#but if you move apartments do you have to move your art deco bed....however it's possible a) such furnishings come with the room | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

heavencanbeaprisontoo · 3 months

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Living with Michael Gray

Michael Gray x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, heavy angst, references to Gina Gray, dr-g ab-se, depression, spoilers for season 5, infidelity, and period-typical sexism.

Domestic Michael Headcanons

Michael likes to move forward and that reflects strongly in the luxurious apartment he buys for you. He’s one who probably drew up the blueprints for the interior’s design. If he were to buy a home in a suburb (never the country), he would likely draw up the blueprints for that home too. Everything in his home is violently modern, on the cutting-edge of what new money can afford. However, in the midst of architectural perfection and hard angles of the Art Deco movement, there’s something missing. Michael. He has a beautiful home that looks exactly as he wanted it to, but it doesn’t represent him. This home has no soul. It is as hollow as the mask he wears.

Be prepared to go through phases of rarely seeing Michael at all. Michael has a very poor sense of work-life balance. When times are rough, Michael will take his puff of snow and bury himself into his work for most of the day. He’s likely to wake you up at some odd hour of the morning when he drops into bed, still half-dressed and on top of the covers. You can rub his back and try to tell him he’s working himself to death, he will not listen. Michael works like he’s running out of time. Like every second he rests is costing him a vital opportunity. He can be very jumpy, and moody, but it’s mostly the coke. It makes you happy to see him go to work. Then, you just get sad.

When business is going well, Michael is at your side as a constant. Unless, of course, he’s still married to Gina. In that case, he might be lying to Gina about work being rough so that he can be with you as much as possible. Now that you think of it, was work ‘rough,’ last week, or was he just with Gina that whole time? If Michael is still with Gina in your world, you may never really know.

When Michael is with you it can be hard to keep a straight head. The days where Michael is home, all his focus is on you. It’s addicting. His eyes follow you as he takes a drag of his cigarette, tracing the zipper of your gown as if to will it down. He likes to come up behind you as you undress for bed and nuzzle your throat, hands gripping your hips to pull you into him. His touch, his soft words, his promises of more wealth to come, it makes you forget all the ugly that comes with this beautiful life.

Relationship Headcanons

Whether he stays in England or goes elsewhere, you always get the feeling Michael is lonely. Even with your arms around his neck, he gets this far-off look in his eye. You suspect it has to do with his family. He won’t tell you until you’ve caught him with a tear on his cheek and his mother’s photo on his desk. Michael hates to express regret or sadness, so it takes him some time to really let that out around you. If he does, he’s yours forever. You’ll be years into your marriage before he starts to talk to you about his adoptive family or his life in that little village he ran away from. He likes to say that he doesn’t think about it much, “Because it feels like it happened to someone else,” but you don’t believe him.

In order to marry and have children, this will need to be a world where you meet Michael before Gina Nelson ever sees him. Because once he’s married, it would take a significant event for him to ever leave her. Love on its own cannot sway him. And Gina won’t let him go without a fight, even if she doesn’t like him anymore.

So, you marry Michael. Not much will change in your life together until you fall pregnant, and it’s a positive change. Michael may be a work-obsessed man with a loose grasp on his own identity, but fatherhood is very stabilizing for him. He has a legacy to protect now. Someone who will depend on him and look up to him. It’s added pressure, but Michael can’t be happy without something to solve. Michael is very hands-on as a father, but only when it’s just you and him. He defers to you or the nanny to care after your children if there’s company around. That pesky masculine pride of his won’t let him look soft in front of other men.

Until you have fully broken through his defenses, Michael will have frequent cycles of being “hot and cold.” There are days where he can’t take his hands off of you, lips attacking your neck and chest, buttons from your shirt clattering to the floor. He holds you like he’ll fall through the floor if he lets go. Michael will decorate you in fancy gifts like you’re a goddess and he’s your most devout worshipper. Then, weeks later, you may as well be invisible. If he’s home, he’s only there long enough to change his clothes and place a phone call. Might forget to even say goodbye as he rushes out to build a greater fortune. Michael will rush about the house without glancing your way or answering your questions with more than two words. Push him hard enough and he might say something he regrets.

When Michael is calm, and sober, he’s a soothing person to be around. You can vent to him about your problems for hours and he’ll just listen. Michael is smart, and he’s educated, so you can talk about most subjects and have an invested conversation partner. Michael has no problem with debating politics with you or expressing his opinions. It’s when the topic becomes him, his family, or his feelings that things get difficult. He won’t press you about how you’re feeling. Isn’t the sort of person to dig into your private affairs. As long as you aren’t endangering yourself or the children, he will let you have your own world. Depending on who you are, this might be very refreshing… or you might feel very alone.

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader #michael x gina #michael gray #michael gray imagine #michael gray x reader #peaky blinders imagine

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wild-stray-renegade · 11 months

