#we were constantly Doing An Activity or in reprieve as we planned our next Activity and now it is just

[urbanfiltered]

:-)

[strawberrysoup]

Pocketful of Posies || Chapter 1

You’d been hiding for years and years now; from your family, from society, from alphas and packs. Suppressants were dangerous but effective and necessary for an omega who refused to be owned—but no suppressants were strong enough to fool the nose of a super soldier, who together with his pack would stop at nothing to bind you to them forever. 

pairings: dark!Avengers x reader word length: 3.3k chapters: 1/? warnings: A/B/O dynamics, power imbalances, noncon and dubcon sexual situations, loss of autonomy, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat — this is a dark!fic, read at your own risk. Open the read more and CTRL + F, search “content warnings” to skip to detailed trigger warnings at the bottom of the chapter.

Cleaning rich people’s vacation homes hadn’t been your dream job growing up. You had such high hopes when you were a kid, well into your teens, of becoming a zoologist. It had started off like most kid’s dreams—in kindergarten you wanted to be a veterinarian. That grew into wanting to become a herpetologist, but then you wondered, why limit yourself? As a zoologist you could be around tons and tons of animals, studying their behaviors and ecological impacts. It was about half way past your fourteenth birthday that you realized none of your dreams mattered.

You woke in the middle of the night to a crippling pain in your stomach, an unbearable heat boiling under your flesh. You must’ve been screaming, because your parents burst in frantically—only to stop dead upon stepping past the threshold. At the time you had no idea why, but it had been shock. Omegas were rare nowadays, more and more betas were being born while the number of omegas dropped. It was a point on contention; betas could breed with alphas, rendering the omega almost obsolete but alphas, especially ones with packs, wanted omegas.

Personally, you figured that evolution had decided to take things into its’ own hands. Everything about omegas spat in the face of adaption; they were small and delicate, hardwired to obey alpha commands even to their own detriment, experienced a full weeks’ worth of being completely and utterly incapable of survival on their own—

Well, unless one acquired (through whatever means necessary) methods to prevent it that one. Heats, a homegrown threat guaranteed to commit acts of violence at least twice a year. By the time your first had worn off, your parents had already jumped into action. They had three different packs bidding on you. Your mother had been bubbling with glee, talking about how wonderful it was that she had produced an omega when she herself was a beta. Your very existence was about to rocket them into both fame and fortune. So, you ran away. That same night.

It had been shockingly easy to locate illegal suppressants. They taught all about them in school, how they were horrible and taxing on an omega’s physiology. Suppressants masked an omega’s scent, prevented their heats, and (in your opinion) were the best invention of the twenty first century. You couldn’t have given a flying fuck about what negative impacts they might’ve had on your body—death would be a reprieve. Unfortunately you’d yet to have any of the widely touted negative effects (effects that you were pretty sure were made up to keep omegas afraid and compliant) and so you found yourself cleaning rich people’s vacation homes just over the Canadian border.

You’d been living out of your car since you first bought it at sixteen, for five hundred dollars. You gave a creepy beta a blowjob to get your license forged. It was the best investment you’d ever made (not that you had the opportunity to make many) and the clunker was still getting you from point A to point B and that’s all you needed. You had to move constantly, staying in one place too long meant people started to notice you, especially in the small towns you frequented in Ontario. But there was so much forest surrounding you that every once in a while you could just drop off the face of the earth, camping so deep in the woods no one would stumble across you. It made staying anonymous so much easier.

That was actually the current plan, after you finished cleaning this last massive cabin; to abscond into the woods for a while, until you’ve faded from everyone’s memory. You won’t return to this town for at least a year. You’ll spark recognition when you return, but not enough for anyone to consider you more than an outsider in their close-knit community. The kind woman who lets you work for her cleaning company so sporadically will remember you when you ring her, the only person particularly thrilled to hear you’re back for a few months.

You do an excellent job and you do it fast— you can thoroughly and perfectly clean a 6 bedroom mansion by yourself in less than 10 hours and you were paid under the table so you didn’t require overtime, which Mrs. Hunt loved (there was no tax to be taken from an unreported cash payment though, so it was a fair trade in your opinion). You would work yourself to the bone, 10 hours a day everyday there was work available for at least three months and then dip without any expectations until the next time you returned, when she was gushing over the amazing reviews your work had gotten the last time you were around.

It was symbiotic existence—you were paid well for your efforts, more than enough to sustain living out of your car for months at a time, and your performance drove her online reviews into the 4.9 stars range and made it feasible for her to raise her prices. Mrs. Hunt didn’t ask any questions either, even when you requested to only work alone and couldn’t provide any identification beyond a driver’s license.

You were finishing up the kitchen in what was definitely one of the nicest places you’d ever cleaned when your phone went off in your back pocket. It made your skin prickle. Very few people had your number and you couldn’t think of a single reason they’d ring you instead of texting unless something was wrong.  You propped the mop against your shoulder and dug out the phone, frowning at Mrs. Hunt’s name on the screen.

“Hello?”

“Oh sweetie, I’m so glad I got a hold of you! How are you doing?”

“I’m well, Mrs. Hunt,” you answered, your voice coming out semi-robotically as you strained not to sound panicked while continuing the conversation like a normal fucking person, “I’m just about done here, I was finishing the dry mop in the kitchen when you called and then all I need to do is pack up.”

“Oh perfect! I was calling because the owner just rang me, apparently some of his packmates will be arriving a bit earlier than anticipated—potentially within the next hour. Something about someone getting caught up at work, I’ll spare you the details. But if you’re almost done then you’ll probably be gone by the time they arrive.”

