthusiastic wave following his bow. “Hello,” he blushes at the personal attention you provide him, placing his hand over his mouth. 

Out of your peripheral you notice satoru shift before getting up, standing so tall above you he almost entirely blocks the sun. you tone out what yaga continues to say to the students as you glance up at the man towering above you, his glasses were now off, held in his hand as he looks you over, eyes scanning your entire figure. His eyes meet yours again, and it’s almost like he’s staring you down. You stare back, just as intense small smile toying at your lips. 

“Hey,” you whisper, and he takes a few seconds longer than you expect to respond. “Hey,” it’s quieter than yours, almost like he’s distracted. 

“Haven’t seen you in a while.” you muse and he scoffs, “kind what happens when you take off right after graduation.” you ignore the sarcasm in his voice. “Kinda what happens when you don’t reach out when you know exactly where i was.” you retort and so he doesn’t respond, just turning to face his students, but you notice the pout he sports before he turns. Very mature on his end. 

“You’ll be attending with her alongside your classes with gojo sensei this month. She’ll help you with everything you need to know regarding special grade curses and how to fight them as sorceres of your grade.”

“That’s possible?” the girl with short orange hair asks, hand placed on her hip as she spares you an unsure glance before looking back at principle yaga. “It is if you learn it from me,” you respond, voice softer to try and not come off as cocky. “Some of the ideals at jujutsu are a little, hmm, outdated, straying away from those ideals are sometimes helpful.” you explain and even though she doesn’t respond, the way her face contorts you could tell she was a little more open to it. 

“You’ll start lessons from tomorrow.” yaga points out before, all in one motion, turns to leave the training court. You watch as he walks away with a frown, “well he hasn’t changed a bit,” you mutter at his lack of regard to you. 

“Hmm, you’d think he’d treat his favourites a little better than the rest of us,” the slight biting tone in gojo’s voice is unharmful, you can tell. “Hmm, you’d think you’d have matured past your teenage years,” you bite back and he yet again scoffs as you roll your eyes as if you were irritated at his attitude but the smile you have tells otherwise.

“I’ll see you guys tomorrow, 11 am sharp please.” you give a small wave to the group of students, before turning to gojo one last time. “You too satoru,” you nudge him lightly with your shoulder ut he doesn’t budge, obviously. 

–

It’s past 8pm when there’s a sudden knock at your dorm room, you slip your bookmark between the pages you were on as you place the book on your night stand before slipping your feet into your slippers. Another knock sounds and you can almost feel who the impatient visitor is. You opt to not respond as you wrap your hand around the food handle and twist it open. You briefly meet eyes with gojo before he slips into your room, waiting for no invitation to come in. 

You furrow your brows as you remain where you stood, door lightly ajar, handle still in your hand as your twist your neck to look back at gojo, white shirt and black plaid pyjama bottoms clad as he is halfway to your bed. “Am i on your property?”

“What?” he turns to ask, he’s not wearing anything over his eyes, and even in the dimly light room, his iris glow even brighter than the small bedside lamp you have on. You nod your head towards the door, he huffs before slipping his foot back into his slipper before stepping back outside the entrance to your room. He stood before you, eyes fixed on the cieling as he obviously throws an inner tantrum.

“Can i come in?” he mumbles and you wait a beat for him to continue, when he doesn’t you help him. “Please,”

“Please,” he repeats almost before you’re done, and you open the door fully, he wastes no time in stepping inside again, making his way to your bed, kicking his slippers off before face planting onto the mattress. 

“Oh please, treat my room as your own.” you mumble and he kicks his foot once to help him sit up on your bed as you make your way to your bed, sitting where you were, back against the headboard. He shifts in his spot to turn and face you. “What are you doing here?” he asks blankly as you pick your book back up, collecting your knees up to your chest and pulling the covers onto your legs to cover them. 

“Do you still only listen to yourself when you talk?” you ask placing your book in your lap and looking over at gojo. His face is hard, his breathing mildly laboured, like his heart is beating faster than usual. His brows are furrowed enough to form creases on his forehead as his eyes pierce into yours. 

He doesn’t grant you an answer, you pull you lips in a tight line whilst letting out a sigh, “i’m here to help. Yaga wanted me to come around for a bit, says the sudden surge of special grade curses was worrying him.”

“I’m capable of managing my students.” he fights back making you place your book aside, “no one said you can’t. I’m only here to help.” you explain, voice soft. You can tell he’s feeling a plethora of emotions right now, quite possibly since this morning and it’s been brewing since. 

His brows cease a bit, un-creasing only slightly as he averts his gaze to the crumbled sheets beneath him. Picking at the stray thread in his pant leg. You grant him silence, a chance to bring up what’s actually bothering. You watch him, his slow blinks, his ever changing expression as he seems to be turning things over in his head, the way he starts picking at his palm aggressively, that’s when you intervene. 

You reach over to place your hand over his fidgeting one, he stops instantly. “Don’t,” you say, slowly removing his hand and taking a quick look at his palm. 

“You didn’t reach out.” he points out and you hum, rubbing your thumb over the slightly pink skin of his palm. “Neither did you,” you respond back and he retreats his hand back from yours, tucking them under his crossed legs. 

