#Beacon South Beach

[rabbitcruiser]

Clouds (No. 734)

Miami Beach, Florida

[greatevent89]

Miami Beach Hotels

Welcome to Beacon South Beach Hotel: Your Oceanfront Retreat in Miami's Vibrant South Beach

Step into the luxurious world of Beacon South Beach Hotel, where the heart of Miami Beach is at your doorstep. Our boutique oceanfront hotel offers personalized, quality service, making it your home away from home.

[grits-galraisedinthesouth]

“In her presence, the world seemed to shimmer with radiance and joy.”

Melania Trump remembers her mother as ‘a ray of light in the darkest days’

In her eulogy, the Slovenian-born former first lady paid tribute to her mother’s “nurturing spirit” and “unparalleled affection.” “She embodied the best mother, wife, grandmother, mother-in-law — a true beacon of love and luxury in our lives,” Melania Trump said. “She’s a true inspiration, a role model to me, and to so many.”

'Her nurturing spirit had no limits, creating a legacy that will last for generations,' 'With her beauty and impeccable sense of style she turned heads. But it was her unwavering dedication and hard work that made her exceptional.'

Melania Trump's Amazing Grace by Sundance

"There is a particular type of grace that surfaces when a daughter grows stronger as a direct result of a closely bonded mother’s guiding wisdom.  Historically and generationally, women of eastern Europe are known for a particular style of strength.  Always prepared to be left alone due to conflict, war, or the loss of hardened warriors, an internal fortitude is created blending femininity with a deliberate, cold and pragmatic approach at life.  The daughters of these quiet but strong-willed generational women, learn skills of emotional control, loyalty, deliberateness and fortitude that turn the finest silks into fabrics stronger than titanium.  It is transparently obvious that Melania learned well from Amalija.

Paying tribute to the guiding hand upon her life, to her mentor, counselor, friend and beloved mother, First Lady Melania Trump delivers a farewell eulogy to her guide.  If you have ever wondered where the centered strength of Melania Trump originated, listen carefully and you can hear the heartbeat of Amalija Knavs in this delivery."  WATCH:

Terry Spencer Associated Press January 18, 2024

PALM BEACH, Fla. — Former First Lady Melania Trump on Thursday remembered her mother as “a ray of light in the darkest of days” during a funeral service at a church not far from the family’s Mar-a-Lago estate.

The former first lady said she always found peace in the presence of her mother, Amalija Knavs, 78, and that her mother was always there to listen.

“In her presence, the world seemed to shimmer with radiance and joy,” Melania Trump said during a eulogy as her husband, former President Donald Trump, sat nearby. “Our bond was unbreakable.”

The former first lady said her mother celebrated her family’s triumphs and supported them during difficult times. She said she would remember the laughter that accompanied travels with her mother, father and sister and “conversations that flowed effortlessly with grace and charm.”

“Rest in peace my beloved mother,” Melania Trump said before stepping down from the pulpit.

She then stood in front of her mother’s casket, touched her fingers to her lips and placed them on the casket.

Among the guests who arrived before the start of the private service for Knavs at The Episcopal Church of Bethesda-by-the-Sea were two of Donald Trump‘s children from previous marriages, Tiffany Trump and Ivanka Trump; Ivanka Trump’s husband, Jared Kushner; and Republican U.S. Sens. Rick Scott of Florida and Lindsey Graham of South Carolina.

The church is where Trump and his wife were married in 2005. Knavs died Jan. 9 in Miami after an undisclosed illness.

At midmorning, a hearse pulled up in front of the church followed by an SUV carrying the former president and first lady and two other vehicles with their Secret Service detail. Wearing a black dress and sunglasses, Melania Trump and her father, Viktor Knavs, led a procession up to the church, followed by the former president and their son, Barron.

They then waited on the steps of the church as the coffin was lifted from the hearse and taken into the church.

After the service, a priest waved an urn of incense and a man held up a cross as the coffin was carried out of the church, followed by Melania Trump and her father, and then Donald Trump and their son, Barron.

After the coffin was placed in the hearse, the former president and first lady exchanged pleasantries with the priest. Donald Trump led his wife to an SUV with her father, and then he got into a separate vehicle.

During the Trump presidency, the first lady’s mother lived in New York along with her father and occasionally appeared at the White House. Amalija Knavs was at a 2018 ceremony where the first lady debuted her “Be Best” public awareness campaign to help children.

The Knavses raised Melania, born Melanija, and her older sister, Ines, in the rural industrial town of Sevnica while Slovenia was under Communist rule as part of Yugoslavia. Amalija Knavs was a textile worker and homemaker, while her husband worked as chauffeur before becoming a car dealer.

The former first lady, 53, attended high school in the Slovenian capital, Ljubljana, and changed her name to Melania Knauss when she started modeling. She settled in New York in 1996 and met Trump in 1998.

She sponsored her parents’ immigration to the United States, and they became citizens at a New York City courthouse in 2018, while Trump was president.

Their lawyer said at the time that they applied for citizenship on their own and didn’t get any special treatment.

In her eulogy, the Slovenian-born former first lady paid tribute to her mother’s “nurturing spirit” and “unparalleled affection.”

“She embodied the best mother, wife, grandmother, mother-in-law — a true beacon of love and luxury in our lives,” Melania Trump said. “She’s a true inspiration, a role model to me, and to so many.”

Trump likewise paid tribute to Knavs during his victory speech at the Iowa caucuses, saying, “She’s up there, way up there. She’s looking down and she’s so proud of us. And I just want to say to Amalija, you are special, one of the most special people I’ve ever known.”

Trump’s adult children from his previous two marriages also attended the service for Melania Trump’s mother: daughters Ivanka Trump and Tiffany Trump and their husbands, Jared Kushner and Michael Boulos, and sons, Don Jr. and Eric, and their partners, Kimberly Guilfoyle and Lara Trump.

Trump’s in-laws remained in their native Slovenia after Melania Trump moved to New York City to become a model in 1996 and after she married Trump in 2005. They moved to the United States when Trump was president, and Melania Trump sponsored their bid to become citizens in 2018. After Trump lost the 2020 election to Joe Biden, he, Melania and Barron re-located to Mar-a-Lago. Amalija and Viktor Knavs joined them at the resort, “living it up as well-heeled retirees” and spending a great deal of time with their daughter and grandson, as the New York Post reported.

Meanwhile, Trump has reportedly been able to spend more time with his youngest son since leaving the White House and moving to Mar-a-Lago. In a 2015 People interview, Melania Trump admitted to being the more hands-on parent due to her husband’s first presidential campaign. But free from running the country or a real estate empire at Mar-a-Lago, Trump sometimes plays golf with his son or enjoys a one-on-one dinner with him, TheThings.com reported. Melania Trump told People about the “beautiful respect and admiration” that exists between father and son, and that “Barron loves to be one-on-one with Dad.”

Barron’s natural athleticism and height also makes Trump proud, according to reports. At a 2020 campaign rally, Trump called him out, proclaiming, “My Barron. My tall Barron. My beautiful Barron. Handsome. He is handsome.”"

Donald Trump's youngest son Barron is now comfortably the tallest in the family, towering over his father at his grandmother's funeral.

Father and son stood next to each other as they mourned Melania Trump's mother Amalija Knavs, who died on January 9 aged 78.

Barron, now 17, stands at 6ft, 7 inches - taller even than his ex-president father who at 6ft, 3 inches is a towering figure himself.

The teenager stood beside Donald Trump, Melania, and Knavs' widower Viktor, dwarfing all three as they waited for the coffin to arrive on Thursday morning.

Knavs was farewelled by about 100 mourners at Bethesda-by-the-Sea Episcopal Church in Palm Beach, Florida, where Melania gave a moving eulogy.

Barron's four-inch height advantage over his father was obvious from the moment they got out of the car together, as the boy put a guiding hand on Trump's arm.

Melania in her eulogy gushed about her mother's love for her grandson Barron, whom she 'showered with affection, illuminating his world with love, tender care and unwavering devotion'. 

Trump credited his son's impressive growth to Knavs' traditional Slovenian cooking at a campaign event before the Iowa Republican caucuses.

'That's how he got so tall, he only ate her food,' he joked to the crowd of supporters.

'I said you're gonna be a basketball player. He said, "well, I like soccer dad, actually". But you can't talk them into everything! Barron was a special boy.'

Barron is said to have a close bond with his grandmother, who along with Viktor taught him to speak Slovenian as he grew up.

Bojan Pozar wrote in his book 'Melania Trump - The Inside Story: The Potential First Lady' that Barron 'almost certainly speaks Slovenian with... Ines, his aunt, who also lives in New York'.

'Ines Knavs was the one who took care of all the paperwork at the Slovenia consulate in New York so that Barron could formally acquire Slovenian citizenship,' he added.

Barron is believed to be the first son of a president to have dual citizenship.

Barron has grown dramatically since his father's inauguration in January 2017 when he was just 10

Barron Trump, 6.7 towers over his father at grandmother's funeral

The teenager stood beside Donald Trump, Melania, and Knavs' widower Viktor (left), dwarfing all three as they waited for the coffin to arrive on Thursday morning

They walked slowly towards the church as a foursome, in complete silence, dozens of agents looking on, the three men wearing black suits and ties and Melania in a black suit jacket, black skirt and a silver cross around her neck

Other photos from the funeral show Barron next to his grandfather Viktor and various other mourners - and being far taller than all of them. 

Mourners joined Melania and her father Viktor Thursday morning at the same picturesque Palm Beach church where she married Trump nearly two decades earlier.

The former president flew into Florida in the early hours to be at his wife's side, the pair following closely behind the hearse in one of around a dozen black SUVs, arriving just after 10am.

Melania and Trump were accompanied by Barron while Knavs' widower Viktor looked visibly upset but paused to compose himself before joining the others.

They walked slowly towards the church as a foursome, in complete silence, dozens of agents looking on, the three men wearing black suits and ties and Melania in a black suit jacket, black skirt and a silver cross around her neck.

Reverend Tim Schenck, who joined Bethesda as rector in 2022, stood at the church entrance waiting to greet them with a somber nod of the head and some brief words of comfort.

Melania remained stoic and expressionless behind her black jumbo sunglasses as all four turned in unison to watch as Knavs' coffins, bedecked with a dazzling display of white roses, orchids and lillies was carried from the street to the church.

Finally they all turned to go inside, the coffin entering behind them, passing another huge pink and white floral display comprised of roses, carnations and daisies.

All four emerged from the church just behind the coffin, which was carried by six pallbearers

Melania maintained her steely composure as she emerged from church, watching in silence as the coffin was carried outside, flanked by pallbearers and clergy

Melania Trump delivered a touching eulogy for her mother Amalija Knavs, who died January 9, aged 78

Barron is spotted towering over his mother and father as they left the funeral of his grandmother

Inside as she gave the eulogy, Melania's voiced cracked from the podium as she said, 'Rest in peace, my beloved mother'.

