#Jamaica housing market

[jamaicahomescom]

The Top Places to Live in Jamaica: Insights and Trends for 2021

The Annual Travel Statistics 2021 report provides valuable data on tourism trends, visitor accommodations, and demographic patterns in Jamaica. Here’s an enriched response using the report’s data: Key Popular Living Areas in Jamaica Montego Bay: Tourism and Employment: Montego Bay had the highest room occupancy rate among resort areas in 2021 at 48.3%, indicating its strong appeal for both…

[remaxelitejm]

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[bring-forth-his-sac]

The Christmas Party - Finale!

summary: the Christmas Party is finally here! … and you and Negan are not on good terms

tags: Modern AU, Teacher AU, Gossip, Swearing, Pet Names, Slow Burn, Misunderstandings, Flirting, Kissing

word count: 7.1k

A/N: this is the final chapter! thank you to everyone who's read this and left comments!! For some reason, I always hesitated doing multi-chapter fics because I didn't think my writing was good enough to keep people captivated for more than one chapter but this has given me a serious confidence boost! and that's thank to all of you!

Merry Christmas and I hope you enjoy!!!

Negan doesn’t know if you can be pussy whipped when you’re not getting any pussy, but damn that’s exactly how he feels with you.

He’s always been a fan of temporary pleasures, quick fixes for the emptiness that gnawed at him. He wasn’t interested in long term or relationship—at least, not in the way most people understood it. Love was something people with hope clung to. 

And Negan? He had lost hope a long time ago.

He’s had women, plenty of them, but none of them have ever meant more to him than a night of fleeting connection. Negan never made a fool of himself ice skating for some pussy, nor has he ever wined and dined them.

And he would say he still hasn’t, mainly because that would mean referring to you as just another piece of pussy. And no matter how hypocritical it may be, he doesn’t like that.

He doesn’t know how you do it, how you can penetrate the walls he’s spent years putting up. You’ve never been impressed by his bravado or his flirting. 

No, instead you’re the sweet type. You like the little moments, the playfulness, the cheeky texts neither of you should be sending during work hours.

Negan’s known it for a while now. He doesn’t want you like the others. He doesn’t want a night away or a quick fix. He wants the ice skating, the banter throughout the work day, the hot chocolates and dinner dates. 

Fuck, all you’ve given him is a kiss and Negan’s smitten. 

Waking up the morning after your sweet kiss, you’re the first thing that pops into Negan’s head. More specifically, it’s you in his truck, his leather jacket over your shoulders and eyes crinkling at the corners as you laugh at some dumbass joke he made. 

He woke up alone, having gone home the night before and spent an hour on the phone to Mark Smith. 

Negan couldn’t believe he actually sat on his couch and willingly listened to his colleague talk about some upcoming market by where he’s staying in Jamaica. Negan even asked Mark how his wife and kids were doing– voluntarily!!

He didn’t recognize himself anymore. The pain, while still there, isn’t as strong. Negan can’t find the strength to harness that resentment he had at the world and himself. 

Because how could he hate himself when he’s had your sweet lips on his not even 24 hours earlier?

But his Thursday goes downhill from the get go. Negan has a pep in his step as he leaves his house, quickly locking the door behind him before heading for his truck. A part of him hopes the smell of your perfume will still be lingering in there.

Aaaand that’s the start of a very bad day. Negan never gets to his truck, instead stopping a few feet away when he sees someone else parked behind him. 

His lips twist downward in a slight sneer. It’s the kind of look that says, “I don’t like you, and I’m not hiding it” without needing to say it aloud.

Sherry has her car parked directly behind Negan, purposefully blocking him in. She stands outside, her arms crossed as she tries to keep warm. 

“Hi…” she says plainly, trying to ease into this. 

When he speaks, it’s deliberate. His voice is dry, almost bored, but the weight of his words hangs heavy. "This is private property, ya can’t park there" Negan’s tone is laced with the kind of casual authority he’s so used to. 

It’s not a request. It’s not even a command. It’s a fact, something he’s not even sure needs to be said, but he does anyway because she’s standing there like this is some kind of game. 

Starting for his truck again, he only stops when she says his name.

Sherry huffs, rolling her eyes. Of course he won’t make this easy. “Negan,” her tone is firmer now “I want to cash in that I-owe-you. Now”.

His hand rests on the truck door but he doesn’t make a move to open it yet. Instead, he turns his body slightly, pivoting so he’s facing her fully now. Negan’s posture tightens, shoulders squared. 

“And you think that means you show up to my home at…” he makes a point of bringing his wrist up to read his watch “seven forty five in the damn morning?”.

“I said whenever and wherever,” she shrugs “and I remembered where you lived, so…”. 

Now it’s Negan who rolls his eyes. Because, yes, out of everything, he needs a reminder that he brought her home once upon a time ago. 

Seeing his little cooperation is shrinking, Sherry cuts to the chase “You have a motorbike, right?”.

“Used to” he corrects her vaguely. Medical bills are a hell of a hit to the balls… and bank account.

“Ok, good,” opening the passenger door to her car, Sherry begins to walk back over to the driver's side “well, get in”.

Negan doesn’t move. “This is kidnapping” he states.

Sherry tries not to lose her patience, nibbling on her bottom lip so she doesn’t let out a string of curses. “No, it’s the favor you owe me,” she corrects “and it’s for Christmas, so c’mon”.

Despite every fiber in his being telling him not to, Negan takes a step closer. “Unless you’re gonna drop me off at the school, we’re gonna be late” be points out.

With the wave of her hand, Sherry dismisses him and gets in. “It’ll be fast” is all she says to assure him.

Glancing back to his truck one last time, Negan sighs before reluctantly getting into Sherry’s car.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

By the time Negan gets to work, he’s pissed off, late and hungry. You’d think as the head cook of the cafeteria, Sherry would’ve had some snacks hidden away in her car but nope, Negan had to starve.

Negan tries to stay positive. He reminds himself that once he knocked out a few more classes, he would have time to do something he’d been looking forward to—setting up the Christmas tree with you. 

But as the day drags on and the hours tick by, his phone remains suspiciously quiet. He sent you a few texts, nothing crazy, just simple check-ins asking when you’d be free to hang out later. 

A casual message, nothing too pushy. But now, after getting through some classes, it has been hours and there still isn’t a reply.

At first, he figures you’d just busy, maybe caught up in teaching or managing your unruly students. He knows you have a lot on your plate and he didn’t want to be that guy who expecta instant responses. 

It’s fine. He’s patient. You’d get back to him when you have the chance.

But as lunch rolls around and there’s still nothing, he can’t shake the nagging feeling that something isn’t right. It’s subtle at first, just a flicker of unease, but it grows with every passing minute. 

He finds himself glancing at his phone more often, tapping his fingers against the desk, trying to focus on his work but getting distracted.

Something is off.

Negan gives the little pumpkin statue on his desk a quick rub, as if the small gesture might bring him some kind of luck. 

He doesn’t know why he’s so worked up. It’s not like he’s a clingy guy. But the silence between you two today? It’s not like you and it’s starting to eat at him.

First stop is the teacher’s lounge. Empty. He checks your classroom next— locked. No sign of you. Then, he heads to the sports hall, hoping you might be there, finishing something up. No luck.

Hell, he even hangs around the women’s toilets for a minute. It’s stupid, he knows, but he figures if you’re dealing with that time of the month, you might need a minute. 

He leans against the wall, trying not to look too out of place, but when Sasha passes by with a raised brow, he realizes how ridiculous he looks.

“Shit,” he mutters, pushing away from the wall.

He’s not the clingy type. He knows that. But by the time lunch comes to an end, he’s sent you a decent amount of texts. 

Negan: you ready for the tree?

Negan: it’s in the hall

Negan: u ok?

Negan: is this hide and seek? Where are you?

Negan: hellllllllooooooooooo? My messages are going through so I know you don’t have me blocked

More classes pass and Negan’s patience wears thinner with every passing minute. He yells at a group of rowdy students, his voice echoing through the sports hall as he orders them to watch out for the cheerfully decorated tables as they do their jumping jacks. 

He checks his watch, the second hand ticking a little too loudly for his liking. It’s almost the end of the school day and Negan can feel the weight of his frustration pressing down on him. 

He hasn’t heard a damn thing from you, not a single text, not even a “Hey, I’m busy.” Nothing.

And the silence? It’s driving him nuts.

By the time he’s checking the teacher’s lounge again, he’s about ready to give up… but then it happens. Just as he’s walking by Ms. Peletier’s classroom, the door clicks open.

You step out.

It’s like a moment of clarity hits him and for a second, all his frustration melts away. There you are— looking like you’re trying to escape something. 

You’re not your usual self. There’s something different about you today, something… timid. You’re not holding eye contact, your shoulders are a little hunched like you’re trying to make yourself smaller.

“Holy fucking shit,” Negan says, his voice full of relief “I was about to send out a search party, where the fuck have you been, doll?”

He expects a smile, some kind of warmth in your eyes. But instead, you tense. For a heartbeat, your body locks up, like you didn’t expect to see him. 

He watches, confused, as you quickly gather yourself. For a second, he thinks you might be walking toward him, like you’re about to talk, to explain yourself.

But then, just before he can take a step forward, you say it.

“Fuck off”.

Negan’s a man that likes to curse. He likes to throw in a few fucks, pricks, shit balls, whatever he feels in the moment. 

But this is different. 

The curse slices through the air, harsh and bitter. The venom in each syllable sticks in his chest like a jagged piece of glass. 

Negan’s stomach drops. He watches you walk past him, not even sparing him a glance and strut down the corridor without breaking stride.

For a moment, he’s frozen. The anger, the confusion— it all hits him at once. He isn’t the kind of man who gets easily thrown off, but right now? Damn right he feels uneasy.

“Woah, sweetheart, what’s that for?” Negan calls after you, confusion and hurt twisting his words. 

He takes a step forward, instinctively wanting to follow you but before he can move another inch, a voice calls his name.