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Adaptation

Let me tell you a tale

About learning to change

Of how mixing two tails

Can create something strange

A silvery white feline

Lounged around the apartment

Claiming it as her shrine

Marked it all with her scent

Living there her whole life,

"Everything I see is my nation",

She told herself with rife,

Always lived in the same location

Her owners would leave

Multiple times during the day

Leaving her to weave

Through the jungle of archways

The humans would arrive

Following the end of a tiring trip

Allowed the feline to take a dive

Onto their laps, quick as a whip

They would pour their love

Over their precious furry highness

Held her up and above

Adorning her with loving caresses

Once prepared for rest,

She would follow them to their chamber

Curled up in her nest

Moonlight showered Akari with her rays

Familiar and secure routines

The best medicine for any possible distress

However she couldn't have seen

The next move in her massive game of chess

A day that had started

Like any other of her mundane rituals

Her whole day charted

As if, in her mind, it was fully original

Played with her mouse, trying to stalk

Among her castle of toys and towers

The squeak of a key in the lock

Alerted her that it was the arrival hour

Through the door, a new scent

Fur transformed into stiff stalagmites

Eyes into slits with legs bent

Tail anxiously twitched, snarl ready to bite

The owners waltz in,

Grins plastered all over their faces

A large wooden bin

Carried in the taller one's embrace

Rested by the art deco,

Between the owners and the feline

A small mew echoed

A check to the once-peaceful divine

The snow-furred puss

Backed away from the box in anger

Feeling betrayed, thus

Bolted away to hide her rancor

The terrified cries

Trailed her down the hall

Burning skies

Blasting their light through the squall

Words fly through her mind

Replaced, not loved, unwanted-

Whispers, fears creating a bind

Wearing down her pride, taunted

Curled up in the closet

Wondering what she had done to cause this pain

Haven't a chance to truly pause yet

Realize that there's no reason to feel disdain

A soft mew calls

The shadow of the small one leaking through

A low snarl responds

As if the large beast decided to cave and withdrew

The owner's voice drifts

Calming down the snowy feline's resentment

The door began to shift

Hands reaching down to lift her off of the vent

Both cats now on the bed,

Wizened furred elder gazes at a novice

The owners try to tread

Carefully, as to not disturb what's amiss.

They introduce the two

'Akari, meet your new brother Okage."

Old meets the new

As the pampered meets the stray.

Over the following week,

Akari tried her hardest to avoid the kitten

Okage followed alongside her meekly

Tried to observe and learn how to fit in

When she would eat,

He would sit beside her and learn

How she kept herself neat

And how to properly discern

One morning, Akari's ears perked

To a distressed, pained and terrified yowl

Instinct kicked as she jerked

Dashed towards the piercing sound with a growl

Entering the room,

Nowhere was the little kit found

However the cries of doom

Echoed from the couch, on the ground

Blur of furry white,

She charged at the couch to free

Finding a painful site

As the kit curled up, unable to see

Led out to the light,

He stumbled and fought to regain posture

Afraid that she might

Figure out his flaws, think he's a bother

"What were you doing?"

Akari interrogated the small grey kit

"You had me strewing!"

Okage curled up in fear, afraid to submit

A few seconds snake

Oage finally speaks up to respond

His voice shakes

His eyes looking down; a terrified fawn

"Sis, I have a confession."

Quieter than a mouse, he squeaks out the words

"Promise not to question?"

Akari nods in response, ensuring he's heard.

A deep sigh leaves,

"I cannot see- my left eye is blind."

Akari can't believe

Until a white eye returns the glance in kind.

"Why didn't you say so, little flea?"

The white princess's heart felt mortified.

"I wanted you to love me."

Tears and pain pricked at both of their eyes.

"I'm sorry, little one."

She leaned into his head and began to purr.

"I didn't realize what I had done."

Okage looked up and met her gaze, her silhouette blurred.

"I won't leave you alone, you hear?

You are and will always be my little brother."

His eyes met hers with tearful cheer

"You won't leave me like my siblings and mother?"

"Never, little one. You're safe with me."

#poem #cat #cat poem #sibling #found family #writing #write

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tysonrunningfox · 4 years

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Ripped: Epilogue

Last year, the day after Thanksgiving on vacation in London, I went on a Jack the Ripper tour, thinking it would be a fun, goofy adventure, but instead it planted the seeds for the first time I ever made plot work on purpose. This has been so much fun and I’m so grateful for how involved so many of you lovely people has been, it has made something that I took on with a lot of personal rigor doable.

Ao3

“You were short on rent. Again,” Snotlout leans against the doorframe of Hiccup and Astrid’s shared bedroom, arms crossed, and Astrid rolls her eyes, pausing halfway through trying to tie Hiccup’s tie to answer him.

“No, I’m not, I told you I’m not paying for half of your NFL package.”

“You watch it too!” He insists and she pats Hiccup on the chest, wordlessly assuring him that she’ll be back focused on his nervous expression soon.

“That’s because you sit on the remote,” she reminds him, “I’m not paying for it.”

“You look like an adult,” Snotlout changes the subject, gesturing to Hiccup’s new khakis and dress shirt under a borrowed blazer. The tie is proving more difficult, but she’ll figure it out. “Where’d you get the jacket?”

“Astrid,” he says, voice pinched as he adjusts the sleeves, looking over her shoulder into the mirror she’d salvaged from her apartment that’s still propped against her bookcase, which is stocked with the overflow that wouldn’t fit in the office when they combined libraries. He touches his hair and a piece at the back pops straight out.

“Why did Astrid have a men’s blazer?” Snotlout laughs, “unless it’s a woman’s—”

“Tuff and I are the same size, ok?” She glares at him, “shut the door on your way out. Please.” She adds the last word to make it happen faster, even if her voice isn’t polite enough to let it carry any weight.

“Quickie before the interview—”

“Shut the door.” She smiles, patronizing and not letting it reach her eyes, “or you’ll see something you don’t want to see.”

“Guess it’s my last chance to say good luck,” Snotlout directs that at Hiccup, “you’re going to kill it—”

“Snotlout!” Astrid takes a pillow off of the bed and throws it at him, hitting him squarely in the face, “shut the damn door!”

“I’m keeping the pillow until I get the twenty bucks,” Snotlout waves the pillow that he barely caught in the air before shutting the door, mouthing ‘good luck’ at Hiccup through the gap.

“Then I’ll buy a new pillow,” Astrid doesn’t care if he heard her last dig and she refocuses on Hiccup, adjusting the untied tie under his collar, “he’s right, you’re going to do great.”