“Certainly Mrs. Hunt,” you’d immediately started frantically dry mopping the moment the words ‘within the next hour’ escaped the woman’s mouth, phone clamped between your ear and shoulder. “I’ll be gone in the next few minutes.”

“Now even if you aren’t its okay,” the concern in her voice meant that your own had betrayed you, waivered when you responded without your knowledge. “I always warn the owners that if they arrive before the scheduled time that there’s a possibility the house won’t be done and/or there might be people actively working in the house. You won’t get in any trouble, okay?”

“R-Right, thank you ma’am,” you swallowed heavily, finishing the last swipe across the tile in the kitchen and hustling back into the foyer. “I really won’t be but a minute though. I always keep all of my equipment put away and together if I’m not using it, so I really just need to pack up the mop.”

Which you’d already shoved into the rolling cart you picked up each morning that held all of your cleaning supplies provided by the company.

“Don’t forget your bucket too!” Mrs. Hunt sounded smiley again, “I’ll leave the key under the mat so you can stow your cart tonight. Have a good one swee—.”

“You too!” You might’ve hung up a touch too soon to be considered polite, shoving the phone back into your pocket and running into the kitchen. There was no time to dwell on manners. 

The mop bucket was sitting on the counter, already washed and dried and waiting to be put away. You’d started keeping your things completely put away at all times the same day you’d been accosted by a homeowner who arrived home earlier than expected while you were still trying to pack up. You’d tried to put your notice in that night, a couple of years ago now, but Mrs. Hunt begged you not to—promised it would never happen again. This must’ve been her best attempt at preventing it. At least you had already planned to leave town tonight anyway.

You nearly sprinted back to the cart, haphazardly tossing the stupid bucket on top and wheeling it towards the huge front doors. You’d just stopped to reach around and grab the handle when the knob turned and the left door was pushed open, nearly hitting your cart.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” he was a beta, curly haired and dark eyed with pale skin, wearing a pair of glasses on the bridge of his nose. “Did I knock anything over?”

“N-No, sir,” you pulled the cart back a few steps, nearly trembling with the effort it took not to blast right past him, especially when you noticed him carefully scenting the air. "The house is all clean, I was j-just leaving.”

“Thank you, for getting everything clean for us. We don’t get to come out here as often as we like, I’m sure the place collected a lot of dust in our absence,” he smiled, looking both parts shy and calculating to your well trained eye— and you had no time for such consideration.

“Not too much, h-have a nice night!” You could feel your pulse racing and that was bad. Even the good suppressants, the ones that most of your money went to, had difficulty completely masking the scent of panicking omega.

“Did you use bleach?” The question caught you off guard and you almost jumped when he put a hand on your cart, glancing through the array of chemicals.

“Y-Yes, in the bathrooms. I wasn’t informed of any sensitivities—”

“Nothing a little fresh air won’t take care of,” you wanted him to stop looking at you like that, like there was some pale flash of recognition behind his eyes. “Would you go open the windows in the bathrooms upstairs? I’m afraid my nose is pretty sensitive, several of my packmates are similar.”

You did not like that his nose was especially sensitive and you hated that his packmates were similarly afflicted. It felt like getting punched in the face with a fight or flight instinct, your brain immediately demanded that you leave the cart and run past him—fuck the cart, fuck the job, you could find something else.

“Oh, and do you have the key to the front doors? I might as well get them from you now instead of us having to go down to the office tomorrow.” Your hand immediately dove into your pocket, yanking out the single key and dropping it in his palm. “Thanks— and the windows? Sorry, I just can’t go up there until it’s aired out.”

He wasn’t a huge man but the way he filled the doorway made you second guess trying to run past him, even if he was greying at the temples and looking a little rumpled. It was strange, you wouldn’t usually have such an intense reaction to a beta, but something about him was vaguely unsettling. So instead of trying to make a run for it, you turned on your heel and forced yourself to calmly walk up the stairs. There were four massive bedrooms in the cabin, each with its own bathroom and you’d need to go through and open the windows for the three bathrooms that had them. It meant darting into huge bedrooms, dodging expensive furniture and knickknacks and trying not to dirty the freshly mopped and swept hardwood floors in the process.

It took about five minutes but you felt like you’d run a marathon, your heart was pounding and there was sweat at the nape of your neck. All you wanted was out of the stupid fucking house, immediately. You dashed down the stairs and turned the corner, seeing your cart right where you left it. The door was still open too, but the beta was no where to be seen. You immediately darted forward, grabbing the cart tightly and beginning to push it past the threshold—

You were stopped in your tracks at the sight of two unnecessarily broad alphas. Both were tall, the white man standing just an inch or so taller, with a full beard and blond hair. The black alpha had facial hair too, a cleanly edged goatee to match a faded cut. Both were incredibly attractive and putting off waves of pheromones, to the point that your head floated for a moment.  Your lips clamped shut on a whine, instinct trying to push through and alert the two powerful alphas of your presence. Instead you ducked your head and continued out the door.

“Hi there, sweetheart.” Your gaze snapped up, immediately locking with a pair of dark brown eyes. “You the housekeeper?”

“Yes sir,” you answered quietly, stopping short in front of them when neither moved out of your way. “Sorry to have been here so late. Have a good evening.”

Both were still smiling, still pointedly not moving.

“My name’s Steve, that’s Sam,” the blond’s nose twitched, just slightly, and you realized he was very discretely scenting the air. “Nice to meet you. Do you live in town?”

“N-No, please excuse me,” you nudged the cart forward just an inch but they still didn’t budge and panic began coursing through your blood with renewed vigor, “excuse m—”

“Your scent is… confusing,” Steve’s head tilted to the side, “I don’t mean to be crass, of course, but I couldn’t help but notice.”

