#matilda cobbles

[ice-artist]

Merry Christmas!!!

Something I did for the DH Christmas contest which I won third place along with a mutual of mine!!! Hope everyone has a great Christmas and a happy new year! <3

[mewmewchann]

A christmas artpiece I drew for the Desperate Heart server featuring my beloveds the trio ever of all time

I had a lot of fun drawing this ^^

[yourfaveneedsakiss]

Matilda Cobbles from Danganronpa: Desperate Heart 2: Infectious Devotion needs a kiss! 💋

Requested by Anonymous

[professorthaddeus]

butterfly effects

The air has been saturated with a sharp, tangy sense of urgency ever since the freeway collapsed, but here in the back alleys by Conrad’s home, the cobbled streets are cold as ever, the walls dark and damp from the recent brainstorm. Justin pads along by his side, a comforting presence at his feet, and Conrad could almost pretend it’s just another day on the job, on the way to his paper route.

Except for one thing. The Fix’s hulking form lumbers ahead of him, his shoulders barely squeezing through the alleyways. In the shadows, he practically looks like a wall himself—solid, unyielding stone, brought to life to eliminate any obstacles ahead of him. No, ahead of all three of them. 

It’s been a long, long time since any grownup took an interest in Conrad. Now, there are five grownups looking out for him. Trying to save him. 

It’s a lot. 

Well, maybe that’s not fair. Mister F—the owner of Sugah’s has always paid attention to him. Even if their interactions weren’t the most pleasant on Conrad’s end, the club owner always remembered his name and cared where he was. Well. Cared if he was too close to Sugah’s, at least.

The Fix keeps glancing back at him to make sure he’s following. It’s funny—one look from someone so intimidating would usually send Conrad scrambling into corners to hide, but he doesn’t feel that itch under his skin tonight. That gaze, concerned and watchful, those giant hands swinging by The Fix’s sides, capable of so much violence but so much care, too… they’re so familiar. Echoes of bright points in a dark, forgotten place.

The next time The Fix looks back, Conrad clears his throat and tries to project his voice far enough to reach the henchman’s ears above. “Um, Mister The Fix?”

“Just The Fix is fine, kid.”

Conrad swallows. “Oh, okay. Um. Earlier, you wanted to know why I trusted you so quickly, right? I didn’t really know myself, then, but I think I’ve figured it out.” He scuffs his feet, the words faltering on his tongue as the memories come into focus.

“Oh?” The Fix is giving him an encouraging nod.

“I… I think I know you. From before we met recently, I mean. You used to come to Madame Loathing’s, didn’t you?”

The Fix blinks. “Yes, I did. I still do. But I don’t remember seeing you there.”

Conrad shrugs. “I usually kept to myself when I lived there. But you… you were impossible to miss.”  

The other children would always get so excited when their benefactor came to visit. Conrad stayed back, but he still caught the man’s endless patience as he listened to Ronnie ramble about snakes, as he watched Matilda practice her magic tricks. Still felt the draw of a grownup who really cared, a grownup who was kind.

“You used to nurture the wayward interests, didn’t you? You wanted to protect them so that they could grow.” Now that Conrad remembers, it seems so odd that he ever forgot. Then again, it’s been a long time since he ran away. And The Fix’s visits had gotten less and less frequent over the years. Conrad frowns. “But now… you just do whatever the DA tells you to do, and the DA only cares about the big guy’s job. What happened?”

“Hey now, nothing happened.” The Fix’s brow furrows. “I do what I do for the big guy, same as any other worker here, and after a while, he began to value ambition the most.”

“But you’re so strong. You could do so much good if you just—”

The Fix’s mouth twists into a grimace as he rolls a shoulder. It’s probably just in discomfort, and he doesn’t move forward, but Conrad still flinches back reflexively, and Justin rumbles a low growl in warning. The Fix’s eyes soften, the irritation vanishing from his face.

“People come after you a lot, don’t they?”

“Well… yeah. I get it, though. People don’t like a little kid telling them what they should do. Like I just did with you.” Conrad winces. “Sorry,” he mumbles.

“There’s nothing to apologize for.” The Fix shakes his head. “I’ll be honest, I’m not very comfortable with your mission to change the big guy’s mind. But you’re a part of the mind, too, and that’s your purpose. Maybe you have a point.”

“No, you don’t have to say that, I shouldn’t have—look, I’m not trying to blame you," Conrad stammers. "I can’t really talk, anyway. I know I’m kind of failing as the big guy’s moral conscience here—oh sorry, not that I’m saying you’re failing, but…” He sighs, shifting his weight. “Most people’s consciences talk to them a lot, and actually make a difference. I mean, even Justin’s always telling me I need to do more.”

“Wha—no, I told you one time that maybe we could be doing a little more than just switching the front page of the newspaper.”

“Oh, right.”

Justin nudges Conrad’s leg. “I know you do the best you can, and sometimes that’s all we can do,” he justifies.

Conrad’s eyes well up with a familiar emotion. He’s so lucky to have this dog by his side. “Justin, you’re my best friend.”

“You’re my best friend.”

The Fix kneels, interrupting Conrad’s move to give Justin a hug. Conrad is suddenly struck with an image of this mountain of a man crouching down in the entryway at Madame Loathing’s to let Jimmy the prospective gymnast clamber all over him. “I’m glad the two of you have each other; you’re both really good friends. But you don’t have to do this by yourselves anymore. I’d like to be your friend, too.”

Conrad flushes. “I… I appreciate that, Mister—I mean, The Fix.” He looks down, fiddling with the fraying strap of his bag. “But I still don’t know if I can do more, even with help. I’d like to, but the one time I tried and it actually worked, I—I got the big guy hurt real bad, and…” An innocent kid died. Ichabod. Conrad shudders, his shoulders curling in on himself. Things have been crazy, and it’s all his fault. The collapsed highway, the darkened switchboard, the eyes being closed… he might’ve gotten the big guy hurt again.

The Fix tilts his head, considering him intently in a way that makes Conrad want to squirm away. The Fix hums awkwardly. “You know, back in the 70s, there was this man named Edward Norton Lorenz who developed a hypothesis that contributed a lot to chaos theory. He theorized that Earth’s weather patterns are pretty much impossible to predict perfectly because, for example, the smallest changes in atmospheric pressure can build into storms, or a gust of wind can send clouds on a completely different path.”

Conrad looks to Justin for help, but his friend looks just as bewildered as he feels.

“What?”

The Fix sighs. “What I’m trying to say is, I think I was right. You’re important, Conrad—you’re the butterfly. And it’s okay if you feel like you can’t do too much right now.” He ventures a smile. Conrad gets a feeling The Fix doesn’t do that much. The smile’s a little lopsided, but it’s gentle. “Even the tiniest butterfly can make a big change with just a flap of its wings.”

Conrad’s eyes widen. His first instinct is to protest—history has shown him that he can’t affect anything. He doesn’t deserve to, anyway, after the harm he’s caused. But maybe that’s not exactly true. After all, because of Conrad—or at least, because The Fix saw Conrad, he went from blindly following the DA’s orders without considering the consequences to actively lying to his boss, giving voice to his old desire to protect.

It’s too much. Justin presses against his legs, and Conrad worries at his lip, resisting the urge to curl up into a ball on the ground. There’s something fluttering inside him, an unfamiliar warmth settling tentatively alongside the ever-present whirlpool of guilt. It’s weird. It’s kind of nice.