'Her nurturing spirit had no limits, creating a legacy that will last for generations,' she said.

'With her beauty and impeccable sense of style she turned heads. But it was her unwavering dedication and hard work that made her exceptional.'

Melania maintained her steely composure as she emerged from church, watching in silence as the coffin was carried outside, flanked by pallbearers and clergy.

As the procession reached the road and she watched her mom being loaded back into the hearse, Trump reached out and tenderly squeezed his wife's hand.

She left in the same vehicle as her dad while Trump followed in another SUV, giving a nod of gratitude to Secret Service agents who closed the road to ensure a smooth getaway for mourners.

Melania's mother Amalija Knavs (center, pictured in June 2018) was laid to rest on Thursday at the same picturesque Palm Beach church where her daughter married Donald Trump nearly two decades earlier

The Trumps have been regulars at the 125-year-old chapel since Melania wed then-real estate mogul Donald there in 2005 in front of VIP guests including Hillary and Bill Clinton.

A year later, Barron was christened at the Gothic-Revival style venue, which is less than three miles from Trump's swish Florida residence, Mar-a-Lago.

The Trumps also attended several Christmas services there throughout his Presidency.

Former First Lady Melania Trump 's mother Amalija Knavs, 78, died after being hospitalized in Miami, Florida, over the holidays

It was unclear if Donald Trump would make it after a heated exchange with a New York federal judge overseeing E Jean Carroll's defamation case against him. The judge denied an application to delay the trial.

At the funeral Thursday, Trump seemed to put aside his anger and his need to be the center of attention. He wore a solemn expression as he let Melania Trump lead the proceedings. He walked to the side of her, her father, Viktor Knavs, and Barron as the four entered the Episcopal Church of Bethesda-by-the-Sea in Palm Beach, not far from his Mar-a-Lago estate.

Judge Lewis Kaplan noted that the former president was not legally obliged to be court in person anyway.

https://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-12980173/barron-trump-donald-melania-mother-funeral-florida.html?ito=native_share_article-bottom

[triskhellion]

Irie

Rated: Explicit (4.4k)

Relationship: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale, Original Characters

Tags: POV Stiles, Getting Together, Jamaica, Gratuitous Nyammin' & Jammin', Patois/Patwah, Explicit Sexual Content, Hickeys, Song Lyrics

Summary: The one where Stiles and Derek go on an errand for Deaton and have some time to kill in Jamaica. They thoroughly enjoy themselves eating, swimming, relaxing, and exploring the island…and then each other.

Soundtrack

Super Blue Moon prompts: Joy, Grain, Red Haze & Summer (Mead Moons prompts: Aphrodisiacs, Claiming, Herbs, Hot & Revelry)

TW Anchor Down (Full Moon Round) prompts: Word - Unstoppable, Phrase - “Grab the bull by its horns," Song - "Feel Good Inc.," Trope - Roommates, Picture - Cove @tw-anchor-down

Usually when Stiles got a message from Deaton about some errand or another it ended up with him and Derek searching for an artifact buried in Back of Everywhere, North Dakota during the dead of winter or rifling through a dusty pile of old papers in a dank, foreboding basement in Romania while being stalked by a cāpcāun or something.

But not this time. For once it appeared they were being sent somewhere warm and sunny in service of the supernatural. They were headed to the Caribbean to fetch half a dozen varieties of rare and apparently invaluable live plants for the druid that needed to be transported carefully under specific conditions once the specimens were ready.

What’s more, because they were on their way back from visiting Cora in Ecuador instead of trekking all the way back to Beacon Hills and then turning around to fly south again at most a week later they were just going straight to Jamaica and would have some time to kill. 

Beverly, an Obeahwoman whose network of multidisciplinary magic practitioners they’d gotten to know during their frequent trips to the Bay Area, lit up with excitement during their video call when she heard they’d be going to the country of her birth. She not only had recommendations for them, but tips and resources as well.

“Look, the big all-inclusive hotels and the curated activities are fun, not gonna lie, but there’s a lot more to the island than what you can find in those expensive, insular spaces if you’re interested in a bit of adventure or some actual peace and quiet,” she told them, dark eyes sparkling.

He and Derek had looked at each other and grinned. On one hand, there was something to be said for lounging around and having a parade of colorful cocktails pass by — he was a year past the drinking age of 18, of course he checked — but on the other, an adventure that didn’t involve something trying to kill them for once or some secluded relaxation would be nice. Plus, he was sure there were lots of other places a bit off the beaten path where he could chill on the beach with a beverage.

And so here they were careening on some winding mountain highway in a van driven by a sprightly 30-something guy sporting sponge twists in a fade named Desmond, or Dezzy, who was apparently a cousin of Bev’s.

“More like ‘Dizzy’,” he whispered to Derek when the way too calm driver, who was currently humming along to “Getaway” by Earth, Wind and Fire, overtook a car on a longer stretch and cheerfully honked the horn, swerving back into the left lane before they could be smashed or knocked off the mountain by an oncoming semi truck. The tires hugged the edge of the road around the next curve and they all leaned to the side.

They’d flown into Montego Bay a couple days before, leaving in the wee hours and arriving in the late morning. They shared a room with two beds as usual while on a job at the guest house Bev hooked them up with. It was in Runaway Bay about a 20 minute walk to beach, which they visited as soon as they’d settled in and got their bearings. If Stiles had his way he’d be wearing one of his two pairs of swim trunks the entire trip.

The owner, Tish, sent them off with a tote bag of sandwiches made from slices of a sweet and spiced brown bread and some salty, tangy, cheddar-based cheese that apparently came from a can. There were also a couple bottles each of grapefruit Ting and D&G kola champagne. They took their bounty and beach supplies down to the white sands and ate in the shade of an almond tree, the gentle, bright blue waves beckoning them. 

Derek didn’t need sunscreen like Stiles did, but he said he found the low level burn before his body healed annoying, so they both applied the SPF 50 lotion afterward, helping with each other’s backs when done with rest of themselves. Stiles tried to distract himself from the expanse of skin and muscle underneath his roaming palms, blushing when he found himself absentmindedly tracing the triskelion between the werewolf’s shoulder blades. He then had to fight to keep from making any noises when it was his turn, deft fingers spreading the goopy substance over him. 

As soon as those warm, massaging hands were removed from his hyper aware body — his, uh, starting to react body — Stiles took off running toward the clear water in an attempt to both hide and dampen the state he was in. Derek was soon chasing after him and he felt a thrill of excitement as he crashed through the warm liquid before being tackled. He came up sputtering and shaking his head, retaliating as soon as he wiped his stinging eyes by kicking water at the smug wolf and getting into an all out splash battle until he tired out.

They floated and swam, goofed around trying to knock each other over, and just hung out semi-crouched in the sea for a while before returning to land, spreading out towels to sit or lie on and air dry in the hot sun. Stiles looked over to see Derek resting prone with his head on his forearms, eyes closed and smiling. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen the Alpha so at ease and watched him fondly before turning to gaze out at the ships dotting the horizon, fingers trailing through the sand. 

We’ll run away together. We’ll spend some time forever. We’ll never feel bad anymore, flashed through his mind, a relic of summers past.

Heh, if only. Him and Derek? Maybe in another lifetime. Sighing, he pushed the thought away and stretched out on his back, gazing up at the clouds dotting the late afternoon sky.

Stiles was liable to fall asleep right there, but didn’t want to wake up a lobster once the sunscreen stopped being effective, so before he nodded off he poked Derek in the shoulder and suggested either moving back into the shade or heading back to their accommodations. Their hours in the water had worked up an appetite because before the wolf could answer his stomach growled and they both burst out laughing.

Shortly after returning they saw Tish in the side yard picking what looked like bumpy green pinecones from one of the fruit trees. She handed them one to try, a curious fruit with many names. Sweetsop, sugar apple, custard apple, and more. Derek broke it open and the creamy segments of flesh covering black seeds inside were indeed sweet and reminiscent of custard. 

Seeing that they liked it she gave them a couple more and they thanked her, finishing the first one and part of another back in their room.

It was almost dinner time, so they both used the wait to make some phone calls, Stiles to his father and then to Scott in San Diego and Derek to Isaac and Malia to check-in on the pack. If he recalled correctly international calls were around $0.30 cents a minute with his phone plan so he kept each conversation to around 15 minutes knowing he’d probably talk to at least his dad another couple of times. Derek, laconic as usual, had been done with his in a fraction of the time and was reading a novel in Spanish that he picked up in Ecuador by the time he finished.

That evening’s meal was savory brown stew chicken with rice & gungo peas cooked with coconut milk, thyme, and some flavors he enjoyed, but couldn’t quite place. They ended up chatting with Jacob, the cook, when they sat in the courtyard outside the kitchen afterward and he was happy to talk about the food that he and the other staff members prepared. Stiles found that he could mostly understand Patois, or Patwah, at least if he was paying attention and it wasn’t too fast. 

“Dere x-amount ah spice an ‘erb dem, but eff yuh haffi pick tree dat gi yuh dat tayse ah Jamaica? Den mi seh tyme, pimento — wah yuh call allspice — an scotch bonnet peppa a most important. Eff yuh waan mek it four, den skallion fah chuu,” Jacob said, holding up what seemed a cross between a spring and red onion.

That night they turned in early tired out from the long hours of travel and activity and he fell asleep replaying the happiest day he’d had in a long time.

The second morning started with a hearty breakfast of escovitch fish — whole red snapper fried until the skin was crispy and then topped with a vinegary mix of sliced onion, carrot, bell pepper, that ever present fruity and fiery scotch bonnet pepper, and spices — with boiled green banana and circular pieces of a cassava flatbread called bammy. Then it was off to see the sights in Discovery Bay and Ocho Rios. (“Yeah, I’m sending you to some busy tourist destinations tomorrow but they’re popular for a reason,” Bev told them yesterday.)

They explored the Green Grotto Caves first, entertained by the guide explaining its history and about the animals that lived there. The underground lake was really cool and swimming was allowed up above so of course they took a dip in the brilliant aquamarine water. Next came a scenic drive through Fern Gully and then they arrived at Dunn’s River Falls. 

Derek had no problem climbing up the tiers of limestone barefoot, saving Stiles from injury on multiple occasions despite him wearing the silly water shoes. Indignity and near-braining aside, it was fun and the view beautiful. Every so often they would stop to wade or sit in one of the pools, the cold water from the mountains feeling good after the exertion on the sweltering day. After reaching the top and walking down the hill they hung out on the beach where the river emptied into the warm Atlantic. 

We ready for the road!

Now it was their third day on the island and they were on the way to Portland Parish. After a couple hours the van stopped by one of the ubiquitous stands by the road with grills made from halved oil barrels. They climbed out to stretch their legs and he watched as Derek closed his eyes and inhaled the intriguing scents carried by the smoke. 

“Time fi nyam pon jerk, mi yutes,” Dezzy said, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. 