“Negan.”

He turns, annoyed, ready to snap at whoever’s interrupting him but when he sees Carol standing in the doorway of her classroom, he stops dead.

“Let her go,” she says, her tone calm, but firm.

His brow furrows. What the hell is this?

“What?” He takes a few strides toward her, his voice rising. 

Carol raises a hand, palm out, silencing him before he can continue. “Let her go,” she repeats, her expression unreadable “She’s not interested”.

Negan’s chest tightens. Her words hit him like a punch to the gut but it’s the way she says them so matter-of-fact that makes him freeze in place. He opens his mouth, but the words don’t come. 

He looks at her, searching her face for some hint, some sign that this is a misunderstanding. But Carol doesn’t flinch. Instead, she just watches him, her eyes steady. 

“She’s not interested,” she repeats, softer this time, but still unyielding.

The truth stings. It settles over him like a weight, heavy and suffocating. The realization that everything he thought he knew about what was happening between you two—what he thought was real—might have only been a quick flash in the pan.

Negan stands there for a moment. The hallway around him feels too quiet, too empty. His chest tightens again and he can’t tell if it’s from anger or hurt or pure disbelief.

He looks back down the hall,  where you disappeared, then back at Carol. With a sharp exhale, Negan turns away, heading in the opposite direction without saying another word. 

What else is there to say?

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

Friday feels like damnation, and not just because of the party. You purposely come in earlier than usual, not wanting to run into Negan as you set up the last remaining decorations for the gym. Even Joey isn’t in yet.

You can still feel the rush of anger, the way it surged through you when you saw them together, Negan and Sherry. You wouldn’t say you’re a jealous person but to see them arriving together, after everything?!

After Sherry warned you away from him, the dates that weren’t dates you went on with Negan… the kiss. You wonder if you didn’t move fast enough for him and if he went straight to Sherry’s after dropping you home that night. 

You’re pissed—so fucking pissed—but more than that, you’re hurt. The way he acted around you was like you were something special. It was as if maybe, there was something more between you two, more than banter and attraction. 

But now? Now it feels like a fucking joke. He’s out there, probably flirting with whoever is next on his hit list while you’re here, stewing in your own mess of feelings and sticking wreaths on to tables.

You want to punch something just to feel like you’re doing something to get rid of this ache in your chest. 

Your mind races—did they sleep together? Was it just another one-night thing for him? Did it mean nothing? 

The thought of it gnaws at you, each question digging deeper. The betrayal, the feeling of being tossed aside, his voice when he called after you yesterday, the knowing look on Carol’s face when you told her what you had seen… It's too much. 

You wish you could cry but you’re too damn mad. So you keep working, head down, fighting the sting of tears that are just waiting to break through. 

The good news is the sports hall is finally done, besides the Christmas tree that was never put up. 

The high, vaulted ceilings are draped with thick strands of sparkling tinsel in gold and silver, catching the light from the overhead fluorescent bulbs and making the whole room shimmer.

Long rows of tables are now covered in bright red and green cloths, each one bordered with tinsel and a wreath hanging off the front. Paper snowflakes some of the students made dangle from the walls, swirling like an indoor blizzard.

Around the room, there are signs that read things like “Merry Christmas!” and “Season’s Greetings!” in big, bold letters and decorated with holly.

Even the basketball hoops are dressed up, with thick, red ribbons tied in bows around the rims, and a few oversized ornaments dangling from the netting. 

Everywhere you look, there’s something to bring a smile to your face— and yet that’s the one thing you can’t do. 

“Well, hello there,” you don’t tense when you hear the masculine voice. 

It doesn’t have that deep drawl Negan’s does. Nor does it make you want to shiver and purr at the same time.

“Hi, Joey” You don’t even glance at him as you say it, your eyes fixed on the twinkling lights that are tangled up in tinsel, casting a soft glow across the sports hall. 

“The place looks great!” he says, his voice a little too bright as he walks deeper into the room, clearly trying to make conversation.

“Uh-huh,” you reply, your voice flat and distracted “It’s basically done now. Just have to run home after school to grab the drinks, and it’ll be ready”.

You don’t want to engage much more than that. The last thing you need right now is small talk or having to deal with anyone else. 

“And the food?” Joey presses, his tone a little too chipper.

You force a tight-lipped smile, your jaw set as you turn toward him briefly. “Can you let Negan know that’s his shit to sort?” you ask, trying to keep your voice neutral, though it comes out cold.

“Uh—sure! Yeah!” Joey nods quickly, probably sensing the shift in your mood but not wanting to push it. 

Without waiting for another word, you head toward the door, not bothering to look back. The last thing you want is to stick around the hall in case Negan shows up unexpectedly. 

You can feel the tension already creeping up your spine at the mere thought of seeing him, of dealing with whatever’s going on between you two.

So, you leave, eager to put some distance between yourself and the mess you’re caught up in.

The school day drags, yet somehow, it feels like it’s slipping away too fast. The hours blur together— teaching feels more like a flurry of words and half-attention from your students as they count down the minutes to the end of the day.

You try to keep them engaged but it’s obvious they’re all just as eager for the holidays as you are. 

The morning feels slow, like every minute stretches just a little too long. You try to get through your classes but every time the clock ticks, your mind drifts back to the party— back to everything that’s been weighing on you. 

By the time you hit the afternoon, you’re caught in this weird mix of excitement and dread. Each class passes, each bell that rings to signal the end of a period feels like a countdown to something you’d rather not face.

The students, for their part, are bouncing off the walls. They’re eager to get out, to be free from school and homework and whatever else hangs over them. 

You watch them, their chatter almost deafening and you can’t help but feel a sense of urgency in the air. It’s almost like the whole school is vibrating with the countdown and the seconds feel like they’re slipping through your fingers.

The lessons go by in a haze—you’re teaching, but you’re not fully there. You’re running through the motions, reciting your notes and trying to keep your class on track but you know that the closer you get to the end of the day, the closer you get to the party, to seeing Negan again, to dealing with whatever awkwardness looms between you two.

Finally, the last bell rings, the sound cutting through your thoughts like a knife. You breathe out a little too heavily, a mix of relief and frustration swirling inside you. 

It’s over.

The school day’s done. 

The holiday break is here and the party is just around the corner. You grab your things quickly, eager to get out of the classroom but the thought of facing the party, of facing him, slows your steps.

You want a moment of quiet before everything kicks off but you can only have such a luxury when you get home to quickly dress into something a little nicer and bring all the alcohol back here to the sports hall. 

The noise in the hallways is deafening, students filing out, chatting excitedly about the break. Your thoughts, though, are already on the evening ahead. 

You rush home, the quiet of your place a welcome relief after the chaos of the day. You head straight to your room, pulling off your teaching clothes and slipping into something nicer for the party—nothing too fancy, but enough to feel put-together. 

A soft sweater and dark jeans, something comfortable but still festive. You grab the bottles you’ve set aside for the party, having to make multiple trips to your car before they're all loaded.

A quick glance in the mirror tells you that you’re ready but the knot in your stomach tells you the opposite. You grab your keys and head out the door, locking it behind you before making your way back to the school. 

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

It’s almost half six when the first few people trickle in and you’re glad to see their faces. 

For the past forty minutes, it’s just been you, Joey and Negan in the hall, stealing plates and cups from the home ec room and putting all the drink on display. And in that forty… long… minutes, you and Negan exchanged a total of seven words.

“Where’s the tequila?” he basically huffed at you.

“Still in my car” you retorted, giving him the same energy.

You got a grunt in response and he yelled at Joey to go out and grab it as Negan left to get more plates.

But now the sports hall is buzzing with that awkward in-between energy—everyone’s showing up but the party hasn’t fully kicked off yet. There’s a nice hum of conversation, teachers hesitantly reaching for liquor and some commenting on the decorations.

Every time you cross paths with Negan, you veer the other way. It’s like there’s an invisible wall between you two, the unspoken words hanging heavy in the air. 

You’re doing your best to keep yourself busy— lining up glasses, making sure the food table’s stocked thanks to the newest light in Negan’s life, Sherry (you swear you’re not jealous)—but it’s hard to ignore the tension, the way Negan moves around you, not quite looking at you but not completely avoiding you either.

In one corner of the hall, you see Aaron head towards the large speaker that sits silently waiting.

After a few seconds of fumbling with the speaker, the opening chords of ‘Last Christmas’ filled the room, too loud at first, making everyone glance at each other nervously, unsure if they were meant to sing along, dance, or just pretend it wasn’t happening.

Some teachers head over to the food. Thankfully, you haven’t run into Sherry yet, nor is that something you wish to do. But to give credit where credit is due, the food smells delicious and it’s not as plain as the food usually served at the cafeteria. 

Fingers quickly grab skewers of chicken satay or tiny puff pastries as the music loops on, providing a kind of strange comfort. 

"I swear," Morgan says as he fills his plate, laughing awkwardly as he nudges a colleague "I only came for the pigs in blankets".

Everyone chuckles the first real laugh of the evening and suddenly the awkwardness seems to melt away, if only a little. Yet it’s enough to kick off the night.

As the evening stretches on, the awkwardness begins to fade into something more familiar, a sort of communal ease that only happens when you’ve spent enough time around people you mostly like, but don’t quite know how to relax with. 

You stand back and watch, nursing your drink. 

A few teachers have found their rhythm, wandering between the buffet table and the cozy clusters of conversation, laughing a little too loudly and talking shop just enough to remind themselves they’re not too far from the classroom.

Jesus walks up to you and a few others, gesturing towards one of the empty corners. “Where’s the tree I gave you guys?” he asks curiously, no annoyance in his tone.

Taking a deep breath, you struggle for an answer “We uh, ran out of time to put it up”. 

Jesus gives a quick laugh and a nod, taking your answer for what it is. “And you still have the extra baubles I donated too?” he clarifies, taking a sip of his drink.