The Fix stands, turning to face the industrial lights of Occipital Park in the distance. “Come on, we should probably get going to meet up with the others.” Conrad adjusts his bag and takes a deep breath, straightening his spine.

“Okay.”

The Fix is reaching out to offer him a hand. He takes it.

-----

also on ao3 (if you'd like to give your local fic writer some contraband dopamine kudos :p)

[3xm-draconic]

Bloodline of the Last Dragon.

Season 1/Episode 1: Escaping the inferno.

Mattilda pulled up her hood to hide her ears, their pointed appearance would only draw attention and she wouldn’t want that. She kept her head down and her gaze low so that no one would get a good look at her altmer-like eyes.

Her hands were in her clothes pockets to hide her strange discolored clawed bosmeri fingers…damn it she wished she knew where her darn gloves were!

Her father stood in the doorway, peaking out when he froze and then hurriedly came back inside “get you bug-out bag” he panicked, “their here for us?!” she shuttered the fear of what the Dominion might do to her father, striking her heart like a cold steel blade, “no, I don’t think they even know we are here but we need to move now!” he said gruffly as he gripped her arm.

The room began to shake…

Then the roof started to smoke…

They scrambled to grab what they could as they ran out of the burning house just before it collapsed behind them, they looked around at the chaos that was unfolding around them.

The whole town was burning…and a huge black dragon was soaring through the skies bringing wrath and ruin upon Helgen.

“By the gods…” her father shuttered, They bobbed and weaved through the panicked crowds, Mattilda running as fast as she could next to her father. A loose stone on the cobbled pathway caused her to trip, her body crashing to the ground with a painful and loud thud. Her father tried to rush to her, to help her up but was swept away in the crowd, “MATTI!” he cried, “DAD!” she screamed back, her hand outstretched as if to try and grasp for him. 

The great ebony dragon came back again, Mattilda didn't know what to do, suddenly she was grabbed by someone and pulled inside the keep, a stormcloak soldier had saved her life in the nick of time as flames scorched the ground where she had previously been standing.

“You ok?” he said, Matilda looked at him, a mistake in hindsight.

“Whoa…your eyes…are you half elf?” he pondered, she looked away, “hey..I…look I ment no offense by that” he apologized “name’s Ralof…what’s yours?”

“Mattilda, Mattilda Viddarson” she replied “but I go by Matti”, “well Matti are you ok, would you like some water?” he asked her as he handed her a waterskin, she nodded, “we’re kinda stuck in here” he laughed sadly, “better in here that out there” she sipped the waterskin and shrugged back.

The sound of footsteps came running down the hall beside them, “c’mon soldier keep moving!” called the voice of an imperial captain, “take cover” Ralof said as he hid beside the gated door, Matilda didn’t have time to argue nor did she want to…she just wanted to find her father and let this nightmare be over.

 The imperials found them and immediately raised their blades, “STOP!” cried Mattilda “There is a motherfucking dragon on the loose shouldn’t we work together to survive? Please just put aside the petty political bullshit” she pleaded to the captain. 

The legit beside her, a man named Hadvar looked to the captain “she has a point, we have bigger problems than escaped prisoners”, the captain's eyes burned with rage “I’d rather die than help a stormcloak!”

The captain slashed at Ralof and shoved Hadvar aside, she then charged for Mattilda with full speed, Mattilda raised her hands not caring if her strange hands were exposed and from her clawed fingertips shot out a jet of intense crimson flame. It was one of only 2 spells she knew, the only spells her father knew how to teach her.

The captain screamed as her body was engulfed by the inferno, Mattilda then shoved the captain away from her, Ralof with his axe finished the job and rendered the captain’s head from her shoulders.

Hadvar sighed and looked at them “I’am not going to fight you…I just want to get out of here and home to my uncle in Riverwood” he shuttered “I have to warn him about the dragon”, Ralof nodded “I need to warn my sister in Riverwood too, they are defenseless”, “I need to get out of here and find my father, by the gods I hope he’s alright!” Mattilda held back a pained sob, she wanted to cry she was so terrified.

The trio traveled through the fort down a hall and to a storage room, after fighting two more imperial soldiers who would not listen to reason they stopped to take what they could from the store room.

 “I think there is some potions in here” Hadvar said as he searched through a sack, “grab anything useful and lets go” Ralof nodded as he grabbed a few packs of rations and a backpack, Mattilda found some potions in a barrel and divvied them up between the three of them “here Hadvar, Ralof, you each take a health potion, I already have some with me”.

“You look like you are ready to survive a disaster like this with a bug-out bag like that” Ralof pointed out, “my father and I…well we prep for the worst of things” she shrugged.

It was then that Hadvar noticed her for what she was, he too gawked at her strange appearance, “please stop, I’am not a circus animal” she grumbled. “I-I am sorry I didn’t mean to be rude, I never knew half-elves existed…your eyes are so…bright”.

As they walked further into the keep they came across a torture chamber…and a massacre…

Both the torturer, his assistant and two stormcloaks lay in bloody pieces all over the stone floor. “Gods…” Hadvar shuttered, “nothing we can do now, press on” Ralof sighed, “hang on, there’s something in this cage!” Mattilda pointed out.

Inside was a skeleton in mage robes, some gold…and a spell book.

“Here take some picks and unlock the door, we might need that gold once we’re out of here” Ralof pointed out as he handed her some lock picks.

Mattilda’s father had taught her how to pick the lock on their house if she ever got locked out and had somehow lost her key, she twisted and turned the pick ever so gently so as not to break it.

With a click the lock on the door fell to the floor and the cage swung open, Mattilda took the gold and handed it to Ralof…she then looked at the robes on the skeleton and the spell tome, she had longed to have robes, REAL mages robes.

And tomes were expensive, costing up to 300 septims for a copy in decent condition and finding a store or mage selling one near Helgen was hard because they were so remote…

When Hadvar and Ralof went on ahead to scout for a way out she took the tome and the robes from the skeleton, the person was dead so it’s not like they needed them right? 

Up ahead were more soldiers, “what do we do?” Ralof pondered “we can’t fight them all”, Mattilda looked at the layout of the battle…just ahead was a large spilled slick of oil “I’ll run ahead and kite them into that oil, then I’ll catch it on fire with my flame spell”, “are you sure you can do that?” Hadvar pondered, “I have to try, what other option do we have?”

Mattilda rushed ahead, her feet fleetly running across the stone, the soldiers fell for the plan hook-line-and-sinker as they chased after her, she suddenly turned to face them as they stood within the oil slick, a jet of flames erupted from her hand and ignited the oil.

FWOOSH! A wall of flames that rose so high it scorched the ceiling burst from under them and encased the soldiers in a torrent of enhanced burning magicka, it was so quick they barely had time to scream.

They were nearly out of the fort now, the only things left to fight past were some frost spiders and a bear.

As they exited the cave and into the shining light of day Ralof grabbed Hadvar and Mattilda suddenly and pulled them down behind a rock, “WAIT” he hushly yelled to them as they hid behind the stone.

The great black dragon soard overhead roaring in frustration…then disappearing over the mountainside.

“There he goes” Ralof gasped, “hopefully gone for good this time” Hadvar nodded to him, “Riverwood is my best bet, other survivors may have gone there and hopefully there is where I’ll find my father” Mattilda prayed.

“My sister Gurder will help us out” Ralof turned to Mattilda “I’am sure your father is alright, I sure he made it out, you’ll find him” he patted her shoulder.

