#Dickenson Bay

[lionheartlr]

Exploring Antigua and Barbuda: A Comprehensive Travel Guide

Antigua and Barbuda, a stunning twin-island nation in the Caribbean, offers a blend of rich history, vibrant culture, and natural beauty. Whether you’re planning a sun-soaked beach holiday or an adventurous exploration of its historical sites, this guide provides everything you need to know to make the most of your visit. Brief History Pre-Colonial and Colonial Period Originally inhabited by…

[girldragongizzard]

Chapter 4: A cause for alarm

I’m being chased through the sky by someone that looks like they were drawn by Mercer Meyer. And I don’t really know what I’m going to do about it.

It’s extremely frustrating, because now that I can think a little, I’d really rather stop and talk. But my tablet was almost certainly destroyed in the initial attack, and I don’t have it anyway. I can only communicate in non-verbal cries and squawks, and body language I feel like I’ve adopted from an array of other animals.

It’s ironically much easier for me to communicate with a human right now than it is for me to talk to another dragon.

And it really feels like it shouldn’t be that way.

And, if I’m honest, I have no idea if this dragon spent any time as a human (or resembling a human) like I did. How should I figure out whether to call them “it” or “they” or what?

Anyway, in the air I’m more agile and faster than them, just like when we were both in the apartment. And they’re bigger than me and have that terrifying mouth, with teeth the size of… Very Big Things.

This means that, while I really don’t want to face them in physical combat again, I can get away. I’m pretty sure neither of us have a hell of a lot of stamina, though they do seem more mammalian than I am. I don’t think that we can go by appearances in judging those things though. But, in the moment, I can leave them in the dust and am in the process of doing so.

The problem is that I’m scared that if I keep fleeing, I’m going to cede the entire city to them, and I don’t want to do that. Shit, I want to protect my claim to my block with my coffee shop, and I’ve already given that up.

I need to find a way to humiliate them, and make them back down. I need to show my dominance, and as the dragon fleeing I don’t exactly have that position right now.

I’m headed out over the bay, which means I’ve still got city on three sides of me, and an island in front of me. We can fight out here without hurting anyone, but then they have the advantage. Unless it turns out I’m more aquatic than they are, but I’m feeling a wariness about the water. And they’re hippo-like and I don’t have webbed toes.

And if I keep going and truly leave the city limits, they probably won’t follow me, and just assume they own my home town now.

If I turn us right or left, I have an array of waterside parks I can lead us to. Or, I have a choice between residential neighborhoods to fly over. But a sharper left turn will take us over the south hill and the university to the arboretum, a very large park on a hill filled with trees.

And if I can draw the conflict into the thick of those trees, I think I can find the leverage I need to overpower my opponent.

God, I should name them something.

You know? They yawped. They declared their presence with a mighty yawp.

I’m going to fucking name them Whitman.

So, I’m turning a sharp left and heading back over buildings and houses, and hoping that Whitman here will follow me into the arboretum.

And I’m also wondering if either of us can or will breathe fire.

There’s this book called The Flight of Dragons by Peter Dickenson. And in it, Peter speculates that dragons could breathe fire because they filled themselves up with hydrogen to float like blimps, and it’s a simply matter of igniting the gas with an electrical spark upon expelling it. And I’ve always liked the goofiness of that theory, but I’m pretty sure we don’t work that way. Or, I don’t, at least.

I fly a heck of a lot like how a pterodactyl would, just with an extra set of limbs. And I haven’t been able to watch Whitman fly to be really sure of how they work, but they’re just a little too fast for how I think the blimp concept would work.

If Whitman was a biological blimp, I think I could get away just by soaring, and I’m not doing that. I’m burning a lot of calories by constantly pumping my wings. And the few glances back I’ve taken indicate that Whitman’s doing the same.

We’re going to be so exhausted when we make it to where I’m going.

But I make the peak of my flight over the south hill, which is taller than the arboretum, and I’m aiming for a more open space near the entrance to the park. I can glide down to that and gain speed and momentum. And the small field there will look less threatening and worrisome to Whitman, I hope.

Of course, I’ll be able to dash into the trees rather easily after insulting the other dragon.

I take another glance back and see that Whitman hasn’t gained quite as much height as I did, and is having to work harder to keep up. And I’m getting a bit of a rest with this glide.

Perfect.

Well, it’s an advantage, at least.

As I come in low over the southern part of the university campus, students playing ultimate frisbee stop and point at me. Others notice Whitman and point at them. I can hear them shouting in excitement, but I can’t understand what they’re saying. But they definitively are not taking the sight of dragons in stride now. They’ve stopped striding to gawk.

Dorms and conifers fly by as I rocket into the park.

I swerve and weave to get exactly where I’m going, briefly following the drive in and gliding in between sets of reasonably tall trees. And I realize that I’m going to leave some significant divots right before I do.

I do my best to land running, but my heels skid and my tail slaps the ground, and then my claws are digging up moss and grass as I change directions and wheel around to face Whitman to shout at them.

I do a repeat of my first challenge cry, drawing up a good rumble for a couple seconds as I watch them flapping madly into the park after me. And then I screech as loudly as I can, and rear up and flap my wings.

That should do it.

They come right at me, jaw slowly opening wide as if to try to swallow my head.

I drop and bow like a playing dog, and use that maneuver to spring to the side and gallop toward the woods to my right, uphill. And again, after a few strides I’m up on my hind legs, using my wings for balance and a bit of lift.

If Whitman is a local, they should know that just on the other side of the road here, a few paces beyond the tree line, there’s a short cliff of rock, about twelve feet high. I’ve got my eyes on a spot between the trees that I can leap up into and pull my wings tight to fly through like a spear or a rock.

If I can leap high enough at just the right moment, I can make it safely to the top of the cliff. I can see it through the trees. A clear shot.

And I’m hoping that Whitman will try to do the same thing in rage and indignation, and fail.

I rattle and clack as I go, cackling like a wood block, and it kind of sort of works!

When I land atop the cliff, I do have too much momentum and as I try to turn to face Whitman I slide sideways uphill into a tree.

Whitman lands right on the edge of the rock ridge, the corner of the cliff right into their gut, with a sharp exhale of breath and foreclaws scrabbling on stone and dirt for purchase. I’m suitably surprised that they made it between the trees, but they are sliding backward, at least, and look stunned.

I huff and stomp and turn to face them, taking a couple of steps in their direction. Then I rear up, close the translucent nictitating membranes of my eyes, which I hadn’t really known were there until just now, and take a really deep breath into chambers of my chest that don’t quite feel like my lungs.

Is this going to work?

Is this going to work?!

Holy shit!

It’s going to –

I’m a flame thrower.

What I expel isn’t just flaming gas, it’s an oxygenated fluid, a lot like biologically produced napalm. And I have no idea how to explain it. I just know what it feels like and how it behaves once it leaves my throat.

I aimed for just over Whitman’s head, not right at their face. But the liquid falls and creates a trail of fire from me all the way to the road, and right down Whitman’s spine, from snout to tail.

And from how I feel, I don’t think I can do that again right away. I’ve got to generate more of that fluid. I feel empty, thinner.

Whitman is clearly nonplussed, for possibly both of the definitions of that word. Conflicted.

I rear up and cackle, flapping my wings half open to avoid hitting trees.

Then I drop and stomp a few steps closer, menacingly, but stopping short of any sort of lunging distance they might have.

And then I start rumbling again, and wait for them to make the next move.

They were foolish to follow me into the trees, but I think I got lucky in learning how to breathe fire first. They might be able to do it themself right now, though I suspect their physical position will make it hard to project the liquid. That is, if they can even do it.

I’ve known I was a dragon since I was nine years old. I’ve done a lot of reading. And when I talked to Chapman earlier today, I learned a few more things. It turns out that there’s so much material out there about dragons that two dragon lovers who’ve researched the shit out of them for a few decades will still end up with information that the other won’t have learned. And we agreed that there was one thing for certain about mythical dragons, and that’s that no two dragons are alike.

In the original myths, dragons weren’t originally dragons. They weren’t a single species of monster, but a collection of individual creatures tailored for their individual stories. And while breathing fire became a common trait after the word dragon began to be applied to them all, it wasn’t universal.

And we’re real, actual dragons here? But here’s Whitman looking so different from me that I’m pretty sure we both feel like we should be called different things.

They might have a completely different surprise.