You nod and hesitantly explain “Yeah, the tree and baubles are uh… they’re under the bleachers. We didn’t have the space in the storage room”.

Looking around at the other teachers listening, Jesus smiles “Well then, who’s game for putting up a tree?”. 

Before you have time to process that, there’s a burst of energy. 

Jesus and Morgan help bring out the tree. Tara takes the box of baubles, standing with her hands on her hips as she looks down at the box. 

Aaron, ever the optimist, picked up a string of lights and began untangling them with the patience of a saint.

You stand there with a surprised look plastered on your face. Even the people who aren’t helping, stand by and watch. Michonne snaps a few pictures before typing on her phone, no doubt sending it to her husband or Carl. 

Jesus, who has already taken off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves, grabs the tree stand. 

“The tree’s the easy part,” he tells the crowd “the real challenge is making it look intentional when you know it’s probably just going to be… well, a mess”.

Eugene, who has been quietly inspecting the box of ornaments with Tara, looks up at the group. 

“I must admit, I find the idea of a decorated tree somewhat... quaint. But I’ll go along with the sentiment if it makes the rest of you happy,” Eugene says, picking up a candy cane ornament ��Plus, I believe we can all agree—Christmas lights are critical”.

Aaron chuckles “Of course you’d have a whole theory about the importance of lights”.

With Eugene’s help, the tree is quickly set up and anchored in its stand, though it wobbles slightly, as if unsure of its purpose. 

“No, no, no, it’s leaning to the left!” Gregory tries to direct them. As you all listen to Gregory and Sasha bicker whether the tilt gives the tree character, you notice a figure lurk closer to you.

Out the corner of your eye, you see Negan. His every movement seems charged, as if he’s on the edge of saying something but never does. And you? You’re not sure what to say either. 

So instead, you both continue this dance, each of you pretending that the other isn’t right there, just a few feet away, caught in the kind of silence that screams everything without a single word being spoken.

“And where’s the tinsel?” Rosita rummages through the box of ornaments. 

“I think there’s some old tinsel in the storage room,” you call out, wanting an excuse to get away from him “I’ll go get it!”.

Negan lowers his head, watching through his lashes as you hurry off to the storage room. He suppresses a sigh, wondering if it’s really that hard for you to be around him.

Do you seriously prefer the cramped, shitty old storage room compared to him? 

This should have been fun. You two should be celebrating! Fuckin’ finally! You’ve made it and now the others are having the time of their life by willingly doing a team building exercise! 

Right now, you should both be teaming up to haggle Michonne for a raise, not barely looking at one another.

And yet Negan can’t do it. He can’t find the words to say this to you. And so he stays in his spot and listens to the others make the task of decorating a Christmas tree seem impossible.

Ten minutes pass. 

Still nothing. No you. No shitty tinsel. Just a whole lot of avoiding. 

Negan can’t believe this. You’d rather hang out in the storage room? Or quietly slip out early? All that hurt and tip toeing around each other starts to bubble in Negan, slowly reaching it’s boiling point.

With a sharp turn, he makes his way through the crowd and towards the storage room. He figures he’ll check in there first and then check the parking lot to see if your car is still here. 

His hand comes straight out as he opens the door with enough vigor to make it fly open. Not that he’s thinking about the door when he sees you, just standing there.

“Are you really gonna hide on me?” He starts, boots slamming against the messy floor as he leaves the doorway and walks deeper into the room, closer to you.

For a split second, you freeze. But as you see your opportunity for escape closing, you rush forward. 

You don’t pay any attention to his question, trying to get past him as you blurt “Wait! Stop! Don’t let the door—”.

But before either of you can reach it, the door slams shut with a resounding thud, cementing back into its frame. Negan’s anger falters when he realizes what just happened.

He doesn’t know how many times he warned you about the old storage room door being hard to open from the inside, yet here you are— and now him, victim to the heavy door.

“You gotta be fuckin’ kidding me…” His voice drops to a low, venomous growl as he steps back to the door. He tries to yank it open once, twice, thrice! And yet it stays in place.

With the click of his tongue, Negan looks to you “You seriously got yourself locked in here?”.

You don’t appreciate the mocking tone and so you bite back “Yeah and now you have too!”.

With a sigh, Negan leans up against some of the boxes. His anger is gone and now he’s just unsure what to say to you

You step up and try the door again. You yank the handle again, twisting it violently but the door stays still. 

“Dammit!” You mutter under your breath, before you get a new idea and begin banging on the door. 

“Hey! Hello? We’re in here! Help!” you shout, your voice rising with each strike. 

Unfortunately it’s still not enough compared to the loud thumping of bass and jingle bells from the Christmas music blaring in the adjoining room.

Negan watches you with a mixture of bemusement and annoyance. He chuckles lowly, folding his arms across his chest.

“Well, that’s one hell of a performance,” he comments with a grin, the sarcasm dripping off his words. Stopping for a moment, you throw him a glare before continuing again.

“You’re bangin’ on beat with that Christmas nonsense. Hell, they won’t hear you over the jingle bells and whatever crap is playing” he points out, taking no notice of your glare.

You stop, staring at him with an annoyed look “I don’t need your commentary right now, Negan”.

He shrugs, uncaring “Just callin’ it like I see it. Looks like you’re stuck with me. Again”.

Ignoring his comments, you listen to the party outside. Laughter. Chatter too loud that it drowns out your shouts for help. The occasional cheering as they continue to decorate the tree. 

“Sounds like they’re having fun” you grumble.

Negan waits a moment before replying, his tone losing his sarcasm “So should we”.

There’s a tightness when he says that— but not the good kind. You’ve always been one to blurt things out, Negan should know that better than anyone. 

Although hearing you quietly mutter “Yeah, I’m sure you and Sherry should be having the time of your lives”, throws Negan’s head in a tailspin. 

“What? Sherry?” The edge is back in his voice as he asks, making you go quiet again. 

You shrug in response.

He narrows his eyes as you stay silent. When you don’t say a word, Negan shakes his head “Fuck, I thought we were gettin’ somewhere, and now? Now this shit?”.

Negan takes a breath before deciding to start small. “Why’re you bringing up Sherry?” he lets the question hang in the air.

Eyes flickering to the ground, your voice feels tight as you reply “I… I saw you with Sherry, arriving to work with her, and—”. You stop yourself, biting back the words. 

It doesn’t matter that you stopped anyways as Negan interjects with a slightly sarcastic laugh “You thought I’d what? Sleep with her?”.

He steps closer, trying to get you to look at him.

“Doll, she just wanted to cash in that I-owe-you,” he says before deciding you’ll need more of an explanation “she wanted to buy her boyfriend a motorbike for Christmas but she knows fuck all about bikes… I, however, have had my fair share so I went with her to get give her my expert opinion. Nothing more. I just spent the morning looking at shitty second hand bikes”.

You nod, eyes still down as you process his answer. But now it’s Negan’s turn to get some answers.

“You really think I’d kiss you, then go and sleep with someone else right after?” his voice is firm but tinged with hurt “Is that how little you think of me?”.

That makes you look up, eyes wide before they soften with regret “No! I don’t— It’s just, you didn’t say anything. I didn’t know what to think. You didn’t tell me anything about her or what you were doing”.

You hesitate, realizing how much you’ve misinterpreted “I should’ve talked to you first. I’m sorry, I just… I didn’t want to make a fool of myself”.

A few hollers can be heard in the sports hall as Negan pauses, letting out a slow exhale.

“You don’t have to apologize for giving a damn. I get it, though, how that would’ve looked,” he runs a hand through his hair, frustrated with himself “I mean, Sherry and I, that was a one time thing that neither of us want a round two of”.

You nibble on your bottom lip, unsure whether you’ll like the answer to your next question but needing to ask nonetheless. “So… what did happen? Back then, between you and Sherry?”.

His posture shifts slight as if he’s physically as well as mentally letting down his guard. 

“Sherry and her man were on a break, she wanted a distraction…” he trails off, letting you fill in the details “and then when they got back together, she had to really prove to the guy that she wasn’t interested in me anymore so she went from thinking I was good enough to fuck, to straight out hating me”.

“Huh… I kinda presumed you just cut contact with a lot of them after the deed is done” you reply, not expecting to hear that Sherry hated Negan anyways, whether or not he ghosted her.

“Oh I do sometimes, other times it just fizzles or it’s decided beforehand that it’s just a one night kinda thing” he explains “We both get something out of it”.

“A two way system” You call it.

Negan tilts his head as he thinks, “‘I wouldn’t exactly call it that. It’s just… mutual benefits.

A faint smirk ghosts his face “A two way system is you arguing with me, me arguing with you, you taking me on a date, me taking you on a date, me flirting with you, you flirting with me”.

You can’t help the smile at that, rolling your eyes teasingly, any annoyance you had for Negan melting away.

He continues, poking his tongue out of his mouth “Me kissing you.. you shoving your tongue down my throat”.

“I did not do it like that!!” You exclaim with a laugh.

He chuckles, his own annoyance gone now too. “You’re right, you’re right,” he concedes before thinking up a better way of saying it “you… oh so subtly slipping that dainty tongue of yours into my mouth all sexy like”.

“I didn’t use tongue!” You declare, throwing your hands up before the playfulness fades into a somber silence.

“I am sorry,” you reiterate ”I guess I should’ve trusted you more. I should’ve asked, instead of assuming.”

He gives you a look you can only describe as tender. 

“Yeah, well, I’m not exactly the talking-about-feelings kinda guy and I kinda thought you didn’t want anything to do with me anymore,” he tells you, his voice a gentle hum “But if you’re asking— I want this. I want you. No more games, no more misunderstandings. Just… us. Alright?”.

A small, relieved smile tugs at the corners of your lips, tension easing. “I think that would be nice” you agree, trying to drown out the loud Christmas music during your intimate moment.

There’s a quiet between you both, no more words needing to be exchanged. Negan begins to move again but instead of heading towards the door, he briefly disappears to the back of the storage room.

“Negan?” You call out.