He smiles, cheeks tight under the beard that’s thankfully finally filling out, especially since he decided he’s determined to keep it during his job search. She gets his motive and is frankly a little jealous that he can stop shaving and suddenly he won’t look like the suspect whose picture spent weeks all over the news while she’s stuck with a baseball cap and a glare to not look like the student temporarily presumed missing in association with the same case. He’s lucky that it’s starting to look good, official, aging him a few years in a way that makes his green eyes more vulnerable as he catches her hands, tugging them away from the tie she’s been tangling more than knotting.

“I look like I’m wearing a costume,” he gestures at himself and she tilts his chin down to force eye contact.

“Aren’t you?” She points at the top hat hanging on the side post of the headboard with her chin, “you aren’t exactly in your natural state.”

“I knew I should have rented a tux,” he jokes, voice shaky along its edges, almost fluttering, “gone full white tie with the hat and a monocle.”

“Maybe I’d have better luck tying a white tie.”

“It’s fine,” he pulls the tie off entirely, throwing it on the bed and running a frustrated hand through the hair they just got done trying to comb. He instantly looks more like himself and she sighs, unbuttoning the top button of his shirt.

“You’re right, it’s the historical society, not a bank.”

“Yeah, at least a bank would have to google my name to learn about that time I was framed for murder, I’m sure everyone at the historical society was following the case independently.” He laughs, sitting on the edge of the bed, face in his hands. “Thousands of blogs and websites and comment threads with advice about how to dress for an interview and how to introduce yourself, but there’s not a single Buzzfeed list about how to conduct yourself after being wrongly and publicly accused of serial murder? That seems like an irresponsible knowledge gap.”

“Maybe you can write something up,” she sits down next to him, wishing there was something real she could do to help. “Look, Hiccup, they wouldn’t have scheduled an interview if they didn’t think you could do the job.”

“Or maybe they just want gory details,” he says before groaning, sitting up straight and squinting his eyes shut for a second, “you’re right. I know you’re right. Somehow filling in the non-existent work experience on my resume with claims that I’m a self-starter and quick-learner made them call me.”

“I think it had more to do with the cover letter,” she rolls her eyes, out of gentle reminders after a week of his mounting anxiety, “I don’t think most applicants make a case for a building to be declared historically significant before they’ve even been interviewed.”

“Gruff’s should be preserved,” he insists, “especially since Tuff took out the drop ceiling and found that art deco pressed tin—”

“Hiccup.”

“And not only is it one of the last authentic speakeasies we have left, since they tore down the building on third, and even there the drug store using the space tiled over the original wallpaper—”

She kisses him to cut him off, laughing and wrapping her arms around his neck when he keeps trying to make his point, mumbling about hidden cabinets against her lips. It takes a minute, but he relaxes with a sigh, hand sliding to her lower back to pull her closer, thumb dragging slow and sweet against her spine. His muffled sound of disappointment when she tries to pull back keeps her there another second, dropping two soft pecks on his lips before anchoring him with her hands on his cheeks and looking seriously into his eyes.

“Save it for your interview, ok?”

“Save the kissing for my interview?” He grins, lopsided and relaxed, at least momentarily. “I thought I was moving on from my sordid past, prostituting myself in the alleys for a few bucks.”

“Save your lectures on old buildings for your interview,” she kisses his forehead and stands up, offering him her hand and pulling him to his feet, “I can’t think of any audience more primed to hear them than the Berk Historical Society.”

“You know, Tuff did manage to turn a profit this month,” Hiccup’s eyes flicker unsure, “bartending is a viable trade, it’s going to be around as long as people numb their feelings with alcohol.”

“But historically significant buildings won’t if someone doesn’t start advocating for their wallpaper,” she reminds him why the job appealed to him in the first place and he sighs.

“And if they just want to talk about Grimborn?” He refers to the original killer but points to recent memory with his tone and she thinks for a second before picking up the hat and offering it to him.

“Give them a tour. Prove that you know more about this city than anyone else.”

“I don’t need the hat to do that,” he sets it on her head with that crooked smile, “plus, it just makes me think about you now and I don’t need the extra distraction.”

“You should probably get going,” she checks the time, pushing him gently towards the door before he can invent any other reasons to delay.

“Right,” he leaves the room and she pauses to put the hat back on its unofficial headboard hook before following. Hiccup is standing in the middle of the living room with the TV remote in hand, paused mid-step to watch something.

“…recent events, it was decided that the apartment complex at 324 Harbor Road would be converted into low income housing, however when renovation began in the second-floor apartment where Grimmel Grisly’s last murder recently occurred, a possible clue to a much more famous murder at the location was discovered.”

Hiccup looks at her, eyebrows raised as the anchor continues.

“…possible forensic evidence found at the Elizabeth Smith crime scene could potentially reveal the true identity of Berk’s most famous outlaw, Viggo Grimborn, The Harbor Street Killer. We have an expert here to discuss the—”

The TV screen turns black and Hiccup tosses the remote onto the couch, where it bounces off of a throw pillow and onto the floor.

“You don’t want to watch that?” She cocks her head, his suddenly self-assured, almost peaceful smile catching her off guard.

“I like the mystery,” he repeats the words that infuriated her when a nuisance from another era stood in a courtyard and shouted them. “So, I’ve got to go convince a room full of architecture nerds that I’d really love to help them save some of the old buildings that Berk has left, especially if they pay me. Wish me luck.”

“You don’t need it,” she insists, “you’re going to do great. I love you.”

He stands up a little straighter when she says it, like he always does, and she believes her own assurance even more.