“It’s always been this way,” the response was automatic and your brain began shutting down all unnecessary functions; you were about to have to run and hope your omega physiology would make you faster than them.

“You smell almost like an omega,” he continued, both hands coming to rest on his hips, emphasizing the width of his shoulders. “But not quite?”

“I’m a beta.”

“Are you sweetheart?” Sam’s voice was a rumble, his head tilted to the side while his dark eyes burned holes into your skin.

The tone an alpha used with naughty omegas was deliberate and tightly controlled, the same as a command or a purr or a growl. It was on purpose, an attempt to nicely draw out the correct response. He wanted you to admit you were an omega, to tell them the truth of your own volition. The fact that your hindbrain desperately wanted to comply was a completely different issue—one you didn’t have time to address right now.

“Positive,” you breathed, clenching your fists tightly around the handles of the cart for just a second before deciding to leave it behind; you’d never be coming back here, there was no reason to worry about preserving your job.

Your eyes were quick and indefinitely perceptive. Being an omega was one step up from being a prey species, it came with inherent instincts that made you especially good at predicting behaviors. After all, an omega was only as good as their ability to please and soothe packmates. One of the single upsides to being an omega was that you were fast though—fast enough to outrun most alphas. And you only needed to go about a hundred and fifty feet, once you were in your car you could certainly get away. So the second you realized the pair was about to shift, moving to face each other more than you, you darted around the cart and dodged to the left.

It wasn’t your fault, honestly. There was no way you could’ve known you weren’t dealing with normal alphas. The blond was so fast that he almost moved between blinks—one moment he was still, the next he’d wrapped his arms around you and tugged you back into his chest. His arms were like steel, one wrapped around your torso to keep your arms pinned to your sides while the other carefully held your chin. Your hindbrain was screaming now, submit, submit, make alpha happy and you bit down on your tongue to hold in the whimpers, the omega sounds your throat was trying to produce.

“Shhh, shh, calm down,” it was half a tone away from being a purr and you continued to squirm while you still could—an alpha command was coming, you could feel it in your bones.

“Let Steve smell you,” Sam was rumbling instead of talking again, a similar half purr to how Steve had started speaking. "Everything’s okay, omega.”

You felt a nose nudge down your neck, towards your scent gland and you bared your teeth at the man in front of you. “I’m not an omega!”

“You smell like omega,” Steve’s breath ghosted over your skin and you fought a shiver. "Sort of. It’s buried, under… beta… sour beta?”

“What sort of suppressants are you on, sweetie?” You startled as the beta from earlier emerged from the house, wiping his hands on a dish towel absently. "Are you cutting them with anything? Heroin, or coke? It’s okay, you just need to tell me.”

“Tell Bruce sweetheart,” Sam coaxed, automatically moving to roll up the sleeves of your shirt, evidently looking for track marks. "Where do you get them?”

“I’m not on suppressants!” Your voice was almost a shriek at this point, desperately imitating the behavior of an angry beta rather than a terrified omega. “I’m a beta! Get off of me!”

“Okay, okay, here then,” Steve’s arm around your torso tightened, the one on your chin beginning to work its way down towards your jeans. "There’s only way one to tell for sure.”

Shock and fear and humiliation; an array of emotions swarmed through your body as his hand popped the button but those were the three you could identify and you immediately started thrashing your legs—he was going to check if you had an omega ridge and then everything would be over. It was a defining physical characteristic that couldn’t be passed off as anything other than what it was: a boney protrusion meant to catch on an alpha’s knot so they could be locked in place. In females it was found in the vagina, prominently featured directly before the g-spot so a knot would cause persisting pleasure. For males it was similarly positioned next to the prostate.

“Calm down, calm down!” Sam crooned, hands coming up to cup your face as while Steve’s slithered down the front of your jeans and into your panties. "It’s okay sweetheart, no matter what. Whatever Steve finds, you’re okay. You’re safe. We’ll keep you safe.”

The thrashing was doing nothing but tiring you out, you’d already been intensively cleaning for the past 9 hours without a break and it certainly wasn’t dissuading the hand slithering between your folds. You bit down on your tongue harder, until you drew blood to prevent the whimpers—you couldn’t make that stupid sound, you’d never make that stupid, pathetic, whiney noise, you couldn’t. Not even when a long, thick finger penetrated and sunk knuckle deep. Not even when the pad of said finger brushed your g-spot before hooking onto the ridge, tugging gently in a way that would’ve caused blinding pleasure had you not grounded yourself with the pain of biting your tongue.

“There it is,” Steve’s voice was soft, finger carefully running the length of the ridge. "A nice deep one too.”

“How long have you been taking suppressants?” Bruce prodded quietly, coming to stand next to Sam. “I need to know what sort of damage we’re looking at.”

When you didn’t respond Sam sighed, fingers brushing gently over your chin as he directed you to face him. "Please don’t make us use an alpha command, sweetheart. We just wanna take care of you. Tell Bruce how long you’ve been on suppressants, please.”

You regarded the handsome alpha for several short moments before spitting a mouthful of blood directly into his face.

 content warnings: assault, noncon vaginal fingering

edited 7/9/21 - still on hiatus

[blackxkatt]

I need this out and I don’t know where else to put it because if I put it anywhere where people might see, I’m giving more ammunition to the idea that I’m just some monster or something, and I'm tired of having to hedge every bit of opening up about this with, "I know I fucked up, too". It's time for me to be able to tell my story without diminishing my own experiences.