Hadvar looked at the sun…it was starting to dip under the horizon, “nights falling soon…better hurry.”

.

.

[unknownjpegs]

flock

Matilda stoops suddenly, unfolds upright with a flick of hair that betrays the angry flush on her cheeks. And a pock-marked rock in her pale fist. 

“Hit the deck, mate!”Karlach calls up at it with a boisterous giggle, hands cupped around her mouth. The bird dodges, but only barely. Its wings are loud as it launches from its perch and whirlwinds a quick retreat upwards into the blue sky. Its resounding caw as it departs sounds considerably more like a laugh.It isn’t any one singular thing - unfortunately for Lark, Matilda has a nose for these sorts of mysteries. She knows an intruder; she knows her flock.

So when she turns abruptly in a cobblestone alley with an intense, glinting annoyance wrested upon her face, Astarion and Karlach stop just as quickly behind her. Matilda recognizes her flock, and she trains them well: both know she becomes peevish when bumped into. And both, of course, know a confrontation with Matilda is a exactly like a plague. Something to be avoided. Especially when she is as stark-raving, cataclysmically annoyed as her expression betrays in that moment.

Neutral. Not stony, nor cold. 

“Oh, shit.” 

Astarion steps back first, hands raised to show his palms. Beside him, Karlach’s eyebrows hitch into her flaming hairline as she stares between the two elves. 

“Alright, mummy and daddy, can we let whatever tiff is about to level this block of the city wait until we’re back at camp?”

“Karlach, darling,” Astarion hisses from one side of his fanged mouth. “We’ll speak later of your speed and accuracy to fling blame upon my poor, fragile shoulders. For now, I might suggest we evacuate the blast radius.” 

He takes one shuffling step away from their crowded circle - Matilda has a flock of crows with them today. They follow the group of adventurers like a thin cloud as they traverse the city streets, but assimilate to the ambiance of the city with relative ease. Some, as they briefly roost upon rafters and clotheslines and awning before taking flight to follow once more, are guilty of pecking at the much softer, gentler city pigeons on occasion. 

Matilda hasn’t corrected a single one of them for the behavior, as she has a proclivity towards spoiling the tar-black, shiny feathered flock of birds. So it is rather strange that she seems to pick one in particular out of the group and level it with that terrible, blank-faced anger. It sits about a meter above them, talons gripped to the crumbling stone edge of some poor Baldurian’s cheaply cobbled balcony. 

“Think I can’t recognize you, bastard?” The ranger hisses up at the bird. Matilda levels it with a slim finger of accusation, her eyes narrowed into slits when the bird cocks its head with a certain air of…impishness. 

“Oh, you —“ 

When it’s gone, Matilda whirls around once more, her ire retargeted. Karlach raises her hands now, but her twisted grin betrays her.

“If you warn him like that again, I’ll rip your engine from that hollow chest and use it to power a personal luxury sauna for Zariel.” 

“Heard, mum.” Karlach intones, pinching her fingers to draw them across her lips.

“Him?” Astarion says from behind them. His voice pitches up, colored with amusement and just a mote of barely-hidden confusion.

Karlach sinks into a bent-knee position, her body tensed like it’s ready for a fight — or to run. 

“The drow,” she whispers ominously. And then, before Matilda has a chance to fully process what she’s said, takes off down the alley and around the corner. 

“The what?”

But the ranger beside him is there no longer; her cape flutters around the edge of the stone building, and Astarion sighs with great, labored breath before striding forwards to follow the crows to wherever Matilda will hide their tiefling’s body.

*

Karlach lives to see another day. To Matilda’s displeasure, she even seems to enjoy wine pourer duty that evening for dinner at camp. She flips a ragged cloth over her forearm and puts on the worst impression of an upper city accent that, Matilda is sure, anyone’s ever heard. 

She and Astarion sit slightly up the hill, watching the festivities wind down from a spread blanket, their own carafe of incredibly expensive vintage between them. 

“Such a reaction from you today, my dear.”

Matilda’s scoff is prim and pretty. She swirls the bloodied amber liquid in her goblet, watching the tides of it race up and splash back down with expertly feigned interest. 

“I feel as though I was rather tame, all things considered.” She takes a sip. “Look, see? Karlach is no stranger to indentured servitude. She’s having fun.” 

For a moment, they both watch their friend do a little jig before dipping into a bow low enough, tray and goblets and carafe balanced on her palm, that its absurdity dissolves everyone into a fit of giggles loud enough they can be heard at the knoll above.

“Beastly,” Astarion judges, although he sounds, to her, suspiciously fond. “But no, I wasn’t speaking of Karlach. I must admit I’m rather more interest in this drow of yours.”

Matilda’s next sip is considerably longer. “He isn’t mine.” She takes another. “And I, certainly not his. No matter what he’d like to think.”

She gathers the stares to her eyes for a moment, chin tilted up towards the night sky.   “Bastard. The audacity to just…follow me around like that.”

“There’s a story there, I suspect.”

Another, less pretty, scoff. “Several.” She sobers a bit, if only in tone. “I wasn’t keeping it a secret —“

“You’re entitled to as many as you’d like.” 

“I don’t need you to tell me that.” Matilda responds snappishly. “Or to give me permission.” At his briefly wounded pout, she softens fully. Drags an arm around his shoulders and pulls him in to rest their temples together. Some of the stiff energy seeps from him too, as it always does with touches such as these — touches, Matilda thinks, that will never amount to more; she couldn’t be happier for the fact if she tried. 

She slips her fingers into the hair on the opposite side of his head, rubbing gently in an apology she won’t speak aloud. 

“Would you like to hear about it?”

Astarion flings free of her grasp and flips onto his stomach in the grass, chin propped on two joined fists. He kicks childishly at the air.

“Oh, only the very nastiest, most luridly salacious bits of the story, if you please. Keep it sticky. You know I don’t have the stomach for —“ he fakes a retch into the earth beneath them. “Romance.”

Matilda’s face heats, and its ruddy flush doesn’t slip off for the remainder of the evening despite her best efforts.

“It’s not romance,” she argues.

But it is, and for what it’s worth, the epic couldn’t be told in any other style.

*

Later that same evening — or day, rather — Matilda wakes before the birdsong. She aches between her shoulders, at her scalp, elsewhere. The flush returns, and for a moment she has respite from reality by burying her face into her pillow. 

Only a moment, though. It had been in a similar position not a mere hour before, and the memory of that comes rushing back like a hammer to a mirror, breaking her peace. 

She sighs and rolls over, knowing exactly what waits on the other side of her tent. And still, despite all this time, she is somehow unprepared for it. He clutches one of her fluffy pillows in his arms, and she quite enjoys the shape it gives his biceps — enough that she finds herself reaching out to trail her middle finger along duvet-warmed skin, the touch lingering on a mole just at the curve of his shoulder. 

Matilda remembers finding that one for the first time. When they were younger, when she had been gullible, because at the time she had convinced herself: this one’s a ‘just once’. 

The embarrassment flashes through her. She should be relaxed, should be feeling soft and pliant especially after all that, but the only thing that works to the surface is the sweetness. And that, naturally, she has to stifle. 

Bastard, she thinks, and lovingly strokes the tip of his ear before tweaking it. 

Lark gasps awake, his hand coming up to slap around Matilda’s wrist — and she angers further at that, at the sweetness the grip brings back to mind, at the bubble of want behind her belly button. 