But the look in their eyes as they continue to slide back off the cliff suggests not.

I really, really want to ask them, “Why are we fighting, asshole?” But I just can’t.

I can only watch them decide to let go and land with a thump on the ground below, and then try to roll to put out the flames.

I don’t know if the flames are hurting them all that much, but they certainly are charring the shaggy fur that lines their back, and threatening to spread.

I walk to the edge of the little cliff and look down at them, and then cackle-chatter again.

Then I remember the chime sound I managed to imitate by accident earlier, and have an idea for a roasting taunt.

I take a little breath and imagine what the noise I want to produce should sound like. Like I said, I’d been practicing a lot at home, and I have a pretty good idea of the limits and range of my vocal apparatus now, and what I’m going for is a fairly constant tone, with a long, slow worble.

Before I do it, I take a full breath so I can maintain it.

And then, as Whitmat struggles to put out the flames on their back, the sound of a fire engine’s siren begins to wail from my open throat, keening and changing in pitch and tone just like the real thing. Just as obnoxiously loud. Then, to add insult to injury, I add in the brap and double horn honk as well.

Slink away, Whitman, slink away, I think to myself. Maybe if you approach me meekly sometime in the future, we won’t have to do this.

It also occurs to me that if we dragons are going to make a habit of doing this, the humans are probably going to stop being so mysteriously reasonable with us.

And shit.

Now my lair is half destroyed.

I’m starting to see the appeal of a cave.

Fortunately, I know of one just to the south of here, an old abandoned coal mine. But there might be another dragon already there, if Whitman and I are not the only ones that have manifested in the county. Heck, it might be Whitman’s cave now.

If I decide to claim it, I’ll have to approach it with due caution.

But, first, I really need to check on Rhoda.

After I catch my breath.

Also, I should probably make sure I haven’t just burned the whole arboretum down.

So, I end up having to wait until Whitman leaves, which they eventually do. Skulking away down the road into the southside neighborhoods. I don’t suspect they’ll leave town, but between us I guess I’m top dragon. For now.

Then I spend some time tearing limbs off of trees and bushes that are on fire, and kicking dirt over all of the flames that I can. There isn’t much dirt I can kick, and it’s not working. And I consider just lying down on top of the flames myself, but I don’t know if I’m impervious or not and don’t feel like testing it.

It turns out that someone saw the fight and the flames and called the real fire department, and I decide to leave when I hear the actual sirens.

Maybe I need to reserve fire breathing to more extreme circumstances, if I’m going to care about the local trees and neighborhoods.

—

We sitting in Rhoda’s apartment, listening to the local news radio station over her internet connection, waiting for a story about my fight to hit. So far it hasn’t.

We’re both surprised about this, but we also don’t really know how the local news works in cases like this.

She’s lending me her phone to talk, which is not as good as my tablet, but does work. And I’ve been slowly and carefully explaining what happened in words as sparely as I can.

And I have a salad bowl full of water to drink.

I’m being super gentle and slow moving, keeping my body as small as I can. I feel oafish and dangerous, and I don’t want to mess up her apartment too.

For her part, she’s just listening to me talk. I think she’s taken some sort of medication to calm her nerves. If it’s like the propranolol I used to use for my C-PTSD, it will help to have something soothing to relax to, though, and I don’t know if what we’re doing is that. But she seems subdued enough.

When I get to the point where I make the sound of a siren, she holds up a finger and gestures for her phone. Then, picking it up she uses her thumb to navigate to an app and activates a ringtone. A pretty simple one, a classic bell, like the phones we both grew up with as children.

Then she points at me.

I lower my head and turn my left ear toward the phone, blinking, and wait.

She plays it again, and I listen carefully.

It’s a high pitch with a quick warble, with some harmonics. I think it’s going to feel a little bit like fizzing bubbles in my chest, so I lift my head and open my mouth and shoot for that feeling.

The siren wasn’t actually perfect when I did it. It was recognizable and loud but off.

My ringtone is also off, at first. But now I’ve got the time and patience to concentrate and adjust. So I try it again and get it much closer.

Rhoda grins and laughs, and then quietly but firmly says, “Stop.” She looks meaningfully at me, and then says, “Say ‘Stop.’”

Hm. That’s a word. That’s actually way more complex than I think she realizes. If I do the glottal stop like sound at the end of it, it might sound like a labial plosive. So, I need to do a kind of hiss, a stop, an open vowel sound, and then another stop.

Again, I try to visualize what that will feel like before attempting it. But what comes out is just not right.

I try it three more times, failing miserably each time, until Rhoda shakes her head and waves her hand, then passes her phone back to me.

I’m about to knuckle a couple of words into the device when there’s a knock on the door.

Rhoda gets up and goes to the door to look through the peephole.

“It’s the police,” she says.

[justgottafinishthischapter]

How do I go about fleshing out a city and making it feel lived in? Especially when the main protagonists are royal/wealthy and don't see the city from the ground level

A character arc is identified by a few key character elements: namely the Lie and the Truth. The Lie is the false reality they believe at the start of the story, and the Truth is the true reality they discover. This can be an internal lie and truth, such as they are worthy of being loved, or an external truth, like the war is not a way of spreading their nation's greatness to other countries. The revelation from the lie to the truth is the turning point in the character arc, when they start to shift from their Want to their Need. When it comes to building a city, the lie is the glitz and glam they can see from their ivory tower. The truth is the scum and muck that they've never noticed before but was always there. Using LA as a great example, it's a city that looks like a paradise of celebirites, hot people, movies, television, music, and everything else. But LA also has low income housing too. Many flock to LA to chase their dreams, only to end up working minimum wage jobs. Artists successful and failed have higher drug usage percentiles in a big city like LA than other cities. So you need to ask yourself: what is the idealized image of the city. How do those outside the city look at it? Then ask yourself: what is the grim reality of the city? 19th Century london had work houses, child labor, people worked in extremely hazardous work environments where carelessness could lead to getting mangled in a machine, or going home with a lungful of soot. Charles Dickenson famously had a problem with 19th Century London's classism, which is why he often focused on poor working class protagonists.

I would suggest looking at movies and television that involve noble and/or royal characters and take notes on how their old world views get torn down by other characters. Zuko had to defect from the Fire Nation entirely and slum it through the Earth Kingdom to truly see the faces of the people hurt by the Hundred Years War. Amity had to meet Luz in order to realize there was a path forward that didn't involve joining the Emperor's Coven. By season 2, she doesn't even want to join it anymore because she's now searching to find what she wants to make of her own life. Weiss Schnee is a pampered spoiled heiress that was taught to be racist toward Faunus. But by the time she returns to her homeland of Atlas, she flings a random guy into a dumpster for saying racist comments about Faunus. By learning about these characters and how they make these kinds of changes can help you in writing your own characters.

As for designing the city: every memorable location needs a landmark or something about it that makes it recognizable. If it's a fantasy, you definitely want to think about defensibility. A huge seat of power for a royal family needs high walls to defend itself. Even if you're in more of an 19th century Victorian-styled setting, there could still be walls from long ago. Look at other fantasy cities. The Northern Water Tribe resembles an arctic venice, using channel locks to raise and lower the water levels to keep out outsiders, and ice doors to let allied ships in and out of the city. Ba Sing Se is instantly recognizable by its ring structure and its 100 foot high walls. Republic City is most recognizable for the giant statue of Aang in Yue Bay. The towns and cities in Attack on Titan have high walls for necessity to keep out the Titans. Likewise, any medieval fantasy world with ogres and trolls running around is going to want walls to protect the everyday commoners from harm.

Magic or technology can also change how a city is structured. Think again about how Earth Benders are imprisoned on a metal tankard in the middle of the ocean to rob them of their power. Public transportation like a bus or blimp is going to radically change how one gets about town. How many and how quickly can get from one side to the other. Are there hard restrictions on who is allowed where? Is a petty cobbler going to be carried out of Wellington Park by the police so the rich don't have to look at him? In Howl's Moving Castle there is both magic and technology. We see steam powered locomotives, but there's also flying machines powered by magic and the eponymous castle itself uses a fire demon as a power source.

Does your city have to protect itself from flying enemies like faeries, dragons, witches, demons, vampires, griffins, or anything else like that? Walls are great at stopping armies, but stopping a gargoyle from just flying over your walls is another thing entirely.