“Cool, I’ll call you when I’m done.” He points at the TV and whispers, conspiratorial tone lighter than she would have expected, “don’t go solving Grimborn without me, ok?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

#ripped #httyd fic #hiccstrid #modern au #serial killer tour guide au #it's Done #I can Rest #and drink scotch

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wallpaperpainting · 4 years

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Ten Precautions You Must Take Before Attending 12 Piece Abstract Wall Art | 12 piece abstract wall art

Like Rainbow Row in Charleston or the French Quarter in New Orleans, Boston’s Back Bay adjacency is iconic not because of a distinct aerial landmark, but because of abounding absorbing structures that sit calmly ancillary by side. Behind the preserved exteriors of these Victorian brownstones, called for the albino sedimentary rocks they were congenital from, are any cardinal of styles, some period, some not, so back a adolescent brace approached Lisa Tharp about decorating their new three-story home, she didn’t feel like they had to be apprenticed to a distinct decade or era. She was chargeless to mix, blend, compose.

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Although a far added clandestine space, the bedchamber is analogously clothed, done in lustrous, neutral-hued fabrics. There are clover pillows on the bed and absolute curtains over the windows. While the blush scheme—lavender, gray, gold, and black—and alluring ablaze accessories skew Art Deco, a cardinal of midcentury silhouettes addled the advertence amnion so that the home never feels like a cine set. Tharp placed a plywood Eames folding awning abreast the fireplace, breadth its aflush copse tones balmy up the abrupt stone, and a brace of anemic gold PearsonLloyd chairs by the window, breadth they actualize an affectionate basement breadth for the couple. “These audience biking a lot,” she says. “They capital a calm haven that is highly, yet invisibly, functioning. Even in the basement area, we didn’t put a table. We chose addition chest, so they accept three added drawers in which to abundance things.”

Rather than actualize clusters of vignettes

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topfygad · 4 years

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Where To Stay In Valencia: Hotels For Every Budget

From historic boutique hotels and beach resorts to apartments and budget hostels, this accommodation guide will help you decide where to stay in Valencia.

Valencia seafront

Move over Barcelona and Madrid – you’ve got competition. Say hello to Valencia. Officially Spain’s third biggest city (after Barcelona and Madrid), yet it feels underrated. I returned from my trip filled with enthusiasm for the city, desperate to share my passion for it.

It’s a city which showcases Spain’s rich history and cultural heritage. With impressive and innovative architecture, vast sandy beaches, and some of the finest paella you’ll ever taste, Valencia is a great option for a city break in Europe – especially when you’re in search of winter sun.

City of Arts and Sciences in Valencia

When deciding where to stay in Valencia, there’s a big question you’ll have to ask yourself: city or beach? Valencia’s historic centre offers a whole host of attractions, including its famous cathedral, market, great restaurants, shops and nightlife.

However, if your inner beach bum is calling, you may prefer to pick one of the Valencia beach hotels that line the seafront at El Cabanyal or Playa de la Malvarrosa. Whichever you go for, you can still enjoy the best of both worlds, as the city and beach are only 20 minutes apart by public transport.

Another great reason to visit Valencia? It’s one of Spain’s most affordable cities in terms of accommodation, with plenty of budget-friendly hotels to book. So whether you’re visiting with your partner and looking for a romantic hotel in the old town, or fancy a family beach resort, this accommodation guide will help you decide where to stay in Valencia.

Colourful buildings in Valencia

Where To Stay in Valencia

Luxury Hotels in Valencia

The Westin Valencia

Of all the 5-star hotels in Valencia, the Westin Valencia is arguably the most impressive. It’s an Art Deco dream, filled with glittering chandeliers, exquisite marble, and elegant artistic touches. It occupies a great location next to the Turia Gardens, just a short walk from the city centre and all of the charms of the historic old town.

The Westin offers the best in comfort and luxury with exceptional service, a world-class spa, and the fabulous Komori Restaurant, which serves up Japanese-European fusion cuisine. This chic hotel is one of the best places to stay in Valencia for couples, offering romantic surroundings to unwind in, after a busy day of sightseeing.

Check availability and latest prices at the Westin Valencia here

The Westin, Valencia

Bedroom at The Westin, Valencia

READ MORE: 29+ Things To Do In Valencia

Caro Hotel

Just around the corner from Valencia Cathedral you’ll find the beautiful Caro Hotel, once a 19th Century mansion and now one of the best luxury hotels in Valencia. This majestic palace is ideal for history buffs, as the Roman and Moorish remains that were found on the site have been integrated into the design of the hotel.

What’s more, each room has been lovingly decorated to represent different eras and events in Valencia’s past. In addition to its top notch spa, pool and stylish bar, the Caro is also one of the best hotels in Valencia for food. Michelin-starred restaurant Sucede offers a tasting menu that will take you on a culinary tour of Valencia’s – a truly unique and special experience. It’s no wonder that Caro Hotel is one of the most highly recommended hotels in the city!

Check availability and latest prices at Caro Hotel here

Caro Hotel, Valencia

Pool at Caro Hotel, Valencia

Las Arenas Balneario Resort

If you fancy kicking back on one of Valencia’s beaches, head for Las Arenas Balneario Resort. Overlooking the inviting golden sands of Malvarrosa beach, Balneario Resort is equipped with all the facilities you’d expect from one of the best hotels in Valencia.

Don’t let the fact it’s a huge resort put you offer. It is highly-rated for service and amenities, and is a top choice if you’re visiting the city with a family. It has family rooms and suites, plus offers a schedule of child-friendly activities. It’s the best hotel on the beach, so perfect if you want to spend your days enjoying some sunbathing, pool time, spa relaxation, and feast on the freshest seafood direct from the Mediterranean Sea.