“What is your problem?” He hisses, flattening her to her back at once. Matilda’s offending hand is trapped next to her ear, but the other roams over his shoulder, fingernail scraping softly across lines it and its peers had recently left. He makes another suspicious sort of noise and drops more against her. 

Satisfied, Matilda schools her face and levels him with a bored look. 

“Oh, here you are still. I thought you’d be off to Waterdeep, by now.” 

Lark rolls his eyes and drops his forehead against her clavicle. His warm breath makes her shiver uncontrollably, and she hates that she anticipates the smirk before she feels it against her skin. 

“Well I’m a little stuck at a decision right now, stay or go. Seeing as how I never fucking know with you—“

He breaks off to press a series of slow, reverent kisses across her neck, up her jaw. Matilda pretends not to notice how he lingers on the column, tongue pointed against scarred divots before they’re bruised with possessive suction. She also pretends not to slip into a smirk of her own, hand clutching just as needing at his messy hair. 

You do know, she wants to tell him. Always. Better than anyone ever has, I think. Sometimes even me. And sometimes I think I know you more than you do, even. Does that scare you?

“Do I scare you?” Matilda asks sweetly, wriggling her entrapped hand until he lets it go. 

“May I please—“ Lark’s question cuts off with more kisses, tone low and suggestive to distract. Matilda fights as best she can against it, but the sleepiness whittles her defenses regardless. She tilts her chin for more, but grasps his as he speaks. 

“May I please get a hint as to what the right answer to that is?”

“Sure.” One of her legs coils around his hips, hooking him in to draw closer. When he settles against her, knees bracketing her waist, Matilda puts her mouth to the pretty, cloudy-sky gray skin of his ear to whisper.

“If my contacts in Waterdeep see you at that sorceress’s tower again, I’ll pluck you clean myself and save the fowl butcher some trouble.”

Lark’s laugh, before he catches the middle of it quiet, is nearly enough to wake the whole camp — no, the whole of the Sword Coast. 

“Alright, you’ve convinced me.” He lifts his head and leans up enough to establish eye contact. Matilda swims in the haunting yellow of his gaze for a moment. She must have some note of that softness left about her, because Lark softens, too. His mouth slackens of his smirk before he touches it to hers. 

“I’m simply terrified of you.” The words vibrate, tickle her lips. Matilda giggles, but only for a moment. The sound drags yet another from him, and she blushes at the implications of that as he begins the process of kissing her much more thoroughly. That he likes her enough to find something sensual in her too-wild laugh? That he’s more than happy to let her make ribbons of his back, that he checked in at all, no matter the stalkerish method selected. She couldn’t hold stealth against him. It was his nature. 

And the thorns hers. He knew that, too. Yet he was happily pricked by them just for this — just for a taste of this. One night wasn’t enough, but it needed to be, and Lark seemed content to spend it exactly this way: Matilda’s arms around his neck, fingers in his hair, letting him kiss her as thoroughly as he liked until the sun began to rise. 

Your drow, reverberates in her skull. She knows they have a fight come proper morning. She can’t wait.

[cleumz-moved]

Could I request extra fluffy time with Satan and Solomon, separately, with a gentle, relaxing date while it rains outside

𖤐 RAIN, RAIN, GO AWAY, COME AGAIN ANOTHER DAY

𖤐 characters included - satan, solomon

𖤐 warnings - none, lmk if i'm mistaken tho

𖤐 note - solomon's ended up waaay longer n also i got kinda carried away, just a little ^^; still, i hope u enjoy

SATAN 𖤐

the violent rain shook the windowpanes in their frames from the behind the open curtains. you could hear the wind howling outside and whistling through the cracks in the old building.

of course, you worried about none of it because you were warm and safe on a small, red, velvety couch with satan, each reading your own books.

satan was engrossed in a history tome detailing the cooking and food related culture of a lost civilization, while you were reading 'esio trot¹', by roald dahl.

turning pages, the smell of paperbacks and dust, even the chill of this room, had grown familiar to you, comforting even.

you were curled up in satan's side cozy despite the current state of the weather. satan was perfectly comfortable as well, and thought you should know it.

"you know, my dear, it certainly is lovely to have you here. i simply adore having you at my side." significantly flustered by his sudden proclamation, your face flushed, and satan had the audacity to elicit a chuckle!

now it was your turn, "i think it's lovely with you, even in a storm like this, your beauty manages to shine through like a sunburst!"

SOLOMON 𖤐

filling your ears was the ceaseless pleut-pleut-pleut² of the rain on ground, as it formed little pools on the cobbled path, with it's mismatched stones, and garish weeds peeking through the cracks. those weeds were probably grateful the cascade of clean, clear water.

however, you were not.

solomon was making you gather this one bizarro flower with him, apparently it only bloomed in the rain. he said it was invaluable to one of the potions he needed desperately.

although you grumbled your protestations to his scheme, you knew he was going to drag you along anyway, and that you didn't really mind.

the downpour had you totally drenched, and to put it simply, you were miserable. solomon was slightly off the cobblestone path you had been following, and he could be seen peering under ferns and the other underbrush decorating the forest floor.

after you called out to him, he turned his head and glanced at you with owlish scrutiny.

"solomo-on," you started, childishly dragging on the last syllable, "i'm wet, and tired, and i wanna go ho-ome!" you complained dragging on the 'o' sound just as before. "well, darling, have you found the blossom yet? no? then i suggest you keep looking, or else we'll be stuck out here 'til this storm blows over." he was sooo unfair! him and his stupid, loveable face, and his dumb, drop dead gorgeous, utterly bewitching, smile.

needless to say you begrudgingly went back to looking, perhaps now with more vigor, as you wanted to get home and change into some nice, dry clothes.

while checking behind some trees you heard an exclamation, it was solomon, had he finally found what he had been looking for? it seems to be so! at long last, you can go home!

after arriving back at the purgatory hall, solomon got you a towel and helped you dry your hair, after all was said and done, he leaned over and pressed a kiss to your cheek, a 'thank you', for helping him today, it was warmer and cozier than the fire simeon insisted on lighting for the both of you, worried you'd catch a cold.

¹ esio trot is a really great book! although less well-known compared to some of roald dahl's more popular works (matilda, charlie and the chocolate factory, the fantastic mr. fox, james and the giant peach, just to name a few <3), it's a lovely read! 𖤐

² 'il pleut' is french for 'it's raining', and how i remember is 'pleut' sounds like a raindrop plunking down in a puddle! 𖤐

𖤐 requests for obey me r currently open

[jow99]

Playa de Arija to Picos de Europa, Fuente De

An early start for me this morning with a work call, which wasn’t a bad thing as we wanted to get on the road relatively early. We were heading to Picos de Europa which is an absolutely stunning National Park in Spain. Years ago we did a day drive through it and have wanted to come back and spend more time ever since.

Our Aussie neighbours were leaving today too. Harry came over to supervise Jose’s packing up progress. I hadn’t realised until they were leaving today that their van is called Waltzing Matilda - awesome!

Our drive today retraced yesterday’s bike ride and continued on. We’d really like to come back here and do more cycling. It was a beautiful drive and we were truly in Cantabria now (though we did briefly cross through Asturia).

We stopped off for groceries and Jose called the campground we were hoping to get into. For some bizarre reason they won’t take bookings. At that point they did have vacancies. We were about 2 hours away so we scooted as fast as the windy single lane each way road would allow us.