What about your city's economy? A city on the water is going to rely on shipping, sailing, fishing, and trade. A city in the mountains is going to rely on mining and smithing. An old city likely started as a fort or military outpost, like Paris or London. Other times, cities pop up because a resource was discovered there, or a bunch of people had to migrate all at once and all chose to settle in one area. That's how you end up with a city named Swedesville in the middle of the United States. And a big city especially is going to need to be extremely rich, and probably needs something to lure more people to it. But large cities also cause their own problems, such as traffic jams, higher rent, and crowded streets.

You also should ask yourself your city's backstory and history. Both the glorious stuff the state WANTS you to learn in history class, and the not so pretty stuff that also happened. For instance, my city was named after a lesser-known hero of the Revolutionary War. He was propped up as pretty important when I was in middle school, but aside from his role in the war, we weren't taught much about his personal life. I'm willing to bet he has a skeleton or two in his closet. Every city has a past. What defines yours?

I hope this helped you piece together an idea of what you want to do or where to start looking. And good luck with your writing!

[girlgoinglobal]

Floating Kon Tiki Bar | Antigua | Caribbean Cruise | Dickenson Bay | Girl Going Global

[travling22]

The Ultimate Guide to Massage Services in Antigua

Antigua, a Caribbean paradise known for its stunning beaches and vibrant culture, is also a destination where relaxation meets luxury. One of the best ways to unwind and enhance your vacation experience is by indulging in the island's top-notch massage services. Whether you're staying at a luxury resort, renting a private villa, or simply looking for a serene escape, Antigua offers a variety of massage services that cater to all your relaxation needs. In this guide, we'll explore the best massage services on the island, from in-spa treatments to mobile massage services that come to you.

Why Choose Massage Services in Antigua?

Massage therapy in Antigua is not just about relaxation; it's an integral part of the island's wellness offerings. The benefits of a good massage go beyond relieving stress—they can improve circulation, alleviate pain, and enhance overall well-being. In Antigua, massage services are designed to complement the tranquil environment, making it an ideal destination for those seeking both physical and mental rejuvenation.

Types of Massage Services Available in Antigua

Antigua’s massage services cater to a wide range of preferences and needs. Here are some of the most popular options:

1. Swedish Massage

The Swedish massage is a classic full-body treatment known for its gentle, relaxing strokes. It’s ideal for those who want to relieve stress and tension while improving circulation. This type of massage is widely available at most spas and mobile massage services across Antigua.

2. Deep Tissue Massage

Deep tissue massage targets the deeper layers of muscles and connective tissue, making it perfect for individuals dealing with chronic pain or tension. The therapist uses slow, firm strokes to reach deeper muscles, providing relief from aches and stiffness.

3. Hot Stone Massage

Hot stone massage involves placing smooth, heated stones on specific points of the body to warm and loosen tight muscles. The heat from the stones helps to improve circulation and provides a deeply relaxing experience. Many luxury resorts and mobile massage services in Antigua offer this type of massage.

4. Aromatherapy Massage

Aromatherapy massage combines the benefits of massage with the therapeutic properties of essential oils. Each oil is selected based on its effects, such as lavender for relaxation or eucalyptus for invigoration. This sensory-rich experience is perfect for those looking to enhance their massage with the healing power of aromatics.

5. Couples Massage

A couples massage allows you and your partner to enjoy a relaxing experience together. Whether it’s a romantic getaway or a honeymoon, this service is a great way to connect and unwind as a couple. Many resorts and mobile services in Antigua offer couples massage packages that can be customized to your preferences.

6. Prenatal Massage

Prenatal massage is specifically designed for expectant mothers, focusing on relieving the unique stresses and discomforts associated with pregnancy. Trained therapists use techniques that ensure the safety and comfort of both mother and baby.

Top Massage Spas in Antigua

1. Red Lane® Spa at Sandals Grande Antigua

Located in the luxurious Sandals Grande Antigua Resort, the Red Lane® Spa offers a range of treatments that combine Caribbean-inspired ingredients with traditional techniques. The spa features both indoor treatment rooms and outdoor cabanas, providing a serene environment for relaxation.

Highlights: Signature massage treatments, couples packages, and tropical-themed therapies.

Location: Dickenson Bay, Antigua

2. The Spa at Curtain Bluff

The Spa at Curtain Bluff is known for its stunning cliffside location, offering breathtaking views of the ocean. The spa menu includes a variety of massages, from deep tissue to hot stone, all designed to complement the tranquil surroundings.

Highlights: Oceanview treatment rooms, organic products, and specialized massage techniques.

Location: Curtain Bluff Resort, Old Road, Antigua

3. Galleon Beach Spa

Nestled on one of Antigua’s most beautiful beaches, Galleon Beach Spa offers a range of treatments in a picturesque setting. The spa provides a variety of massages, including aromatherapy and Swedish, all designed to enhance your beachside relaxation.

Highlights: Beachfront massages, wellness packages, and personalized treatments.

Location: Galleon Beach, English Harbour, Antigua

Mobile Massage Services in Antigua

For those who prefer the comfort and convenience of an in-room treatment, Antigua’s mobile massage services bring the spa experience directly to you. Whether you’re staying in a private villa, resort, or on a yacht, mobile therapists are equipped to provide professional massage services in any location.

1. Wellness on the Go

Wellness on the Go is a popular mobile massage service in Antigua, offering a range of treatments tailored to your needs. From deep tissue massages to hot stone therapy, their therapists are highly trained and bring everything needed to create a spa-like experience in your chosen location.

Highlights: Customized treatments, flexible scheduling, and a wide range of massage options.

Service Area: Island-wide

2. Antigua Mobile Massage

Antigua Mobile Massage specializes in bringing relaxation to you, wherever you are on the island. Their team of skilled therapists provides personalized services that include Swedish, deep tissue, and prenatal massages.

Highlights: Professional and discreet service, customizable packages, and availability at short notice.

Service Area: Island-wide

How to Choose the Best Massage Service in Antigua

When selecting a massage service in Antigua, consider the following factors to ensure a satisfying experience:

Reputation and Reviews: Look for services with positive reviews and a solid reputation. Client testimonials can provide insight into the quality of service.

Experience and Qualifications: Ensure that the therapists are certified and experienced. This is particularly important for specialized treatments like deep tissue or prenatal massages.

Type of Massage Offered: Choose a service that offers the type of massage you prefer. Whether you want a relaxing Swedish massage or an intense deep tissue session, the service should meet your specific needs.

Location and Convenience: Decide whether you prefer to visit a spa or have a mobile service come to you. Mobile services are ideal for those seeking privacy and convenience.

Price and Value: Compare prices and packages to ensure you’re getting good value for your money. Some services offer discounts for multiple bookings or couples packages.

Conclusion

Antigua Massage services  provide the perfect way to enhance your island experience, offering a blend of relaxation and rejuvenation in a stunning tropical setting. Whether you choose to visit one of the island’s luxurious spas or opt for the convenience of a mobile massage service, you’re sure to find the perfect treatment to suit your needs. So, unwind, let go of your stresses, and allow Antigua’s skilled therapists to transport you to a state of blissful relaxation.

[oceanfrontvillaantigua]

Your Guide to Finding the Perfect Place to Stay in Antigua

Dreaming of a Caribbean escape bathed in sunshine and turquoise waters? Antigua, with its pristine beaches, turquoise waters, and rich history, beckons travelers seeking paradise. But with a variety of accommodation options available, from luxurious resorts to charming guesthouses, choosing the perfect place to stay can feel overwhelming.

This guide will be your trusty compass, helping you navigate the exciting world of Antigua accommodation and find the perfect match for your dream getaway.

Luxury or Local Charm?

Antigua caters to all budgets and travel styles. Luxury resorts in Antigua offer unparalleled pampering, with beachfront infinity pools, gourmet dining, and on-site water sports. They're ideal for those seeking an all-inclusive escape with every comfort at their fingertips.

For a more local experience, consider Antigua vacation rentals or boutique hotels. These options often provide a more personal touch and immerse you in the island's culture. You might find yourself in a charming guesthouse steps from a secluded cove, or a vacation rental with a private plunge pool overlooking the vibrant coastline.

Location, Location, Location!

Antigua's diverse regions offer distinct vibes. St. John's, the capital, is a bustling hub with duty-free shopping and historic charm. Dickenson Bay is a haven for water sports enthusiasts and beach lovers, while Jolly Harbour caters to families with its yachting scene and calm waters.