He ordered for the three of them and Derek insisted on paying. A platter of jerk chicken and pork and one with long, fried cornmeal dumplings and thick slices of dense bread were soon placed on their table along with 3 chilled green coconuts with straws poking out from the chopped open tops. Each of them were lost in their own little worlds as the combinations of flavors exploding on their tongues, the doubly hot, spiced meats cut with the lightly sweet carbs and washed down with the refreshing coconut water. Dezzy recommended saving the drained fruit for scooping out later.

Then they were back on the road again, the two of them dropped off at another guest house around an hour later, this one right off a beach near Fairy Hill. It belonged to another acquaintance of Bev’s, a friend of a friend or a friend of a cousin or something. Dezzy was staying with relatives nearby and told them to give him a call when they wanted a ride somewhere. They checked in at the reception area and were shown to a cozy, standalone single room dwelling.

Once again they went swimming right away and then ended up joining an impromptu volleyball match and tossing a frisbee around with a group of local and American youths that were staying there with their folks ahead of attending a big family reunion. Afterward they went for a walk to check out the neighborhood, stopping in at an outdoor bar and restaurant called Spinnaz. 

“Siddung likkle bit, nuh,” called a server mixing up a fruit filled concoction while they were standing back reading the menu board. She gestured at a couple empty seats and they sat down at the bar to finish deciding what to try.

Bottles of Red Stripe beer in hand a few minutes later, they leaned back and watched the other patrons socialize and dance, enjoying the light breeze. A fast tempoed number backed by a drum machine and horns came on and got most of the guests on their feet, hips swinging left, right, backward and forward increasingly fast with the lyrics.

Cent, five cent, ten cent, dollar. 

When it came time for the “big money wine” the crowd went wild shaking and gyrating. 

Stiles was itching to move, but he felt too self-conscious/sober to join in, so he just worked his shoulders in his seat, swaying and tapping his fingers on the counter behind him and his feet on the footrest of the high-backed swivel stool. 

Several tracks later a distinctive cackling marked the beginning of “Feel Good, Inc.” as Derek ordered another round of drinks, this time house made ginger beer with glasses of amber Appleton Estate rum on the side. He was nodding along with the beat when a platter of garlic butter shrimp and lobster with more of those fried cornmeal dumplings, festival,  arrived for them to share.

Afterward they ambled around some more, passing by various shops and vendors. Stiles bought a green shirt shirt that said “Who cyaan ‘ear, muss feel” in white letters with a stylized donkey on it and Derek got a gorgeous mahogany leather wallet engraved on the front with an anchor in the center and ferns and hibiscus flowers around the edges. Lastly, on the way back they stopped where a man was selling cut and peeled pieces of sugar cane on the side of the road. 

“Of course you would buy a cup of straight sugar,” Derek teased as they continued on.

“Hey, it’s bi sugar because I’m eating it,” he replied, taking the stick he’d been chewing on out of his mouth. “And anyway, this is unrefined from a plant. Plants are healthy, I don’t make the rules.” 

Derek snorted and shook his head, but grabbed one of the sticks himself. 

Huh, maybe the werewolf wasn’t as immune to the sun as he thought. He looked a little red.

Back in their room he set the rest on the table for later and then flopped onto his bed, turning on the satellite tv and flipping through channels as Derek sat up on his and found where he left off in his book. They went out again in time to watch the sun start its descent over the ocean. 

A couple colorful boots were now pulled up a ways down the beach and they walked over when a person standing next to one of them called out and appeared to wave at them. There were three men who looked to be in their early 40s, two with close-cropped hair — a short, stocky guy named Joseph and a taller, leaner man called Leslie — and another tall guy, slender with fine, tied back shoulder length braids who introduced himself as Malcolm and asked if he and Derek were interested in buying dinner. They were.

The fishermen had an ancient boombox going and Leslie was tending a makeshift grill as Malcolm scaled a variety of freshly caught fish and handed them to Joseph to clean. Closer up Stiles could see the boats were held in the shallows with anchors that were hunks of metal which looked like wheels with extended spokes. He shuddered at the thought of accidentally running into one of those.

In no time at all the prepared fish were on a piece of wire fencing over the small wood fire, a pot of mysterious contents bubbling on top of stones off to one side as well. Leslie explained that this type of grilled fish was called “bun finga” because digging into it shortly after it was done as people were wont to do would indeed burn your fingers and they laughed. 

Unlike most dishes which were generously seasoned this had only the salt of the sea and the smoke and char from the fire along with the oil of the skin itself for flavor, but that alone was enough to make it taste amazing and he experienced the accuracy of the name himself. Stiles soon noticed that the men were eating something else from the pot for their own meal and inquired about it.

“Mannish Waata soup,” replied Leslie.

“Yuh waan try?” asked Joseph with raised eyebrows. A sucking, kissing sound came from the right. 

“Mi tink him cyaan handle,” Malcolm said with a mischievous grin.

Stiles huffed and grinned back, not one to back down from a challenge.  

“Yeah, I’ll try it.”

Joseph filled up a cup and then offered one to Derek as well with plastic spoons.

“How much do we owe you for these?” the curious werewolf asked, sniffing the contents.

“Nuttin,” answered Malcolm. 

“Dis wan pon wi,” added Leslie watching Stiles with anticipatory amusement.

Cautiously, he blew on a spoonful and then tasted it, his eyes widening. He took a few more bites, trying to discern what type of meat was in it. Definitely not fish or chicken or pork, but he didn’t think it was beef either. The flavors were strong and there were some odd chewy bits, but it was pretty good, the spice making him break out in a sweat. There were chunks of various root vegetables, dumplings, and what turned out to be slices of green banana with the skin on as well. 

Near the bottom he bit into a piece of hot pepper and started coughing, flapping a hand uselessly and trying to wash it down with the rest of the warm broth. Joseph handed him a cold bottle of water from a cooler and he all but ripped it open, gulping down over half the contents in seconds.

“Thanks” he croaked as Derek and the fishermen laughed.

He wasn’t the only one feeling the burn though because after finishing his portion the werewolf stripped off his shirt and dashed into the water to cool down. Stiles was content to stay on the beach with another bottle of water, enjoying listening to the men razzing each other as they started gathering up their things and also the music coming from the crackling radio. As Derek stood up and started walking out of the waves a woman’s voice sang “Laaawwwd, ‘av is mercy!” and Stiles had to agree because goddamn. 

Realizing his eyes were lingering on the Alpha’s swoon worthy form he quickly looked away and started getting their leftovers and towels together. They said goodbye to Leslie, Joseph, and Malcolm and walked back toward the guest house looking around at the red haze now making the whole sky seem to glow. Stiles suggested a detour around the property before returning to their little studio to check out some of the other buildings. They passed by a shaded lounge area with hammocks that he made a mental note to revisit another time.

Over a dozen people were in the dining room when they peeked inside, background music flowing from the speakers on stands on either side.

I’m trying to change the rules, you deserve something good in your life. We’ve waited for far too long, so come get your blessing tonight, baby.

They strolled through a tropical garden with a little bridge over a koi pond and then circled back around toward the rooms and apartments. 

Still feeling peckish they set upon their leftovers after a short blast in the microwave and washed it down with glass bottles of pineapple soda from the mini fridge. He watched Derek demolish his portion making little growly noises that managed to be adorable while also seriously turning him on.  

Stiles tried to put the kibosh on that train of thought and turned his attention back to his own food, pulling apart the savory morsels and licking his fingers clean. When he glanced up again Derek was staring at him, his eyes glowing red. Stiles swallowed and the wolf’s gaze dropped to his throat and then up again when he deliberately brought his fingers back to his mouth, maintaining eye contact. The moment stretched and grew taut. 

Feeling brave he tipped his head up and bared his throat in invitation and Derek sprang up from the other bed and stalked over. A hand burrowed into his hair as the werewolf leaned down to claim his mouth, the kiss flavored salty and sweet. It took a long time to get here, but now that the dam had broken the desire thrumming between them felt unstoppable.

When they broke apart, Stiles knew exactly what he wanted and just needed a few moments to work up the courage. It was time to grab the bull by its horns, or rather the wolf by the hips. 

With his fingers gripping the waistbands of Derek’s trunks he looked up for permission. At the sharp nod of his head Stiles tugged them down and was met with the Alpha’s swiftly rising and hardening cock. 

He’d seen Derek naked before, but this was the first time seeing him with an erection and it was both tantalizing and intimidating. A chuckle snapped him out of his mesmerized state and he grasped the thick shaft after spitting in his palm. Stiles kissed the head, licking over the slit, and then drew him into his mouth. He worked his hand at the base while he bobbed and sucked, lips straining around the hard member as Derek caressed his head and alternated between murmured words of filth and praise.

He did his best to swallow when the Alpha came, spurting copious amounts of cum onto his tongue and then pulling out to mark his face and throat as well. It was hotter than it had any right to be, even better than he’d imagined, and he felt proud to have brought the not-so-unattainable-after-all wolf off. Derek grasped Stiles by the chin and swiped his thumb across a messy cheek, sliding the coated digit past friction plumped lips for him to suck. 

“So perfect for me,” he growled. Stiles went to touch himself, but the now sharp-fanged werewolf caught his hand. “Let me.” 

At Derek’s urging, Stiles crawled backwards further up the bed and then turned over onto his stomach, all but vibrating with want. His shorts were pulled off and he felt those strong, warm hands on him again, this time palming his ass and then spreading him open for the Alpha’s viewing pleasure. 

Blushing, he looked over his shoulder to see Derek breathing heavily and staring red eyed like he couldn’t wait to devour him.

“Please…anything,” he whispered. The next thing he knew a tongue was licking over and pressing against his hole and he gripped the comforter below him, crying out . Soon he was rubbing himself on the bed and then pushing back wantonly, eliciting a pleased rumble from the wolf.

Stiles whined when Derek pulled away a minute later, but then he was being flipped onto his back, the complementary bottle of cocoa butter lotion tossed down beside him. Crawling onto the bed and taking hold of his cock, Derek mouthed at the tip before sinking down on him, tonguing the underside of his shaft on the upstroke. In between his own babbling moans Stiles heard a cap being flicked open and then cool, viscous liquid was being squeezed onto his thigh.

Derek ran his hand through the fragrant dollop and then a slippery finger began teasing his entrance. Slowly, it pressed in and starting pumping to target his prostate, joined by a second one once he relaxed at the intrusion. He’d done it himself occasionally, but it was definitely better when it was someone else, holy fuck. The twin pleasures of hand and mouth reduced him to a mewling mess and he orgasmed faster than he would’ve liked gasping Derek’s name. 

The wolf had no complaints though it seemed, cleaning his sensitive cock and then nuzzling into his belly and trailing kisses down his inner thighs. Stiles made grabby hands at him, but Derek evaded them, skipping away with a laugh. He returned a couple minutes later with warm, damp cloths and gently wiped over his face and between his legs before climbing beside him and pulling him close.

Of course Stiles couldn’t stay quiet for long.