He strolls over to one of the old boxes and starts to look through it. The musty smell of forgotten storage fills the air as he pulls out a dusty, crinkled piece of tinsel, its once-silver strands now dulled and faded with time.

“If we’re all good now…” he says as he stops and reaches down into the box “y’know what we gotta seal it with, right?”.

His mouth twitches with a hint of amusement and as he steps back toward you, dangling that goddamn piece of old mistletoe in front of you. 

His expression is half-mocking, half-playful, as if he’s trying to make light of getting stuck in here. 

You look at the mistletoe and then back up at him. “Well, it is tradition…” you tilt your head up, expecting to see that cocky expression of his but instead it gives way to something more sincere.

Before you can say anything, he’s lifting the mistletoe above your heads, positioning it just right. 

Not being one to waste time, Negan presses his lips to yours, the kiss soft at first, just a light brush but as if giving into the moment, you deepen it. 

His lips are warm and steady against yours. The taste of him lingers as it becomes more heated. Negan drops the mistletoe, both of you each other instinctively pulling closer.

His lips press more urgently against yours, like he's unable to hold back anymore. His hand slides from your waist to the back of your neck, fingers threading into your hair, pulling you into him with a force that makes you gasp into his mouth.

That gasp seems to push him further, the heat between you intensifying. His tongue sweeps against yours in a coaxing manner. Backing away, you pull him with you until your back is flush against another stack of boxes. 

There's nothing tentative about this anymore; it's a powerful, consuming kiss, raw with hunger and desire.

Negan’s hands slide under your festive sweater, skin on skin. The contact sends a shiver down your spine, heightening every sensation. Your fingers clutch at his shirt, needing more of him, more of this. 

His body presses against you, hips aligning with yours, and the pressure builds as you feel the weight of him against you. His breathing becomes heavier, his chest rising and falling in sync with the erratic make out session.

The words around you fall on deaf ears, neither you or Negan paying attention to the Christmas music or the mumbling of Gregory outside saying “It’s in here, you say? Oh Christ!”.

Suddenly the music is clearer and another light source shines across your face. “Mm?” You question, although it’s hard to get the words out with Negan’s lips still on yours.

Pulling away, you see a look of shock and disgust on Gregory’s face.

He clears his throat, trying and failing to regain some semblance of control. “This… this is—uh—what is happening here?” his words came out in a disjointed jumble, bringing the other’s attention to the storage room.

“They’re together?!” you hear Rosita’s voice.

“You didn’t know about them?” the voice of Michonne reaches your ears “Carl told me they were a couple ages ago!”.

Suddenly you realize you’re like a deer in headlights, just frozen and watching. That is until Negan takes you hand in his and yanks you out of the storage room while the door is still open.

You follow his lead, letting him bring you out to the middle of the sports hall until he turns to face you again. His hands find their home on your back and he begins to sway to the slow Christmas song.

“Are we… dancing right now?” You question, clasping your hands around the back of his neck. 

The others stare for a few moments before carrying on with whatever it is they were doing beforehand. Some drink, some stuff their faces and chat, while others grab a partner and dance too.

Negan doesn’t answer with words, instead giving you a little spin before finding you back in his arms.

“So… you still spending Christmas alone?” Negan says it casually, though there’s a subtle trace of concern in his tone.

You inhale before replying, shifting slightly in his arms “Yeah”.

“You sure about that?” He leans in a little closer, his face now just inches from yours, as though trying to read between the lines. 

There’s a small, almost imperceptible shake of your head, showing you’ve already made peace with the decision as you sigh “I think it’s for the best I don’t change plans now and go spend it with my family”.

“Yeah, sweetheart, I was kinda trying to crash your plans, not suggest you skedaddle out of town” Negan’s grin widens, and he gives you a playful nudge

“What?”.

His smile deepens as he watches your reaction, fully aware of how bold he’s being. “Well, you’re spending Christmas alone, I’m spending Christmas alone,” he explains “we get on like a house on fire, you’re hot, I’m hot”.

“Negan!” you exclaim, a mix of embarrassment and amusement flooding your chest.

“I’ll bring the mistletoe” the offer hangs in the air, and you can feel the moment shifting, building toward something neither of you is fully ready to name, but both are undeniably feeling.

“… maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if you were there too” you slowly admit “but you have to bring me a present!”. 

Negan chuckles, keeping his hands on the small of your back as he looks up and pretends to think. “Hm… I might be able to do that” he says. 

He tries to act as though he’s debating the condition, as if he hasn’t already bought you things.

A cinnamon candle.

A pumpkin statue to match his own.

A winter coat that will actually keep you warm (that may have some leather accents so you’ll match his own jacket).

Some snacks he’s been picking up whenever he’s out.

And a list he’s made himself of the corniness Christmas movies he could find on the many streaming services that are around.

“Maybe I could do with that mistletoe now,” you tease, showing off your actual flirting skills.

Negan smirks down at you, one of his hands trailing up your back as you both sway to the music.

“Darlin’ I think we are way past mistletoe now,” he quips back before he leans down.

Despite being in the sports hall that made you and Negan go at each other’s throats. Despite being surrounded by your colleagues …

You kiss him.

[killxio]

Eren x caribbean gf headcanons 🙏

wanderlust | e. yaeger

word count: 1,440 [5 min 13 sec read] | ✪ content warnings: facesitting, six nine, handjob, eren using y/n like a face mask, he’s a munch in this (all hail the munches)

eren x reader / eren x black!reader / eren x carribean!reader

✭ drabbles of eren and his pretty beach bound girl. ( ps, sorry for taking so long anon. side note, everyone and their mama is jamaican, so the reader in this is not jamaican. trinidad and tobago i’m side eyeing you too. sorry not sorry, we need representation for other islands. )

eren absolutely gets himself into trouble just to hear you yell at him. he thinks it’s so fucking sexy, especially when you notice his hard-on and yell more.

the way your accent tends to come out when you’re angry just goes straight to his dick, mans can’t help it.

“woooii- ya make mi blood clot, eren! round with ya friends, can’t give nuh call or send mi text den tiptoe in the damn house like a ninja. ya can’t answer when me fa call ya name?”

he’s between your legs and you’re scolding him, finger pushing his big ass head around. he’s been out for a few hours later then he said he would, then came and snuck up behind you in the bathroom as you’re doing your hair.

yet all he can do after he’s put you on the counter is smirk down at you. he grabs you finger, guiding it down his chest and silences your complaints with a kiss.

it’s when he leads your hands low enough that you break it.

“jesus eren. you’re fucking nasty,” you shame, your american tongue coming back.

“no keep yelling,”

“ya fa be ‘shamed a-yaself.” you scold, trying to hide your smirk, brushing your fingers over his buldge.

eren takes u to the most luxurious parts of your home possible, he knows how much you love your families native country.

in college, he works his ass off to take you home atleast twice a year at fancy resorts or luxurious airbnbs.

as he gets older and more successful, the trips get better and more frequent.

your 10 year anniversary gift? him buying you a home at home.

eren finds the way you eat fruit with no fork adorable. he loves your brown doe eyes staring up at him accompanied by your sticky mouth.

“what?” you question, looking up at eren from your beach chair, mango in hand.

“nothing baby,” he smiles, bending down to grab a wet-wipe from your picnic blanket, “you just devour fruit like a bulldozer.”

“do not.” you protest, and despite him wiping your hands down his gaze is still set straight on you. there’s a slight breeze passing by, and his green eyes peer at you though his waving hair.

“stop looking at me like i’m that mango.”

“am not!” you protest again as he moved onto wiping your mouth and cheeks, knowing damn well you’re about to jump his bones in the hotel room later.

he loves your mango, grapefruit and pineapple fed pussy, he swears it makes you taste sweeter. before you, eren never came home craving his girl’s pussy like a meal. but yours? you have to claw him off you.

this time, eren’s taken you to jamaica, one of the carribean islands you actually haven’t been to yet. he pulls the rented jeep into the drive way of your two’s airbnb, coming home to feed you the breakfast you sent him to the market for.

“hi ren baby. did you get it?” your brown eyes and coily hair peek up at him from your book from your place on the couch when he turns the corner into the living room.

“mhm.” he nods simply, holding up the brown paper bag in his hand to show you.

but he’s craving a different meal.

“ohhh good! the utensils and plates here are so so cute, i think the host even left wine. is it too early to day drin- baby?” you question, distracted at the way he pulls at your hips and cuts you off with an absolutely nasty kiss.

“i need to be fed too,” eren says, briefly breaking the kiss, his hands sneaking into your tiny panties and toying with your clit. you know he isn’t talking about his own meal in the bag.

two of his fingers slide up and down your hole, collecting your slick, then slowly penetrates your tight ring.

“mmmm,” you let out a cat-like purr as his fingers slide deeper into you, moving up and down, riding, and he knows the perfect balance of thrusting to please you.

he’s swallowing all of your pretty moans, tasting the chapstick off your lips as he’s attacking at your lips, then your jaw. your neck. your collarbones. until he’s laid you down and pulling your cropped cami top up to get at the valley between your breasts.

he’s humming out appreciatively against your skin, tasting the soft reminants of your shea butter from a shower the night before. he travels, just a little, but cruelly ignores your hard nipples pointing up for him. he disconnects from your breasts with a squelch, sitting back up to pull off your panties and lay down beneath you.

“what’s gotten into you, rennie?” you ask, a little breathless between movements.

“nothing sweetheart. now sit,” he demands, pulling you up onto his chest.

“wait. let me touch you?” he doesn’t object and you go straight for it, sliding down his sweats and eagerly pulling out his coated dick. there’s two beads of pre still going down his shaft when you lean down to lick and start to suck on him, he slaps your ass.

“i’m eating. if you’re going to touch and distract me, hands only.”

and you do. scooting back more so your cunt hovers over his face, wrapping your fist around his cock. he pulls you down and begins licking at your cunt.

eren shakes his head lightly, pressing his tongue into you and passing over your clit a few times so deliciously, the downright nasty sounds of him slurping at your cunt making you clench around nothing. while his tongue travels back up to your leaking hole, he closes his lips around your cunt too, sucking.