If you crave peace and seclusion, explore the southern coves or the dramatic coastline around English Harbour. Nature lovers will find eco-lodges nestled amidst lush rainforests, perfect for those seeking an off-the-beaten-path adventure.

Prioritise Your Must-Haves

Once you have a general idea of your budget and preferred location, consider your priorities. Do you crave beachfront access for sunrise swims and sunset cocktails? Perhaps a balcony overlooking the ocean is a must-have. Maybe on-site childcare or proximity to nightlife is important.

Many Antigua accommodation options cater to specific interests, offering features like watersport rentals, yoga retreats, or cooking classes. By identifying your priorities, you can narrow down your search and find a place that caters to your unique vacation style.

Research, Read Reviews, Relax!

With a plethora of Antigua accommodation options at your fingertips, online research is key. Explore travel websites, read guest reviews, and browse property photos to get a real feel for each place. Don't hesitate to contact the property directly if you have specific questions about amenities or activities.

Conclusion

Antigua offers a variety of accommodations to suit different budgets and travel styles. Luxury resorts provide all-inclusive experiences, while local vacation rentals and boutique hotels offer a more personal touch. To narrow down your search, consider your priorities, such as beachfront access, ocean views, childcare, and nightlife proximity.

Looking for the best resorts in Antigua? Look no further than Tamarind Hills! This luxurious escape offers unparalleled service, stunning ocean views, and world-class treatments. Book your dream Antigua getaway at Tamarind Hills today! Visit their website here for more information.

[tigermike]

Dickenson Bay, Antigua 🇦🇬

[tequilasunriseantigua]

Which is The Best Place to Stay for Eventful Vacations in Antigua and Barbuda?

Vacation in the Caribbean island is complimented with beautiful stretch of beaches and vibrant culture and cuisines. Antigua is one of Leeward Islands in the Caribbean region renowned for perfect vacationing climate and more than 300 beaches to explore. The lush green hills plunges into the turquoise water of the sea creating mesmerizing effect explored by tourists in Antigua. Top tourist attractions in Antigua includes Shirley Heights, Nelson’s Dockyard, Half Moon bay, Royal Palm Beach, Sea Grape Beach, Honeymoon Cove, Dickenson Bay, Devil’s Bridge, Galley Bay, Museum of Antigua and Barbuda, Betty’s Hope, St. John’s Cathedral, Antigua Rain Forest canopy tour, Fort James, English Harbour, Heritage qua complex, and more beautiful sites to explore during eventful vacations in Antigua.

Tequila Sunrise Antigua provides lovely Cedar Valley Gardens Vacation Cottage near Cedar Valley Golf Course and Falmouth Harbour. These well decorated units are equipped with all amenities and services to make traveler stay comfortable and luxurious. Their centrally nestled location encourage tourist to explore more in one Caribbean trip. Amenities in these rentals accommodation include fully operational and upgraded kitchen, high speed internet with Wi-Fi, TV, and more.

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Travelers and visitors to Antigua explore several nearby islands through boating, sailing and yachting. Water sports adventure and beachside recreational keep tourist entertained in the post card perfect island in the Caribbean Sea. Turquoise blue waters homes to abundance of tropical fishes, sea turtles, stingrays, starfish, dolphins, and more exotic marine life explored via scuba diving and snorkeling. Galley Beach on the northwest coast is popular destination for surfers as the waves are idyllic for surfing. Sea turtle hatching is popular tourist activity in Galley Bay. The Larder’s unique gastronomy brings both locals and travelers to satisfy their taste buds with wide variety of cuisines.

[jaydonii]

A Private Tour of Beautiful Antigua

[orebic-travel]

Antigua Vacation Travel Guide | Expedia

Antigua Vacation Travel Guide | Expedia

Antigua – In the sparkling Caribbean Sea, just 3 hours from Miami and 8 from London, is the largest island in the nation of Antigua and Barbuda. Check out the …

[tropic-havens]

Dickenson Bay in Antigua

[clowns-with-roses]

10 Days of Beyblade - Day 3

Warning : Spoiler of Beyblade Rising

Credits : Beyblade Rising manga art by Aoki Takao

Notes : Day 1 and Day 2 (from my old blog)

Favorite Team

Tbh it's hard to choose between F Sangre + M, Borg O, and BBA Rising, but....

I will go for F Sangre + M for this. Here we go :

Here's my reasons :

I love twins characters. Beside of Fernandez twins, I also love Kururugi Twins (Ichu), Kagamine twins (Vocaloid, although they're actually mirroring for each others), Tenn-Riku (idolish7), and many more. I love to see their interactions, their dynamics, and their stories. Every twins' characters have their uniqueness and I love them.

Their background as circus performers (anime). Fernandez twins and Romero was trained and performed from a small circus troupe. As Romero and the Ringmaster stated, the twins came to their circus from zero and they improved themselves with their hardworks and passions. Their background also different from mostly bladers who focused more on beyblading. I love to see their talents as circus performers aside of beyblading talents.

One of the teams who has the warmest interactions. In my opinion, F Sangre + M interactions are the warmest along with BBA Rising and Bai Hu Zu (White Tigers). I can see they aren't afraid show their affections to their teammates.

They're also family-oriented team. Raul-Julia are twins siblings and I think it could affect how Mathilda interact to the twins. In Rising, Raul also called Mathilda as 'big sis Mathilda' to respect her as respecting Julia, although he isn't blood-related with Mathilda. If Romero back again to be their coach in Rising, I guess he would see the twins and Mathilda as his children and he would act like their father, as we can see how he acted to the twins in G Revolution.

A team with 2 girls and (probably) the most feminist team. Most of Beyblade teams just have one girl in their teams, and F Sangre + M has two girls as members. Julia is a strongly feminist and I can see if she strongly encouraged and influenced Mathilda about girl power, how the girls fight and find their strengths. I guess Julia also taught Raul how to respect women. In anime, Raul is someone who can show his emotions and man-tears properly (since Beyblade quite stereotyped about it and Raul breaks this stereotype as well).

Romero is great coach. If Beyblade have Rising anime adaptation or LA, I wish they will bring back Romero as F Sangre + M's coach. Romero was the one who can negotiate to Mr. Dickenson to bring team-tag battle. He also was helped Raul to negotiate to Julia to have their solo-battle and affected the twins' characters development. The most memorable is when Romero coached Kai to control Dranzer MS and helped him to find his true motivation.

I wish they will showed more on Rising and I want to see them to have more interactions with their teammates and other beybladers.

[trashpandaorigins]

Stop for Me

During the GOTG Comic Run Faithless, Rocket is dying. He's run away from the Guardians and cannot be found. It is implied/stated later by Groot that Gamora actually found the ringtail and was secretly going back and fourth to see him and drink with him. She was keeping his location and condition secret, killing any of his enemies before they could get to him so that he could die in peace. She was, according to Groot prepared to bury the ringtail and honor his desire to choose how he gets to be remembered. It's all tragic and emotional and sappy so I leapt at the chance to write this. My interpretation of that behind the scenes.

I'd recommend googling a summary of the gotg comic run Faithless before reading this fic. It will help you understand things. I jumped around quite a bit so be warned.

Heather Douglas aka Moondragon has the ability to invade someone's mind and control them.

Also I am basing this off my understanding of the comics. I don't know where Gamora actually was, her status with the rest of the team etc. This is my interpretation.

*Warnings: Themes of death/dying/mortality. Implied animal abuse, torture, scenes with hospitals/medical equipment (not explicit but mentioned).*

“Because I could not stop for Death –

He kindly stopped for me –

The Carriage held but just Ourselves –

And Immortality.”

Because I Could Not Stop for Death - Emily Dickenson

Tyressel - Deserted Forest Planet 11th Quadrant

Target locked, armed with two Kree evart guns. Gamora crouched in the branches of a large tellwart tree, squinting between the branches at the lone Estarian down below. The fool stopped, glancing around the dark trees. She lunged, landing on the Estarian’s broad shoulders and disarming her in one fell swoop.

“Where is he?” Gamora growled, pressing her blade to the assassin’s thick purple neck. She flailed, twisting, trying to reach her arm out for her evart gun, scattered across the forest floor. “I know you were after him, where is he?” The alien made to bite, cursing in some foriegn tongue.  Gamora pressed the blade harder, keeping her grip tight. “Take me to him and I will make your death painless.”