Alas the last spot had just been filled when we arrived 😩 There was another campground 4kms down the road but when we got there it was also full. We seriously thought everyone had gone to the coast, we couldn’t believe how busy the Picos de Europa was.

Our last hope was another campground a further 16kms away. As it turned out it was literally at the roads end and both fullish and a bit challenging for a motorhome, think shiny cobbles. However the road leading to this campground was wall to wall motorhomes. Happy days, looks like we’ve found our spot for the night and it is stunning.

We went for a quick walk to get some hiking info, a loo stop and a coffee. By the time we got back to Tessi for lunch it was after 3:30pm and I was starving. Replete we went for a short walk and then dropped by the bar in the campground.

Back at Tessi there were motorhomes queueing, hoping to get a spot. Having spoken to some of the other people parked here it does seem the park rangers are turning a blind eye to all us rebel motorhome owners.

Dinner tonight was simple but delicious. Local blue cheese and chorizo followed be tortilla that was still warm when we bought it at Carrefour with a salad. And of course the obligatory bottle of rose. This wild camping isn’t so bad 😉

[sapphicmsmarvel]

JJ: Crossfire Part 1

crossfire masterlist 

masterlist

“Are you serious?” You asked as Hotch gave the all clear for you to leave. “You want me to leave in the middle of the biggest freaking case we’ve ever had?”

“Yes, your family has the weekend every year around labor day. You’re clear to go as well as JJ.” Hotch didn’t even look up from the stack of papers on his desk. He handed you the ‘all clear’ then went right back to business. “But Hotch-” “But nothing. We have no leads, Garcia is combing through thousands of known drug lords, it’ll take at least the weekend, that way your eyes and brain have a break.” This time he looked up. 

You sighed, “you promise to call us if anything happens? And I mean anything, like Reid finally cracks and breaks another coffee mug or if Morgan-”

“Y/N.” He looked at you and said softly, “go be with your wife. Go see your family.” “I don’t like my family, why do you think barely any were at the wedding?” 

“Because it was an out of state wedding.” He deadpanned. 

“Why do you think we had it in pennsylvania and not my home state?” He gave you a pointed look, then you held your hands up, “fine, fine, we’ll go. But promise me you will call us with anything?” You pointed a finger at him. Like a parent who caught their son doing something stupid. 

“Yes, now go. You and JJ are officially dismissed until Monday.”

“But it’s thursday?” You tilted your head. 

“Yes, you can pack, then fly home tonight.” 

You nodded then threw up a peace sign and left his office. You ignored the ‘im so done with you’ stare Hotch has perfected when it came to dealing with you. You walked back to your desk to where you saw the team trying not to seem nosey. 

“I know you guys were trying to eavesdrop.” You laughed.

JJ looked at you sheepishly. Everyone else avoided your eyes. 

“What’d dad call you in for?” Morgan joked. 

“JJ and I are officially dismissed until Monday.” You said grabbing your bag to pack things up. 

“What? Why?” JJ asked, tilting her head confused.

“Because, my darling, beautiful wife, we are flying home to my home state, to visit my family in our cabin.” You kissed her cheek. 

“Your family of like, a million aunts, uncles and cousins?” Her blue eyes were wife. You nodded, “the very one.”

“Hell yeah.” She hopped off your desk, “I’ll go get my things, meet me in five at my office.” Then pecked your cheek and left. 

“Try to have fun.” Reid said encouragingly, he even squeezed your shoulder. 

“Why wouldn’t you?” Morgan asked. 

“Because my family is full of bible thumping, homoephobic jerks.”

“Then why is JJ excited to go?”

“Because she loves cabin life and I wanna go to settle some old scores.” You said, “she likes seeing me being confrontational.” 

“Old scores?”

“Finally punching my sister in the face.” You said.

He nodded, “gotcha.”

You said your goodbyes to everyone, went and saw Garcia with JJ. You two left the building. 

“You sure you wanna spend a weekend with my family?” You asked, looking at her with puppy dog eyes. 

“Yes, I know they’re awful, but I wanna see this cabin my baby grew up in.” She kissed your cheek, “everything will be okay.” 

Oh, how you wish that was true 

---------------------------------------------------------------

The drive up was very scenic, your niece offered to pick you guys up. She had just turned sixteen, excited to be able to drive. 

As you two pulled into the driveway, your stomach clenched at all the cars, you were able to identify all of them. 

James and Maggie, their three kids, Reggie, Katherine, Nya.

Kevin and Amie, their two kids Fiona and Kevin JR

Esther, and her two kids Wesley and Hudson. 

Then Esther, Amie and James' parents, Lilly and Oscar. 

And then, Taylor. Your sister. The woman who you dreaded to see. 

The racist ones hadn’t arrived yet, thankfully. Neither had your parents, they texted you saying they’d come in tomorrow. But all the others were religious as fuck, Wesley, Hudson and Kevin JR were the ones that didn’t look down on your for your sexuality. 

The bar is so low. 

“Your sister here?” You asked Matilda as she parked. 

“Yeah, she’s probably being an ass as we speak.” You laughed, “sounds about right.” 

You all got out. JJ and you grabbed your duffles for the weekend. You knew bringing your gun was you being paranoid. JJ brought hers as well. You also brought your badges. 

Maybe to convince your family you actually did something successful despite them being worried no one would hire you because of your sexuality.

“Honey, are you sure?” 

“No one is gonna hire you.”

“This isn’t good.” “You’ll find a man some day.”

You shook off the words of your past, then began walking inside. The house was a stone, grand home. With cobble, a grand oak door and huge windows. As well as tall ceilings and all wood work inside. 

You subtly watched her as she took in the scene before you guys. How her eyes sparkled under the mountain side sun. Her blue eyes somehow looked brighter under the sun. 

 How the breeze moved her hair in a way that made you wonder if it was liquid gold. 

“This is beautiful.” JJ said in awe as you held the door open for her. 

“That’s funny, I was just thinking that about you.” You said following her in.

She looked back at you with an ‘annoyed smile’, as you called it. “Smooth.” She said. 

“Almost as smooth as your lips against my skin.” You said pulling her into a kiss. 

She gasped and cupped your cheek, she was a smidge shorter, and you loved it. You two pulled away, “is it weird that when I was a kid, I always dreamed of being able to kiss my wife under the threshold of this place?” 

“No, it’s not weird at all.” She said as she pulled you down for another kiss. “It’s sweet.” She said between pecks. 

Her lips were intoxicating. Her moans were your favorite drink, her featherlight touches buzzed you more than any alcoholic drink ever could. Her smell made you dizzy in the best way. 

And to think, those people wanted you to marry a man. 

Someone cleared their throat, and you two pulled away. You were met with the faces of all the people whose cars were occupying the driveway.

You refused to hide, “hello.”

“I’m sorry about that.” JJ awkwardly gestured to you, “we usually don’t just…” She trailed off. A. She was lying, you two always spontaneously kissed and B. she was making this more awkward. 

Thank God Hudson was there to save the day. “It’s alright! I did the same thing with Jaz.”

“Oh how is she?” You asked. “I haven’t seen her since the wedding.” 

“Oh she’s good! Now, come come we have food!” He said and ushered everyone out of the foyer. 

You looked over at JJ, you knew you were smiling. Her blush was your favorite color. 

You heard champagne bottles opening. You two were in for a storm. 