“I’ve always told you wasn’t planning on staying around.” you point out and he huffs, “though that would’ve changed, after everything,” you know what he’s referring to. 

“Nothing would have changed that. You know it.” you’re not mean, he can tell you’re only being honest. “You’ve been gone 10 years.” he points out and you smirk lightly, “and it’s made you bitter.” 

“I’m not bitter,” he defends, straightening his back as you raise your brows. “Upset?” you ask and he scrunches his face up, “no,” he defends once again, eyes boring into yours. “Hmm, what about yearning? Did you yearn for me satoru?” a light blush raises to his cheeks as he tsks in fake annoyance before getting off the bed as you gloat at his frustration, your grin reaching your eyes as you realise gojo is still as easy to affect as he used to be.

You watch as he paces around slowly, looking at all the things you had laid out from your unpacking. “Why didn’t you put anything up? The walls look boring?” he asks as he scans the bare walls of the room.

“I’m not staying long, there’s no need.” you lean back against the headboard as you watch him observe the space, curious as always. “How long are you staying?” 

“You really don’t listen huh?” you mock and he ignores as he picks up the small matrioshka doll on the vanity, opening it as if he doesn’t know what he’ll find in it. 

“A month,” you respond after a few moments of silence, he turns to you, staring you down once again. “Just a month?” he asks and you offer a small smile as you hum in response. He doesn’t follow up, instead busying himself with placing the matrioshka doll down to look through your bottles of serums and moisturizers you laid out.

And again, you give him his moment, as he mindlessly rolls the bottles around looking between them as if he was memorizing them, before speaking up again. 

“I missed you too,” he scoffs but doesn’t turn around. “I never said i missed you,” he mutters, voice low as he places the bottle down and turns to you. “You don’t need to say it. I can feel it.” you tease and he doesn’t sass you. His feet bringing him to the side of the bed you were at as he stands above you. 

You look up at him as he simply stood, staring at you. His hand twitches at his side before he reaches up to twirl a small strand of hair between his fingers, you don’t stop or question him. His thumb caresses right under your jaw as he takes a quick glance at your lips. “Are you still mean?” he asks and it doesn’t take you more than a second to register what he means. “Yes.” you respond making him huff aggressively before stomping his way to your door. you‘re in a fit of laughter as you are left staring at the door he slammed on his way out of your room.

You shake your head as your laughter dies down, you place your book on your nightstand, too worn out to continue reading, and turn your light off before slipping under the cover. Unable to remove the smile off your face from seeing one of the people closest to you after so many years.

pending; chapter 2

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[aegoniiwifey]

*slides some money towards you* talk about spoiled son blob aegon pretty please?

Spoiled, Spoiled Boy!

HEADCANON

TROPE: Fat!spoiled!son!Aegon ii Targaryen

WORDS: 841.

WARNINGS: mentions of overeating/binge eating, male wg, rapid wg, soft feedism, spoiled!Aegon, fat play, moob play, mentions of masturbation.

A/N - I literally crave for this Aegon so bad, he would be so useless but so needy for you. I might write an alternative Modern AU for fat!spoiled!son Aegon ii.

this version of Aeg was deeply inspired by this incredible artwork !!!!

Aegon was always a much larger man, with a grand appetite and the constant spoils of being a royal Prince... He could have anything granted to him, by the snap of his fingers.

His family, especially his mother, had enabled him since his youth: embedding his gluttonous habits, as means to not "deal" with him.

As Aegon's gluttony grew with age, so did his stomach... And his body.

Alas, he was also known to be quite lazy. Only part-taking in physical activities such as dragon-riding and combat training when absolutely necessary.

After some time however, he began to make pitiful excuses to not attend, spending most of his time nestled in the privacy of his chambers, only ever coming out [particularly at night] to scourge the kitchen for some late-night treats.

Eventually the sedentary lifestyle hand in hand to his gluttony, began to amount...

His clothes, vastly more fitted and tighter, would eventually rip at the seams, fat bursting through the gaps of the ripped, rich fabrics.

Buttons spontaneously popping: Aegon often found it self-amusing to see how fast and how full he could stuff himself, until a button popped from the sow.

His once loose, baggy shirts had shrunk against his wide, distended gut and the fat rolls hanging at his sides: his plush belly overhung blatantly beneath, peaking through.

Alicent grew impatient with the consistent growth in Aegon's weight, and the haste need to re-alter his royal garments.

Aegon often whines about the maesters having to take his measurements, attending to regular health checks: the calipers were the worst, as they stung pinching onto his fat, especially at his pooling, dense hips. To a point, where he furiously yells at them to leave, in which the maesters scurry off in fear of punishment.

The gold jewels and rings that once embellished his fingers, now he could no longer wear, as his fingers had grown quite pudgy: he was adamant on getting them resized, although this became a habitual requirement.

Aegon's ass now wide and thickly plump, the weight of his mass would often have wooden furniture creak beneath his heavy weight. Some furniture even breaking beneath the Prince, as he was too large to mount.

It was also necessary to have his saddle resized to accommodate for his ballooned size, to fit Sunfyre, despite rarely flying, he did occasionally insist on visiting.