“Wh….who are...y...you?” The Estarian whimpered through her beginning to weaken under Gamora’s weight. She could feel it in the way the assassin’s muscles tensed and loosened, tensed and loosened again.

“I,” Gamora seethed, watching blue blood pucker from the Estarian’s neck, “am the most dangerous woman in the galaxy. Take me to your target or I will gut you like an orloni on a spit.”  

Gamora, sucked a breath, counting down before she made her move. One, two...three, she flicked her blade from the assassin’s mouth, instantly checking her in the temple with the helm of her sword. It worked. The Estarian stumbled, in time for Gamora to leap off of her and grab the tossed guns. The assassin stumbled weakly to the side, tripping on an unassuming root. Gamora sprinted after her, taking aim best she could with the cumbersome weapon and shot. The assassin screamed, buckling.

“Take me to him NOW!” Gamora shouted, voice cracking. Assuming he is still here. He’d better be.

“.....I’ll….t...tale you to him...if you promise not to k...kill me.”  Gamora caught up to her, tackling the alien unceremoniously to the ground, pinning her once more. ….I’ve come too far to give up now. Risked too much, lied too much. The thought of it made her stomach churn. She shook Peter’s face from her head; turning again to the Estarian bleeding on the ground.

“Deal.”

---

“H….here,” Gamora stopped, smirking. A Tellinian cruiser, I might have known.  She tightened her grip on the limping Estarian. Dragging the wounded assassin closer and trying to stifle the panic rising within her. What if she was too late? What if all the lying was for nothing? What if it’s not him?  Gamora held her breath as she neared the ship. A window on the port side.

“What’re you w...waiting…” Gamora clamped her hand over the assassin’s mouth, tightening her grip.

“Shut up.”

She peered through the window, heart dropping in her chest. All the imagining, all the speculation and wandering had not prepared her. Her hand tightened over the assassin’s mouth, trying to stop her own shaking.

“Rocket!” She pounded her fist against the metal door. “It’s Gamora! Open up! Now!” She sucked her breath, waiting for any sound. “I mean it! open this door or I will….hey!”  Gamora spun, realizing the Estarian had slipped from her grip and was darting away through the trees. Forget this, she gave me what I wanted. Gamora fingered the evart gun, holding steady, aimed and fired true. The assassin went down without a cry, the bullet going straight through her skull. She ran, I had no choice. She would’ve come back and finished Rocket off some other day, Gamora rationalized. She unloaded the gun and dropped it to the ground. Waiting in the heavy silence. Now it was just the two of them. Her stomached flopped again, her arms shaking. Every time she thought of the image she had seen through the ship’s window Gamora swallowed down the panic. I knew it was bad...I didn’t realize it was that bad.

“Rocket,” she tried softer this time. “It’s just me. The others are quadrants away. I’m here alone. Please, open up.”  She waited, some distant bird called in the canopy above. Through the trees she three green suns cast emerald light around her. It would be a pretty planet, if it didn’t reek with rot and swamp water and muck. What a fitting place Rocket had chosen to die, she thought darkly.  Something inside the ship shuffled, metal against metal scraping. She waited, standing square before the ship’s main door. Finally, the red door slid upward. Gamora took it in by degrees as Rocket slowly came into view, from the claws on his paws, the shaking legs, the thin whip of a tail, no longer bushy and ringed but dull like a piece of frayed rope. A sunken chest.

Calm yourself.

Gamora ordered, swallowing a lump in her throat. Rocket’s neck was thin, eyes red and swollen nearly shut, patchy fur dull. Bandages fixed to his arms, an intravenous line on each limb, tubes stuck out every which way. If she didn’t know better he may have robbed the nearest emergency room on Retaok. That is most likely exactly what he did. She watched him pull down the clear breathing mask that was strapped across his muzzle. He looked her up and down, cocking his head.

“Staring is rude Gamora,” he wheezed. She did her best not to flinch.

Of course he wouldn’t want to be found.

She tried to ignore the sight of his lungs under paper skin, pushing against his ribs with the effort.  She strode past him.

“Got anything to drink?”

“I th….thought...thought you’d never aa..ask!”

His hollow laughter only made her want for more alcohol.

“G...gams, what’s with the ...d...dead b..broad?”

She stopped, turning.

“That dead broad wanted you dead. She was on her way here to kill you.”

Rocket shrugged.

Gamora turned on her heel, taking off down the corridor. The screech of metal halted her step. Rocket limped behind her, dragging the metal poles that hung heavy with liquid bags. Inexplicable rage mounted in her, misplaced. She stormed back over to him, forcing herself to calm down and walked in step with his lame gait. It took everything within her not to offer help but she knew what would come if she did.

“You...you said it's just you?” He sounded so uncertain. Refusing to meet her gaze. She walked consciously slowly, allowing him to lead the way with his equipment until they made it to the ship’s main bay and low and behold an makeshift bar.

“Yes, it’s just me.” She snapped, reaching for a bottle of clear quasian liquor. It’s stinging taste burnt her tongue and tingled her stomach. She set it down with a firm clink. Watching him take the bottle with trembling hands and pour it liberally.

“You don’t have to do this,” Gamora spoke through jaw clenched frustration. “We will find some way to stop whatever is happening to you. Come back to the ship. To Peter and Groot….come home Rocket.”

His ears twitched, looking away. She watched him take a drink. The veins in his neck swelling as he swallowed. When had his fur begun to fall out? He tapped his claws against the glass.

“I ain’t going soft.”

“What’s wrong with being soft?”

Rocket shook his head,

“It’s..” he devolved into coughing. Gamora took another drink. “I’m protectin’ them!” He sputtered.

“You’re being selfish.” She snapped back, the fiery alcohol adding a bite to her voice. The ringtail poured himself another drink.

“I never got no say in this,” he gestured weakly to himself. “Didn’t get much say in anything. So let me have a say in this.” He whispered, staring into his glass. “Lemme have a say in how I go.” He looked up at her, eyes glossy, unfocussed. He looked at her without seeing her. Gamora shifted uncomfortably. Pouring another drink. “I…I’m not going soft,” he repeated.

That was it. Gamora slammed her fist down on the table, sending the glasses scattering.

“Why not choose life?! We can get you help. There are places all the across the galaxy that can save you.”

“I ain’t going nowhere!”

He tried to yell but it came out a grating whisper. Too late, she’d seen it already. Fear. Terror. Horrific speculation that whatever it would take to heal him would be worse than that which was already happening. She twinged with sympathy, what an awful choice...what would I do..? If I had to go back to Thanos or...or die?   What kind of a choice is that? Gamora steeled herself. Determined. There was only one way to find out.

Gamora snatched one of the tubings, a clear chord running from the raccoonoid’s mouth to the oxygen tank beside them. She pinched it, kinking the tube, the whine of the gass erupting. Rocket went rigid.

“G...Gamora!” He shook, thin chest heaving. She glared even as he collapsed. She knelt, looming over him. He gagged for air. “G….Gamora...I...I can’t.” Red eyes bulged, kicking weakly.

“What?” Her fingers tightened around the coil. She knelt over him, watching him struggle. His nostrils flailing. “You can’t what?”

“G...gmora…”

She held her own breath, whole body tense. Her sweaty hands held fast to the tube, the squeak of the building gas arched, building her anxiety. Beneath her Rocket shuddered, eyes roving. His chest puffed in and out, limbs going heavy. Gamora had seen it plenty of times. He looked at her, making his choice.

Gamora let go, the rush of the air spouted back through the tube. Rocket arched upward, tubes and contraptions shuttering. Gamora reached out, gingerly taking his fragile arms and helping him upward, her own heart sinking.

“So you’ll die alone and in pain for your pride?” She fumed. Gamora had long prided herself on measured emotions and logic, it was the only thing that had kept her alive for most of her life, it was what had allowed her to survive. But this? This she could not muster through. Confused, helpless rage coursed through her. She glared at the raccoonoid with righteous vitriol.

Rocket fiddled with the monitors attached to his chest, still panting.

“I’ll….die with...d..dignity the way I want.”

“Because drinking yourself into oblivion, stumbling around in your own piss and shit is so dignifying!” Gamora snarled, blazing. Rocket bared pointed teeth,

“Then why’d you even come Gamora? Did the tree put you up to t...this?” The ringtail heaved for breath from his outburst, lifting the oxygen mask and taking three deep breaths. Gamora looked away. He teetered for a moment on his shaking feet, but watched her carefully like a deer wary of a coming wolf. For her part Gamora wrung her hands together; as soon as the rage had flooded her, it was gone.