“s-so good baby,” you praise, then get caught off guard by him prodding his tongue at your entrance and penetrating you.

and eren’s tounge is thick. not absolutely abnormal, but definitely matches his 6’4 height.

the repeated feeling of his muscle penetrating you sends you spiraling, tightening your grip around his shaft trying to ground yourself. with every in and out motion, more of your slick is pushed out and down his throat.

eren is addicted to feeling you come on his tongue instead of his dick, something about you creaming on his face? does it for him.

you’d think it’d be the way your hands swivel around his shaft that’d send him spurting sticky while liquid up around your hands but instead, it’s the way your hips jerk in their up and down motion while you cum, your ass jiggling on his face.

“ima.. ima cum eren.. i’m cummin’” hence the stuttering of your hips and your breathy, choked out moans. he wraps his arms around your thighs, burying his face further into your cunt.

“yeah princess?” he asks rhetorically, softly slapping at and jiggling your thighs, “do it baby. keep cumming on my face.”

“hah- fuckkk rennn..” you’re mewling, riding out your orgasm on your mans unfaltering tongue, drinking in the vibration of his words against your cunt.

“you’re such a sweet girl. my sweet girl.” he says, gazing up at you as you’ve now scooted down and are sitting on his chest. he doesn’t protest at way you leak down his abs.

“am i?” you return a dopey smile, flopping over ontop of him.

one of his arms wrap around you waist, rubbing soothingly at your bare ass while the other softly rubs at your scalp.

he doesn’t reply, instead you’re left to listen to the beat of his heart and rise and fall of his chest as you two share radiated body heat. you’re close enough to the ocean to hear the waves in the distance.

“.. okay, now can we eat?” you ask, breaking the silence, gazing at the forgotten food on the side table.

eren loves traveling with you, you grabbing him by the hand and leading the way. he’ll follow you anywhere.

“it’s a type of spanish lime but TECHNICALLY, but it’s more like a grape. it’s called kenip.” you inform him, tapping his shoulder indicating he could put you down now.

he puts you back down on the sand, having previously had you on his shoulder so you could pick the fruit from a tree growing on the beach.

he just stares up at you with the biggest eyes of admiration as you peel and hand feed him a handful.

“you like it?”

“yeah. i like you.”

“the stupid limes that are actually grapes, big head.”

“those too.”

he does like you. he loves you. his little caribbean girlfriend who’s smile glows the brightest when she’s taken to the beach. who cries in disdain when he gets fruit from the supermarket and not the farmers market. who’s vibrant dark skin, which he’s in awe by, enhances in the summer.

he loves you.

[ask-the-turnabout-terror]

YOU WERE MORMON???? I'm sure your parents are happy about you marrying Miles lol

“Okay, family history time.” (I’m not gonna format it like usual, since this is an info dump.)

“My mom’s parents were immigrants from Mexico, and moved to Utah where they accidentally got converted to Mormonism (I don’t really know.) Mama was very much invested in the religion, because as a Mexican among blue-eyed blonde Americans she was bound to be scrutinized- being the most religious and conservative and to-the-bible youth made her fit in more.

My dad was from Phoenix, Arizona. He lived in the tiny pocket neighborhood where most Japanese migrants lived. He was very odd, never quite with any crowd- too formal to be a hippie, but too hippie to go with his family. I don’t know why he decided to go to a Mormon college, or settle with a very religious Mormon lady in LA, but he did. (I’ve asked before, and sometimes he says he just bored.)

When we were kids, I always wondered why Miles’ dad was hesitant at having him come play at my house. Now as a father, I can see that my mom would have totally tried to convert Miles if given half the chance.

I came out when I was 19 as Bisexual (And double whammy, that I was going to college as an Art major at a non-Mormon university) and Mama was understandably upset and cursed everything I was when she realized I was serious. Dad decided that was the perfect opportunity to ask for a divorce and start his traveling spree.

My mom moved back to Utah, and I last talked to her when I was 26. My dad hasn’t been around for a long time, but he sends postcards to Trucy every now and then. I didn’t tell my mom about the wedding, but I did manage to track down my dad and get him an invite. He didn’t attend, but he did send in a few bowls he bought from an ethnic market in Jamaica.”

[elwenyere]

A literally breathtaking essay: remarkable and riveting

"In​ the autumn of 1928, a previously unknown painting turns up on the London art market. It belongs to a Major Henry Howard of Surrey. He is 45 years old. His father has just died and left him a large estate, and he’s selling off much of it – houses, land, family heirlooms. There are death duties; he has five young daughters and a marriage that’s going to end soon. He needs cash.

Howard is knowledgeable about art. He’s a serious connoisseur and collector, an expert on Wenceslaus Hollar, the prolific 17th-century Bohemian printmaker. Among his inheritance is the family’s great collection of paintings, including first-rate 18th-century portraits by Thomas Gainsborough, Joshua Reynolds, Arthur Devis, John Opie, Jonathan Richardson and Richard Cosway, among others. The small, unattributed canvas he disposes of in 1928 is not in the same league. But it does come with an intriguing back story. Most of Henry Howard’s family’s wealth originally came from sugar plantations worked by enslaved people in Jamaica. And this portrait had been owned by a famous ancestor, of whom they are very proud, an 18th-century planter and writer called Edward Long.

So when Howard takes the painting to a London dealer, he explains that it had belonged to his great-great-great-grandfather, who had lived in Jamaica in the mid-18th century; that it was painted in Spanish Town, the colony’s capital; and that it showed a man called Francis Williams, about whom Long had written a whole chapter in his celebrated History of Jamaica (1774). Not only that, he says, but when Long was writing that chapter, he had this painting in front of him and was describing it.

The dealer, Jack Spink, is delighted to have this information and uses it to advertise the picture. He recognises it as an unusual object, with excellent ‘associative’ value, and is sure it will make a quick sale for a good price, probably in America. They like this kind of thing over there. He has some leaflets printed and takes out a full-page advert in Country Life. At the top is a photograph of the painting, and beneath it a lengthy extract from Long’s chapter about Francis Williams – the first two and a half pages of it, no less, in tiny but legible print. That’s the only description provided. To the Howard family, and to Spink, Long’s words explain this picture. It’s an understandable presumption, since pretty much all that is known about Francis Williams comes from Long’s ten-page chapter about him. It remains the only detailed contemporary account of his life, and it was written by someone who had known him.

The problem is that Long was, in fact, Williams’s greatest enemy. His potted biography was a malicious hatchet job, full of lies and half-truths, that sought to bury rather than to commemorate its subject. Long’s huge, three-volume History of Jamaica wasn’t really a ‘history’ at all. Angrily composed in the aftermath of the Somerset ruling of 1772, which had undermined the certainty of slaveholding in England, it was above all a defence of West Indian slavery as ‘inevitably necessary’ and an attempt to prove that all ‘black’ people were naturally inferior to the ‘white race’.

It is ironic, therefore, that Long is our main source about Francis Williams, who in his lifetime (he died in 1762) had been the most famous Black person in the world, at least among educated English-speaking people. He was rich; he was a gentleman; he was a scholar; he was celebrated as a clever and accomplished person. His memory lived on after his death. In 1774, when trying to argue that Black people were inherently less intelligent than ‘Whites’, Long had to accept that his readers would already know about Williams. He was forced to write about him because, to prove his theory of innate white superiority, he needed to take him down."

READ THE REST: SERIOUSLY, READ IT!!!

[hit-song-showdown]

Year-End Poll #67: 2016

[Image description: a collage of photos of the 10 musicians and musical groups featured in this poll. In order from left to right, top to bottom: Justin Bieber, Drake, Rihanna, Twenty One Pilots, Desiigner, Adele, The Chainsmokers, Justin Timberlake, The Chainsmokers. End description]

More information about this blog here

We're now in 2016. A year that was at one point considered to be the worst in recent memory, a title that would only be surpassed by every year that came afterwards. But in terms of music, 2016 brought us a lot of heavy hitters. Anderson .Paak's Malibu, Rihanna's Anti, Frank Ocean's Blonde, Drake's Views, Beyoncé's Lemonade, and David Bowie's final album, Blackstar -- I would be here all day if I tried to list every release that came out this year.

But what's notable about this year of releases isn't just the albums themselves, but the music business landscape they were being released into. After the fall of physical media, the rise of music piracy in the MP3 era, and the popularity of digital storefronts, streaming services like Spotify seemed to be this great equalizer. This is an easier opinion to have if you forget that Spotify is a massive corporation, and if you're not an artist living off royalties. The controversy over streaming is nothing new. But this is when we start to see the landscape of streaming splintering.

Drake's Views and Beyoncé's Lemonade were not released to the wider streaming market, with exclusive releases on Apple Music and Tidal respectively. Much like the current debate over streaming services for movies and TV, listeners were suddenly finding themselves stretched thin between different streaming providers. Spotify, Apple Music, Tidal, Amazon Music, Pandora, YouTube, SoundCloud, and many others. This wasn't a new phenomenon (both SoundCloud and Pandora predate Spotify by almost a decade), but now we're seeing more platform-exclusive releases. Listeners responded in a variety of ways. Some people switched platforms or kept multiple subscriptions to different services. Some bought physical copies of exclusive releases and imported them into their preferred platform. Some just didn't listen to the releases. And others went right back to piracy, repeating the same problem the record industry had been trying to snuff out for several decades now. Platform-exclusive releases aren't that common anymore.

As far as the music itself goes, as the sound of electropop wanes in mainstream popularity, dance music is starting to incorporate influences from a variety of Caribbean styles of music, specifically dancehall as seen with Rihanna's Work and Drake's One Dance, and tropical house, as seen with Justin Bieber's Sorry and Sia's Cheap Thrills (not featured on poll). However, I do want to differentiate the two, because dancehall originated in Jamaica in the 1970's while tropical house is a relatively recent genre that incorporates stylistic elements of dancehall and other subgenres of house music.