However, Aegon often struggled to walk, or more so waddle, a few feet around the castle grounds, nevertheless to the Dragonpit. A horse would not be able to bear his excess weight, and was instead carried by a litter of a few solid, strong men.

During royal feasts and balls, Aegon would often bicker with Alicent and Otto, desperate to remain absent, often using the excuse that he had a "terrible stomach ache" or some ailment, in which Alicent would often succumb to her eldest sons' whines and groans: Otto, although reluctant to accept for Alicent's sake, knew better than to see through Aegon's deceitful cries.

Aegon was a hog, although he knew how to manipulate his mother emotionally, toiling with her misfortune to gain what he wanted.

He often commanded for his servants to fetch him trolleys and trays decked with succulent sweets, pastries, meats and wine or ale, to be served directly to his chamber.

The kitchen staff grew fairly familiar with his "feeding" schedule. Surprisingly, Aegon was very particular with what he enjoyed to eat and what he despised [mostly green vegetables], in which the kitchen staff also had grown ideal to.

He rather enjoyed lazily lying in bed, as he gorged on his feast: he found it convenient so, as he would often be too bloated and full to move, let alone mobilise.

Needing to attend to his belly rubs that he found soothed the bloating as it encouraged his belches, whilst it also made his eager cock twitch and stiffen with satisfaction.

Aegon grew quite impressed with his own appetite.

Aegon would struggle after some period of immense weight gain to masturbate: although found excitement in playing with his own fat, especially his grotesquely chunky blubber than grew beneath his waistline, above where his cock would spring... His very own fat pad.

He enjoyed rutting against a large pillow or the mattress itself, to feel something, some sort of friction between his aching cock.

And he rather relished in massaging at his moobs: often demanding his maid to massage at his fat, including his tits, coating it in oil.

Despite the cruel remarks of his family: Aegon rather enjoyed his new found "body", embracing his insatiable hunger and drive to stay as full as possible, he loved the idea of pampering himself, exhibiting his overindulgence with his body.

Regarding it as a big "fuck you" to the strict principles of his stern family.

That even though he was a fat prince, he was a Prince nonetheless... And mayhaps, the King of the Seven Kingdoms.

If no one else would openly bask and enjoy the riches of being royal... Why should he not?

[fleshwerks]

Still thinking about Spiridon.

He's evolved with me, though the bones of him have been there from the start. In my mid and late 20s I kind of viewed his inaction as an enlightened virtue. I had his solution to the trolley problem be seen as noble, but the world's changed and I got older, and now I see him for the man crippled by indecision and unwillingness to step on toes that he is. Still, I think the essence of him is noble, it's just that the world doesn't agree, his 'nobility' is that of someone who, for the most of his life, led a very isolated life in his Dalish clan, and whose worst grievances were aimed at a very small, magocratic society that the Dalish exist in.

For all his mad talk about how people are predictably horrible, and how the vast majority of people are selfish and will always choose a selfish act over self-sacrifice, he's still painfully believing in that people should govern themselves; not only that. People are able to govern and save themselves, and people do not need, or should not look at gods, Keepers, Inquisitors, lords, kings and empresses for guidance, strength and absolution.

But again, the world and the people in it are very different from what he feels they are. He knows it, he just refuses to believe it. Because believing it would mean acknowledging someone's superiority, and someone else's inherent weakness. He's afraid what acknowledging gods, kings and Keepers means for him. It's like lowering yourself to dust by pleading to a god or seeking audience with a Keeper or king.

He's terribly proud in his own way, but a lot of it is just defense. He spent his entire life taking orders while seething with hatred and envy at his clan's mages who were the only ones allowed to directly interact with the People's past, and dispense it to the 'lessers' through their own prism, with their own agenda, because the mages of the Dalish weren't always good people just because they were mages. The blood purity idea, the idea of what constitutes as a 'true elf', the gods-blessed, ran strong within Dalish societies, and him being half-Dalish, half-helafolk, and being ripped from literature, histories and knowledge just to bolster the ranks of warriors after a disease ravaged the clan... yeah. He's sworn to never do what some self-appointed superior tells him to do again. He has stiffened his neck, his head won't bow.

Unfortunately, it also means that he refuses to also see what the world really is like. He knows what it's like, he just keeps his eyes on the horizon, or straight up closed, because hey, if he can't see it, it isn't real, eh. And in that lofty pride and idealism, the world burns, and the people hate him for it, for standing for nothing but some distant dream of a different, fairer, more independent world. That's his problem. He never deals with what he has, he's always dreaming of some distant, better future. He's not putting out the wooden house's fire, even if people are burning in that house, because he's already thinking of the safe, stone domicile that'll be built in the site of the tragedy in the future.

I think that despite wanting to lead and actually having the wisdom and compassion to be a good leader, he would be much better serving as an advisor, a logistician. He'd excel at the job of both planning for the future and its ideals, while also keeping the energetic, passionate Inquisitors and other visionaries sober and on the ground by taking on the much needed but also loathed role of the guy who tells you 'here's why you can't have fun.'