“I came,” she began slowly, “because I watched my parents die in front of me...and I was helpless to stop it.” She took a shaking breath, trying to suppress the memories. “But not this time. This time I can do something,” she continued with renewed determination. “I’m not standing by while someone I love....”  

Rocket’s mouth fell open, his whiskers twitched.

“You….you l..love me?” He breathed.

The most dangerous woman in the galaxy rolled her eyes, then stopped realizing his genuine shock. She stopped short, stepping closer to him.

“Why do you think I’m here Rocket?” She whispered gently, “Why do you think we’ve all been searching for you since you left? Why do you think I went behind everyone’s backs to come here?”

Rocket looked away, coughing for a moment. Gamora reached out a hand impulsively but he shook it away.  He’d made his choice. He has a right to his own decisions.

“If this is what you truly want, fine.”  She watched him cling to the pole for support, sucking a few more breaths of air. “I’ll be back in two Xandarian turns. Medicine, bandages, supplies, whatever you need.”

“More booze?” Rocket gestured to the spilled liquor and remaining bottles.

“There will be others like that Estarian,” she thought aloud. “You’ve pissed off a lot of people and they will be coming. I’ll take care of it. If you are determined to die,” she forced the words past the lump in her throat, “you deserve to do it on your own terms.” Rocket nodded. “I’ll keep your location secret for now, but they’ll find you eventually. Either Heather will with her powers or Groot will find you by sheer force of will.”

“If Groot’s gonna find me you better grab this oxygen tube again and be done with it,” he fingered the clear tubing in his claws, managing a wheezing laugh she did not reciprocate. Instead she turned back down the hall of the ship, making for the exit.

“I appreciate you doing this for me...” Rocket called after her softly. Gamora turned, looking down at him. Something gray and heavy overwhelmed her inside, taking her reason and dashing it to pieces. Her chest synched.

“Of course. That’s what family does for each other,” she managed, tears welled the rims of her eyes. “They respect the wishes of their loved ones. No matter how much they h...hate it. No matter how much..it hurts. And you’re right. You never got a say in how or why you were made. They never gave you that right. But you have it now. And I respect that.” She sniffed, watching his own large eyes dampen. She forced a smile. “And besides, you’d do the same for me.”

Rocket punched the controls, opening the large door of the ship.

“I’m gonna miss you Gams,” he managed.

Gamora sniffed once more, wrapping her grief around resolve. She straightened, clearing her throat and smiled good naturedly.

“I’ll see you in two turns....and every two after that.”

---

Thirty Three Xandarian Turns Later

The Benatar:

“Where is he?” Groot bristled, angry thorns erupting from his broad shoulders. Gamora planted her feet on the metal floor, folding her arms.

“I’m sorry about this Groot, but I’m not going to tell you.”

Groot grimaced, before she could react he unleashed one long arm, seizing her in his vines and lifting her off the floor, slamming her into the hard wall of the ship’s bay.

“Unhand me Wood God...I don’t want to hurt you,” she leveled with him, staring into those ruthless brown eyes. Who knew Groot would go from easy going and peaceable to stalwartly angry so soon after Rocket disappeared. The flora colossus’s tight grip loosened.

“You already have.”

Gamora twisted, landing on her feet just in time. She swallowed her shame. Groot stalked past her, sitting heavily in the co-pilot's chair.

“He wants to be left alone Groot,” she tried. “I know it’s...it’s terrible but...it’s his decision. I told him I’d honor that.”

“No it’s not his decision.” Groot growled. “It’s ours. He is part of this team,….I won’t just let him...,” the flora stopped short, words choked. Heather reached out gently touching the flora’s shoulder.

Peter looked up from his hands, wary.

“Groot’s right Gamora, we have to do what’s best for Rocket. But..what’s best for him and what he wants...might be different.”

He’s right. You know he is.

Gamora grumbled.

“Gamora,” Heather reasoned, “I don’t want to do this, but...if I must…I will make you tell me where,”

“Try it,” She dared, casting a glare at the woman.

Groot stood abruptly, turning for one of the small pods.

“I’m going to find him. I don’t care what he wants.”

Gamora stood, hand going to her sword but Peter jumped between them, raising his arms, placating.

“Gamora, let him go.”

“I’m going with him,” Heather stood, following the Flora colossus. She returned Gamora’s contemptuous look before disappearing down the hall.

Gamora stepped forward, startling as Peter gripped her shoulder,

“Let them go. If they find Rocket and manage to talk to him, well….if anyone can get him to come back, it’s Groot.”

Gamora frowned,

“I doubt it Peter.”

---

The Benatar After The Battle

with The Universal Church of Truth

“What are you doing?!” Gamora shouted over the sound of gunfire as the Benatar sped away. Peter frantically punched coordinates into the ship’s navigation. She stood, looking over his shoulder, sweat beading on her forehead. She sucked a breath, heart nearly stopping.

“Halfworld?!”

“They are the only people who know Rocket’s biology and how to fix it. If anyone can save him it’ll be them.”

Gamora rounded on the Flora colossus, who held Rocket tight to him in a protective cocoon.

“We're not bringing him to Halfworld! They were the ones who tortured him!”

Gamora’s unyielding restraint and reason were crumbling, fast. She knew it but at the moment there was no time to care. Groot only stared straight ahead as the ship lurched across another jump point.

“Groot!”

Gamora beat her fist against him in a rage. The ship raced onward, she curled her fingers into his arm for stability, and in anger, pieces of bark flaking off.

“He’d rather die than go to some hospital or lab, never mind Halfworld! You bring him back there, you're no better than the people who created him! You'd hand him over to those sadists! How could you do that?!” Her voice cracked. Groot grunted, throwing her off of him with a single uncaring shrug.

“Guys….” Peter tried from his position at the wheel.

Gamora regained her stance, only to have Drax’s impenetrable arms wrap around her. Any other time, she’d easily free herself with her sword but her mind was not working, not focusing on tact or precision. Somewhere amid all those branches Rocket lay without any life-saving equipment, his own cybernetics rebelling against him. He was being unmade and he’d only sped up the process trying to save them. And this...this was how Groot was returning the favor? She’d seen the hollow terror in the raccoonoid’s eyes when she even suggested getting help. Now that fear was becoming hers.

“How can you do this to him?!” She screamed, thrashing in Drax’s hold. “He doesn’t want to hurt anymore Groot don’t you get that?! He doesn’t want to be put back together again and again!”

“Gamora we will be with him the whole time,” Heather tried to intervene. “We won’t let anything happen to him.”

“You can’t take him back there, you can’t betray him like that! Groot!” Her voice rose to a shriek, unable to contain her outrage. Groot, Groot out of all of them. That was the worst, most heartbreaking part of it all. Rocket trusted him, loved him above everyone else and Groot was going to hand him over to them.

“He’ll die! And if he doesn’t die he’ll suffer! They'll make him and unmake him again! How can you live with that?!”

When the flora finally looked at her it was with eyes as cutting as steel.

“I’d rather do something than nothing.” he rumbled. “At least I could say I tried to save him ....unlike you.”

Gamora only gnashed her teeth, trying to free herself.

“Halfworld coming up,” Peter announced.

Gamora twisted, elbowing Drax in the ribs and darted forward, blade out and aimed at the wood god, who’s attention had returned to Rocket. Gamora ran, swinging the sword upward and...fell to the ground, Heather’s presence crashing into her mind. Heather now possessed control of her body and, despite Gamora’s will, steered her to the copilot seat, strapping her in. Through the large windows, the forbidding planet loomed, half forested with pinkish trees, half bare and covered in buildings visible even at this distance. Halfworld.

I’m so, so sorry. Forgive me Rocket.

She’d failed him.

---

Halfworld BioEngineering Facility

Keystone Quadrant

Four Terran Days Later

Gamora bypassed the security on the door and entered the small, sanitary room with caution, her stomach one wrong motion away from expelling itself at any given moment. Rocket lay motionless in the too large bed, monitors beeping steadily, which if nothing else she assumed was a good sign. The scientists at Halfworld had welcomed Rocket into their care, perhaps a little too enthusiastic at the prospect. Going so far as to offer “further enhancements.” But between threats and constant vigilance however the team more or less agreed to allow the procedures that would save the raccoonoid’s life. For her part she’d reserved herself to silence. Trying to recover the embarrassment from her outburst on the ship. It had all happened so fast. Heather had not released her from her possession until they’d whisked Rocket back behind the O.R. doors and by that time she was too exhausted to fight anyone.