Check availability and latest prices at Las Arenas Balneario Resort here

Las Arenas Balneario Resort, Valencia

Bedroom at Las Arenas Balneario Resort, Valencia

Hospes Palau de la Mar

For understated elegance and stylish décor, head to the Hospes Palau de la Mar – one of the classiest hotels in Valencia city centre. Situated in the pretty streets of the Eixample district, this hotel is in a great location for the train station, sightseeing in the old city and lazy afternoons in Turia Gardens.

It’s one of the best Valencia hotels for rest and relaxation – I mean the fabulous spa has everything you’ll need to recover from long days of sightseeing! Plus if you don’t fancy going out for dinner ever evening, you can enjoy a range of Valencian specialities in the hotel’s restaurant.

Check availability and latest prices at Hospes Palau de la Mar here

Hospes Palau de La Mar, Valencia

Spa at Hospes Palau de La Mar, Valencia

READ MORE: Where To Go For The Best View In Valencia

Mid-Range Hotels in Valencia

Hotel Neptuno

One of the best things about staying in a Valencia beach hotel is waking up to stunning golden sunrises over the Mediterranean, along with views of surfers and sailing yachts. Hotel Neptuno is perched on the golden sands of Malvarrosa Beach, moments from Marina Beach Club.

Here you’ll find comfort and a little luxury, at a reasonable price, in a stylish building decked out with the work of local artists and craftsmen. If you want to stay by the beach, it’s a good option, and for lunches and dinners there are lots of restaurants right on the doorstep, serving fresh seafood and Valencia’s most famous dish – paella.

Check availability and latest prices at Hotel Neptuno here

Hotel Neptuno, Valencia

Rooftop and beach views at Hotel Neptuno, Valencia

Boutique Hotel Balandret

Hotel Balandret is a luxury boutique hotel on the beach in Valencia, and amazingly – it’s pretty affordable too! Located close to Las Arenas beach, it’s been lovingly decorated with traditional works of art that celebrate the city’s rich heritage, including unusual sculptures and lavish murals.

The friendly staff are happy to help with plenty of local tips, and the hotel restaurant serves up classic Valencian dishes each evening. Plus, from here’s it’s easy to hop on a bus and make your way to the city centre for a spot of sightseeing.

Check availability and latest prices at Boutique Hotel Balandret here

Hotel Boutique Balandret, Valencia

Lobby of Hotel Boutique Balandret, Valencia

Petit Palace Ruzafa

The Petit Palace Ruzafa is a stylish boutique hotel in the heart of one of the city’s trendiest neighbourhoods. It fuses historic and contemporary design elements. Yes, the 19th Century building oozes period charm and class, but the rooms are sophisticated, minimalist and packed with 21st century mod-cons.

The Ruzafa district is one of Valencia’s coolest neighbourhoods, with a bustling central market, plenty of chic coffee shops (Ubik Cafe and Dulce De Leche in particular) plus some great shops too. It’s the perfect area if you want a local experience, while enjoying some sightseeing too.

Check availability and latest prices at Petit Palace Ruzafa here

Rooftop at Petit Palace Ruzafa

Budget Hotels And Hostels In Valencia

Casual Valencia de las Artes

If you’re looking for where to stay in Valencia on a budget, you’re in luck – the city boasts some excellent budget hotels and hostels where low cost certainly doesn’t mean low quality. Casual Valencia de las Artes is a great example, where you’ll find fabulous, unique décor, friendly service, in a great location between the old city and the striking architectural complex at the City of Arts and Sciences.

Each room features reproductions of famous artworks, giving it a unique and quirky feel. There’s a pool, sauna and gym too – surprising for the price! There’s no restaurant, but there are plenty of bars and restaurants close by, and the staff will be happy to offer recommendations.

Check availability and latest prices at Casual Valencia de las Artes here

Casual de las Artes Valencia

Pool at Casual de las Artes Valencia

Quart Youth Hostel

Moments from one of the impressive medieval gates to the city is this smart youth hostel. With modern decor, clean rooms and a shared kitchen, it’s a great option if you’re on a budget but still want to stay in a central location. There are a few options of rooms at this hostel, including dorms with bunk beds, private rooms and a loft space with two bedrooms.

Check availability and latest prices at Quart Youth Hostel here

Quart Youth Hostel – dorm

Quart Youth Hostel – private room

Home Youth Hostel by Feetup Hostels

This modern, quirky hostel is located moments from the key sights of the city including Valencia Cathedral and the Central Market. Rooms feature cool decor, with huge murals covering the walls, and colourful furnishings dotted throughout.

I’ve heard this hostel has a great social scene, so if you’re travelling solo in Valencia, it’s a great option.

Check availability and latest prices at Home Youth Hostel here

Home Youth Hostel Valencia – dorm

Home Youth Hostel Valencia lobby

I hope this guide has given you plenty of ideas about where to stay in Valencia. If you want to continue the search, feel free to use the map below…

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Looking for other things to do during your trip? Find out my 29+ AMAZING things to do in Valencia, where to go for the best view of Valencia, whether it’s worth buying the Valencia Tourist Card and read about my tapas tour of Valencia.

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source http://cheaprtravels.com/where-to-stay-in-valencia-hotels-for-every-budget/

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melajade · 7 years

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The Labour That Was... And Why It Was Not What We'd Expected

Upon checking into the slightly darker and more foreboding Antenatal Ward James and I were shown our room, number 20, which was a double room but we had luckily arrived at a quiet time and were the only ones there. This meant that James could stay the night! Luckily we had a sweet midwife, Maddy, who said that it was no problem for James to stay and dragged in an armchair that would fold out to a single bed of incredibly uncomfortable proportions. I was just so happy that James was allowed to stay! This would be my first night ever in hospital (apart from when I was born in the 1980’s and a mandatory 10 day hospital stay for mums and bubs was standard) and I was nervous to say the least.