It's kind of similar to Lea Surana. That one can't truly live in the moment, either, except his beef is with God(s) whom he loves and seeks to follow, but also whom he demands answers from, and seeks to supplant for the good of all, and his own peace. Whilst Spiridon is listless, indifferent and afraid, Lea Surana burns with the fires of hell and obsession. Spiridon in his heart of heart knows what the world is like and resents it for it, whilst Lea Surana finds the world as it is quite beautiful, it needs improving, not changing. Spiridon is a good man but a bad leader, Lea Surana is a bad man, but a natural-born, fair and energetic leader, unscrupulous in his goals, but utterly fair towards those who are in his employ, or who work with him, again, because he finds the world as it is, good bad and the ugly, beautiful, whilst Spiridon fucking hates the world. It's just that his moral code and in-born idealism don't allow him to do anything to change it according to his vision because if he has one thing going for him, it's his ironclad belief that he is full 'people' too, and people, in his experience, are proud, foolish, stubborn, tyrannical selfish, and wrong more than they're right. Full people lack farsight, they don't really think ahead or laterally, they think in the moment, and are prone to assuming that what they think is correct applies to all. And because he himself is 'full person' too, it means that he too is unreliable and prone to grave mistakes. He doesn't really trust himself, and he doesn't want to become all the people he's hated and still hates by assuming that he and he alone has the wisdom to decide what is right for the world. Guy's almost an anarchist. If he had the guts and the self-assuredness to actually sacrifice some people for his vision.

I think these two are the best characters I've ever created, and they're getting better because I'm getting older and wiser and seeing their flaws without feeling the need to clip 'em. Melaina Mossine's trailing close behind, but she's a comparatively new character, she hasn't had the time to marinate yet.

I need a DA character meme. It's time to give the boys their due again.

[larders]

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It is important to read customer reviews and compare prices between brands, such as Larders Direct, in order to make a well-informed choice. Furthermore, take into account delivery choices, assembly needs, and return regulations for a seamless buying process. Purchasing a Wooden Kitchen Trolley Online can upgrade your kitchen into a more orderly, productive, and fashionable area.

[divanofurniture]

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[raiding]

Mallorca seems much smaller when you're on a bus rather than a bike. A short siesta after getting on in Pollença, I was in Palma.

Here I discovered the terminus of the "wooden train" that takes tourists to Sollér, and from there to Port Sollér on an equally old wooden trolley-car. I had passed the entrance to the train-tunnel on the way up the Col de Sollér, and marvelled at the narrowness of the gauge.

I also found an excellent cafe, much better than it looked from the outside. Many things in Palma seem better on the inside, probably because for much of the year, you'd rather be out of the sun. They served me second breakfast of yoghurt with fruits and granola (with lots of almonds, which I love) and orange juice freshly-squeezed with ginger. It was all delicious, but I don't fancy cycling in Palma, however good the cafés are.

[w-transportway]

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As the carriage gracefully glides through the city streets or a scenic park, it creates a magical and dreamy ambiance, making the journey as memorable as the destination.

Luxury Limousines: Sophisticated Grandeur

For couples seeking a blend of sophistication and comfort, luxury limousines are a top choice. Here's why they are a favored wedding transportation option:

Elegance: Limousines exude an air of elegance and grandeur, making couples feel like VIPs on their wedding day.

Comfort: These spacious vehicles offer ample room for the bridal party, ensuring that everyone travels in comfort and style.

Luxury limousines are not only a practical choice but also a luxurious one, allowing couples to relax and enjoy the ride as they head to their wedding venue or reception.

Classic Trolleys: Charming Nostalgia

Classic trolleys offer a charming and nostalgic wedding transportation option for couples who appreciate a touch of vintage charm. Here's why they are a popular choice:

Quaint Aesthetics: Classic trolleys boast quaint aesthetics with wooden interiors, brass accents, and large windows, creating a cozy and intimate atmosphere.

Unique Experience: Riding in a trolley offers a unique and memorable experience that can be shared with the entire wedding party.

These charming vehicles can navigate both city streets and scenic routes, allowing couples to choose the backdrop that resonates most with their romantic vision.

Boat and Yacht Charters: Waterside Romance

San Francisco's stunning waterfront provides an ideal backdrop for couples seeking a waterside wedding experience. Boat and yacht charters offer a unique and romantic transportation option:

Scenic Views: Couples and their guests can enjoy breathtaking views of the San Francisco Bay and the city's skyline while cruising to the wedding venue.

Privacy: Boat and yacht charters offer an intimate and private setting for the couple and their closest friends and family.

Whether it's a classic sailboat, a luxury yacht, or a charming ferry, these waterborne options provide an unforgettable and romantic journey to remember.

Conclusion

San Francisco offers a plethora of romantic wedding transportation services to suit the unique preferences and dreams of every couple. Whether you envision a classic and elegant arrival in a vintage car, a fairytale entrance in a horse-drawn carriage, a sophisticated journey in a luxury limousine, a charming trolley ride through the city, or a waterside wedding on a boat or yacht, there's a transportation option that can turn your wedding day into a truly romantic and unforgettable experience.