I used to vent to the void on tumblr a lot so I figure this is a good place to do so. Writing out stuff like this is a good therapy technique, and I don’t hurt anyone this way. Okay here goes

My relationship with Becky was awful. In hindsight, I should have ended it so much sooner than I did, but I kept trying to force it because I wanted it to work. We were awful for each other. We made each other worse people. It needed to end.

I did everything I could thing of to make the break up smooth for her. I avoided Easter so that I wasn’t marring a holiday. I asked Tanner to cancel D&D for the day (little did I know, I was canceling that game forever) so that she’d have a week until we had to exist in the same space again, even virtually. I drove to her house, so she wouldn't have to deal with a drive before or after. I knew she had therapy the next day, so that she’d have time to process and professional help soon. I didn’t bring up anything either of us did and didn’t bring up any blame. I said we were just incompatible, because we were. I told her I understood if she didn’t want to be friends -- she said she did. I said if that changes, just let me know. I held her while she cried, walked her dog with her, and went home.

Over the next week, she began to escalate attacks towards me with no warning. On the morning of our D&D game, 2 hours before we had to coexist in front of our friends, she sent me a list of grievances during our relationship and demanded an apology for them, to help her healing. I wanted to be done with this, I had thought that the break up meant we could finally be done with it. I apologized regardless, because I knew I wasn’t perfect and had admitted when I’d fucked up before in the relationship, but not for all of it because some of it plainly wasn’t true. I asked if I could respond and ask for an apology for my own healing. She said no, she didn’t care, and that she wouldn’t let me make it all about myself.

She demanded Tanner message her practically every second of every day, elsewise she’d melt down that he was spending time with me instead of her, when we live together. She literally got pissed off that I visited his Animal Crossing island before her. Tanner couldn’t even mention me neutrally without her going on a tirade about how awful I am and how he shouldn’t defend me, let alone mention that I was hurt, too.

Eventually, she blocked me. I had spent the entire time keeping the door open and trying to maintain a friendship, both because I didn’t want to lose that, and for Tanner’s sake, and meanwhile she was nuking the bridge. I couldn’t handle it anymore. I couldn’t see myself being metamours with someone who so clearly and actively hated me.

Tanner, on advice from a counselor, sat us both down to talk about our abusive tendencies and how this was affecting him. The first thing she did was give me the most disgusted look when she walked in. She nodded vigorously during the entire bit where Tanner raised his issues with my behavior.

Almost all of what Tanner talked to me about were things we’d worked on in the past, that I’d been fine on, that I’d backslid on since dating Becky. Others we’d discussed before and he’d been fine with, but had changed since. The rest, he later apologized for, because he realized he was being abusive in those expectations and hadn’t been concerned with fairness at the time. Almost all of what he brought up wasn't new, because Tanner and I have checked in with each other and worked on our relationship for almost 7 years.

Meanwhile, Becky continued to be abusive to him, in the same ways she had been to me, amped up to 1000. And I had to sit and let it happen. I left my own house for hours at a time for them to have dates. I canceled or moved my own plans for her. I had a festering wound I was hoping would heal, because Becky continued to insist to me that we’d forgive each other some day, but I was the only one working towards it, while she cursed me at every opportunity.

This all culminated in her calling Tanner one day, during our date, to demand that he choose between us. To try to convince him to be monogamous with her. To tell him how awful I am and that she can’t believe he would choose me. To guilt him for daring to do so, even though she’d forced the choice.

I beat myself up, like I was the reason for the break up. But I wasn’t. Even if I wasn’t in the picture, she was abusive and had continued to be without pause. It was her own jealousy and refusal to heal that ended their relationship. I know that now. But it took awhile for my anger to set in. It did once I found out she messaged him more times after that to try to convince him, once again, to leave me, and once again getting upset with him when he wouldn’t.

I waited for a while before asking Tanner if he was alright with me cutting Becky out, since after those instances, I didn’t see our relationship being positive again, at least not for quite awhile, and I’d spent months swallowing my pain for the sake of their relationship and couldn’t do it anymore. That was when I found out, from him, that Becky had already cut me out with no intention to recover. She had remained in all of our group chats, so that was news to me. It was power I was not willing to let her hold over me any longer, pretending she was the bigger person for being silent in the chats but not leaving them. I won’t be made into a monster for defining and defending my boundaries for the first time since the break up. It was unfair of her to remain in every single chat when she’d made it clear she was cutting us, or at least me, out, forcing me to face that trigger every day, giving me almost to reprieve or space to vent about my own pain. I asked friends to remove her from those shared chats, and they did, and I refuse to be made into a villain for being the one to cut the last of the bridge she’d torched. The last one is the d&d game that wasn’t destroyed with our relationship, and it’s the last thorn in my wound keeping me from healing, but Tanner and I are both scared that group will fall apart, too, if she’s removed, due to reactions in another chat she was removed from. So, I have to continue to swallow that, for who knows how long.

Now that that story is out, I’m going to list what I can about my and Becky’s relationship -- her abuse, her gaslighting, making sense of it all and getting out what she never let me.

-A lot of our problems stemmed from the fact that I didn’t react how she wanted. She would be abusive or demanding, and instead of reacting like Tanner, who would submit for the sake of keeping the peace, I would push back, either calmly or not so calmly due to it triggering me. Both elicited negative responses. We triggered each other this way often.