Once I knew James was allowed to stay and (this being the part I was most grateful for!) that he actually wanted to, I could relax and enjoy my first hospital meal… A strange rice concoction that wasn’t part of the gluten free menu but contained no gluten so I could eat it. After this I regretted asking for the gluten free option as it was inevitably more bland and unappetising than what everyone else was getting but perhaps a little more nutritious. The meals for gluten free patients were variations on a meat and three veg theme, sometimes with a thin, dehydrated slice of beef, sometimes chicken, sometimes with actual boiled potato, sometimes with mysterious round balls of a potato-ish substance. Luckily no food was served to James so he had a good excuse to go out and buy other things to sometimes bring back to me to enrich this strange hospital diet. How anyone is supposed to recover from illness or injury on a diet of hospital food is beyond me! Little did I know this would be the first of many hospital meals to come.

At some point before or after dinner (or during) a different midwife came in and explained the induction of labour process to me. It all sounded pretty brutal, especially the archaic “Cook’s Catheter” which was a favourite of this particular hospital but most other hospitals nowadays by-pass its part in the process (probably because it is painful and scary). The first part didn’t sound too bad though. I would have a small tampon-like pessary inserted that would rest on the cervix and release prostaglandins that would hopefully start to ripen and soften it. This was done without too much drama and we were told to take it easy for the rest of the evening and that I may start to experience some cramping and/or light contractions. I soon started to feel these little “tightenings” but they weren’t too uncomfortable. I asked for one of the reassuring - sounding heat packs and was presented with a browny-beige envelope of fabric and Velcro with a teeny hot plastic slab inside it. If these were what they offered women in hardcore labour for pain relief, I was in for a hell of a ride if I wanted to remain free of medical relief! After paying $10 to get access to one, perhaps two random channels on the hospital TV (one definitely seemed to play Antiques Roadshow 24/7) James and I fell asleep, him on his little, uncomfortable cot and me in my high up, princess hospital bed. It all felt very surreal and I didn’t sleep well due to the cramps and the assured ordeal looming before me. The next morning was probably one of the lowest points in the whole hospital experience. A pretty but angry-looking little doctor came to get us at around 7am. She had been assigned to examine my cervix and see if it had dilated, then decide on the next step in the induction process. She rushed us to a room a couple of doors down with a large chair/bed apparatus in the corner. I awkwardly placed myself on the chair, which was difficult as, by this stage, getting up and down was really uncomfortable with the increasing swelling and pre-labour cramping. She unceremoniously shoved her fingers in to see how my cervix was doing; “This may cause a little discomfort”… Understatement of the year! She frustratedly removed her hand and stated that nothing had happened and that I would need the terrifying “Cook’s Catheter”! She began to prepare for this, explaining it as Mary, our first doctor, had done as an apparatus that is inserted into the vagina with two “balloons” that sit either side of the cervix. They are gradually inflated with water until they start to open the cervix. So scary… She went about beginning this procedure in much the same way that she had begun the cervical examination. Rough and ready. No happy gas was offered, not even a moment to catch my breath and try to relax the muscles that would be pried apart to get this thing done. It hurt just as much as I’d anticipated and after about three goes, the little, angry doctor gave up, stating that she “couldn’t get it in” and that we’d just have to use the Prostin gel. This was placed on my cervix (way less painful) and she left us to it, leaving me feeling as if I had failed her because the Cook’s didn’t work. We were given vague instructions to go for a walk and get the gel moving around the cervix. That day was actually quite pleasant and I must have been buzzing with enough Oxytocin to not be too anxious about the gradually intensifying contractions or stubbornly closed cervix. James and I were visited by a little angel in the form of our friend CC who happened to be working at Women and Babies as a social worker. She made us her special case and delivered trashy magazines and pastries to our room then visited us for reassuring talks later. We were also visited by an older lady, I think her name was Caroline, from the Catholic crew, who sat with us for a while and said a prayer with us which, despite his lack of trust in religion, brought James to tears. I guess it highlighted how much was still unknown about what the outcome of this process would be and made us appreciate any prayers that could be offered. We needed God’s protection. I felt a bit guilty however as, despite being Catholic, I’m not devout but, it’s surprising how the spiritualist in you comes to the fore in situations like this. I’m sure I had Caroline fooled. I just wanted to get this baby out safely.

Later that day we discovered that there was a little market out the front of the hospital which happens on the third Thursday of every month (or something) and we happened to be here at the right time. By this stage the pre-labour or stage 1 labour contractions were causing me to pause and occasionally buckle over a bit. Despite this I took a walk around the markets with James, chatting to a stall keeper who told me her blood pressure remained high after pregnancy, and running into CC who had ventured out to get some sushi for a friend. I bought Robyn, my mother in law, a scarf with little cats on it. James and I then discovered that you could see the museum of old hospital days in the old Women and Babies hospital building if you went up a few floors in the amazing Art Deco building. We ascended to this level (I can’t recall if we took the stairs all the way up. I’m pretty sure we did as I was determined to move as much as possible) and were greeted by an iron lung chamber. We were drawn in by photographs of the nurses’ residences. It seemed in those days being a nurse was a nun-like commitment. Unfortunately the main part of the museum was closed so we began our descent.