Choosing the right transportation service is a vital part of creating the perfect wedding day, and these options ensure that your journey to your wedding venue is as magical as the vows you exchange. With the right choice, you can make a grand entrance, savor intimate moments, and create lasting memories that will add to the love and romance of your special day. San Francisco's most romantic wedding transportation services are ready to make your dream wedding a reality.

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[anantradingpvtltd]

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[woodenstreetfurniture]

What Are the Five Significant Advantages of Having Bar Trolleys?

Ba trolleys are fascinating equipment, which you can incorporate in your kitchen. It will make your kitchen look amazing. Besides, apart from making your kitchen look astounding, bar trolleys also come with numerous advantages. So, if you are thinking of bringing a bar trolley into your kitchen, you are in the right place. So, in this article, we are about to discuss its advantages. Knowing the benefits will help you to make the right decision. Also, it will intensify your eagerness. So, here are some of the advantages of bar trolley that you can check.

You Can Move Them According to Your Preference

Yes, you heard it right. One of the significant advantages of bar trolley is that you can move it to your spot. Therefore, you can understand that you don't have to worry about anything during the entertainment. 

You need to place this bar trolley to the place you want. To be precise, you can consider these trolleys to be portable service bars. And for this reason, they are pretty versatile. If you're going to bring a bar trolley to your home, you can visit the site of Wooden Street. It has an amazing collection of bar trolleys.

Extra Storage Space

Well, all the bar trolleys come with some extra storage space. And for that reason, you can store numerous things in it. So, you can see that it will help you to save a lot of space. Also, the things that you will keep in this space will be safe and organized. Moreover, you can use these trolleys easily. 

You don't have to dig your head about any complications. Well, try to opt for the trolleys that come with extra drawers. It will help you to organize your things systematically. Moreover, these trolleys will serve numerous purposes of yours at the same time.

You Can Transform It for Different Purpose

Well, another impressive part about the bar trolley is that you can turn it into numerous items. To be precise, the flexibility of these trolleys is responsible for pulling the attraction of the customers. You can take it to the different zones of your house and make use of me in different ways. 

For instance, you can take it to your dining area, and it will serve the purpose of a dinner table. Also, you can make it to your living room, where you can welcome your guests.

It Will Bring A Style Statement to Your Home

Most of the bar trolleys come with pretty exquisite designs. Whenever you bring a bar trolley o your home, it will make your home look amazing. One of the best bar trolleys that you can check is the Hesper bar trolley. It is made up of the best quality of Sheesham wood. Therefore, you can understand that it will serve your purpose for a long time. Well, there is no question about the durability of this product. Therefore, do not hesitate to bring this product to boost your home décor.

Compatible with all the Rooms

Well, it is one of the tools that are compatible with all the rooms. You can keep this thing wherever you want. And it will enhance the décor of that place. Well, most of the bar trolley India comes with amazing designs. Therefore, you don't need to bother about anything. Well, you can opt for Mendel bar trolley. It will not only make your house look attractive. But it will also serve several purposes of yours.

So, these are some of the perks of buying a bar trolley. Therefore, do not hesitate and bring a bar trolley to your kitchen.

[saajcraft1]

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[bibliocratic]

How about Jon Martin and the cursed trip to IKEA?

Thanks for the prompt! :D

I’m sure this absolutely could have been read as like ‘IKEA is not-so-secretly a Spiral domain’ but this non-Euclidean hell-hole is of mortal making I’m sure of it.

(I love and fear you IKEA, never change <3)

 --

“I simply don’t see the reason why we’d ever need them.”

“If we have guests over!”

“We’ve never had guests over.”

“One day we might!”

“And over for what?”

“I dunno! Dinner or something, make a night of it.”

“Martin, neither of us can cook.”

“Well, we could learn.”

“Alright, fine. Pushing that to one side for the moment, my question is why do our hypothetical guests require a different set of fancier cutlery? What’s wrong with the ones we’ve got at home?”

“I mean, nothing really, just… well, it’s a thing, isn’t it? Having some nice stuff to bring out if people come round.”

“Will we be moving on to the fine china aisle next?”

“Maybe! Ha, ha, don’t give me that look – Why not splash out a little? At worst, we just have more forks and some extra knives.”

“…Alright, fine.”

“Yeah?”

“Before I come to my senses. But I reserve the right to refuse guests the good cutlery if they’re undeserving.”

“What, are you planning some rigorous questionnaire they’ve got to pass first?”

“Absolutely. Come on then, the fine china awaits.”

--

Alfonse has never really been one for home improvement. He’s got a rolled-up stick of posters that he’s dragged around from his old room to student digs to slightly nicer student digs since he was a teenager, their corners creased and dotted with blue-tack stains. He’s had the same chipped plate, chipped bowl, chipped cup set since uni, and has been belligerent about swapping them out for anything less likely to shatter the next time he puts it in the dishwasher. But it’s their first flat together, and it feels real, and grown-up, and kind of scary, and he thinks that it’s important to get this part right, to set their life together off with a different start than the other places. Meaning that now, somehow, they’ve got a squeaky-wheeled trolley full of pillows and a cheese grater and storage containers that aren’t see-through plastic boxes and honest-to-god frames for his Quentin Tarantino posters. He’s finding himself entertaining the rather luxurious thought of buying a large and leafy potted plant to brighten up their cramped living room.