When it comes to mainstream rap and hip-hop, trap music is continuing to dominate. With music platforms allowing artists easier access to distribution, a sub-sub genre sometimes known as SoundCloud rap started to find mainstream footing. Some people also call this style "mumble rap". I will not, because I find the term needlessly dismissive and kind of obnoxious. All of these rising genres put together helped to contribute to a musical landscape that was moody and generally at a slower tempo than the pop music of previous decades. It's often reductive to attribute popculture at the time to the current zeitgeist, but considering how today's poll features songs with titles like "Work" and "Stressed Out", it's too tempting not to.

[tomorrowusa]

A Conservative politician is making millions off of slavery 190 years after slavery was abolished in Britain and its territories.

Tory Richard Drax comes from a filthy rich family notorious for having established the model for slave-based sugar plantations in the Caribbean in the 1620s. Even by the standards of a slave-based economy, the record of the Drax family was appalling.

The Barbados plantation was worked by up to 327 slaves at a time, with the death rate for both adults and children high. Sir Hilary Beckles, chairman of the 20-state Caribbean Community’s (Caricom) Reparations Commission and vice-chancellor of the University of the West Indies, estimates that as many 30,000 slaves died on the Drax plantations in Barbados and Jamaica over 200 years.

Thanks largely to their their ill-gained riches, the Drax family owns a 700 acre walled estate in Dorset which includes a deer park. And apparently they are getting even richer.

Despite threats to make Richard Drax pay reparations and seize his family’s plantation – described by one historian as a “killing field” of enslaved Africans – the government is now planning to pay market value for 21 hectares (about 15 football pitches) of his land for housing. The move has angered many Barbadians, especially those who say the Drax family played a pivotal role in the development of slavery-based sugar production and the Barbados slave code in the 17th century. This denied Black Africans basic human rights, including the right to life. Critics have called the planned deal an “atrocity” and said this is “one plantation that the government should not be paying a cent for”. Trevor Prescod, MP and chair of the Barbados National Taskforce on Reparations, said: “What a bad example this is. Reparations and Drax Hall are now top of the global agenda. How do we explain this to the world? “The government should not be entering into any [commercial] relationship with Richard Drax, especially as we are negotiating with him regarding reparations.”

It's baffling why the Barbadian government would enter into such a deal.

Drax, the MP for South Dorset, travelled to Barbados to meet prime minister Mia Mottley. It is understood he was asked to hand over all or a substantial part of Drax Hall plantation. If he refused, legal action would follow. Mottley’s spokesperson said the current Drax Hall purchase was not linked to reparations and the government “constantly acquires land through this process”. Mottley has pledged to build 10,000 new homes to meet demand on the island, where there are 20,000 applications for housing. A senior valuation surveyor said the market value for agricultural land with an alternative use for housing would be about Bds$150,000 (£60,000) an acre. At this price, the 21 hectares could net Drax Bds$8m (£3.2m). The land would be for 500 low- and middle-income family homes, which would be for sale.

I'd just grab the land and pay Drax a token £1 just so he legally can't claim he wasn't compensated at all for the transfer.

Barbados poet laureate Esther Phillips, who grew up next to Drax Hall, said the planned deal was an “atrocity” and a case of the victims’ descendants now compensating the descendant of the enslaver. “He should be giving us this land as reparations, not further enriching himself … at the expense of Barbadians. As Barbadians, we must speak out against this.”

And with the reported thousands of deaths during the 200+ years of slavery at the Drax plantation, how many people will be comfortable with the idea that their new home is built on what was essentially a forced labor camp which became a model for regional slavery? Isn't the Drax property on Barbados a large cemetery?

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[jasminebutintaiwansojiemin]

July 13th, 2024 星期六 - 西門地 + 東三水街市場_新富市場 + Taipei Botanical Gardens

We met around 9:30 am and headed on the green line to the blue transfer station where we rode the MRT to the Longshan stop. As soon as we got out of the station, the Longshan Daoist/Buddhist temple was in view. It was very beautiful and colorful. First, we headed to the wet market. By the name, I assumed “wet market” meant mainly fish/seafood but it was just an outdoor market selling fruits, vegetables, meat, fish, and other goods. Our tour guide said that when he was a kid, he would go with his grandmother. It heavily reminded me of how I would go to very similar markets with my grandmother in Jamaica. As we entered through the dragon side, the wide variety of fresh produce could be seen everywhere you look. I noted that it was mostly older people buying and selling at the market. Our tour guide noted that there are increasingly less and less wet markets in Taiwan, as many opt to go to grocery stores instead.

After making our way through the market, we headed towards Longshan temple. A place of worship mixed with the Daoist and Buddhist beliefs, it was extremely colorful and adorned with porcelain, gold, and jade. As we walked through the temple, we got to see and try out using the moon stones to answer our questions. In the Daoist part of the temple, there were several shrines for different gods such as the gods of love, war, and health/wellness. There was also an area where one can buy talismans/good luck charms. I definitely want to return tomorrow to buy good luck charms for my friends and family.

After the temple, we rode the MRT again and ended up at the Taipei Botanical Gardens which we walked through before ending up at a museum for a famous Taiwanese Architect. After exploring the museum, we took the MRT once more and ended back in Ximendi, where class was dismissed. Afterwards, I went along with some of my classmates to eat hot pot. After lunch, the girls all went shopping around Ximendi for some cut clothes. We also colored the Red House and surrounding flea market shops before returning home on the MRT green line. Before entering the hotel, we stopped at a Family Mart so I could buy a special Kyoho grape redbull—something we definitely don’t have back home.

Academic Reflection

I was very interested in the wet markets we visited today. I ended up doing some research on wet markets in Taiwan, especially the differences between those in Taiwan and those in Mainland China. I found that apparently that has been a large increase in regulation of the wet markets in recent years. Live-killing of animals and the selling of live animals have been cracked down on, but you can still buy snakes, turtles, and live fish sometimes. I also found online how the Jianguo Wet Market in Taichung was torn down and re-made into a building that even includes industrial refrigerators and breastfeeding rooms.

Our tour guide also told us about a jade market that happens on the weekends a wet market like the one we visited today. Turns out it is the a similar area to the Jianguo market previously mentioned. This immediately sparked my interest because one of the things I really wanted to buy in Taiwan is jade jewelry. At this market, one can also buy an array of gorgeous flowers and plants. Located in Da’an and open from 9am to 6pm, there are about 700 stalls selling many goods from and flowers, to ceramics and furniture. I most definitely plan on going tomorrow to buy jade jewelry.

[jamaicahomescom]

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[naturallyalisia]

Jamaica Day 2

Today was my great grandma’s birthday, we celebrated yesterday with a home full of children, grandchildren, great grandchildren and great great grandchildren. A blessing beyond what could be imagined for a family. Today with it only being my immediate family mother,grandmother & bonus grandfather included and extended family we spent time with granny and gave her gifts. My gift was simple a simple nameplate and one of her favorite chocolates Cadbury fruit and nuts. It was a shame that the heat caused it to melt but the fridge saved it luckily regardless of how lumpy 😂. The smile on her face I swear is currency enough ❤️

After this I went to visit my father’s grave. I’ve never gone when I was here last over 20 years ago. My mother and grandmother struggled to find him until grandma spotted his stone it was hard to see it because it was covered in dirt. It was surreal, I’d always thought about how’d I’d react but it wasn’t sad it was indifferent to know that my biological father is in there and I have no memory of him because I was baby when he was murdered due to mistaken identity. It’ll always be a matter in thoughts of what ifs. But either way I’m grateful I’ve been able to visit him even if it’s not in the flesh and never will be. I also found my grandma, my father’s mother a few steps down. I think I was more emotional for her because I spent time with her and around her enough to remember her well, and I didn’t get to see her before she died and it definitely hurt me but seeing her was also heartwarming.

Once we were finished with the cemetery we visited my grandpa, my father’s father. This was great ❤️ I wanted to surprise him but somehow he already had a feeling we were coming and was keeping an eye out for us (iykyk) I enjoyed hearing his stories and will see him before I leave along with my aunt.

After visiting grandpa and experiencing trekking up his hill to house we went to see my great great grandmother home were my Granny grew up and my mother and grandmother. We ran into a pack of puppies 🐶 so cute I wanted to just take one with me but my grandmother told me to leave them alone because the mom might be near by and might be protective. The cute part it started with one then a whole pack came running out lol looking for scratches and play.

We winded the day down with some shopping my cousins took us to the market. We got some fruits. Star apple, Otaheite Apple, Nessberries, and different kinds of mangoes I didn’t even know existed. We also did KFC which was a bit underwhelming but hopefully next time I can try beef patty and a coconut.

Additional note mosquitos have been eating my legs alive 😩😩😩😩

Can’t wait for day 3 ❤️

[saintsir4n]

10

WARNINGS: VIOLENCE, BLOOD AND HEARTBREAK

___

1914

"HAVE you written in that diary of yours?" Enzo asked.

Eden nodded, "'Course, can't go a day without it. Helps clear my mind."

Looping arms with her, he teased, "Loverboy upsettin' you again? Feelings mutual, that puttana gets on my tits," he continued despite her strained expression, "You heard 'bout a robbery a couple of weeks ago near Digbeth, Stevie's market stall was trashed."

"What?!" She turned to him in shock, stopping their movements m.

Enzo sent her a wry look, "Edie I love you, but you knew 'bout did it didn't you?"

She continued to shake her head, "I didn't know what happened."

Craning his neck to the side, Enzo took in her shocked expression and concluded that she was telling the truth. It wasn't like Eden would lie to him, he trusted her with his life, he really did, but he just didn't trust the company she kept and was very vocal about that.