“Sooo…that just happened.” 

The expression on Derek’s face said “No shit, Sherlock,” his eyebrows raised and scrunched together. Stiles fidgeted and looked back at him again. 

“And, um, it’s a thing we do now?” he asked hopefully.

“Mmm…yes,” Derek replied, reaching down to pinch his ass with a smirk. He did not squeak, dammit!

“Cool.” Looking away and taking a long, slow breath he attempted to quell his internal flailing. Act normal! “So, just for funsies or—“ 

“No.” 

Stiles found himself being thoroughly kissed and then manhandled until he was facing away from the Alpha, but wrapped firmly in his embrace. He’d been little spoon’d! 

Before he could lodge a formal complaint with Boyfriend Services (omg, were they boyfriends?!) a hand covered his opening mouth. 

“Go to sleep,” Derek ordered. Stiles stubbornly dropped his jaw and caught his pinky finger, sucking it and rubbing back against the other man’s crotch. A low rumbling vibrated against his back and the arms around him tightened. Warm breath tickled his ear lobe before it was nipped. “The sooner we sleep, the sooner I’ll wake up and fuck you,” Derek promised huskily. 

Stiles made a frankly ridiculous high-pitched sound. He would be more embarrassed, but apparently Derek liked his weird noises if the way the werewolf was now doing a convincing lamprey impression on his neck was any sign, so that was okay. He closed his eyes and focused on the thrilling sensation, sighing when Derek released his tender skin. 

Everything was okay. Way better than okay. 

Irie.

[thiswasinevitableid]

Strange Days (Indruck)

The winner of the mer and humans on land poll was: A lighthouse keeper who doesn’t believe mer are real

“You sure you don’t wanna keep him?” Duck stares at the Newfoundland on the steps of the lighthouse. The dog stares back disdainfully. 

“Nah. Beacon’s a good dog, but my place ain’t big enough for him. Besides, it’s good to have one of those around in case you gotta rescue folks. Or you fall in.”  Leo pats him on the back, “you’ll be fine. You got a good head on your shoulders.”

Duck thanks him and says his goodbyes as the former keeper gets on his horse and rides inland. Then he walks up the stairs into the Cape Hatteras Lighthouse, where he’ll be the keeper until…

Well, until he gets tired of it or dies. Leo had been keeping it since 1880, and after twenty years decided to leave the Graveyard of the Atlantic for somewhere a bit less windswept. 

After ten days of learning the ropes from Leo–and getting growled at and knocked into by Beacon–Duck prepares himself for his first night alone. Winnie, the mouser, meows at him from the steps of the staircase to the lamp. 

“Yep, guess it’s just us three.”

“Mew.”

He stares up the spiraling iron walkway, “Wish I could say that suits me fine. But I’m a shit liar.”

“Bwoof” 

“Coulda done without that agreement, Beacon.”

—--------------------------------------------------------

“It’s just by the lighthouse. You can’t miss it.”

Indrid is glad Barclay gave him that detail when directing him to his new territory; the outer banks can bleed together after a while, and being relatively new to the whole area means he’d rather not make enemies by unintentionally stepping on someone’s tail. 

He makes a full circuit of his new home, waving to Dani when she swims by on her way home. He can unpack his few belongings soon; it’s warm and calm enough this evening that he doesn’t feel like being cooped up. 

Once on the surface, he floats on his back and soaks in the sun. In his old haunts he wouldn’t have been so bold; the Colds held territory near old whaling and fishing communities up north and as a result had made a lot of enemies by ripping holes in nets or tipping over boats. Showing his face as a mer would have meant someone trying to shoot him or catch him to sell to a sideshow, as Barclay calls them (he’s been reading human newspapers more lately).

But here, on a stretch where the only visible structure is the lighthouse and the beaches are empty, he feels no fear of being in the open. One of the selling points his friends made when talking him into moving south was that this patch of sea is dangerous for ships, but safe for those who can be beneath the waves. Which means fewer fish being chased off and fewer people trying to throw nets on him. 

(Besides, since he can see the future, he has some chance of knowing when danger is coming).

He drifts and daydreams so long that the light is now beaming across the water. It transfixes him, and he climbs up onto a still-warm rock to better observe it. There must be a human in there, perhaps more. It seems a lonely location, even miserable if it becomes as story as they say. It must be a certain kind of human who is willing to take such a post. 

Indrid knows it is good manners for both humans and mers to offer gifts when you move into a neighborhood. If he and this human are to live so close, perhaps he ought to make a gesture of goodwill. 

Now if only he knew what to offer….

—-------------------------------------------------

Duck is walking the beach at the base of the lighthouse, not thinking of anything in particular, when a shine catches his eye. On a nearby, half-submerged, rock is a pile of silver. When he picks it up, it cascades to reveal a necklace studded with gems. There hasn’t been anyone on the beach all morning, and this was placed here. Not lost. 

“Plus sometimes when you’re up there you get a glimpse of a mermaid.”

“Leo, I ain’t a kid. Or a sailor who’s gone too long without, uh, company. I don’t believe in mermaids.”

The older man smiles, “Keeping the light can change some things.”

There’s no mermaid leaving treasure from sunken ships for him to find. This was just tossed here by the waves. 

He tucks it in his pocket; it’s not a bad start to a nest egg. 

—-------------------------------------------

Indrid ducks back under the waves. The human liked his gift. And stranger still, Indrid rather liked watching that human, with his dark hair and round, friendly face, accept something Indrid had chosen for him. 

If he leaves enough acceptable gifts from afar, perhaps the handsome creature will allow him to offer some in person.

—-------------------------------------------------------------

This is weird.

Two days ago, Duck found a massive Marlin, still alive, on the same rock where he found the necklace. Since he wasn’t lacking food, and felt kind of bad for it, he managed to toss it back into the sea. 

Today, he’s found a basket of fresh oysters. The basket is green, almost like it was made by seagrass. 

Once again, there’s been no one on the beach for more than a short stroll, let alone someone equipped with a boat to dive from. 

Yeah, it’s strange alright. But he really likes shellfish. He can even cook them on the beach for lunch.  Even if they’re probably washed off from a boat somewhere and definitely not left by a mermaid. 

Three nights after the oysters, Duck is in the gallery, checking everything before the lamp is lit. In the sea below, a human face and chest emerge, watching the lighthouse. The man doesn’t seem to be in distress, and it’s calm enough today that there’s been a few swimmers. 

That has to be what he is. Because Duck refuses to believe the silvery tail glinting in the sunset belongs to the swimmer. There’s no such thing as mermaids. But maybe he needs to request more books from town before his imagination completely gets away from him.

—------------------------

Indrid has just finished leaving clams for Duck when there’s a splash behind him.

“Damn it, Beacon, I told you, you don’t gotta fish people out if they’re just swimmin’!”

Indrid trills, failing to gain speed before a large mouth closes gently around his arm and begins dragging him onto the shore. The futures suggest that a struggle will lead to injury, and so he resigns himself to an undignified entrance. 

The dog shakes himself off as the lighthouse keeper hurries down the beach. 

“Sorry, uh, sir, he gets a little overeager when it comes to help….” The charming drawl peters out as the human notices his tail. 

Indrid waves both that and his hand, “Hello. My name is Indrid. I am your seaward neighbor.” He pats the dog's head, “it is nice to formally meet you both.”

The human says nothing, just stares at Indrid’s tail with his tongue poking the inside of his cheek. 

“I brought some clams today, since you prefer shellfish to swimming ones.”

“....You’re a fuckin mermaid.” He murmurs. This close, Indrid can see one of his eyes is blue, the other brown. 

“Just mer is fine. We come in a wider variety than man and maid.” He cocks his head, “are you alright?”

The human sits down in the sand, “Leo was right. Y’all are just swimmin around out there.”

Indrid shifts so he’s sitting rather than on his stomach, “My presence bothers you.”

“N-yeah-uh, I, I don’t feel, uh, fuck, strong one way or the other? Fuck.” The human removes his hat, brushing sand from the top, “Look, uh-”

“Indrid. And you are..Duck? An interesting name.”

“It’s a nickname. How you know it I got know clue. Look, Indrid, it ain’t personal. In fact you seem real friendly. But I spent my whole life trying to tell myself this kinda thing is just old wives tales. I feel all…outta sorts.”

“Ah. I see. I will leave you in peace. I know what it is like to feel as if you have unwanted company.”

“It ain’t even that. If I’m bein’ honest, I don’t mind company. I just need a little time to take it all in.”

“Shall I…come back tomorrow, then?” 

“Sure. Just not too late, I gotta make sure I’m minding the light when I’m supposed to.”

“Very well. Just after that bell in town rings noon?”

“That works, yeah.”

“Should I bring clams or oysters?”

Duck meets his eyes with a bemused, but friendly, smile, “Wouldn’t say no to some snapper.”

—-----------------------------------------------------------------

“Can you hear it from there?” Duck calls out the window of the keepers cottage. 

“Yes!” Indrid grins at him from the beach, then continues turning his catch—a massive flounder–humming as his silver tail gleams in the sunlight. 

Satisfied that they’ll be able to pick up the second episode of The Outlaw on the radio while they eat an early dinner, Duck heads out to join him, two bottles of Coke in hand. Indrid adores sweet drinks, and if Duck could bring him a strawberry phosphate from town, he would. 

Since Indrid became an undeniable element of his life, Duck has seen him almost every day for the last two months. And if he’s honest with himself (or with Winnie, who listens as he fusses over all this out loud), when he doesn’t see the mer for a day or more he gets worried that something has happened to him. 

The Outlaws theme blares to life as Duck divvys up the fish. Usually the two of them will talk during dinner, but after the first minute of action Indrid’s focus is entirely on the radio, and he barely eats until the program is over. When the announcer says to tune in next week, the mer gives an indignant chir. 

“But I wish to know what happens now. Will the sheriff simply ride off now that the outlaw has let him go? Or will he follow him into town? What if they never see each other again??”

Duck chuckles, “guessin they will, if only so they can make more episodes.”

“Promise you will let me listen again?”

“Of course, ‘Drid. I like your company. Pardner” he exaggerates his accent on the last word and Indrid laughs.

“You would make a very dashing lawman. I assume.”

Duck nudges his toes against Indrid’s tail “Thanks, but this life is plenty exciting for me.”

The mer goes silent for a moment, then he asks, “Duck? Why were you so bothered when you first knew of me? Is it because that is too much excitement?”

“Not exactly. I’ve had…weird stuff happen to me most of my life. Blue, glowing women turn up in my bedroom. There are lights in the sky near my hometown no one can explain. A friend of mine when on some scientific research trip and swears that something bit him and that he can’t remember what happens to him on the full moon. And all I ever wanted for myself was a quiet life. To do what made me happy without the fear of it all bein’ upended or dangerous. The weird shit always made me…nervous. Maybe that makes me a fool or coward but…I dunno.”