Tom is in his element here, and he’s put on his ridiculous reading glasses that Alfonse says make him look like Dame Edna, peering over their chunky glittery frames to inspect the ballroom’s worth of lighting they’ve found themselves amongst. He’s humming as he does so, making notations with the pint-sized pencil they collected at the door. Alfonse is entirely content to let him take the reigns on this one.

He idly people-watches for a while, making noises of interest at another floor lamp when it’s expected of him – the students clearing out the kitchenware section, lugging around the straining blue blags, the parents with children who have been swayed by the toys – before he catches sight of a man circling the desk lamps. Glancing down at his phone, gnawing on his lower lip with some discontent before he glances up and around the terrain before frowning. He swings his phone in an arc, giving the hope of it a hopeful tap, muttering a comeoncomeoncomeon under his breath.

His mobile gives a chirpy buzz, and the man almost hits himself in the ear with the force of answering.

“Where are you?” Alfonse overhears. “I can’t… Jon… Jon, you’re breaking up, yeah, the signal’s… Jon. I’m by the lamps… The lamps. Lamps. I’ve got the trolley, yes, yes – you… hello?”

Alfonse hears a very emphatic fuck’s sake before he decides to go back to Tom and leave the man suffer in private.

--

Sinead’s planted herself on one of the sofas in the well-lit display areas and has committed to not budging an inch for at least ten minutes. The fabric is a cheery yellow, and it suits the colour-coordinated pretend living room, but she’s not sure she’d choose it herself.

She’s getting a headache. Mel’s off with her nephews and nieces over in the kid’s bedroom section and she just needs five more minutes before she can look at another floral wallpaper or toy car bed.

She’s disrupted from massaging her temples by an irate-looking man with some rather intense eyebrow game throwing himself down on the half-egg-shaped armchair nearby, letting forth a truly impressively disgruntled sigh.

“You look like you’re suffering,” she offers, because she is and she wants to know someone else is too, and he nods peevishly and gives another irritated noise.

“I didn’t realise there’d be so much drama involved in buying a sofa,” he grumbles.

“Amen,” she agrees. They share a quiet moment of strung-out solidarity as they sit moulded into the seat cushions.

“… What’s that one called?” the man asks after a moment of stewing in his own mood.

She shrugs but picks up the tag and squints at it.

“Brathult? With one of those… those A’s that have the little bobble hat. Apparently, it comes in yellow, blue and green.”

“Comfortable?”

“Not bad.”

“Hm.” For a while he goes silent. Then he points out two sofas tucked into different displays and artfully layered with appropriate throw pillows; the first, a stocky black number set upon a sleek wooden frame that serve as its legs, the second, a dense cuboid of cushions currently being looked over by in fastidious detail by a tussle-haired man wearing a t-shirt covered in lots of small cartoon cacti.

“Between that one and that one,” her companion in furniture-based suffering says. “What do you think?”

Sinead studies them carefully.

“The second.”

He huffs. It was clearly not the answer he wanted.

“Why?”

“Not sure. I guess, yeah, it’s not as flashy, but the cushions look deeper. And there’s more width there, even just looking at them.”

“But the first one has all that space under it to store things.”

“Yeah, but you just know it’s going to build up with dust, and you’d be having to get the hoover under it all the time. It seems a bit finnicky.”

The man gives a considering nod.

“You’re right.”

He hefts himself up and calls over to the other display room: “Martin!”

The tussle-haired man whirls around.

Her companion holds up his hands. “You were right. The second one.”

The tussle-haired man looks smugly victorious. Sinead tries to hide her smirk at the sight.

--

Andy’s heaving the flat-pack box for a small bookcase into their trolley when they hear a conversation bleed through from the other side of the huge metal shelves in the warehouse part of the store.

“I’ve got it, I’ve got it.”

“It’s coming down on my side – woahwoahwoah – ”

“It’s – Christ, swing it this way a bit – ”

“I’ve not – Jon, I’ve not got – it’s – Jon, it’s slipping.”

“Put it down – DOWN – yes, that’s… Right. Let’s… let’s just have a moment. Catch our breath.”

“God, why’s it so heavy? It’s not like it’s even that big!”

Andy pops their head around to the other side of the shelf. Two men are puffing and sweaty, the colour on their faces blooming with exertion. Between the two of them is the long and bulky cardboard box they are clearly trying to manhandle into their trolley.

“Do you… um, do you need a hand?” they ask.

The shorter one waves a polite but dismissive hand before they manage to wrangle some air into their lungs.

“We’re good, thanks.” He says. The taller one raises an eyebrow.

Andy knows well enough to leave them to it.

--

“Hmmm! You weren’t lying about the meatballs.”

“I know right, like, what’s the secret?”

“Probably E-numbers.”

“Don’t ruin these for me, Jon!”

“Haha, alright. Help me out with the chips?”

“You finished?”

“The hot dog was enough, I’m getting full.”

“Pass them over then…. You know, I think we did alright with our spoils today. And it wasn’t so bad, all told.”

“We have to get this all in the car yet.”