-She was racist to me. She weaponized the exact racism I told her I had experienced from almost every white person I’d ever known, even my loved ones. She promised she never would and then did exactly it, armed with the knowledge of how to shut me down. She told me I *was* aggressive, actually, that she’d surveyed my friends and they all agreed that I was aggressive, and by insisting that I wasn’t, by defending myself, I was gaslighting her. Oh, and she only used the word aggressive because that was the word I’d used, not that she actually thought I was aggressive. Why did I think she thought I was aggressive? That was my own fault. I constantly made myself smaller for her, like I had for so many racist people in my life. I could no longer be all of me anymore.

-She insisted I was incapable of calm discussion (see the racism above), that I deserved her anger and brought it upon myself because it was the only way I listened. Never once in our relationship did she ever say, “can we talk about this?” or anything along those lines, which I would have responded to (and have in other relationships). It was always blowing up out of nowhere because I said the slight wrong thing or didn’t say the right thing or because she’d misunderstood me.

-On misunderstanding, she admitted that she constantly misread me and misunderstood my words due to her  past trauma and expectation of negativity. Once upon a time, she told me that if she took what I said in the most positive light, she understood me finally. Yet, later in our relationship, she started insisting that every misunderstanding was my fault, that all poor communication was on me, that I was an anomaly, that I somehow experienced less emotions than other people. When I would refuse any of these accusations or point out what I had actually said, she told me I lacked critical thinking or was gaslighting her.

-Tanner said something that made so many of our problems click: Becky didn’t want a relationship, she wanted codependence. Something she admitted she struggled with, something her family struggles with, and yet I never put it together. She wanted all of our attention, all of the time. Every triad date we had was centered on her. My healthy independence was a threat to her. She insisted I was lying if I didn’t have some deep issue to discuss with her every day. She insisted I was lying when I promised her I wasn’t hiding my life from her, that I just sincerely didn’t have any crisis or something to discuss. My refusal to enable any of her bad habits or abusive behaviors upset her. When we broke up, and she could no longer guarantee all emotional energy was given to her, she spiraled.

-Of many things we’d previously discussed and she said she understood, group chats take less energy for me to participate in, and I was always happy to interact with her in group chats if I couldn’t handle a 1 on 1 chat. Eventually, I was scared to interact in group chats, post online, show any presence that I wasn’t busy or asleep, because she would become upset with me for not messaging her individually.

-The biggest red flag I ignored, one that terrified me so much I told no one about it until I was considering the break up, was when she asked me to choose between herself and my best friend. When I told her I couldn’t do that and was uncomfortable that she’d even asked, she got upset, and I ended up comforting her instead of addressing it any further. And without even realizing it, I began to feel anxious and guilty whenever I interacted with Dan. I would fear even mentioning them to her, because it inevitably resulted in her jealousy. I began to interact with them less (notice a pattern? Interacting with my best friend less, interacting with my group chats less, interacting online in general less...)

-Every concern I brought up ended the same way: she’d say I was gaslighting her, or she’d get upset and I would have to comfort her.

-She was never polyamorous; this is obvious in hindsight. She was a monogamous person who happened to form a crush on two polyamorous people. She would consistently try to persuade me away from polyamory and into maintaining a closed triad, and would get upset with me when I expressed that wasn’t what I wanted. She’d often remind me that she’d be extremely jealous of anyone I ever dated and that they couldn’t be as important as her.

-She said she understood it would take Tanner and I time to feel as close to her as we do with each other. Yet, she was constantly jealous of us and became more and more angry as time went on. She seemed to expect a timescale of months to level out a 7 year relationship with a 7 month one, when it would have taken years.

-Along with codependence, she was looking for a therapist in her SOs. She would have a new breakdown to discuss daily, and a myriad of untreated phobias and illnesses. She’d consistently complain about her therapist; when I made suggestions to tell her therapists her concerns or get a new one, she’d brush it off or insist it wasn’t that bad. If Tanner or I didn’t enable her phobias, she’d get upset with us. We could neither make plans for just us two(though she hates being left out) nor bring her (she hates crowds and spontaneous plans). She’d say she’d come, we’d just have to deal with her crying the whole time. I’d express that we want her to have fun, not suffer, and she’d say she’d suffer either way. We were guilted out of most plans.

-Most of the end of our relationship, that finally made me realize we needed to break up, was a slow change that I’m not sure how it happened. At some point, Becky stopped seeing me; she only saw what fit her preconceived notions of me. She made assumptions about me, my thoughts, my character, who I was. She made up situations in her head and got angry at me for them out of nowhere, with no communication, and the one time she did listen that she'd made up the situation (because Tanner told her), she spiraled into self-hatred, not an apology. She twisted everything I said into some kind of attack against her and insisted every clarification, explanation, or evidence was an excuse. When I would point any of this out, that some of what she said was just plain untrue, she’d once again insist I was gaslighting her. I was trapped. She refused to see the changes I made for her, and was coming up with her own reality of our relationship. Nothing I did mattered anymore; even Tanner told me he saw it. He told me that I had done a lot of work but he didn’t see the same improvement on her end, and that she needed to meet me in the middle if we were going to work. But she only saw the monster she’d made me. I couldn’t continue to date someone who was so committed to misunderstanding me. This is why I only apologized for most of what she said in her list of grievances -- because some was simply untrue. I never lied to her, I never gave her half-apologies -- never in my life have I given anyone an “I’m sorry you feel that way” apology. I apologized for things that didn’t even merit apology. I regressed and backslid on so much healing I had done. She mentally sent me back to high school, convinced me I was who I was as a child, when that was completely untrue. So much of the relationship had become this perfect trap -- where it was damned if I do, damned if I don’t. I ended it because I couldn’t live like that anymore, and I wanted our friendship back. We were awful romantic partners, but such good friends. Not anymore, I guess.