That evening my mum came to see how everything was going. It was great to see her. An unseasonably warm evening, we wandered around the border between the hospital and university, pausing as each contraction hit. It was still tolerable however and we had a nice chat. I did feel nervous about how things would progress but the pregnancy hormones were still doing their job of keeping that anxiousness down to a dull roar. Eventually we went back to our room and tried to eat some dinner. At some point we tuned into “The Wedding Singer” on the daggy hospital TV, which seemed to only be able to tune into Antiques Roadshow at any other time of the day or night. We’d struck gold with this film in comparison! I went to the bathroom for a final wee before trying to get some sleep. As I stood up I felt what could only be described as a ‘clunk’, a very bony one. I mentioned it to James as he helped me climb up into my hospital bed (I still hadn’t figured out that I could lift and lower the bed to make this easier…) and felt a “pop” between my legs as my waters broke. This seemed like a small victory in this medically influenced labour! My waters’ had broken naturally, no “ARM” process needed! Finally, something my body could do on its own. We called the midwife and told her the grand news as the fluid gushed onto the floor. It was such a relief, after all the swelling, to feel such huge amounts of fluid leaving my body. Maddy, the midwife on that evening, was less excited at this event however she helped clean up and get it under control. She told us that Delivery Ward was full so we’d have to just wait it out. She came back with a shot of morphine for me and another heat pack and told me to try and get some rest. The contractions were coming at regular intervals now, fairly close together but tolerable. I figured I’d be able to snooze in the breaks in between. I did manage to do that, with James’ help, throughout the night. I think I managed to get more rest than he did! He jumped up from his “cot” every time I expressed the intense pain that each new contraction brought and held my hand or let me hug him until it was over.

By the next morning, the intensity of the contractions made it difficult for me to walk or think about packing up to go from this room to Delivery Ward. It’s funny, but nobody can really help you with your “stuff”, what to wear into the Delivery Ward, whether to leave jewellery on etc… I was also surprised that I still needed to go to the toilet for wees but each time a contraction would hit and I’d get waylaid and have to sit there, grasping onto that handle they have in hospital toilets, until it passed. Thankfully they brought me down to Delivery Ward in a wheelchair and our stuff somehow made it down too. At some point around the time we arrived at Delivery Ward (probably 10/11:00am) my mother arrived and gave James some much needed respite from being the amazing labour support person he was.

During the next couple of hours I experienced what a normal labour might be like but had the irritating addition of the Syntocinon drip so couldn’t exactly move about freely. Movement was a lot harder than I had expected when I’d envisaged what labour would be like anyway. This was due to my swollen extremities and the downward force of the contractions through the pelvis. It felt like my body was trying to turn itself inside out. The Syntocinon made contractions come more frequently too, so there was little respite from this intensity. During our first hour in the Delivery Ward I was introduced to a number of people. There was a young midwife called Emma, Cheryl, a young Asian registrar and an English Obstetrician called Neil Campbell. He was on standby for complicated labours like mine. I felt like there was a good team surrounding me and tried to relax. Emma did her best to make this part of the birth experience a bit more like how I’d imagined it would be in the Birth Centre. She suggested a shower which was easier said than done. The water didn’t do much to ease the pain and the most difficult things seemed to be the transitions from sitting to standing, on and off the toilet, on and off the bed and so forth. Mum, Emma and James set me up on a chair with Mum running the hot water over my back. I can’t remember if I was still dressed? Perhaps I had a hospital gown on which got drenched? I’m pretty sure I wasn’t completely naked! After that I managed to return to the room and sit on the fit ball. After some wiggling around painfully I found a good position leaning from a seated position on the ball over the bed with Mum rubbing my back and the happy gas mask in my hand to suck on during contractions. I went on like this for a while, once or twice offering James some gas… “Here! It’s really good, have some”. Eventually I ended up back on the bed so they could have a look at the cervical dilation. After the pain and intensity of the contractions I’d been experiencing for quite a few hours I was hoping to hear that it was a bit more than just 4cm dilated. This was when I decided to ask for an epidural as Cheryl told me it would be quite a while before anything else happened. I felt like I was running out of stamina and that I needed something to help me rest so I could build up the energy to push when the time came. I couldn’t even imagine being active in second stage of labour at this point, I had nothing left to give. In the typical manner of hospital staff they made me beg for the epidural… Well, not exactly beg but there was a definite strategy of “I’ll just pretend I didn’t hear that request for an epidural or I’ll pretend it just slipped my mind and see if she asks again.” being employed by my midwife. Eventually, after several more asks, she got the anaesthetist to come and administer the epidural. She was a dry-humoured Canadian girl who made no secret of the struggle she was having to “get it in”. I used all my powers of physical discipline to sit still despite the frequent, body-wracking contractions, so she could get the epidural happening. I knew there was no backing out, I just needed some respite from the intensity of the contractions. Ultimately she succeeded in inserting the needle into my spine that would administer the amazing serum that would provide almost instant relief. I was done being a hero and lay back to enjoy the peace the epidural bought with it. It is true what women say about drugs in labour... They do, do DO make it so much more enjoyable! I was pleasantly surprised by the fact that the amount of anaesthetic administered was so precise, it blocked the pain of the contractions but still allowed me to move my legs and feel other sensations. I drifted into a dreamlike state and mum urged James to head out and take a break. Later he told me this break was actually more of a "breakdown"... Tears and emotional exhaustion kicked in. He'd never been so worried about me, and now the other imminent member of our little family, before.