“God, don’t remind me.”

[adventures-in-a-world-of-fiction]

The Leverage/Stargate fic I’ll probably never write

I have an idea for a Leverage/Stargate crossover fic but no drive to actually write it. So I’m going to lay down the plot summary of the story that exists in my head. If anyone wants to take some or all of this idea and flesh it out into a full story, you’re welcome to it.

AU!Eliot Spencer went to work for Stargate Command early on in its existence and has been there ever since. He's extremely good at his job but in a ruthless way that has everyone at best wary of him and at worst terrified. He's the guy you send on the most dangerous missions, but he's also the guy you send when you want something awful doing without any questions asked.

The Goa'uld have put a bomb in a child and killing the child is the only way to stop it going off and killing thousands? Eliot Spencer is your guy. The megadeathray gun is surrounded by slaves as human shields? Eliot Spencer is the guy who will blow it up while everyone else is busy arguing about whether there's a better way. Need someone to headshot a Goa'uld and not care about the innocent host? He's the guy who will pull the lever on your trolley problem while everyone else is still arguing the ethical ramifications.

They keep him around because he is really good at his job but also because everything he does is technically for the greater good and you can see the logic in shooting the guy with the alien virus before he can spread it and cause a plague but still, you'd think the guy would show a little remorse about shooting an innocent person in the head. So he doesn't really have friends in the SGC just reluctant allies, but he's doing good and saving the world in his own, violent way.

But then one of the science teams discover something that's giving off the same sort of energy readings as the quantum mirror and Eliot is there to act as bodyguard/escort to the scientists. They bring the shiny, aliens toys back through the Gate but then something gets activated by accident, zapping Eliot, and then suddenly canon!Eliot is there in the base, with an apron and a wooden spoon because he was in the middle of cooking dinner.

Naturally, he's immediately on the offensive because he's apparently been kidnapped and these people are all in military uniform, so he starts fighting and takes down six marines with a wooden spoon but then AU!Eliot is there fighting him and they're evenly matched. Neither can get an upper hand and they only stop when someone shoots them both with a zat while they're locked in combat and knocks them out.

Eliot wakes up heavily restrained and they try to explain that they think he's been pulled from a parallel universe and of course Eliot doesn't believe a word of it because it sounds like something from one of Hardison's weird TV shows, and the guy who looked like him was clearly a trick. He's scared that the other Eliot is part of some plot to get to his team and so of course he's not going to give them any sort of cooperation. Everyone else is scared of him because they know how scary their Eliot Spencer is and they don't want to get on the wrong side of him, but they need to get one of the techs to try and undo what was done, so they get one of the team to bring in the alien gizmo - and it's Hardison.

The Hardison of this world was still a computer genius and got recruited to get alien and human tech to work together. He doesn't really know Eliot because the techs tend to spend most of their time with other techs generally, but also that guy's scary. He really doesn't want to be in the same room as two of them, glaring at each other, because if their Eliot Spencer is the good version, he really doesn't want to know what the evil mirror universe Eliot Spencer is like. But he drew the short straw so he's got to come in and try to get some tech they barely understand to zap this guy back to where he came from.

Canon!Eliot recognises Hardison at once but thinks that he's here as part of a con as a rescue mission, so he pretends to have no idea who he is, but plays along. When Hardison starts explaining about parallel universes and alternate timelines and quantum mirrors, Eliot listens and pretends he might start to believe this technobabble and asks questions like he's starting to be convinced. The first test to send Eliot back to his universe doesn't work but he agrees to cooperate if Hardison keeps working to send him home, because he needs to get out of these restraints anyway if Hardison's rescue plan is to have any chance of succeeding. And the other people who are around standing guard or watching the events unfold are surprised that Eliot would believe Hardison over an alternate universe version of himself.

"Of course I don't trust me. I know me!"

But AU!Eliot knows him too and thinks that he's been convinced too easily and that this is a trick. He knows he would never be so quick to believe a total stranger and thinks that Eliot is just lying to get out of the restraints and then he'll start fighting everyone again, probably taking that tech as a hostage.

But while all this is going on, people are referring to Hardison by his real name and talking to him like he's been here for years, and canon!Eliot starts getting weirded out because Hardison would never use his real name in a con and he has a very distinctive tell when he's playing a part and he's not showing that tell now.

AU!Eliot wouldn't just announce that he doesn't think this guy is telling the truth so he beckons whatever senior officer is present over to the far corner so that they can talk quietly but he can still keep an eye on canon!Eliot and warns him about what he thinks the guy is planning. Meanwhile, Hardison is still running tests on canon!Eliot with the alien tech and now no one is close enough to overhear, so Eliot lets his hair hang in front of his face to shield his mouth from the security cameras and whispers, "Is Parker okay?"

Hardison just goes, "Who's Parker?" in a voice loud enough that everyone in the room can hear it.

"Damn it, Hardison!"

The senior office asks Hardison what happened and he repeats back exactly what Eliot said to him. That's what convinces Eliot that this is real because he knows that Hardison would never do anything to expose Parker and he wouldn't blurt something like that out in the middle of a con after all the years they've been doing this.