She crept closer, Rocket appeared to be sleeping soundly. His little chest going in and out still unnervingly skinny but breathing better. Gamora stopped short, only just realizing Groot. He sat hunkered at the bedside, a freshly grown bouquet of flowers on the nightstand, adding a pleasant smell to the otherwise chemical stench. His eyes only stared at Rocket, still as stone.

“I should not have yelled at you.” Groot murmured after a time. Gamora remained stoic but took a step closer eyes surveying the chart that hung on the other side of the bed. She plucked it up, reading the report.

“They completely upgraded his mods,” she read aloud. “Skeletal, muscular, nural.”

“I know what it says.”

She threw the chart down on the nearby table and collapsed  in the chair opposite Groot, watching the subtle fur on the raccoonoid’s ears twitch with every tiny motion. She ran a hand across her face, her own exhaustion catching up with her.

They sat in tense silence. An occasional beep or innocuous announcement interpreting their brooding. She watched Groot who watched the ringtail. He picked at his own bark mostly, doing anything but looking at her.

The blankets shifted, Rocket stirred. Gamora’s heart leapt into her throat only to fall when he did not open his eyes, but fell back into a steady sleep. Groot stood, and beant down over his friend, gently touching his own brow to Rocket’s, one large hand cradling the raccoonoid’s face and closing his eyes.

“You are the most important person in Rocket’s life,” Gamora whispered, rotating the rings on each index finger, anything to avoid looking at the imposing flora.  “You were right. His choice to run away and die affected all of us, you most of all. And I was going to let him die without saying goodbye.” Tears threatened to resurface.

Groot withdrew his embrace and stood, looking down at her; that rigid cracked face unreadable.

“You were honoring Rocket’s wishes without question. Protecting him. Sacrificing your own feelings to do so. You were going to bury him.”

“Yes.”

Groot nodded.

“That takes more honor and more of a different kind of love than even I could muster.”

Gamora glanced up at him, raising a brow. Groot only opened one large hand, and she watched in memorization as a small blue and white flower grew from his palm.

“Rocket will like that,” she attempted a lighter tone.

“It’s not for Rocket,” Groot held it out to her. “I was right, that he is a part of this team. This family. His life and his death do not belong solely to him. But you belong to this family too.”

With that the tears escaped her, she took the flower, gently snapping it away from his palm.

“I am sorry,” Groot professed. She watched him walk around the bed carefully to her and open his arms. Gamora fell into the hug with as much overwhelming joy as exhaustion. The strong bark steady and assuring.

“I’m sorry too Groot. I didn’t want to hide things from you.” He’d never know the insatiable guilt that had wracked her during those months. He’d never know how it took everything within her not to say anything. How it had haunted her. “But I promised him I’d honor his choice and I know he’d do the same for any of us.” Groot’s arms tightened around her. “He didn’t want to come back here, he’d rather die and...I’d make the same call if I had to go back to Thanos.”

Groot’s large head leaned on top of her own, pulling her tighter into his embrace.

“I know.”

She let herself remain in the flora colossus arms a moment longer, a safe warm place. No wonder Rocket liked to curl up with the tree creature when he went to sleep. Gamora finally reluctantly withdrew, tucking the flower behind her ear.

“I’ll give you two some privacy. He’ll want to see you when he wakes.”

“You can stay Gamora. He’ll want to see all of us.”

The rest of them filed in later, after the Halfworlders approved it. They gathered around the raccoonoid shortly before he woke up, cursing but relieved.

“I know I’m not doing any good by lying here. I’ll get better,” he breathed.

“Hey,” Peter took the ringtails hand. “Don’t worry about that, take all the time you need.” Rocket surveyed them all. Gamora stood beside Groot, her heart light for the first time in her recent memory.

“I knew we got a whole galaxy to save….”

“The galaxy can wait.”

Rocket nodded, happy tears formed around the edges of his eyes. He moved from person to person, finally landing on Gamora.

Thank you,

The raccoonoid mouthed to her. Her heart hitched in her chest but she grinned, standing there with all of them. Rocket would be okay. Groot forgave her. She’d kept her word after all. Peter was right, the galaxy could wait. For all of them.

[oceanfrontvillaantigua]

Top 3 Holiday Activities in Antigua

Antigua, known for its stunning beaches, vibrant culture, and rich history, is a prime destination for travelers seeking a mix of relaxation and adventure. Whether you're staying in luxurious holiday accommodation or a charming holiday apartment, this Caribbean gem offers a variety of activities to make your vacation unforgettable.

Here are the top three holiday activities you must experience when you book a holiday accommodation in Antigua.

1. Exploring the 365 Beaches

Antigua boasts 365 beaches, one for each day of the year, offering endless opportunities to bask in the sun and enjoy crystal-clear waters. Each beach has its unique charm, from the bustling shores of Dickenson Bay to the tranquil sands of Half Moon Bay.

Dickenson Bay: This is one of the most popular beaches in Antigua, perfect for those staying in nearby holiday accommodations. Enjoy a beachside meal at one of the local restaurants or sip on a refreshing cocktail as you watch the sunset.

Half Moon Bay: For a more secluded experience, Half Moon Bay offers pristine beauty and a peaceful environment. This beach is a favorite among locals and visitors who prefer a quieter escape. Pack a picnic and spend the day swimming, snorkeling, or simply lounging by the water.

2. Sailing and Yachting Adventures

Antigua is renowned for its sailing and yachting culture, making it a haven for maritime enthusiasts. Whether you're an experienced sailor or a beginner, there are numerous ways to explore the island's waters.

Antigua Sailing Week: Held annually, this prestigious event attracts sailors from around the world. Even if you're not competing, watching the races and participating in the festive atmosphere is an exciting experience.

Catamaran Cruises: For a more leisurely adventure, consider a catamaran cruise. These tours offer a relaxed way to see the island's coastline, visit secluded beaches, and enjoy snorkeling spots. Many cruises include meals and drinks, making for a perfect day on the water.

3. Historical and Cultural Tours

Antigua's rich history and vibrant culture are best explored through its historical sites and cultural tours. Staying in a holiday apartment in Antigua provides a convenient base for these explorations. When you book your accommodation at a holiday apartment in Antigua.

Nelson's Dockyard: This UNESCO World Heritage site is a must-visit. It's the only Georgian naval dockyard still in operation in the world. Explore the restored buildings and museums and enjoy the scenic views of the harbor. The dockyard also hosts various events and festivals throughout the year, adding to its allure.

Shirley Heights: For breathtaking views and a taste of local culture, head to Shirley Heights. This historical site offers panoramic vistas of the island and is famous for its Sunday evening parties. Enjoy live music, local cuisine, and a festive atmosphere as you watch the sunset over English Harbour.

Antigua is a paradise for holidaymakers, offering a blend of stunning beaches, exciting sailing adventures, and rich cultural experiences. When you spend your luxurious holiday at Tamarind Hills, these top three activities will ensure a memorable stay. From exploring the island's 365 beaches to sailing its azure waters and delving into its historical sites, Antigua promises an unforgettable holiday experience.

[yeoldegunporn]

Opium Wars

paintings:

A Fort on the Canton River, 1st China War, Oil on board, Chinese School, 1839 - 1842(c)

A Fort on the Canton River, 1st China War, Oil on board, Chinese School, 1840(c).

'The taking of the Island of Chusan by the British, 5th July 1840' Lithograph by Lieutenant-Colonel Sir Harry Darell (1814-1853)

'The East India Company's iron steamship Nemesis, Lieutenant W H Hall RN, Commander, with boats of Sulphur, Calliope, Larne and Starling destroying Chinese war junks in Anson's Bay, January 7th 1841', Coloured aquatint by and after E Duncan, 1843.

'Joss House, Chapoo [sic], Death of Colonel Tomlinson', 1842, Coloured engraving by T A Prior after T Allom from a sketch by Captain Stoddart,

'Storming of the forts and entrenchments of Chuepee [sic] on 7th January 1841′, Coloured lithograph by Dickenson, after F J White, published by Dickenson and Son, 1841 (c).