“I do not think it does.” Indrid moves closer, “I left home for the same reason. To not be looking over my shoulder all the time. But…since strange things have found you..perhaps you and he could look out for each other?”

Duck wants to kiss him. Red-brown eyes are so earnest, so hopeful, that he’s certain he could and Indrid would melt in his arms. 

Beacon howls from the house as a warning comes over the radio of a storm. 

“Dear me, it’s early.” 

“Guess I better get my ass in gear. You gonna be okay?”

“As long as I am deep enough, it will not catch me.” Indrid takes his hand, rubbing it against his cheek, “take care, Duck.”

“I will. I’ll see you when it’s over.”

—-------------------------------------------------

Duck takes back every single bad thing he’s ever said about Beacon. The dog’s barking is the only reason he goes to the door of the lighthouse and looks out. In the roaring, ripping wind and rain, a figure has been tossed to the rocks at the base of the house. 

Indrid. 

He drags the mer inside, nearly being blow off his feet. He’s glad he’s kept up the floor of living quarters in here, and even gladder that said room is only three floors up. 

“Fuck, fuck, ‘Drid, can you hear me?” He lays the mer on the floor, his chest and tail scratched and bruised from the rocks, “goddamn it, you told me you were gonna stay deep!”

“There was a future where you Winnie slipped the door and you went after her and drowned.” Indrid murmurs, then chirps in pain, “I wanted to be here in case you did, so I could, could save you. The wave took me by surprise. I am sorry.”

“Why are you fuckin sorry, you got hurt because of me.”

“Yes, but you now risked your life for something strange, which I did not wish you to do.”

Duck cradles him closer and kisses him once, gently. Indrid trills, surprised, and then purrs and wraps his arms around Duck’s damp shoulders. 

“Fuck, I’m sorry, that’s the worst fuckin moment for this but I just...’Drid, you may be the weirdest fuckin’ thing in my life but you’re also the best. Everyday I wake up happier because I know I’ll see this fuckin’ stunnin face in the waves, looking for me.”

Indrid kisses him, tasting of the storm, “And everyday I surface with a heart lighter than the sun because I know you will be in the lighthouse.” He strokes Duck’s cheek, “my brave keeper.”

Duck rests their foreheads together, “Don’t that work out nice?”

“It does. And since you are about to ask, yes, please get the bathing tub you’ve been keeping outside; the collected water will be enough to wait out the storm. And after that…well, I have some ideas for how to pass the rest of the day.”

Duck trails his fingers up Indrids’ tail, savoring the way it flexes under his touch, “I’m all ears, darlin.”

[todaysdocument]

Letter from Colonel Edward Hallowell to General Truman Seymour

Record Group 94: Records of the Adjutant General's OfficeSeries: Regimental and Company Books of Civil War Volunteer Union OrganizationsFile Unit: Regimental and Company Books of the 54th Massachusetts Infantry Regiment (Colored)

This item is a copy of a letter sent by Colonel Edward N. Hallowell to General Truman Seymour concerning the assault on Fort Wagner, South Carolina. It is located in the volume of letters sent by the 54th Regiment of Massachusetts Infantry.

[page number] 13 Head Quarters 54th Regt Mass Vols Morris Island S. C. Nov 7th 1863 To His Excellency John A. Andrew Governor. As yet no official information has been received in regard to the fate of Capts Russel and Simpkins, and we are obliged to drop their names from the rolls. Therefore respectfully suggest the following promotions and appointments. Major Henry W. Hooper. To be Lt. Col. vice E. W. Hallowell promoted Capt George Pope to be Major vice H. W. Hooper promoted 1st Lieut James L. Higgman to be Captain vice C. J. Russel missing in action since July 18th 1863 1st Lieut R. H. L. Jewelt to be Captain vice W. H. Simpkins missing in action since July 18th 1863 1st Lieut James W. Grace to be Captain vice George Pope promoted 2d Lieut David Reid to be 1st Lieut vice J. L. Higgman promoted 2d Lieut Edward B Enurein to be 1st Lieut vice R. H. L. Jewett promoted 2d Lieut Ezekiel Gaulbert Tomlinson to be 1st Lieut. vice James W. Grace, promoted Sergt Daniel G. Spears of 24th Regt Mass to be 2d Lieut, vice David Reid promoted Charles W Duren of 24th Mass to be 2d Lieut vice E. B. Emerson promoted Commission for Mr Dunn to be sent to care of Brig Genl T. G. Stevenson I prefer not to make any other appointments until I learn more of the character of the applicants Very Respectfully E. W. Hallowell Col 54th Mass Vols Head Quarters 54th Mass Vols Morris Island S. C. Nov 7th 1863 Brig Genl. T. Seymour Comd'g U. S. Forces Morris S. C. Genl, In answer to your request that I furnish a report of the part taken by the 54th Mass Vols in the late assault upon Fort Wagner, I have to state, During the afternoon of the 18th of July last the 54th Mass Vols Col R. G. Shaw commanding landed upon Morris Island and reported at about 6 o'clock P.M. to Brig Genl. G. C. Strong. Col Shaw's com- [command][page number] 14 mmand [command] present, consisted of a Lieut Col of the field, a Surgeon, Adjutant, and Quartermaster of the Staff. Eight Captains and Eleven Subaltern officers of the line, and six Hundred enlisted men. Genl Strong presented himself to the Regt and informed the men of the contemplated assault upon Fort Wagner, and asked them if they would lead it. They answered in the affirmative. The Regt was then formed in column by wing, at a point upon the beach, a short distance in the advance of the Beacon House. Col R. G. Shaw commanded the right wing and Lt. Col. W. W. Hallowell the left. In this formation, as the dusk of the Evening came on, the Regt advanced at quick time, leading the column, the enemy opened upon us a brisk fire, our pace now gradually increased 'till it became a run. Soon cannister and musketry began to tell upon us. With Col Shaw leading, the assault was commenced. Exposed to the direct fire of cannister and musketry and as the ramparts, were mounted, to a like fire on our flanks, the havoc made in our ranks was very great. Upon leaving the ditch for the parapet, they obstanitly [obstinately] contested with the bayonet our advance. Notwithstanding these difficulties the men succeeded in driving the enemy from most of their guns, many following the enemy into the Fort. It was here upon the crest of the parapet that Col Shaw fell; here fell Capts Russel and Simpkins; here were also most of the officers wounded. The Colors of the Regt reached the crest and were then fought for by the enemy. The State Flag then torn from its staff, but the staff remains with us. Hand Grenades were now added to the missels [missiles] directed against the men. The fight raged here for about an hour, when compeled [compelled] to abandon the Fort the men formed a line about 700 yds from the Fort under the command of Capt Luis Emilio, the 9th Captain in the line, the other Captains were either killed or wounded. The Regt then held the front until relieved by the 10th Conn Regt, at about 2 o'clock A. M. of the 19th. The assault was made upon the South Face of the Fort. [full transcript at link]

[mybeingthere]

Britain has a long history of beacon lighting spanning many hundreds of years. Beacons have been lit on village greens, castle battlements, church towers, farms, beaches, front gardens, car parks and mountain tops to celebrate Royal Weddings, Jubilees and Coronations.

In 1897 beacons were lit nationally to celebrate Queen Victoria’s Diamond Jubilee. (She reigned for a total of 63 years.) In 1977 and 2002 beacons were lit to celebrate The Queen’s Silver and Golden Jubilees. On Monday 4th June 2012, the aim is to light over 2,012 - perhaps as many as 4,000 – beacons, from Tonga to the Falkland Islands and Malta to Kenya. And the network of beacons that will criss-cross the UK, placed on historic landmarks, hill-top vantage points and famous mountains, will include Ditchling Beacon.

Ditchling Beacon is an Early Iron Age contour hillfort positioned on the Downs just south of the village of Ditchling with commanding views of the Weald to the north. It is one of the 139 original anchor-chain beacons situated around the country and has been used many times for occasions of unity and celebration, but also as a communication tool to warn of impending invasion and coastal attack.

The most notable occasions were in the 16th century when raiders from France regularly struck the Sussex coast and Brighton. These attacks reached their height in June 1514 when the French, led by Admiral Prégnant (nick-named Prior John), set fire to virtually all the buildings in Brighton’s old town, with the exception of St Nicholas’ Church. They were eventually driven off by archers from across the county who were alerted by a warning beacon on the Downs. There were further raids on Brighton in 1545, but as before, the French were repelled by the large numbers who gathered on the cliff, attracted by the beacon. In 1587, Ditchling was part of the same chain of beacons, designed to provide warning of the long anticipated attack by the Spanish.

http://www.thepostmagazine.co.uk/brighto.../ditchling-beacon

[kitchenisking]

Fic Rec😌

I Kind of Want to Lick It? by wyrmwolf - (Rating: T, Words: 2352, sterek) Scott, Allison, and Stiles find a large red egg in the middle of the woods, nothing good comes out of it when Stiles touches the egg and suddenly Derek and Stiles are dragon egg parents.

Mixing Business with Pleasure by halcyon1993 - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 7917, sterek)

To get away from the stress of his job in NYC, Derek rents a house in the Beacon Hills preserve and quickly picks up a not-so-secret admirer in Stiles Stilinski.

An Infusion of Time by wanderingeyre - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 7918, sterek)

A familiar head looks up from the front desk when he walks in. Derek’s face breaks into a full fledged smile and the impact of that expression after not seeing it for months steals the air from Stiles’s lungs. He’s careful to keep his heart steady as he returns the smile. It’s taken him years to perfect keeping calm around Derek Hale and Stiles still thinks he fails at it 62% of the time. Derek stands up and Stiles forgets to mask everything about his reaction when he sees Derek in a tan Beacon Hills PD uniform for the first time.

Bitter Honey On Your Lips by xxjinchuurikixx - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 5538, sterek)

Stiles looks up at Derek, reaches a hand out to touch his jaw, lightly. “I’m ready.” Derek turns his face into the touch, kisses Stiles’ palm, and then closes his eyes. When he opens them, they’re red as garnet, and his fangs have dropped when he exhales a warm, damp breath across Stiles’ palm. “You’re gonna be my good boy… Understand?” Stiles nods. “Yes, sir.”

Thantophobia by ash_mcj - (Rating: G, Words: 1055, sterek)

Stiles hates when Derek is a self-sacrificing idiot - and if he was a stronger man, he'd make that stupid, reckless Sourwolf sleep on the couch for pulling this shit again. But alas, pillows are not as nice to cuddle with as his warm mate.

[or: Stiles gets mad at Derek for risking his safety during a fight, they have an argument, and then they cuddle]

To Navigate Your Seas by alisvolatpropiis - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 26010, sterek)

Derek is a beach bum/surfer; Stiles is his new neighbor. Feels ensue.

Only You Can Calm Me Down by AMatchInWater - (Rating: T, Words: 3228, sterek)

Stiles turns into a fox after the Nogitsune leaves him and he thinks that Derek is his Alpha and not Scott. With Derek having left for South America with Cora, Stiles feels separated from not only his pack but his mate and goes feral. Of course Derek immediately comes back when the sheriff calls him and demands he come fix Stiles. It isn't until he's back in Beacon Hills that he sees just what he needs to fix.