"You're not my Hardison, are you?"

"Your Hardison?!"

And Eliot tries to then convince them that he now believes them, even though they're more suspicious than ever because he was pretending to believe them before. Eliot just looks at Hardison and says, "I swear on your Nana's chicken, chilli caserole recipe that I won't hurt you if you let me out of these restraints."

Everyone else is really confused but Hardison is astonished because Nana's chicken chilli caserole recipe is sacred. It's a family secret, but she will only give the recipe to family members she deems worthy, meaning that only one of her foster kids has ever been told it and Hardison (who consists off gummy frogs and orange soda in every universe) has never so much glimpsed the page it's written on. It's a meal that is served on the specialest of special occasions and Nana would guard that recipe with her life.

"You know Nana's recipe?"

"I proved myself worthy at your engagement party. She gave me the recipe for the wedding."

"I'm married in your universe?!"

"Not legally." Because three-way unions aren't legal and besides, the guy they had officiate their wedding dropped out of priest school to become an insurance agent con artist, so it's not exactly official, but that's never stopped them. Hardison is still confused but thinks that maybe it wasn't legal because of gay marriage rules and this means he had an unofficial commitment ceremony to Eliot Spencer. He has to sit down while he processes this.

After some discussion, they let Eliot out of the restraints and he spends a little bit of time in the SGC while Hardison works on the tech. He talks to the alternate version of himself and suggests he take a cooking class and tells him he should get to know Hardison better because, "Once you get past the annoying surface part that makes you want to murder him, he's one of the smartest, bravest, and best people you could ever hope to meet, and half the irritating stuff he does is just to make you smile."

"And the other half?"

"He's just being irritating," but Eliot says this with a soft, caring smile that AU!Eliot hasn't seen in his reflection in a very long time and that makes him think it's worth giving it a shot.

And Eliot talks to Hardison too, telling him that he has absolute trust in his ability to work out all this alien tech stuff and get him home safely because he has people there who need him because he doesn't trust Hardison to feed himself any with more nutritional value than gummy frogs without him there to take care of him. And he convinces Hardison to take a chance on this universe's Eliot because if anyone can get past his defences, it's him. Or Parker, but she doesn't seem to be around in this universe.

And that seems like the perfect moment for Parker to appear out of a vent because she wanted to give herself a challenge breaking into a facility with more security than any museum and she's been listening in on all of this stuff as it unfolds.

So this universe's Hardison and Eliot convince the SGC guards not to shoot Parker because she has a really useful skillset, and canon!Eliot wishes them luck as he gets sent bak to his own world, where his Parker and Hardison are in the middle of tearing the criminal underworld into a million pieces to find out what happened to him.

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[liquid-book-of-days]

Today’s tea tables almost always feature a tiered cake stand that elegantly displays an eye-catching array of mouthwatering sandwiches, scones, and pastries. We perhaps assume that these graceful silver and porcelain stands have always played a part on traditional tea tables. And as we lovingly prepare each tier and garnish the food with flowers and fruits, we may ponder how our great-grandmothers, great-great-aunts, and generations of teatime hostesses before them would have arranged theirs. But it is, in fact, unlikely that Victorian ladies who served tea before the 1880s used such stands on their tea tables. The cakes and pastries were probably brought to the table in silver baskets or on glass or porcelain platters that stood modestly on a pedestal just above the height of the other dishes. According to researchers in The Goldsmiths’ Company’s library, “Historically, silversmiths would have made ‘cake baskets’ or ‘bread baskets’ for the presentation of scones, muffins, and cakes. In our catalogue, we have sources on silver baskets, but there is nothing for cake stands, nor are cake stands mentioned in dictionaries of silver.” However, Georgian and Victorian diners would have been very familiar with silver, pressed glass, crystal, or porcelain single-tier cake stands, known originally as salvers and used to display wedding cakes and fancy desserts. These sat on either a solid base approximately 6 inches high or a pedestal that created a theatrical effect and showed the cake off to its best advantage. Some of the grander, solid-silver salvers had a mechanism that allowed them to revolve slowly, while others contained fun novelty features such as musical boxes! Victorian dinner tables often also held quite elaborate centerpieces called “epergnes,” which included branches of various sizes positioned at different heights and designed to hold salt and pepper dishes and trays of sweetmeats or fruit. And in most drawing rooms of that period, a folding mahogany or oak cake stand 2 or 3 feet tall would have stood on the floor beside the tea table or trolley. These had hinged trays that dropped down to hold platefuls of toasted muffins and hot buttered crumpets but then folded neatly away once tea was over. The stands continued to play their part at teatime, both in Britain and North America, and in the 1922 edition of Emily Post’s Etiquette (published in the United States), we read, “… on the tea-table, back of the tray, or on shelves of a separate ‘curate,’ a stand made of three small shelves, each just big enough for one good-sized plate, are always two, usually three, varieties of cake and hot breads.” So, perhaps, as afternoon tea gained favour in the later years of the 19th century, the pedestal cake platters; the decorative, space-saving epergnes; and the floor-standing wooden cake stands gradually merged to create a multitiered stand designed specifically for the display of irresistible cakes and pastries on the tea table.