Returning from a poor man's peace, he tried to keep his opinions to himself...tried. They instead talked about the plot of land she and her family owned in Jamaica that her mother had only recently inherited after her father passed. Portmore, it was beautiful and Eden hoped to visit soon because England was far too dull for her. Enzo said the same about Italy and even believed his true calling was leaving with his oldest brother and joining the rest of the family in New York.

Ah, their dreams kept them up at night.

"Now you do," he murmured.

"I'm sorry, is Stevie alright?" Eden felt extremely concerned about the man who always showed her kindness, even when it was least expected.

He slowly nodded, "He's making do, only a matter of time before there's a retaliation."

"Fuck," she breathed out, picturing the events that would play out if they didn't come to some sort of truce.

She felt even worse knowing that Tommy started it all because he discovered that Luca injured her, unintentionally but what did that matter?

Enzo's lips twitched, "Alls fair in love and war."

"Well, that's utter bullocks."

"Tell that to your diary."

"Fuck off," she playfully pinched him, just as he looped their arms again.

"Let me walk you home, tell you 'bout why you might not want to come down to little Italy any time soon," he advised, cautious of her safety and how his older brother would react to it, he said the same to Dorris.

"I'll come and visit you," she promised despite his precautions.

"Even bump into Mrs Granberry while you're at it."

Feigning offence, she gasped, "Never wish that on me. Take it back."

From the distance, an angry Tommy stumbled through the streets, after leaving the Garrison with many pints of beer and a few whiskeys in his system.

One week had passed since he'd seen or heard from Eden. Isaiah and Finn's birthdays came and went, and like twins, they shared the day. The junior bandits of the lane were six now and despite the celebration and the occasion Eden didn't speak to him.

Seven days of radio silence from the woman that took over his mind and stole his heart. Get lost, and she did. He wanted to go to her house but didn't want to risk running into her parents. He wanted to visit her job but it was too soon to be near any sick people. He knew if he asked Dorris to help him, she would just tell him to fuck off and Enzo wasn't a fucking option.

So as he stumbled down the lane, he tried focusing his eyes on anything, something that would calm him and settle the fury. 

And that's when he saw Eden Dawkins, in all her glory, giggling away, looking happy and healthy... but why?

He froze in his uneven stride when she saw the arms wrapped around her waist, tugging her body closer to the body of the man they belonged to.

Lorenzo fucking Changretta.

Nothing or no one could hold him back, he wasn't wearing rose-tinted glasses, but all he saw was red.

So he ran, despite his state, with one thing on his mind.

Eden's scream seemed to echo through the streets.

Enzo had been torn away from her and slammed on the ground, feeling nothing but sharp fists pound into his face, unrelenting and unforgiving.

Eden's gutwrenching screams just added to the noise that was in Tommy's chaotic mind.

With the blood spurting from Enzo's mouth and the bruises forming on his skin, the drunk Shelby didn't stop.

People peered out their windows to see the commotion, but quickly they drew their curtains fearing repercussions. 

"Tommy stop it please!" she screamed, feet clattering over to the pair, but the footsteps approaching made her stop, "Arthur!"  she yelled, thinking he would aid in rescuing her friend, but that wasn't the case. The oldest Shelby pulled her back, "Let me go! Enzo I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. Tommy got off of him!"

She writhed in Arthurs's hold, cursing at the wind, yelling at her boyfriend and praying that it would all come to an end.

"Tommy!" She heard Arthur's voice, it didn't sound nearly as discouraging as she needed it to.

"Why are you doing this?!" Eden finally caught the drunken Shelby's attention, he kept his hands on Enzo's capels as he halted his carnage.

"What was he doing with his hands all over you?" he demanded, tone thick with whiskey and rage.

"Talkin', just talkin' you idiot!" she cried, keep trying to pull away from Arthur.

"That's not what it looked like!"

"But it's what it was!"

He ignored her cries and turned to his brother, who wasn't as intoxicated but recognised his wild side taking over his younger brother, the blood staining his fists as the Changretta painfully sturred on the ground, calling out for help.

But help could not come.

Seeing the look in his eyes and him reaching for his cap, Eden thought fast, trying to not let her emotions take over but it was too late for that.

The alcohol in Arthur's system allowed her to strike his gut with her elbow, resulting in him staggering back and letting her go.

Both Shelby's blue eyes doubled in size and mouths let in a harsh breath as she retrieved the knife tucked underneath her skirt and directed it at Tommy.

The wind blew over the tense silence.

Tears streamed down her face, but her hold remained stern.

"Eden put the knife away, you're gonna hurt yourself, love," Arthur voiced, the sight sobered him up in an instant. If only John wasn't at the betting shop or at odds with Tommy, he would be here to help, no doubt he was making his way, "Put it down."

Eden looked terrifyingly beautiful even when holding a weapon, her hand wasn't trembling and that's what scared Tommy.

She was sure of her decision, despite the emotions coating her face, the anger and pain swimming in her brown pools, she was sure.

"You would use that on me for 'im?!" Tommy spat, glaring down at the groaning man who was in a pool of blood, "You would go against me... for 'im?"

Her emotions are running wild, far wilder than mine, his thoughts blared.

Blood thumped in her ears as she came stalked towards him, wanting him to back away from Enzo, her best friend who hadn't done a thing to him – not directly – Enzo was like her brother and had been there for her through her highs and lows, the man that encouraged her career as a nurse even when she was unsure and when she thought about writing, he made sure to get her a diary every Christmas.

Tommy's anger didn't subside, but his darkened eyes grew slightly lighter as if the guilt of upsetting her was flooding through, he drove her to this. Emotions clouded her judgment yet he was the one to drive her to this.

"You've gone too far Tom," she choked out, watching Tommy slowly stand up and come closer. 

"You crossed the line, Eden."

"You crossed it first, you were hurtin' 'im, why Tom, why were you hurtin' 'im? He ain't done a thing to you, not a thing, and you keep attackin' 'im. You realise by hurtin' 'im you're hurtin' me, or don't you care?—"

"Get outta the way, Eden!"

She shook her head and from the corner of her eye, she could see John run over, stunned by what was happening and coming to stand by his oldest brother who also reached out for her.

The cheeky Shelby man never thought a day would come when Tommy was rendered defenceless by a local nurse whom he called his friend.

"Edie... put it down," John tried.

Eden stared ahead at Tommy, "You don't care, do ya? He's my friend, no fuck that, he's my brother, I love 'im, and I love you but... if you come near 'im again, I'll use this," she held up the knife as her voice cracked, "I'll use it against ya, don't make me, please don't make me."

"Put it down Edie girl." John kept trying, before turning to his brother, "Arthur!"

"John, shut up," Eden yelled as her grip slowly weakened. 

"All for him?" Tommy nodded to the groaning man in disgust.

Eden's lip quivered, "You hurt me."

"It was for you," Tommy whispered, "All this was for you,"

"Put it down, love," Arthur said quietly, they all watched as she lowered the knife.

Letting out a sharp breath, John silently cheered but Tommy remained stagnant.

"There you go," Arthur went to reach for the weapon but instead she tucked it away once again.

Eden ignored the silent pleas emitting from Tommy's eyes and brushed passed him, rushing to her best friend.

There was a mean gash below his now bruised eyes, that fluttered open and shut. His lip was busted open, which slurred his speech. Blood was like a second layer of skin that stained his flesh.

She could hardly recognise him.

"Oh Enzo," she let out a soft cry.

"Just leave him—" John received a glare as she helped up her injured friend, who could barely see, let alone stand.

But the adrenaline coursing through her veins allowed her to do the heavy lifting.

"I'm so sorry," she continued whispering to the delirious man.

"J-just get me home," he groaned, spitting out more blood at the Shelby's feet.

"I'm sorry," she repeated, struggling in her stride.

The three Shelby brothers watched on, one in despair, one in bemusement and the other in heartbreak. But they all wanted to scream, you do not fuck with the peaky fuckin' blinders...but Eden Dawkins sure as hell did.

Still yearning for the light in her eyes, Tommy stepped forward, "Eden lets go. Leave 'im."

He didn't think she would stop, but when she did she let out a laugh, a laugh of disbelief that contained little to no humour.

"You ignored me when I looked after you and you think your claim over me is still strong? The cheek of you."

And just like that, she set him off all over again.

Tommy jabbed his finger at the Changretta, "The cheek of 'im."

"Oh fuck off Thomas. It's done — better yet," Eden reached for the necklace around her neck, earning shocked expressions from both Arthur and John, all while Tommy's face fell. She chucked it at the cheeky Shelby, knowing her...  ex-boyfriend wouldn't take it, "don't talk to me again."

Snatching out of his brother's hands, he stalked after the struggling pair, with purpose and pride.

"Put it back on now. Eden! Get back here now and put it on!" He yelled, but she didn't stop walking, even if her feet hurt, she needed to help her best friend, even if he wouldn't have any memory of it. 

"Don't speak to me like that! You can keep your fuckin' necklace! Stay away from me!”

"Put it back on!" His hoarse voice caused her to blink away more of her tears. She promised she wouldn't take it off, "You promised Eden!"

If John placed a bet on if his brother would ever get his heart broken, he would've bet against it but now, after seeing the torn and broken look on Tommy's face, he would be beaten. Both he and Arthur thought it was unnerving to see as were the tears trickling down their brother's perfectly shaped cheeks.

Tommy always thought he and Eden were made for each other, though, that didn't mean they were made to last did it?

She had always been daring and prideful, and that her rage would only need to be set off by a single match. 

....And Tommy just realized that he'd finally started the fire.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

a/n:

this is the end of the first act of until we meet again. how are we feeling? i mean our girl is calling him thomas not tommy so...

eden finally pulled out that knife and although she didn't put it to use (not really) she took a stand, by defending and protecting someone she loved against...someone she loved.

considering that tommy directly went to enzo (out of jealousy, resentment and more) instead of being sly about his attacks due to his drunkenness/ grieving, he's fucked up, on the biggest scale. eden went as far to give back his mothers necklace, is there any coming back from that?

also i took a lot of inspiration from an old film cillian was in called "disco pigs" it's on youtube and it's amazing but also very unnerving.