-Every trauma I ever did confide in her, she eventually weaponized against me. She'd recreate every one, or bring them up to silence me. She'd use every moment of vulnerability to further convince me I was an inherently awful person and push me to back slide and regress into trauma I'd grown beyond. Any questioning was met with, yup, I'm gaslighting her or lack introspection.

-She said I never showed interest in her, and I still don't know where that came from. We'd talk about life goals, the world, our ideas. I told her I loved seeing her creative projects and that progress. I read her fan fiction and bragged about it. I don't know when she stopped seeing it, when she stopped seeing me. I introduced her to all of my friends, integrated her into all of my friend groups, because I thought I was building a future with her. But now I'm the villain because she wanted to hold my social life and the friends I'd introduced her to hostage.

-One comment that stuck with me was that she said we weren't even dating, just friends who kissed. She said it again in our last argument before we broke up. I literally didn't know what to do to prove to her that I cared about her, to make her believe me when I said she was my girlfriend. I even came out to my parents about her to try to prove it and it wasn't enough. I got to the point where I almost finally had sex with her just because she wanted it, just to see if that would finally be enough for her to believe me. I'm very glad I didn't.

-She was consistently passive aggressive. She would always say something was fine, then clearly be upset when I'd do it. I'd have to press for there to be any chance of her admitting she didn't like it. There were clear "correct" answers to all of her questions and suggestions, and whenever I refused to acquiesce, it would become an argument.

-Intentions don't matter and all that, but they do. They do, because that's shorthand. She'd constantly use that as a shield, telling me my intentions didn't matter, when at a certain point, she had to be responsible for refusing to hear me. And while intentions don't matter, I never intentionally hurt her, but she intentionally hurt me several times, almost never apologized for it, and in fact insisted to me that I deserved it and had brought it upon myself.

-And I defended her. I continued to defend her for so long, from so many people. I knew she had trauma, and I knew she was in an environment that wasn’t suited to her healing. I convinced myself that I just had to endure until post-pandemic, or until she moved out, or until she got medication she could take, or, or ,or-- and Dan gave me the wake up call that if I was walking on eggshells with her, the environment we were in would only change where I was walking on eggshells with her. Tanner gave me the wake up call that we aren’t even sure she *wants* to leave that house with her family, because of that toxic codependence.

-I’m still terrified of how quickly she turned on me. How quickly she made me a monster. Our break up didn’t have any villains; break ups don’t always need villains. But like a light switch flipping, she turned hatred upon me. She told me that she doesn’t feel empathy and only performs goodness because of a moral code she made for herself, but I never considered what it would be like if she designated me an enemy in that moral code.

Some of this I realized towards the end of our relationship. Some of this I realized after. I’ll add to this post whenever I need to as I parse out more, or remember what I’ve forgotten to add.

I’m not the monster she made me in her story. I’m not responsible for her version of me anymore. I won’t be made to feel guilty or like a villain for finally enforcing my boundaries. I’m still angry that I can’t be open about all of this without continuing to fall into this trap she’s made, of me being awful and hateful instead of abused and rightfully angry. But Tanner and I are the happiest we’ve been in a year. I deeply regret that relationship, but I’m so happy now that I’m out of it, even if it didn’t end how I’d hoped. And I think that says I made the right decision.

[worryinglyinnocent]

Fic: The Dead of Night

AU-gust Day Fourteen: Vampire AU Fandom: Stargate Universe Pairing: Nicholas Rush x Gloria Rush

Rated: T

Content Warning: Blood, vampirism, cancer mention.

Summary: Nick reflects on his and Gloria’s lives since she became a vampire to save her life.

Note: This uses the vampire mythos from the short-lived TV series Moonlight.

The Dead of Night

Nick waited until the last vestiges of sunlight had vanished beyond the horizon before closing the curtains and switching on the lights. He wasn’t surprised at how quickly he had made the transition to nocturnal activity; he’d never been one for consistent sleep patterns at the best of times, and Gloria’s long illness had just exacerbated that. Now it simply made sense for him to be awake when she was awake.

He made the ten-step journey down into the cellar, listening to the comforting hum of the chest freezer. His breath curled into mist as he opened it, and he had to smile at the sight that met him. One would have expected vampires to sleep ramrod straight with their arms crossed over their chests like in classic Hammer horror movies, but Gloria was curled up in the foetal position with one arm flung over her face just like she’d slept when she was alive.

Nick shook himself. Gloria was alive. Not in the same way as previously, perhaps, but alive, nonetheless.

He reached into the freezer and stroked her arm where it was covering her face.

“The sun’s down, Glo. Time to get up.”

Gloria gave a catlike hiss, swiping at his hand, and when she sat up and opened her eyes, Nick could see the irises pale and silvery, pupils like pinpricks. Her mouth curled up in a snarl, fangs fully out, and Nick stumbled backwards, his heart pounding. Even though he knew that Gloria would never attack him consciously, there was always that undercurrent of fear when she first woke up thirsty, and Nick hated it.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Her face was human again now and looking very guilty, although her eyes were still too pale, and her fangs were still pinching her bottom lip. “I’m just thirsty.”

Nick went over to the fridge in the corner and took out a blood bag – prime A-negative. He brought it over to Gloria as she got out of the freezer and shut the lid, perching on it beside her as she drank.

“You’re running low.”

Gloria nodded. “I know. I’ll have to go and see my man at the hospital tonight. Do you think anyone notices all the blood bags going missing?”

“Well, if they do, I don’t think that they would suspect vampires.”

Up until a few months ago, Nick himself would have disputed the existence of vampires. There were times even now when he wondered if his and Gloria’s current lifestyle was all the result of an exhausted fever dream, and he would wake up in the hospital by her bedside, nothing having changed.