Safe with You at My Side by nightlight9 - (Rating: G, Words: 2387, sterek)

Derek gets trapped in a full wolf form without his memories of the pack. Stiles steps in to take care of him and make sure that he feels safe.

5 Times Stiles & Derek's Classmates Noticed They Were in a Committed Relationship and 1 Time Stiles Noticed by Survivah - (Rating: T, Words: 2825, sterek)

In which Derek and Stiles are college roommates, and everyone saw this coming before they did.

“How do you even get up there?” Scott asks skeptically. Loft beds are tricky enough on their own, he doesn’t know what possessed Derek and Stiles to push theirs together. Why would anybody try to create a king-sized loft bed in a teensy tiny dorm room?

To Fill a Home by cloudsarefluffy - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 5345, sterek)

Written for this Anon prompt here: Hello, love your writing. Prompt, Sterek with mpreg. Stiles as modern and intellectual as he is, all he ever wanted to be was a homemaker (a seriously highly educated mum) with a dozen of mini him and his spouse, implementing home teaching as well since he have a PhD in child psychology so why not use it. Though nowadays society looks down on homemakers. Kinks: Tactility, Stiles loves Derek's manboobs (only buff guys have these), preggers!Stiles, scent-marking, possessiveness, jealousy, marking.

---

Stiles could care less what they say, he was truly happy with how his life was going. He was mated to a possessive, providing alpha named Derek Hale, now heavily pregnant with his first pup, and studying hard to get his degree to become a professional stay-at-home dad.

What was so wrong with that?

[concealed-carrie]

One Body

Me and my sister pilot this mech, right, this walking tank, this Liliam-pattern Fuckwolf blistering with missile pods and railguns, painted a special shade of pastel baby blue that’s supposed to stop us showing up on thermals. It’s fucking massive but only like 20% of it is livable space, so that’s the control center and a multi purpose room we never got around to decorating. The rest is armor and ammo reservoirs and shock absorbers and who the hell knows what else. You can run a guy over in this thing and not even feel it.

Our jobs are each horrible in their own special ways. I’m on comms so I get to hear enemy chatter and the occasional distress beacon we’re not allowed to answer, which, ok, I’m not a fucking empathy cuck but at some point your body learns to fight the inhibitors. One time she caught me doubling up and got really angry. You want to fucking OD? Leave me alone here? That kind of thing.

They come at us, muddy heatshapes screaming garbage noise -- appeals to our humanity, prayers to larval roach-gods.

Looks like we’ve got company. 

Can you shut the fuck up? 

Sorry.

Anyway, these dudes are small fry. We pop them or stomp them or shovel them into the Fuckwolf’s gnashing boiler. I watch the fuel gauge tick back up into green.

Rain beats down on the Fuckwolf’s carapace, acid chorus on adamantium-laced ferrocarbon. We hold each other tight, overwatch protocols sweeping the rubble outside. Air recycled 1000x. I don’t remember what it’s like, the absence of the smell of her.

We try to fuck but she can’t get hard. I tell her it’s okay.

Drifting off to a standard-issue catgirl transformation hypnosis vid, affirmations rendered nigh-unintelligible by VHS corruption when I receive a data pulse telling me our next objective is 276 miles due South. 276 miles of urban sprawl, drowned then beached and left out to dry, full of hostile machinery and desperate tick people ready to burst, and probably whatever’s left over of all the crews they sent before us. We can do this, I say to myself, too quiet for her to hear. Fuck yes, she says, turning over in her sleep, we’re the sexiest killers on the goddamn planet and we can do anything.

Night fighting, 16 days out, gauss coils spooling up. I see enemy mechs as wireframes accompanied by snippets of flavor text. Shit like: Demiurge-pattern, a volatile relic of the Fourth Reckoning. Grisly trophies adorn its spiked carapace. 

Does it matter if any of that is true? I give her the ok and she blows her mass-reactive load all over it. The text vanishes with the pilot’s life signs. 

[vacationfeast]

Best Place To Stay In Maldives

Maldives is a dream destination for travelers from around the world. To make a Maldives vacation truly unforgettable is the choice of accommodation. In this we'll see some of the best hotels and resorts in this destination. 1.Velaa Private Island - Where Opulence Meets Nature 

This exclusive resort offers an intimate experience with just 47 private villas and residences. Guests can unwind in overwater bungalows with their own private pools, indulge in world-class dining, and explore the resort's private golf course. The Velaa Spa, set in a lush garden, is a sanctuary for relaxation and rejuvenation. 2. Gili Lankanfushi - The Eco-Friendly Overwater Paradise

Gili Lankanfushi is a beacon of sustainable luxury. Situated in the North Malé Atoll, this resort is renowned for its spacious overwater villas, each with direct access to the turquoise lagoon. The resort's commitment to sustainability is evident in its organic gardens, marine biology programs, and world-class dining experiences. 3. Soneva Jani - Under the Stars and Over the Water

Soneva Jani is located on the Medhufaru Island in the Noonu Atoll. The highlight of this resort is its retractable roof overwater villas, allowing guests to stargaze from their luxurious beds. Soneva Jani offers an array of unique experiences, including a cinema under the stars, overwater dining, and an observatory. 4. Conrad Maldives Rangali Island - A Twin Island Retreat

Conrad Maldives Rangali Island offers the best of both worlds with its two private islands connected by a bridge. Guests can choose between beachfront and overwater villas, all with stunning ocean views. The resort is a culinary destination with its underwater restaurant, Ithaa, and a diverse range of dining options. 5. COMO Cocoa Island - Wellness and Serenity in the South Malé Atoll 

COMO Cocoa Island is a wellness retreat situated in the South Malé Atoll. This intimate resort features overwater suites designed with a blend of traditional Maldivian and contemporary style. COMO Shambhala Retreat offers holistic wellness programs, while Ufaa restaurant serves a fusion of local and international cuisine. 6.Medhufushi island resort-Accommodations Beyond Compare

medhufushi Island Resort is a destination for couples and honeymooners enjoy romantic sunset dinners,private beach picnics and intimate moments in your secluded villa the gentle sound of the ocean serves as a soothing backdrop for your relaxing journey get ready to experience the magic of medhufushi Island Resort, book your stay and create memories that will last a lifetime in this enchanting tropical oasis.

Conclusion :

These are just a few of the many exceptional hotels and resorts. If you’re looking for romance, adventure, or relaxation for an unforgettable experience of natural beauty. Book your dream vacation trips (or) Honeymoon with vacation feast we provide you a wide range option to explore the world. Why are you waiting pack your back and make your trip memorable with Vacation Feast. 

FAQs: 

1. what types of accommodations are available in the Maldives?

A. The Maldives offers a wide range of accommodations. There are options for various budgets and preferences.

2. What is the best time to visit the Maldives for a vacation?

The best time to visit the Maldives is during the dry season, which typically runs from November to April. This period offers pleasant weather with little rainfall, making it ideal for outdoor activities and water sports.

3.Are there all-inclusive resorts in the Maldives?

A. Yes, there are many all-inclusive resorts in the Maldives that offer a variety of packages that include meals, drinks, activities, and more. These packages can provide excellent value for your stay.

4.Are children allowed in Maldivian resorts?

A. Many resorts in the Maldives are family-friendly and welcome children. Some even have dedicated kids' clubs and activities to keep young guests entertained.

5.Do I need a visa to visit the Maldives?

A. Maldives are granted a 30-day tourist visa upon arrival. However, it's essential to check the specific visa requirements based on your traveling

[vivacissimx]

no but it kills me that asoiaf fails so badly as a metaphor for climate change while STAR WARS absolutely succeeds. it's unhinged! sure it's not the intended subtext of either series yet in asoiaf's case, the book where the real enemy is the cold, it doesn't land!

think about it. the elements are there yknow there's that legendary ice age with the long night, extinct species, tyrion's dumping wildfire in the water like he's exxon in the 80's, "we're running out of time!" the overworked underpaid proto-climate scientists aka the night's watch scream at monarchs and popes and banks. THE OTHERS ARE COMING. MAN THE WALL. the sheer enormity of it all! but both of those are so distinctly humanoid in nature — the anthropocene is very much a distant future. lord commander jon snow's diary entry #76: the wall is being moody again. the bodies we buried came back wrong. but the earth isn't boiling over, and it most places it isn't even happening! brienne does not have a carbon footprint. the essosi elite and poor alike all think you're selling them something

imagine if right-wing politicians said they don't believe in climate change and meant it, instead of just obfuscating that their spouse/godparent/sigma phi brother happens to be on the board of trustees for the parent company that recently purchased Fast Fashion That Boil Babies Co. that's what asoiaf is like! nobody south, east, or west has any notable reason to believe that another ice age is coming and if by some miracle they do, what then, they start recycling?

the supposed climate change is completely removed from their reality. can ice zombies swim? are the five forts of yi ti lighting the beacon fires? no? not much of a great equalizer.

star wars, though. in star wars, nobody is safe. thriving republics, beaches, forests, tundras, tightly temperature-controlled city planets... at any moment you can and will be boarded. fried. blowed up. in star wars, planets actually get destroyed. ways of life cease to exist.

and everyone knows it and everyone knows whose doing it yet in star wars the climate scientists need to make their point with guns! you can even join them and it's in your interests to do so seeing as climate change the fascists with the planet destroyer beam makes all weather the everyday threat of getting beamed more severe. in star wars, the empire will partner with trade federations. in star wars, the empire will prop up a puppet galactic senate and tell you to Vote✨

if in asoiaf climate change through the Others & the Long Night is inevitable for reasons beyond anyone's control, in star wars climate change is a complex result of propaganda, of division between a thousand different cultural norms spread across what feels like a galaxy, and a deeply ingrained/maintained class divide.

in asoiaf, civilization might be eating itself but nobody is particularly invested in covering up the cold truth. whereas in star wars, just like in our own world, rich people are making plans to fly to space.

[boredgurlblog]

a generation of diet coke addiction

Do you remember those 100-calorie snacks your mom always used to pack you? The ones with a message that reads "you're fat, but these might help" invisibly branded into your lunch box, leaving a burn that scorches long after fourth period. Your mom also might've packed you a fruit roll-up, some Doritos, or even maybe a Fiber One bar to go with your trusty peanut butter sandwich. And to wash it down, the queen of no-calorie, a lukewarm sparkling Diet Coke.

The lunch box Diet Coke was always one of great comfort and stability. The sandwiches or 100-calorie "you're fat" snacks might differ from week to week, but the one thing you could always count on seeing was that flash of red and silver. Diet Coke was always the ultimate crutch, the one thing you could consume without guilt or judgment. A safe haven if you will.