[pallanophblargh]

I'M ALWAYS DOWN FOR ANYTHING YOU WANT TO SHARE ABOUT AEQUIS. :D

I need to start thinking about things beyond just vague loose wiggly concepts before forgetting about them again! D: I feel like it’s been years since I’ve actually made attempts at worldbuilding.

For now, Aequis are having to coexist with human settlers in a (likely) post earth scenario, think “solar-punk” vibe/tech, but with some typical dark human undertones. I’ve decided that anything akin to fossil fuels/nuclear has been banned from use “on-world” and I’m trying to decide if this planet has a markedly higher oxygen content? (I admit I know nothing yet about the effects of long term exposure to higher oxygen concentrations) Humans (some, not all) are still finding ways to exploit natural resources (bacteria/plants/fungi/etc) despite there being lots of red tape and widespread bans on the practice. Genetic meddling is very much a thing, but to what and with what methods I’ve yet to decide. All I know now is at least one political figure has their hands dirty in very illegal genetic engineering of Aequis. Which is where my characters Matilda, and her adopted “test tube” Aequis Shirk, come in.

At this point in time, Aequis are likely the most intelligent indigenous species on their planet, and if it hadn’t been for some positive first encounters with human settlers, the dynamic between the two species might be very different than it is. Aequis “tech” is largely simple tools/organically built structures and basic observational scientific knowledge. The two species interact largely on Aequis terms, in response to their own whims. Aequis have a knack for taking advantage of humans and knowing the limits of human generosity. Despite this, Aequis are smart enough to never let their guards down, no matter how much food and lodging and comfort they may be given.

“Urban” Aequis are obviously the most friendly/social/accommodating, and will volunteer their services on a semi regular basis for the best food, lodging, and grooming humans have to offer them. Aequis come and go as they please. Said services might involve a multitude of courier/light freight work, scouting, surveying, highly sensitive communications relay, hunting, etc. Also, spying... and maybe a little espionage? (Ha!) Most urban Aequis will have a good grasp of human language. Humans aren’t nearly as well versed at understanding Aequis languages. (We THINK we know how they use the long-range language, but we’re probably wrong. We CERTAINLY can’t speak it, but we’ve tried cobbling together audio samples to say things back. The Aequis mocked us for it.)

I’ve decided that the desert and grassland types are on average the most friendly. The arboreal types are most social, but that doesn’t mean they’ll be actively friendly with humans. Offend one of them, and the entire rookery will know. Do anything worse, and the consequences will be decidedly frightening.

Thankfully Aequis are unlike birds in that they don’t imprint onto the first thing they see upon hatching. So, even though the first thing baby Shirk sees is Matilda, he doesn’t go through life believing he is human. He sees her as the maternal figure she is, however, and otherwise relates to her as his adoptive parent. Any potential instinctively Aequis behaviors are not applied to her, though. (No attempts to groom her hair as though she has feathers/etc.)

I desperately need to start thinking again about Aequis cultures, and maybe start writing things down somewhere for once? (I think I had an ask some time ago that started some thoughts on this, but who knows where it is now?)

[ice-artist]

I will not explain myself.

[mewmewchann]

When will I be the one playing the leading role?

~~

About a day after I first watched chapter 2 of Desperate Heart with the rest of the staffteam I realised how PERFECT of an Emiliano song Cinema was so I knew this redraw had to happen eventually :3

(oh yeah next ch3 episode is tonight GET HYPED)

[tropicalpunchduh]

8, 12, 21, 39 💫

thank u friend!! 😭💕 sorry i’m late to answer these

8. freckles - most-worn article of clothing?

i have a huge frank turner t shirt that i wear to bed a lot, but this has probably gotta go to my frye boots! they’re brown studded cowboy boots. i’ve had them for 7 years and get them cobbled every time the soles wear out.

12. dimples - most attractive features of a person’s face?

smile and eyes :) 

21. paper - favorite children’s book?

i love so many!! coraline, holes, matilda, walk two moons

39. sweetheart - favorite mug/cup?

my tin moomin mug or my pink voodoo donuts with a hole in the middle!!

[anthonysstupiddailyblog]

Anthony’s Stupid Daily Blog (228): Sun 30th Oct 2022

What’s the difference between Kelvin Mackenzie and a piece of dog shit? The dog shit didn’t write lies making the Hillsborough victims out to be violent hooligans and also the dog shit’s wife didn’t leave it after catching it exchanging dirty BSM texts with slappers

Fuck it’s boring at work. I knew that my enthusiasm for taking items out of a bucket and putting them into a pod for three hours at a time wouldn’t last. They can’t seriously expecting the only things to go through our heads for three hours to be: “Okay so I’ll just pick this item up…and I’ll stick it in this pod”, we need some sort of stimulation to occupy our minds. The boredom could be so easily avoided if they would just listen to our own music or ideally podcasts / radio shows. They say we can’t listen to music in our own headphones because we need to be able to hear the fire alarm if it goes off but if we only had ONE headphone in then we would have one ear free to clearly hear the fire alarm. I keep wanting to point this out to them but I’m worried if I do they might get rid of me or stick me in The Chokey from Matilda for being difficult. Last time I was in the dole the £10,000 grand I had in my account lasted roughly a year so once I’ve gotten this amount saved up I’ll bring up the subject knowing that I should be alright if the bastards shitcan me for it.

On my first day off of the new year I’m just going to write a screenplay from scratch. It’s been on my list for a while but I’ve just never gotten round to it due to a mixture of fear and laziness. Last year I took Graham Linehan’s advice on how to write a sitcom and it worked brilliantly for me as I managed to cobble together a first draft and then a pretty decent second draft but then I just left it and I don’t know why because I really enjoyed it. Jon Swartzwelder says that the best way to write is to finish the first draft as quickly as possible then the next day go over it and start fixing it. With this in mind I’ll spend the next month or so putting together ideas on cards like Graham Linehan does and then when the time comes to write the screenplay I’ll try and compile all the ideas into a screenplay then when I’ve got some free time I’ll just edit it piece by piece.

[nwdsc]

(▶︎ Imposter Syndrome | Barbra Licaから)