They had almost accepted fate. They had almost accepted that Gloria wasn’t going to survive her second battle with cancer and that she was entering her last days; they had almost accepted that she wasn’t going to leave the hospital. Almost, but not quite. Although neither of them had said anything, they were both hoping for a last-minute miracle, some kind of reprieve that would reach them against all the odds and save them from oncoming heartbreak. Nick was a firm believer in science to the exclusion of all else; he had never been a spiritual man and he did not pray for deliverance as Gloria did, but that didn’t stop him from hoping for something, anything, however inexplicable it might be.

That inexplicable reprieve had come at three in the morning on a moonless night. Nick wasn’t asleep. The chair beside Gloria’s bed was too uncomfortable for sleep at the best of times, and for the past few nights he had been scared to close his eyes in case Gloria slipped away whilst he was asleep.

“I can sleep when I’m dead,” he had muttered in response to her gentle chastising that he needed rest. Gloria had snorted.

“No, you can sleep when I’m dead.” The gallows humour had been funnier than it had any right to be.

On that fateful night, Gloria wasn’t asleep either. The chemo had messed up her circadian rhythm so much that night and day were all much of a muchness to her, and she slept when she could and stayed awake when she couldn’t.

The lights were off, and they were just looking at each other in the gloom when the porter had come in.

“I know a way to make it better,” he had said. “But it comes at a price.”

The subsequent conversation had lasted almost till daybreak, whereupon the porter had returned to his home in the cold morgue drawers and Nick and Gloria had been left wondering if the discussion had really just happened, if vampires really did exist and if one had just offered to save Gloria’s life.

It had been a difficult decision to come to, and not one taken lightly. Ultimately they both wanted more time together, even if that time would be spent in an eternally nocturnal world.

The first week after Gloria’s turning had been the worst. She was constantly thirsty, and the house was far too warm for her; in the end she’d had Nick lock her in the cellar to stop her going for his own throat out of insane greed. Since then, though, they’d settled into a now-familiar routine, and everything was almost the way it was before – aside from their life being conducted entirely under the cover of darkness.

Well. Almost everything. Nick sipped his coffee, watching Gloria slip away into the night to get her fix from the hospital, the cool box swinging ominously by her side.

Gloria was alive, and more than that – provided she stayed within her limits, she would never die. She was locked in time now, but he, Nick was moving onward. He was still going to lose her to time eventually. Before, she had not had enough time. Now, she had far too much. Or he had far too little.

He was still staring out of the window when she came back, the cool box obviously heavier. They would have to move soon before their strange habits attracted too much attention, but they had already been through so much upheaval over the past few months that neither of them could stomach the thought of more just yet.

“Hey.” Gloria came into the kitchen having deposited the blood safely in her fridge. “Have you been sitting here the whole time. It’s not like you to get lost in thought. Although…” She came and sat beside him, taking his hand in her much colder one. “You have been in a world of your own a lot more lately. What’s wrong, Nick? What are you thinking about?”

Nick sighed, squeezing her hand. “Me, you, us. The logistics of our life now.”

“I know it’s not exactly what we planned…” Gloria tailed off, leaving the rest of the sentence unsaid.

“I don’t regret it,” Nick said. “I’d rather have you alive like this than not alive at all. I’m just not sure that I thought through some of the implications at the time.”

“Like what?”

Their conversations on the topic had been fairly comprehensive, and Nick knew that they had discussed his current misgiving more than once. He just hadn’t paid it as much mind as he ought to have done.

He skirted Gloria’s question, looking her steadfastly in the eyes – now back to their usual colour, no trace of the eerily pale silver of her hunger.

“Glo, if I asked, would you turn me?”

Gloria looked at him for a long time, searching his face for something, although Nick did not know what she was looking for, nor whether she found it there.

“If that was what you truly wanted then yes, I would,” she said eventually. “I know where your train of thought is going, and don’t think that I don’t share it. Being gifted with so much time having had so little left, well, it alters your perception of it. I can’t get used to the inevitability of losing you now any more than you could get used to the inevitability of losing me before.”

Nick nodded. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot. I keep trying to talk myself out of it. Hell, I keep thinking that this is all just a strange kind of wishful thinking on my part and I’ll wake up and you’ll be back in the hospital. But when it comes down to it, I don’t know what I have to lose.”

“You do,” Gloria pointed out. “We went over it at great length and in great detail with William before he turned me.”

“Exactly. I know all that. I’ve seen you change. I’ve lived through these last few months with you, and I still can’t think why I wouldn’t want to spend the rest of, well, forever with you.”

Gloria brought his hand up to her lips, pressing a kiss to his knuckles.

“Ask me again tomorrow,” she whispered.

The routine continued for the next fortnight, a strange kind of Arabian Nights tale.

“Gloria, will you turn me?” “Ask me again tomorrow.”

“Yes.”

Her acquiescence was so sudden that Nick thought he had misheard her.

“You will?”

Gloria nodded. “I think you’ve stuck with the notion long enough to really want it. Are you ready?”

She brought his hand up to her lips again, this time hovering over the pulse point in his wrist. Nick could feel his heart pounding in his chest as he nodded.

The pain of her fangs sinking into his skin was sharp and blinding, like a lightning flash, and Nick gritted his teeth through it, squeezing his eyes tight shut. He felt warm wetness against his lips, and he knew that Gloria was offering her own blood to complete the transformation. Salty and metallic, he didn’t really notice the taste as he began to feel the change – veins stagnating, body cooling, the unquenchable hunger rising up…

“Nick, my love?”