I like to think of Diet Coke as the ultimate generational curse. If you're addicted to Diet Coke, your mother, and your grandmother are most likely addicted as well. It signifies the crippling consequences of how abuse manifests itself differently from one generation to the next. For instance, your grandmother is addicted because there's a small chance that at one point, it was the only thing she consumed. Your mother is addicted because she's stuck on the "South Beach Diet" mentality of the '90s (no calorie, means no consequence). And so by default, you become addicted after it is shoved into your lunch box and down your throat at dinner before you can get your hands on something calorie filled such as juice, or even worse, a real coke.

In some way, a diet coke addiction signifies that you unintentionally inherited some fucked up version of an eating disorder or insecurity that never sees the light of day. In an even more fucked up manner, you came from a household that was so terrified of weight but had no utter clue on how to actually eat healthily. To them, zero-calorie snacks, diet cokes, and Skinny Cow were the gateway to a perfect, love-handless body.

And so, the lunch box becomes a series of morse-coded messages sent from grandmother to mother, to daughter to "get your shit together." This is why the Diet Coke becomes a beacon, a soothing voice that whispers "it's okay, I'm here" while you're looking at Lauren, whose mother packed her homemade soup and a cucumber sandwich.

So we plead, pray, and hope that one day you'll pack your child something incredible like a bento box or avocado toast. Sparing your child from the branding of a diet coke addiction.

[onwesterlywinds]

PROMPT #9: Yawn

A shame, thought Hrjt, that summer had come and gone so quickly. She had meant to pay another visit to Valnain, maybe spend a bit longer in Dalmasca. In truth, a strange and almost unfamiliar melancholy had compelled her to remain along her beach.

Only when the equinox came did she recognize that mood for what it was: a premonition of something, someone, stirring in the void.

The first of the voidsent soldiers emerged in the early morning, while she was scouring the ocean for kelp. She was dangerously close to a rip current - a glassy surface where there should otherwise be churning waves. How far it would pull her out to sea, she did not know, but she did not have her staff to avail her.

The voidgate opened above her head, yawning wide for a single moment, and spat out a vodoriga. It writhed for a moment in the salted spray but righted itself in time to avoid hitting the water, and it needed but a moment to lock eyes with its quarry: her.

She took as deep of a breath as she could and dove under, not knowing if vodorigas, being of the ninth rung of voidsent hierarchy, were as averse to running water as many of their other lower-ranked brethren. There was too much silt in the water, a gift from the river nearby, for her to track her progress back to land. A sharp line of pain tore across the bottom of her foot and she recoiled, thinking the creature had her in its grasp, only for her foot to touch another sharp rock covered in algae.

The ebbing tide had pulled her a little too far south from her camp. With the last dregs of strength from the meager breath she'd taken, she kicked with all her might until her knees at last touched smooth sand, and the water was still clouded but not half as dark. She stumbled naked from the water, threw back her head of wet hair, and raised her arms to cast something to freeze her pursuer in place.

The words died on her lips, as the vodoriga was nowhere in sight.

"What..." she breathed. Sure enough, she could not sense the faintest hint of its presence anywhere, nor that of the voidgate that had been its entryway into the Source. It was as if neither had ever existed, though of course it had: Hrjt had been mistaken of a great many things in her life, but her intuition never failed her where the void was concerned.

And she had seen the single-minded purpose in the vodoriga's black eyes.

The arioch came next, later that evening, as the sun was setting earlier than ever. Despite its overwhelming presence and prodigious size, she dispelled it easily with a bolt of lightning; the cloud cover overhead provided enough static to add some power to her cast. The arioch shrieked and fell out of the sky, but before it could hit the sand with a force that would surely break it, its voidgate reappeared beneath it to swallow it whole - and both blinked out of existence.

Hrjt had studied the void and its workings for her entire adult life, yet never had she seen gates move as if of their own accord. The closest possibility that came to mind was the magicks by which some Garleans bound themselves to voidsent, with many taking advantage of that power to traverse distances in the blink of an eye - but to play with entire voidgates necessitated a much stronger power, and its wielder coming from the Thirteenth.

The last of the voidsent pursuers confirmed that theory with no room for doubt. In the dead of night, on a new moon with clouds to blot out the stars, the hum and whirl of another voidgate roused Hrjt from her sleep.

"Queen Beatrice seeks the broken one," came an eerie voice. The name triggered in Hrjt a long-dormant memory of solitude, of discovery. "Who are you, broken one? Who are you, that you should command my lady's attention?"

Her soul was surely as bright as a beacon to the creature, whatever they were - and their words confirmed that they were after her. She reached for her staff and summoned from it an orb of flame, bright and bold enough to illuminate her surroundings for a few yalms all around.

A giant insect leg came into view, then another; where they met was a nude, inverted torso with an all too beautiful face and long hair trailing down to the dark sand below. This was no mere servant: this time, Beatrice had sent a fellow voidsent noble to deal with her.

"I do not know," Hrjt replied. "But tell your queen I will suffer her interruptions no longer."

The creature let out a hoarse, rattling laugh, like the facsimile of a lady's amusement. "Just as she would have it, for she bids you join her. Rejoice, sweet mortal - you are to become one with the Queen of Troia herself!"

Hrjt loosed the fireball, but the voidsent dodged it easily with a single lift of their long, thin leg. They jumped into the air, impossibly high in the renewed darkness, and Hrjt only knew they landed when they sent a curtain of wet sand scattering in all directions. She spat it from her mouth and tried again, anticipating this time that the voidsent would seek to evade, and then to close in.

Just as the voidsent noble leaned in with its body to spear her in their array of sharp spines, Hrjt conjured another burst of flame. They screamed in agony as their white skin began to blister.

"Please, my lady!" she screamed. "Call me back, it burns, it-!"

Once more, the creature disappeared. Only the thin lines of insect legs traced through the sand left any indication that a being of great power had been there only moments ago.

Hrjt threw her arms wide and shouted up at the nighttime sky. "COME AND FIND ME YOURSELF, BEATRICE!" she called. "COME AND TAKE WHAT YOU ARE OWED!"

Far off to windward, toward the Ridorana Lighthouse, a bolt of lightning streaked through the sky, as if to mark her challenge.

[gravelish]

Marin Headlands

15 February 2023

I suppose I could have parked on the Marin side, but I really wanted to include the bridge, so I parked at the west end of Chrissy Field near Fort Point. The ride ended up covering 25 miles and and involved 3000’ of climbing. The contrast between the tourist-filled sidewalk on the Golden Gate and the almost empty dirt roads high up in the hills was part of what made this ride so cool.

The big climb from the north end of the bridge to the old gun battery at Hawk Hill was made easier by good bike lanes, smooth pavement, and plenty of excuses to stop and enjoy the view of the Golden Gate and the city behind it.

The descent from Hawk Hill was spectacular, on a one-lane, one-way road with perfect pavement. There were almost no cars, but it didn’t really matter, since they wouldn’t have been going any faster than me. The first part was awfully steep and a little scary.

My ride returned to sea level at Rodeo Beach, but then went back up the hill for a pleasant loop on old pavement above Fort Cronkite. Cars aren’t allowed and pedestrians are on a different trail.

This ride was all highlights, but one of the best was the 5-mile loop up around the top of Gerbode Valley. I climbed about 1000’ on the Bobcat Trail circled the aircraft radio beacon on the ridge, then came back down on the Miwok Trail. This was all on narrow dirt and gravel roads that are off limits to vehicles. I saw just a few hikers and maybe a dozen cyclists (a couple on gravel bikes like me, but most on mountain bikes). Miwok was steep near the top and badly rutted in places from January’s rains. It might have been better to reverse this loop, climbing on Miwok and descending on the smoother, gentler grade of Bobcat.

The views from the ridge were incredible, from Mount Tamalpais (2021 Ride) to Mount Diablo (a future ride), including the towns of Marin County, downtown San Francisco, and south over the Sunset and farther down the coast. To the east, I could make out the open, green ridge above Berkeley and Richmond where I rode just two? days ago.

Once I got back to pavement, the final leg was pretty easy. I had the outbound (and downhill) tunnel on Bunker Road to myself. Then it was back across the bridge and the views of San Francisco and the Bay.

The last time I pedaled across this bridge, I was on my way to Seattle. (LINK)

[plymouthpets]

9 Great Activities for Dogs and Pets in Boston!

By John Grzybowski

       A common traveler’s rule of thumb when arriving in a new city is always to “ask a local.”  Whether you need the best food, the easiest parking, or the most vibrant nightlife, locals are always trying to be ahead of the curve and usually point visitors in the right direction.  

    Greater Boston Dog Hikes has been scoping out the best spots in Boston for dogs and their owners for more than 10 years, and now we’d like to share our favorites with you!

9 Dog-Friendly Activities to Do in Boston

For more places to see than the dog park near the airport, check out these nine dog-friendly activities to do in Boston. 

1. Walk Beacon Hill

One of Boston’s oldest and most elegant neighborhoods, Beacon Hill is nationally renowned for its architecture and design.  Its well-preserved cobblestone streets are full of small parks and beautiful scenes for you and your pup to explore.  

Note that it is, in fact, on one of Boston’s highest hills, so be ready to climb and work out some excess energy!  

2. Visit the Boston Public Garden

The Boston Public Garden is not only America’s first botanical garden, but it is also one of the most scenic spots in the whole city.  Featuring famous statues, diverse trees and flowers, and a four-acre pond with swan boats, there is never a lack of sights to see here.   

Leashed dogs are welcome, and there are free dog waste bags at the corners of the garden.   

The Boston Public Garden is located adjacent to the Boston Common, which is a larger park that has an off leash area!   

3. Go to the Beach

Most of the year, Boston’s beaches are known for their wind and frigid waters.  However, come summertime, these beaches become focal points of the city's daytime leisure, and many of the best beaches are dog-friendly! 

Some of our favorite dog-friendly beaches in the area include:

Revere Beach: America’s oldest public beach has been dog-friendly since 2013, and it’s well worth a visit!  It is train and bus accessible and fills up rather quickly in the summer.  

Pleasure Bay Beach (South Boston): This bottle-opener-shaped bay is the most scenic spot in Southie and allows dogs year round.

Carson Beach (South Boston/Dorchester): Located further south than Pleasure Bay, between Southie and Dorchester, this is a smaller but no less lovely beach.  Dogs are welcome from Labor Day through Memorial Day.  

4. Walk the Seaport Harborwalk

Across the harbor from Downtown is the newly bustling Seaport District.  Besides the area’s high-end bars and restaurants, the Seaport also boasts a beautiful stretch of Boston’s 43-mile long Harborwalk, which stretches from Dorchester to East Boston. 

Your pup can get in some good sniffs while you bask in the views of Downtown, the Airport, and some of the harbor islands in the distance.  

Dogs must be leashed on the Harborwalk, but dog waste bags are provided at several spots along the walk.  

5. Rose Kennedy Greenway

Stretching from the southern tip of Chinatown to the North End, the Rose Kennedy Greenway is a long series of parks and art installations that is sure to impress.  The Greenway crosses through the heart of Downtown Boston, passing through notable landmarks such as The Aquarium and Faneuil Hall. 