Imposter Syndrome by Barbra Lica

n a world where almost everyone appears to have their public image and hashtags in order, “Imposter Syndrome” explores instead an identity still in flux. Equal parts playful and sombre, these songs flip unapologetically between genres, tempos, and production styles in search of what it means to be a flawed human with big dreams, bigger feelings, and a verifiably awkward social presence… With this newest EP, JUNO-nominated singer-songwriter-producer Barbra Lica presents her most brutally honest music to date, combining elements of Folk, RnB, Indie Pop, Jazz, and Existential Synth (not a real genre). Recorded almost entirely in home studios and cobbled together instrument by instrument, “Imposter Syndrome” represents a two-year production collaboration with some of Toronto’s most accomplished artists including James Bryan (Prozzäk, Philosopher Kings), Nicolas Tateishi (Sam Drysdale, Joanna Majoko), Christine Bougie (Bahamas, Lydia Persaud), Drew Jurecka (Dua Lipa, Jully Black), and Joel Visentin ("This American Life"). With her light-hearted dance number dedicated to girl nerdom (“Girls Like Me”), her reverie to utter defeat ("The Ghost of Me"), her gentle musings on empathy (“Take Care of You”), and her Randy Newman-esque ode to aging women (“Sour Women”), Barbra takes listeners on a rollercoaster ride of emotions and soundscapes.クレジット2022年10月7日リリース Written by: Track 1: Barbra Lica Track 2: Barbra Lica & Danielle Knibbe Track 3: Barbra Lica & James Bryan Track 4: Barbra Lica, Danielle Knibbe & Alexandra May Track 5: Barbra Lica & Tom Fleming Track 6: Barbra Lica & James Bryan Track 7: Barbra Lica Produced by: Track 1 & 4: Barbra Lica & Joel Visentin Track 2: Barbra Lica & Nicolas Tateishi Track 3 & 6: Barbra Lica & James Bryan Track 5: Barbra Lica & Christine Bougie Track 7: Barbra Lica & Drew Jurecka Strings Arranging: Track 7: Drew Jurecka Editing: Tracks 1 & 4: Joel Visentin Track 2: Nicolas Tateishi Tracks 3 & 6: James Bryan Track 5: Christine Bougie Track 7:Drew Jurecka Vocals: Barbra Lica Support Vocals for Track 1: Contributed by: Genevieve Marentette, Sammy Jackson, Lori Cullen, Andrea Ramolo, Whitney Ross-Barris, Carole Binsky, Faith Amour, Laurent Bourque, Avery Raquel, Denielle Bassels, Chynna Lewis, Joanna Majoko, Stacey MacIntyre, Gina Pennesi, Leah Canali, Julie Mahendran, Sara Lynn Swaigen, Julia Swaigen, Grace Hightower, Evie Hightower Synth Programming: Tracks 1 & 4: Joel Visentin Track 2: Nicolas Tateishi Tracks 3 & 6: James Bryan Track 7: Drew Jurecka Keyboards: Track 1 & 4: Joel Visentin Piano: Track 5: Joel Visentin Track 7: Barbra Lica Organ: Track 3: Joel Visentin Guitars: Tracks 1 & 5: Christine Bougie Track 2: Nicolas Tateishi Tracks 3 & 6: James Bryan Track 4: Rich Grossman Electric Bass: Track 4: Alex St.Kitts Track 5: Mark Godfrey Track 6: James Bryan Acoustic Bass: Track 7: Justin Gray Drums: Track 1: Sarah Thawer Track 5: Joshua VanTassel Track 6: Marito Marques Trumpet: Track 4: Tom Moffett Violins,Violas: Track 7: Drew Jurecka Mixed by: Justin Gray @ Synthesis Sound Productions Mastered by: Justin Gray @ Immersive Mastering Photography by: Jen Squires Makeup and Hair by: Sydney Desnoyers Haircut and colour by: Jamie Potts CD Graphics and Design by: Matilda Armstrong 8-Bit Disc Art by: Matthew Barnett This project is funded in part by FACTOR, the Government of Canada and Canada’s private radio broadcasters. Ce projet est financé en partie par FACTOR, le gouvernement du Canada et les radiodiffuseurs privés du Canada.

[aroundtheworldin18years]

APARTHOTEL DES ALPES

Italy has become a firm favourite of ours in the last couple of years.  Whether we are lazing on the soft golden sands of the Adriatic Coast, or meandering through the cobbled streets of Florence; we simply adore this beautiful country.  So, why did we choose Aparthotel Des Alpes in Cavalese for our first family ski holiday?  Easy!  Unable to drag ourselves away from Italy, we chose a ski resort almost unknown to the British and Irish…Alpe Cermis in Cavalese.  In Summer, Eagles soar high above the Dolomites on the rising warm thermals.  In Winter, deep snow attracts skiers and snowboarders from across Europe and beyond.

Alpe Cermis – a skiers paradise

LOCATION

Located in the beautiful Val di Fiemme region of the Italian Dolomites, just one of the many properties owned by Trentino residences; Aparthotel Des Alpes is perfectly situated for exploring the outstanding natural environment of Alpe Cermis.  A brisk 20 minute walk or a 5 minute drive will take you to the heart of the picturesque town of Cavalese.  Unfortunately, the town is up a steep hill so we always took the easy option and drove.  Cavalese town began with a small settlement in the Bronze Age.  During the late 16th and early 17th centuries, Cavalese became the holiday destination for the regions bishops and aristocrats.  Many of whom greatly contributed to the development of Cavalese.

Palazzo della Magnifica Comunita di Fiemme

A view of Alpe Cermis from a balcony in Cavalese Town

A view of Alpe Cermis from Cavalese Town

Over the years the town has grown to what it is today with traditional restaurants, bustling bars, fashionable boutiques, gift shops and a thriving tourist trade in both summer and winter.  We found an amazing little shop where Lily-Belle was able to personalise the gifts she was purchasing for Nana and Granda.  Cavalese is also very well-known for its local craftsmanship (iron, wood and marble) and a very social cheese factory.  Who knew cheese was social?  Does this social cheese have a Facebook page?

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SELF CATERING APARTMENTS

The main reasons for choosing Aparthotel Des Alpes was the price and the locality to Alpe Cermis which was just a 5 minute drive away.  Plus Aparthotel Des Alpes ticked several other boxes.  Close to Alpe Cermis for skiing, a short distance to Cavalese Town for shopping and sightseeing, indoor swimming pool for relaxing in at the end of a ski day, fantastic views of the surrounding Dolomites and a really modern fresh looking room.  Aparthotel Des Alpes houses 200 apartments ranging from studios to 2 bedroom apartments, all recently refurbished.  For our stay we booked a Superior Studio Apartment.

READ ALL ABOUT OUR HOLIDAY AT ALPE CERMIS IN CAVALESE

ARRIVAL AND RECEPTION

Check in at Aparthotel Des Alpes is from 16:00 to 20:00.  Upon arrival we were warmly greeted at the reception by Cinzia.  Cinzia was extremely helpful in telling us all about the hotel facilities, what the local area had to offer, including supermarkets for groceries, restaurants for dining and of course, the best gelateria’s for ice cream…a must for our girls when we are in Italy.  One thing to note is that the local supermarkets close very early in the evening, it was a little after 19:00 and they were already closed.  Thankfully Cinzia was able to take an order for fresh croissants to be collected from the restaurant the next morning.  

A warm welcome awaits at Aparthotel Des Alpes

Come in, sit down, relax

THE ROOM

Credit where credit is due, Mummy definitely excelled on the room front this time.  The Superior Studio at Aparthotel Des Alpes was spacious and modern with storage space galore.  A must if you saw how much Lynne had managed to pack!  The apartment was split into 4 areas; bedroom one with bunk beds, main lounge area/2nd bedroom with a dining table and chairs, spacious bathroom and a small equipped kitchenette.  Outside there was a balcony for watching morning sunrises and evening sunsets.  Lily-Belle and Matilda immediately fought over who was sleeping on the top bunk.  A bit of a no-brainer for Mummy and Daddy, but try telling 3 year old Matilda the dangers of falling out of a bunk bed and see where it gets you! 

BEDS, BATHROOMS AND BIDET’S

Open the apartment door, and you walk immediately into the hall/bunk beds.  Directly opposite the bunk beds was the bathroom; a large walk-in shower, toilet, wash basin with under-storage, bidet, mirror but unfortunately no bath.  Daddy loves soaking in the bath, bubbles overflowing.  A very decent sized bathroom indeed.  We’re not ‘posh’ and this was the girls very first experience of a bidet, much to their amusement and ours!