[rom-e-o]

So we've discussed a few disastrous love interests of Bess between Oliver and Wolf. Do you have any hcs of Connie in the dating realm between Orin and Adonis?

Oooh interesting question!

So, in her og historic (“Begin Again”)-verse (the lore keeps building and it’s so amazing), there isn’t a lot of wiggle room for Connie because of societal expectations. She’s single until she meets Orin, they court, they marry. She leaves him, arrives in London, meets Scrooge, they court, they marry.

Canonically, in any universe, Connie’s first kiss is literally when she and a classmate (Cecile) sneak out of class to smooch, but that’s extremely tame.

In the modern universe, there is more time between the relationships. So, more wiggle room, although nothing ever happens because she is sincerely so traumatized by Orin that she refuses practically all advances.

When working at the nightclub and coffee house, she does get a lot of date requests. I mean…we know she can’t make coffee to save her life. They keep her on because she’s incredibly attractive and pulls customers every time she’s on shift. She gets MANY date requests from everyone. Con is bi, so when a woman asks her out, she mulls over it, thinking…it might be different. (I imagine the woman is also older, and named Flora, who asks her out. Sophisticated. Works in marketing somewhere. She seems wonderful) but Connie still declines. She just isn’t ready, and Flora respects and encourages that. “Thank you for being honest, love. I hope I can still come to chat, and it won’t trouble you.” “Of course. 🥹 I make your lavender latte and get to hear about your cats even Monday and Wednesday! I wouldn’t miss it!”

A nice young man asks her out as well. Steven, a bookish blond man with huge glasses who is her age, asks her out. He’s exceptionally cute, so they have a small coffee date together, and both quickly realize they just don’t have anything in common. She’s into business and fashion and numbers, and he’s into model trains and building preservation. They part ways amicably, though the honestly makes them very good friends. He doesn’t stammer around her as much, and when he starts dating someone new, Connie is the first the meet them.

Jason, the shitty coffee shop boy, also gives it a go. And by “give it a go”, I mean he moves behind her, and she clobbers him with a baking sheet out of surprise. (“Jason! Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry! But…DON’T DO THAT!”)

At the nightclub, most just people stare, smile and tip her. There is always the occasional ass that tries to grab her for a lap dance (she is a “look pretty and serve drinks” employee, not a dancer) and this always gets a slap and a glare. She can hold her own against those types. It’s when it goes beyond into anything verbal that she starts to lose the fight in her.

Casper, a recent business transfer from Jamaica, is a frequent nightclub client…and one of the nicest guys. A real nice guy. “I’m scoping the scene here because the boss wants to build a nightclub at our newest London location. Yeah, we’re NOT gonna do it like this place. If you don’t feel safe, hang near me. The boss can’t get mad. You’re ’entertaining a paying customer’. Now, I see you’re wearing a charm bracelet. It’s a Cartier, no? You have exceptional taste. Sit with me. Let’s talk style.”

They never become romantically involved, but she respects him deeply. They absolutely stay good friends.

She stays friends with Flora, Steven and Casper, but Steven is probably the closest she gets to any relationship before Adonis.

[bestjamaica]

Tours from Montego Bay Jamaica

1. Hilton Rose Hall

Q: Does Best Jamaica Tours offer excursions from the Hilton Rose Hall in Montego Bay?

A: Yes, Best Jamaica Tours offers a variety of excursions departing directly from the Hilton Rose Hall. Guests can enjoy guided tours to iconic sites like Dunn's River Falls, river rafting on the Martha Brae, and cultural experiences in local villages. Booking can be arranged through the resort’s concierge or directly on the Best Jamaica Tours website.

2. Hyatt Rose Hall

Q: What tour options does Best Jamaica Tours provide for guests at the Hyatt Rose Hall?

A: Guests at the Hyatt Rose Hall can choose from numerous Best Jamaica Tours offerings, including all-day adventures to Negril’s famous Seven Mile Beach, snorkeling and diving trips, historical tours of Rose Hall Great House, and eco-tours exploring the nearby botanical gardens. Reservations can be made via the resort’s activity desk or online.

3. Iberostar Rose Hall

Q: Can I book Best Jamaica Tours excursions while staying at the Iberostar Rose Hall?

A: Absolutely! Best Jamaica Tours offers a range of excursions from Iberostar Rose Hall, such as ATV adventures, zip-lining, catamaran cruises, and visits to the Appleton Estate Rum Factory. Guests can easily book these tours through the Iberostar concierge or through the Best Jamaica Tours website for convenience.

4. S Hotel Montego Bay

Q: What unique tours does Best Jamaica Tours offer for guests at S Hotel Montego Bay?

A: Best Jamaica Tours provides unique experiences for S Hotel guests, including sunset catamaran sails, private beach picnics, and personalized city tours of Montego Bay. Additionally, cultural immersion tours and culinary experiences showcasing Jamaican cuisine are available. Booking can be done at the hotel’s front desk or online.

5. Catalonia Hotel

Q: Are there any special excursions available through Best Jamaica Tours for Catalonia Hotel guests?

A: Yes, Catalonia Hotel guests can take advantage of Best Jamaica Tours’ special excursions such as guided hikes in the Blue Mountains, river tubing adventures, and historical tours of Montego Bay’s landmarks. These can be booked through the hotel’s activity center or directly via Best Jamaica Tours.

6. Tours from Secrets St James

Q: What all-inclusive tours does Best Jamaica Tours offer for guests at Secrets St James?

A: Best Jamaica Tours offers a variety of all-inclusive tours for Secrets St James guests, including day trips to Mystic Mountain, dolphin encounters, shopping tours in local markets, and cultural shows featuring reggae music and dance. Reservations can be made through the resort’s concierge service or online.

7. Excursions from Secrets Wild Orchid

Q: How can guests at Secrets Wild Orchid Montego Bay explore Jamaica with Best Jamaica Tours?

A: Guests at Secrets Wild Orchid can explore Jamaica through Best Jamaica Tours’ offerings such as horseback riding on the beach, snorkeling excursions, guided tours to historical sites like Rose Hall Great House, and evening entertainment tours. Booking is facilitated through the hotel’s front desk or the Best Jamaica Tours website.

8. Breathless Montego Bay

Q: What vibrant tour experiences does Best Jamaica Tours provide for Breathless Montego Bay guests?

A: Best Jamaica Tours provides vibrant experiences for Breathless Montego Bay guests, including nightlife tours, beach party excursions, water sports activities like jet skiing and parasailing, and adventure tours such as zip-lining and ATV rides. These can be booked via the resort’s activities team or online.

9. Zoetry Montego Bay

Q: Can Best Jamaica Tours accommodate the luxury experience of Zoetry Montego Bay guests?

A: Yes, Best Jamaica Tours offers premium and personalized tours tailored for Zoetry Montego Bay guests, including private yacht charters, exclusive dining experiences on secluded beaches, wellness and spa retreats, and bespoke cultural tours. Guests can arrange these luxurious tours through the hotel’s concierge service or directly with Best Jamaica Tours.

10. Tours from RIU Montego Bay

Q: What family-friendly tours does Best Jamaica Tours offer for guests at RIU Montego Bay?

A: Best Jamaica Tours offers a variety of family-friendly tours for RIU Montego Bay guests, such as dolphin and sea lion encounters, interactive cultural workshops, eco-parks visits, and boat trips to nearby islands. These tours can be booked through the resort’s front desk or via the Best Jamaica Tours website.

11. RIU Reggae

Q: How can guests at RIU Reggae enjoy Jamaican culture through Best Jamaica Tours?

A: Guests at RIU Reggae can immerse themselves in Jamaican culture with Best Jamaica Tours’ offerings like reggae music tours, dance classes, visits to local art galleries, and culinary tours featuring traditional Jamaican dishes. Booking is available through the resort’s activity desk or online.

12. Ocean Coral Spring

Q: What adventure tours does Best Jamaica Tours offer for Ocean Coral Spring guests?

A: Best Jamaica Tours provides adventure-packed excursions for Ocean Coral Spring guests, including river rafting, mountain biking, scuba diving, and guided hikes to scenic viewpoints. Guests can book these thrilling tours via the hotel’s concierge or the Best Jamaica Tours website.

13. Royalton Blue Waters

Q: What romantic tours can couples enjoy at Royalton Blue Waters with Best Jamaica Tours?

A: Couples at Royalton Blue Waters can enjoy romantic tours such as sunset cruises, private beach dinners, couples’ spa retreats, and intimate horseback rides along the shoreline offered by Best Jamaica Tours. Reservations can be made through the resort’s front desk or directly on the Best Jamaica Tours platform.

14. Excellence Oyster Bay

Q: Are there any exclusive tours for adults-only guests at Excellence Oyster Bay through Best Jamaica Tours?

A: Yes, Excellence Oyster Bay adults-only guests can enjoy exclusive tours like wine and rum tastings, private snorkeling excursions, luxury yacht charters, and tailored cultural experiences with Best Jamaica Tours. These can be arranged via the hotel’s concierge service or the Best Jamaica Tours website.

15. Tours from RIU Palace Aquarelle

Q: What comprehensive tour packages does Best Jamaica Tours offer for RIU Palace Aquarelle guests?

A: Best Jamaica Tours offers comprehensive tour packages for RIU Palace Arawak guests, including multi-day adventures, combined sightseeing and relaxation itineraries, transportation services, and guided tours to Jamaica’s top attractions like the Bob Marley Museum and the Green Grotto Caves. Guests can book these packages through the resort’s activity desk or online.

Contact Best Jamaica Tours:

Website:https://bestjamaicatravels.com/tours-in-montego-bay/

Phone: +1 (876) 403 5045

Email: bestjamaica1@gmail.com

Whether you're seeking adventure, relaxation, cultural immersion, or family-friendly activities, Best Jamaica Tours ensures a memorable experience tailored to your preferences from any of these Montego Bay resorts.