I drifted in and out of sleep but remained aware of the heart rate monitor that was keeping track of my little friend's wellbeing. At some point the regular beep seemed to increase to quite a contrasting tempo and I mentioned it to mum. She had noticed it too and was concerned. Neither of us had to do anything however as, at that precise moment, Emma rushed back in and slammed on the big, red emergency button. Before we knew it the delivery suite was once again filled with medical staff. Apparently as my epidural had kicked in they had increased the amount of hormone in the Syntocinon drip to intensify the contractions, which is standard procedure but it still seems a little forceful to me. Of course, after some time having to deal with these intense contractions, the little person on his way to greet us started to freak out, his heart rate indicating a high level of distress. I was so sad to hear this as I really didn't want his entrance to this world to be so upsetting. He had been an absolute trooper up until now, dealing with all the complications in a calm and collected way, never indicating any stress. I felt like his heart rate increasing was an urgent message, "Please get me out of here now mummy! I've had enough.". Cheryl suggested we monitor him using a more invasive method (a clip that goes into the baby's scalp?!) and progress with the "natural" (hahaha) birth but I wasn't too convinced. Neither was mum, who by this stage had called James back to the delivery ward. He was white as a ghost and willing to go along with whatever the doctors were suggesting. Mum and I had one word in mind... Caesar! Thankfully, just after I'd politely declined Cheryl's offer of putting a monitoring device into my unborn child's scull, Dr Campbell returned to the suite. He pretty much cleared the flurry of lovely but strangely inert female staff and made the decision for us. "Right, this has gone on long enough. Let's get this baby out." Or something along those lines was said in his matter-of-fact British accent. I was relieved... And excited! The relief came, I think, from finally being absolved of responsibility for this birth. It hadn't worked out the way we'd hoped and I had heard so many stories similar to my own. I didn't want to muck around anymore. I just wanted to get my little boy out of that tight spot and into the beautiful world without subjecting him to any more trauma. From that point on the atmosphere very quickly changed from one of fear and apprehension to happy anticipation. A C-Section would have to be one of the most uplifting surgeries around! It brings a new life into the world and I am so grateful that this can be done for women like me with such a minimum of pain and fuss today. Due to the epidural already being in, and probably the trickiest part of the process, all that needed to be done was to increase the amount of anaesthetic to the point where the surgery could be performed. I waited outside the theatre with James by my side, both of us actually smiling and feeling a bit elated already. James was given a bright red shower cap to wear in contrast to the blue ones the medical staff were wearing. Mum didn’t attend the surgery, I can’t recall whether this was because there were no more people allowed into theatre or whether she simply opted out. Later she told me she had called Robyn, my mother-in-law, and urged her to get to the hospital asap. James had been alluding to us trying to continue with the birth when Cheryl had given us the option to, I guess his head was spinning and he was still thinking of our original birth wishes. Robyn heard of this uncertainty and apparently said “You tell my son to get the caesarian!”. I’m pretty sure he feels now it was one of the best decisions we’ve made together.

I lay on the operating table while Neil went through the process with his students and set me up by disinfecting the lower abdominal area, raising a curtain and pointing out my swelling as a major indicator of preeclampsia. A bespectacled older surgeon seemed to be there to simply join the party and asked James if he had a phone or camera. Luckily we had my phone on hand so he grabbed it and took a series of excellently timed shots of the anticipation (and exhaustion) on our faces and, eventually, our baby boy as he popped out of the perfectly placed incision into the world.

The first time I saw Oberon his face was plastered in a grimace and his lower lip was quivering but no sound was emanating from his mouth. I was struck by his perfect anatomy, neatly crossed legs and arms gradually extending out to embrace the new space surrounding them. He was a gorgeous, tiny Buddha with a dramatically slanted forehead that had clearly been stuck in my unaccommodating birth canal a bit too long. James got to touch him first, going over to the little bed where they check bubs over immediately following a C- section (oh, and he got to cut the cord) and letting our little one grasp his finger. Finally he was brought over to me and placed on my bare chest. Immediately I was filled with a strong desire to reassure this tiny person that the place he’d arrived at was good and that he would be looked after. His grimace faded and he relaxed onto me, spreading his little hands across my chest, somehow knowing that he was home but it was a bit different to before.

In recovery I got to see my family (I think! Maybe it was right after) as in my younger brother and sister, mum and dad and dad’s partner Juanita as well as Robyn. CC had arranged for us to have our own room, the little angel of the labour ward she was, so we got to see everyone in it. There were lots of flowers and it was actually fairly close to dinner time so they had kindly gotten us some Thai food. I really wanted to eat it, thinking that I’d devour it, but could only manage a couple of mouthfuls. A little anxiety had started to bubble up through the haze of drugs and hormones I was swamped in as I started to sense the extraordinary new responsibility that had befallen us. James felt it too and soon everyone had left. The most poignant things were my brother and sister giving me little gifts, as they always would, and me realising that it actually wasn’t about me anymore and not knowing if I’d actually get to appreciate these little frivolities. I had this strong sense of not just being a sister, daughter or partner. I was now a mother and for some mysterious, scary yet blessed reason this overrode all the other roles. I simultaneously had an unshakable belief that I could provide my baby with everything he needed yet no idea how I would do this. I needed to learn and that learning would begin immediately with our beautiful Oberon soon waking from his post birth slumber. This heralded the beginning of “feeding”. My boobs were not ready for this at all and James was also trembling in his boots as he realised he didn’t know what to do, I still couldn’t move and everyone had gone home, seemingly all medical staff too. We were both desperate to sleep and were so relieved when our first designated post natal midwife bustled in and began teaching us the art of looking after a small, slightly underweight 37 week-old newborn, our son Oberon Frederick Findlay born August 21 2015 at 4:20pm.

#birthstory #caesarian #birthplanoutthewindow #personal experience

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topfygad · 4 years

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Where To Stay In Valencia: Hotels For Every Budget

From historic boutique hotels and beach resorts to apartments and budget hostels, this accommodation guide will help you decide where to stay in Valencia.

Valencia seafront