The battleground of children

Bathroom Rules: wash, brush, floss, flush

LOVING THE LOUNGE

There was a small kitchenette with a hob (no oven), microwave, kettle, cutlery, plates, cups (plus other kitchen items), perfectly adequate.  In the main lounge area, which also served as the second bedroom, there was a huge pull down bed that could have (and did on 2 occasions) accommodate all 4 of us.  Plenty of wardrobe space beside the bed.  Inside the wardrobe there was a safe for keeping your valuables, well…safe.  The lounge also had a dining table and chairs, with a flat screen TV on the wall.  The room summed up in a word…perfect!

Photo credit: Aparthotel Des Alpes

Photo credit: Aparthotel Des Alpes

SUPERIOR IT DEFINITELY IS

One thing we loved about the Superior Studio at Aparthotel Des Alpes was the dividing door between the bunk beds and the main lounge-come-bedroom.  The divide allowed Mummy and Daddy to sit and enjoy a glass of wine in the evenings without disturbing the girls when they were in bed.  The apartments have all the equipment required for having an excellent self catering holiday.  Superior…it certainly was.

WELLNESS CENTRE

SWIMMING POOL

The pool, just like many others, had a deep end and a shallow end with the addition of a shallow children’s splash pool at one end.  Around the poolside a few loungers for those simply wishing to sit and relax.  As is the standard in most European swimming pools, a swim hat must be worn.  Having a head like a billiard ball, Daddy did manage to negotiate not wearing one!  The pool is ample for a few lengths, or in our case, a splash about with the girls. The kiddies pool was perfect for Matilda to enjoy. 

Life is simple if you sleep, ski and swim

JACUZZI

The Jacuzzi was by far the biggest we had ever seen and even better that there wasn’t the typical ‘No Children Allowed’ sign, so were all able to enjoy the bubbles.  Definitely a bonus to be able to soak aching muscles after skiing….and that was just Lily-Belle and Matilda.  Has someone been eating beans, there’s an awful lot of bubbles!  We are normally ‘all systems go’ throughout our holidays and this one was no different, especially with so many things to see and do within our short period of one week, so the pool and jacuzzi were very welcome.

Eat beans…make your own bubbles

SPA

Beside the pool is a stylish modern spa which offers adults the chance to unwind child free.  Seriously luxurious and free tea, great if you’re a tea drinker but I (Daddy) much prefer coffee.  The spa has outstanding facilities; Finnish saunas, Turkish steam room, sinks full of ice for cooling off, showers and a large relaxation area with loungers.  Do expect full frontal nudity if you visit the Spa.

READ ALL ABOUT MY NUDITY EXPERIENCE IN OUR ALPE CERMIS POST

Mirror, mirror on the wall…

Dip your face in at your peril

Slippery When Wet…but not Bon Jovi

PLAY ROOM

There is a very colourful Play Room at Aparthotel Des Alpes.  Although we didn’t avail of this facility we did pop our head through the door.  From what we saw the large play room is aimed at younger children and toddlers.

Photo credit: Aparthotel Des Alpes

WI-FI

Very important.  On holiday we take lots of photos and videos.  Rather than clog phones and cameras we tend to upload everything to the cloud each evening.  Wi-Fi is free in the main reception area, and also free if you book your stay at Aparthotel Des Alpes direct with Trentino Residencies.  Otherwise Wi-Fi costs €15.00 per week for a password (available at the reception).  We use Sky Go to watch movies when we travel and not once did we experience any poor signal or dropouts in our apartment.  Excellent Wi-Fi which we utilised to the full during our stay at Aparthotel Des Alpes.  Just a note to say that reception is open from 08:00 – 22:00 (close for lunch).

Free Wi-Fi in the reception area

RESTAURANT

Right next door to Aparthotel Des Alpes is Restaurant Des Alpes.  Although the restaurant isn’t very modern with its decor or styling, it was clean and the food was always exceptional.  One evening Lily-Belle and Matilda ordered a pizza and they were ecstatic when the pizza arrived at the table in the shape of a bunny.  The menu is typical of Italy; pasta, pizzas, select meat dishes and my favourite Italian dish, risotto.  We ate in the restaurant on a few occasions and always had a wonderful meal, plus the odd glass (or two) of Aperol Spritz.  On the odd occasion we also took advantage of the available take away service.  Fresh croissants and breakfast can be ordered from reception the night before.

Get in our bellies Mr Rabbit!

Daddy’s absolute favourite…risotto

Food of champions…stew

Aperol Spritz, the thirst quencher of giants

SKI STORAGE

There is ski storage available at Aparthotel Des Alpes but no drying facility for boots and clothes, best to take these to your room.  We didn’t need to use the ski storage at Aparthotel Des Alpes as we hired the girls skis, boots and helmets from Sport Cermis at Alpe Cermis.  Thankfully we could leave the hired equipment at Sports Cermis each evening, then collect them again the following morning.  Very handy!

SKI SHUTTLE BUS

There is a free Ski Shuttle Bus to the regions main ski resorts such as Obereggen and Latemar.  Pick up-drop off is directly outside Aparthotel Des Alpes.  For our Alpe Cermis holiday we hired a car therefore we didn’t use the bus.

LOVELY CINZIA

We have to give a special mention to our new friend Cinzia.  Cinzia worked on the reception at Aparthotel Des Alpes and was always polite, courteous and smiling.  Always at reception with a warm smile when we left each morning and the same friendly smile when we returned each day.  Chatting with this lovely young lady we found out that Cavalese doesn’t get many visitors from the UK and Ireland.  Cinzia was interested to hear all about us, where we were from and all about our travels.  Equally we loved chatting with Cinzia each day and we were keen to find out more about her and life in this region of Italy.  Lily-Belle and Matilda enjoyed picking up a few Italian phrases from Cinzia each day.  Cinzia was a wealth of information and we were truly thankful to her for making our stay very memorable.

WOULD WE GO BACK

Without hesitation.  Aparthotel Des Alpes is a fantastic hotel with self-contained apartments.  Perfect as a base camp for exploring the Italian Dolomites, and in particular, Alp Cermis, which is right on the doorstep.  The local town of Cavalese is not too far away and is a lovely town for exploring and looking at the local heritage. Aparthotel Des Alpes gets our seal of approval.

LILY-BELLE (age 9) SAYS I loved that I was allowed to go in the jacuzzi.  Our room was really comfy and I enjoyed sitting out on the balcony.  Do people really wash there bums in the bidet…eurgh, that’s gross!

MATILDA (age 3) SAYS Mummy wouldn’t let me sleep on the top bunk, she’s so mean, it’s not fair!  I liked going into the swimming pool and the bubble bath.  Daddy: the bubble bath is the jacuzzi.

Aparthotel Des Alps

Date of stay:  21st – 27th March 2018 Flights (2 A + 2 C):  Ryanair – Belfast to Milan Bergamo – £152.00 (plus £30.00 for 1 x 20kg checked bag) Car Hire:  Firefly – €59.22 for 7 days (plus €350.00 refundable security deposit) Price:  Aparthotel des Alpes – €668.29 (plus €150.00 refundable security deposit)

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Information, currency and prices are correct at the time of publishing. Views, opinions and experiences are that of The Callaghan Posse and are correct at the time of publication. Photos, unless credited below, taken by The Callaghan Posse for use and distribution by Around The World In 18 Years.

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  REVIEW: APARTHOTEL DES ALPES, CAVALESE, ITALY APARTHOTEL DES ALPES Italy has become a firm favourite of ours in the last couple of years.