The 18th (Royal Irish) Regiment of Foot at the Storming of the Fortress of Amoy, 26 August 1841, Coloured lithograph, by J H Lynch after M A Hayes. Published by William Spooner, London, 1841 (c).

British forces fought a war on behalf of drug traffickers. Their victory opened up the lucrative China trade to British merchants. This was all done with the full blessing of the British government.

The roots of the Opium War (or First China War) lay in a trade dispute between the British and the Chinese Qing Dynasty. By the start of the 19th century, the trade in Chinese goods such as tea, silks and porcelain was extremely lucrative for British merchants. The problem was that the Chinese would not buy British products in return. They would only sell their goods in exchange for silver, and as a result large amounts of silver were leaving Britain.

In order to stop this, the East India Company and other British merchants began to smuggle Indian opium into China illegally, for which they demanded payment in silver. This was then used to buy tea and other goods. By 1839, opium sales to China paid for the entire tea trade.

The war resulted in the Treaty of Tientsin (26 June 1858), which imposed on the Chinese the obligation to pay reparations for the expenses of the recent war, a second group of ten more ports being opened to European commerce, the legalization of the opium trade, and foreign traders and missionaries gained rights to travel within China.

[feministstruggle]

Remembering the Lesbians in Lesbian/Gay Liberation

Remembering the Lesbians in Lesbian/Gay Liberation By Ann Menasche  Under patriarchy, lesbians are not supposed to exist. Women - "normal" women at least - are supposed to need men to be complete, for love, for sex, for economic survival, for family, for legitimacy. In such a world, there is no place for lesbians; if a few manage to exist, they are seen as freaks or pariahs. Not surprising that we rarely appear in history or when we are named at all, we are portrayed as lonely spinsters pining after some man. (Remember the lies told about 19th century poet Emily Dickenson, who had a lifelong passionate relationship with her sister-in-law.) In the mid-to-late 20th century, ideas of traditional womanhood began to be challenged as women as a sex gained increased independence. By the height of the Second Wave of feminism in the late 60s and 70s, lesbians had begun to emerge from the shadows and establish themselves among the leadership of the newly emerged Feminist and Lesbian and Gay Liberation Movements. And as the synergy of Lesbian/Gay Liberation and Radical Feminism freed more women to be able to pursue a lesbian life, a vibrant culture of Lesbian Feminism emerged.  That culture produced socially conscious music, poetry, books, publishing houses, newspapers, feminist theatre, coffee houses, and festivals run by and for women that inspired and sustained us and helped fuel the political activism of the time. And in this environment we began to rediscover the lesbians that came before us. We no longer felt so alone. But times have changed again and lesbians are being rendered invisible once more. Even the contributions lesbians made to the Movement for Lesbian and Gay Liberation are being forgotten. Many factors have contributed to this disappearing of lesbians from history, from our public consciousness, and often from ourselves and each other. While lesbians have won some mainstream acceptance through marriage equality, the accumulated losses have begun to be greater than the gains. Hard economic times, a conservative political climate, the growth and increased power of the Christian fundamentalist Right and a growing backlash against feminism have conspired to make lesbian existence harder once more. Independent lesbian culture has been destroyed. Even the lesbian bars that, despite their flaws, provided a place to meet and find community with other lesbians are now gone. In their place is a sense of utter isolation and despair among many lesbians. And there is often no place to turn for support except perhaps online forums. Moreover, though the illusion that we've already won our rights is widespread, the reality is quite different. Lesbians in the United States can still lose their jobs, be disowned by their parents, lose custody of their children, and be raped or murdered for loving other women. Anti-lesbian prejudice is everywhere. One of the most destructive influences on lesbians, which is erasing us from history and undermining the possibility of lesbian existence in the present, is gender identity ideology. As this ideology has become increasingly predominant, overwhelming our lesbian/gay communities and incorporating itself into law and culture, lesbians have felt ourselves surrounded on all sides. We are being pressured and guilt-tripped on the one hand to accept men calling themselves women into our communities and our bedrooms. At the same time, rebellious young girls with same-sex feelings, and lesbian adults are being convinced in growing numbers they are really "men" and are being coerced or swayed into "transitioning."  As women’s liberation no longer appears to be a realistic goal, some of this vulnerability to the forces of transgenderism and extreme body modification may be summed up by the phrase “if you can’t beat them, join them.”  How else escape the violent heavy hand of misogyny on our bodies and lives but to pass as male? Without question, Lesbians have become extremely marginalized within the modern LGBTQ+ "alphabet soup" - the corporatized stepchild of the Lesbian and Gay Liberation Movement. LGBT centers in the name of trans-inclusion, refuse to provide space for lesbians to even meet together outside of the presence of males. We are not welcome at Pride and even the Dyke March has been taken from us by “lesbians” with male genitalia and their supporters. And as lesbians have been virtually disappeared, so has the role we played in the struggles that came before us been disappeared as well. Our lesbian foremothers are once again gone from the history books, or are posthumously "transitioned," described as "queer," or treated merely as a footnote. But lesbians fueled the Lesbian and Gay Liberation Movement from its start.  It would not have happened without us. And it is time to give credit where credit is due. The Stonewall Rebellion on June 28, 1969 was not led by individuals identifying as transgender. Transgenderism barely existed at that time even as a concept. What existed was large numbers of lesbians and gay men, some of whom cross dressed or dressed in drag, but did not thereby deny either their sex or their homosexuality. Drag queens and butch lesbians were among those who found community at the Stonewall Inn in New York, a bar owned and operated by the mafia but one of the few places that same sex couples could dance together. Police raids were commonplace but that historic night as police dragged patrons out of the bar and beat them, one butch lesbian, Storme DeLaverie, decided she had had enough. When a police officer shoved her and called her a "faggot", she punched him in the face. Four officers assaulted her and one hit her on the head with a billy club.  Bleeding from the head, and dragged toward the police van, she yelled "Why don't you guys do something?"  The rebellion was on and lasted six nights. Lesbian and Gay Liberation was born. Martha Shelley, a lesbian with strong left-wing politics, had passed by the Stonewall on the fateful night but thought she was seeing an anti-war protest. She had no idea that the people throwing rocks at the cops were gay. When she realized what she had missed, she contacted the Daughters of Bilitis and the Mattichine Society and made a proposal for them to jointly sponsor a protest march. On July 27, 1969, 200 lesbians and gays marched in Greenwich Village, in what was to become the world’s first Gay Pride Parade.  The organizing committee formed itself into the Gay Liberation Front, a revolutionary group that demanded not assimilation but a complete overhaul of the patriarchal, racist, imperialist system. A new movement was launched, initiated by a lesbian. Almost a decade later in 1978 in San Francisco another lesbian was the central leader in the successful movement to defend Lesbian and Gay Rights then under attack. This was the struggle against the attempt by Christian fundamentalists to pass the Briggs Initiative, a proposition that would have banned gay teachers and all supporters of Lesbian/Gay Rights in the schools. Though everyone knows about Harvey Milk, many giving him credit for the defeat of the Briggs Initiative, it was actually Nancy Elnor, a lesbian-feminist and socialist, someone virtually no one has heard of, who was far more responsible for that victory. I knew Nancy personally and worked together with her in the Bay Area Coalition against the Briggs Initiative.  We were on and off again lovers, our personal interaction often stormy, but my admiration for her never waned. Nancy worked long hours, doing amazing grassroots organizing work always accompanied by her German Shepherd "Bianca" and put together a mass movement that brought out tens of thousands into the streets against Briggs. She brought in organized labor and every progressive organization in San Francisco to join the cause, and chaired packed meetings of activists.  The Coalition under her leadership, organized a televised debate between Milk and Sally Gearhart on the one side and Briggs and one of his cohorts on the other.  A thousand people watched the debate on a big screen in a local high school auditorium. Nancy's in-the-streets movement building done through distributing thousands of flyers, making hundreds of phone calls, and attending dozens of meetings (there was no Internet) set an example for the whole state, helped change the political climate, and put us on the path to victory. Nancy died young but I'll never forget her. As many lesbians celebrate Pride with varying degrees of ambivalence or else consciously ignore the festivities as no longer speaking to us, it is important to remember and celebrate the heroic leadership of our lesbian foremothers who changed history. If we did it once, we can do it again. Read the full article