Located within walking distance of several of the city’s key attractions, you can enjoy several dog-friendly parks where you can socialize with other dog owners while visiting The Greenway.

We’d recommend taking the Green Line to  Haymarket Station and then taking the Greenway from the North End all the way to South Station to get a good taste of the Downtown atmosphere.  

6. Ride the “T”

By far the best way to get around Boston is its fantastic subway system (which is the oldest in America).  The “T,” as it is known, can take you all over the city for a few dollars – best of all, dogs ride free!

Boston’s public transit system allows service animals at all hours, and non-service animals are allowed to ride at all times except rush hours.  What classifies as rush hour can sometimes be up to the train operator, so be ready to occasionally wait for the next train.  

Dogs riding the buses and trains must be leashed at all times, and they cannot take up their own seat.   

Take the T with your pup to cover the whole city in a day!  

7. Play at the Dog Park

Boston has a fantastic selection of off-leash dog parks for you to choose from!  A few of our favorites include:

South Boston Bark Park (1280 Columbia Road)

Peters Park Dog Park (1205 Washington St., Boston)

East 1st Dog Park (768-764 E 1st St., northern section of South Boston)

The Underground Dog Park (S Bay Harbor Trail, Boston

Bay Village Dog Park (114 Charles St, Boston)

If you want to polish up your pups obedience skills our team is typically in these parks daily!

8. Go to a Dog-Friendly Event

Boston offers many different pet-themed events for all seasons. A couple that you may want to check out include:  

Canine Promenade – Boston hosts an annual ½-mile Halloween Parade on the Charles River Esplanade. Walk the town with your pup and enter the costume contest to win prizes from the judges!

Carnival of Dogs – This dog carnival, held in early September, turns the Rose Kennedy Greenway into a great place to introduce your pup to new friends!

9. Blue Hills Reservation

Just nine miles south of Downtown Boston is the expansive and breathtaking Blue Hills Reservation.  This 7,000 acre state park offers varied terrain, scenic views, mountain biking and skiing, as well as ponds for swimming and hiking trails for you and your pup!  

The Blue Hills hiking trails are a favorite of local dog owners, and we regularly take out our dogs here for longer-distance hikes. Make sure your pet is fit enough for extended walking, especially in older age! But any dog still keen on trekking will love this path.

During the summer, on-leash walking is advised as the trails can get crowded.   

***

As you can see, Boston has tons of great dog-friendly activities to enjoy with your four-footer! Just remember to keep your pooch’s specific likes and dislikes in mind when picking an adventure – that way, you can be sure your pup will approve!

Have you visited any of these places or enjoyed any of these activities? We’d love to hear about your experiences! Also, be sure to share your favorite things to do in Boston with your pets - We’re always eager to try out new things! 

[metro-renovation-construction]

5 Reasons to Choose an Interior Designer in Miami

In the Miami area, there are numerous interior designers. Some are well-known names in the industry, and some have become household names as a result of their work. Here are a few reasons to hire an interior designer in Miami. One, you'll benefit from their expert knowledge of building codes. Another, they'll be able to follow building codes, so you can rest assured that your home's design will adhere to all local regulations.

Ivette Arango

Ivette Arango is one of Miami's most respected interior designers, and her studio, located on Palermo Avenue, is a must-visit. Her contemporary design aesthetic is characterized by clean lines and streamlined, custom furniture. Arango has extensive experience in luxury residential and commercial design and has won numerous awards. Her designs have received national attention, and she's worked on projects for prestigious institutions including Holtz Children's Hospital. She is also active in local civic and philanthropic organizations, and is a former board member of the Florida Board of Architecture and Interior Design.

Whether you're looking for a contemporary or timeless look, Ivette Arango has the experience to deliver. The firm has worked on countless projects, from luxury residences in Coral Gables to Key Biscayne penthouses. With over 50 years of experience in luxury design, Ivette Arango's expertise in the field has helped make many of the most luxurious homes and offices in South Florida. Although she's been hailed as one of the best interior designers in Miami, Arango's work is more eclectic and diverse than the usual contemporary or modern category.

A look at Ivette Arango's portfolio can give you a good idea of what she does. She has worked in a variety of fields, including government and private sector economic development. Prior to joining Ivette Arango Interiors, she was a consumer member of the state board of architecture. She also served as the vice president of corporate relations for the Beacon Council in Miami-Dade County and worked as a state legislative affairs coordinator. She also earned her law degree from the University of Miami in 2000.

Pepe Calderin

Having over twenty years of experience in high-end interior design, Pepe Calderin runs one of the best interior design firms in Miami. Pepe Calderin Design specializes in modern, innovative design, earning national and international accolades. He is licensed in the state of Florida and has a diverse portfolio of work. His designs have appeared in top design publications such as Ocean Drive Magazine, Florida International, South Florida Edition, and Casa & Estilo.

Known for combining art, technology, and aesthetics, Pepe's designs incorporate Miami's stunning beaches. His designs are clean, structured, and offer coastal vibes. His work can be found in residential homes, commercial buildings, and yachts. His renowned attention to detail makes his work a perfect match for any client. In Miami, there's no shortage of inspiration: the vibrant nightlife, gorgeous beaches, and rapid growth make it a perfect place to design and decorate.

Known for his sophisticated designs, Taize Monteiro has studied in Spain, Italy, and the United States. Taize has a wide range of experience, having studied interior design in Spain, Italy, and New York. His work is found in homes all over South Florida. His mission is to create spaces that cater to families and improve the quality of life. Listed below are some of his recent projects.

Laetitia Laurent

Laetitia Laurent is a French-born interior designer who has built a successful career in Miami, Paris, and New York. Inspired by the European design movement, Laurent has made her French style accessible to Miami residents. The result is a sophisticated and aesthetically pleasing home, which seamlessly merges European flair with Miami ambiance. Her attention to detail and innate ability to create a unique design style are just a few of the traits she possesses.

Born and raised in Paris, Laurent studied art and design at the Sorbonne and holds a master's degree in international relations. She speaks fluent French and travels to France often to visit artisans and find unique materials. With more than a decade of experience, Laurent has won numerous design awards. Her recent accolades include a prestigious International Design Et El Award for Best City Space and a Wall Street Journal and Forbes Magazine mention.

In Miami, Laurent has become one of the leading interior designers. Her attention to detail and the quality of her work has earned her a worldwide reputation. She is able to make even the most modest space feel palatial and elegant. And her attention to detail, both in materials and design, is second to none. Laetitia's work is known for its sleek and sophisticated style.

J Design Group

If you are looking for an interior designer, you have probably come across the name of J Design Group before. The company specializes in high-end residential interior design, and they have extensive experience in some of South Florida's most elite neighborhoods. The interiors of J Design Group's past projects are simply stunning, thanks to their innovative designs and exceptional attention to detail. Read on to discover why J Design Group is one of the best interior designers in Miami.

If you're looking for the best interior designer in Miami, there are several options to consider. The first is Jamie Bush. Born and raised on Long Island, Jamie Bush studied architecture and art in Venice, Italy, where he became fascinated with the natural world. He then earned his Masters of Architecture at Tulane University and pursued mid-century modern residential architecture. Since 1983, Bush and JGA have been working together on award-winning projects.

The second is Ivette Arango. Founded in 2004, the J Design Group is one of Miami's most prominent interior design firms. With over 50 years of experience, she has created stunning interiors for Miami homes and businesses. She has been a part of prestigious projects like luxury hotels and Spanish villas. Her work has been featured in numerous publications, including Elle Decor and Architectural Digest. In addition to being ranked among the best interior designers Miami, Avanzato is well-regarded for its innovative ideas and impeccable aesthetics.

Epicoutu Designs

If you're looking for a modern, contemporary, and luxurious interior, look no further than Epicoutu Designs. With access to over a thousand designers, this Miami-based company can create the perfect space for any budget. Their executives provide a mix of traditional and modern interior design styles, and their buyers can expect a truly unique piece of furniture. Additionally, the firm's team sources the finest accessories and furniture to complete the project. Their work has been featured in various publications, including Ritz Carlton and Florida Design.

Sismai Roman is an experienced interior designer specializing in luxury spaces. She is a member of the Design District of Florida, where only top interior designers can practice their craft. Her experience and flawlessly completed projects have helped her establish her reputation as the best Miami interior design firm. She is known for her ability to create a space that is a reflection of the client's personality and lifestyle.

Sismai Roman is a Miami interior designer who opened her firm with the intention of making everyone's dreams come true. A passionate traveler, she brings her extensive international experience to each of her projects. She is known for her attention to detail and her willingness to push boundaries. Her design team believes in transparency, and they go above and beyond every project. If you're looking for an interior designer in Miami, look no further.

Darla Powell Interiors

The best interior designers in Miami are a dime a dozen, but when it comes to quality and value, one name stands out above the rest. Darla Powell, a former Miami police sergeant, began her career in interior design after working at her grandmother's antique shop. She was dissatisfied with her life in law enforcement, and decided to pursue her true passion, interior design. Since then, she has been creating homes in Miami with her interior design firm. Darla Powell Interiors has featured in many publications, including Architectural Digest Pro, Designers Today, and Voyage MIA.

During the show, LuAnn and Darla became friends with each other over their shared love for interior design and the world of social media. They continued their friendship through designer Facebook groups and Instagram. LuAnn became friends with the designers she interviewed. The two designers have many friends in common. So, it is natural that their friendship grew from there. Darla Powell Interiors is the best interior designer in Miami for a reason.

The Interior Designer Spotlight is a series highlighting talented designers in various cities. The first one is Darla Powell of Miami. Her eclectic furniture selection and works of art match the serene atmosphere in the interior. Powell's attention to detail is impeccable and the result is a home that is both inviting and comfortable. It's a great way to create a home that feels like a sanctuary in a city full of energy and excitement.

Paris Forino Design

A highly regarded Miami interior designer, Paris Forino's aesthetics combine traditional and modern styles to create spaces of timeless elegance. The designer's attention to detail allows her to make use of a wide range of materials, including bespoke furniture and textiles, to create a truly entrancing ambiance. The resulting spaces are both beautiful and functional, creating an emotional experience for guests and residents alike.

One of the most well-known projects that Paris Forino has worked on is Missoni Baia, a luxury condo building in Miami's Edgewater neighborhood. The project features Paris Forino-designed interiors and a spa designed by Aman. The Missoni Baia project boasts a dazzling array of amenities, including a private elevator and oversized windows with stunning views.

The firm's portfolio boasts an impressive list of clientele. Not only are their projects showcased in major design centers, but they have also featured in numerous magazines. Some of their projects have been featured in Elle Decor, Architectural Digest, NBC New York's Open House TV, and Interior Design. They are also consistently ranked among the top interior designers in New York. While many interior designers may be best known for a single project, they are highly talented and renowned in the field.