He opened his eyes. In the darkness, suddenly everything seemed sharper. He was ridiculously thirsty, and he could feel the points of fangs, new and awkward, in his mouth. Gloria’s hands were warm in his for the first time in months.

“Hi, Glo.”

She smiled, and Nick smiled back. It might not be the best or easiest path they could have chosen, but they had each other, and they had forever, and that was enough.

[entirebodyexercise]

Transform Your Mindset To Transform Your Body

This short article is for those who have actually been told that you have to quit running since running misbehaves for your knees, and also for those of you that have been informed that you should take it simple because your preferred sport is as well 'high impact', and for those of you that have actually been told that your hip discomfort is due to seniority. Consider for a minute that perhaps your ailments are not due to wear as well as tear, or old age. Make use of the frame of mind check task at the end of this short article to start to check out new methods of believing that empower recovery and also flexibility within your body.

My Downward Spiral

From ages 19 to 30 I was riddled with injuries, pain, and also degenerative joints. My descending spiral in health started with a torn ACL as well as curve in my right knee during a lacrosse game at the age of 19. The pain and also injuries that took place included chronic shoulder discomfort as well as tendinitis in both shoulders, a labral tear in my left hip, and also lower back pain. I saw and struggled with everything. I condemned my injuries on wear and also tear from high impact running, bowing with heavy barbells on my back, hours and hours on the elliptical exerciser and treadmill, and also numerous hrs spent paddling on my surf board and also swimming.

I sought the very best healthcare and did everything I was informed including 'taking it simple.' The specialists validated my idea that wear and tear had actually taken its toll on my body by telling me that knees, hips, as well as shoulders are not meant to be pounded on continually. Regardless of the remainder and also reprieve I drew from high influence activities, by the time I was 30, my health and wellness had dwindled and also I was not able to do any of my favored tasks without pain or limitation. I was filled with sensations of regret and also sorrow for the damage I had actually permanently done to my body and I was persuaded that I had ruined my body from high impact activity ... or two I thought.

Today, at the age of 34, I have a completely various attitude and also a totally various body. My knees, hips, back, as well as shoulders are discomfort free. I execute high-impact tasks five to 6 days weekly such as weight lifting, running hills as well as fars away, as well as searching. I am injury cost-free as well as in the best form of my life.

Movement as Medicine

This 180 degree shift with my body started with a 180 level shift in my mindset. I went from thinking that I had destroyed my body from high influence tasks to realizing that there is in fact absolutely nothing incorrect with these activities, as well as actually, the body is expected to be able to move and carry out at a high degree no matter of age. I likewise discovered that my chronic disorders were simply signs of joint misalignments as well as muscular discrepancies, which I serviced correcting by practicing everyday exercises. I have taken day-to-day actions since 2009 to repair and heal my own body, I never ever avoid a day of doing my position workouts. This process has not been a passive or a fast one by any type of means!

I discovered that the human body has the ability to heal itself, if given the chance, and I am living, taking a breath proof that this is feasible. Today, I believe that we do not wreck our bodies by moving, instead we ruin our bodies by not moving.

Movement is my 'health care plan' for remaining discomfort and also injury free. As I grow older, my body proceeds to get younger. My range of motion and capability to work the means the body was designed to relocate without limitation and also with total liberty continues to expand.

Shift Your Perspective

Now for a fast state of mind check task:

If you are enduring from persistent pain and also injuries, take a minute to make a note of the thoughts that you inform on your own constantly on a daily basis. Ask on your own the inquiries: Are these thoughts equipping? Do these ideas recognize my body's ability to recover itself the means my body is supposed to recover itself? Next, list alternative ideas and way of thinkings you might adopt that can cause healing and getting one of the most profit from the healing techniques that are available to you.

We all have the same inherent capabilities within ourselves to recover, and the mind is the most effective vehicle for promoting this process of recovery within ourselves.

Ultimately, there is no replacement for professional medical recommendations, medical diagnosis or treatment. It is crucial that you look for the guidance of your medical professional or other qualified health care supplier with any concerns you could have relating to a clinical problem or therapy and prior to taking on a new healthcare regimen, and never neglect expert clinical advice or delay in seeking it due to something you have read.

You may be down, but you're not out:

The Gift of an Injury

Headline photo thanks to CrossFit Empirical.

[bountyofbeads]

Shoot Them in the Legs, Trump Suggested: Inside His Border War https://www.nytimes.com/2019/10/01/us/politics/trump-border-wars.html

Shoot Them in the Legs, Trump Suggested: Inside His Border War(Trump is nothing more than a thug and wannabe mobster. 🤢🤬🤬🤬)

By Michael D. Shear and Julie Hirschfeld Davis | Published Oct. 1, 2019 Updated 7:19 p.m. ET | New York Times | Posted October 1, 2019 |

WASHINGTON — The Oval Office meeting this past March began, as so many had, with President Trump fuming about migrants. But this time he had a solution. As White House advisers listened astonished, he ordered them to shut down the entire 2,000-mile border with Mexico — by noon the next day.

The advisers feared the president’s edict would trap American tourists in Mexico, strand children at schools on both sides of the border and create an economic meltdown in two countries. Yet they also knew how much the president’s zeal to stop immigration had sent him lurching for solutions, one more extreme than the next.

Privately, the president had often talked about fortifying a border wall with a water-filled trench, stocked with snakes or alligators, prompting aides to seek a cost estimate. He wanted the wall electrified, with spikes on top that could pierce human flesh. After publicly suggesting that soldiers shoot migrants if they threw rocks, the president backed off when his staff told him that was illegal. But later in a meeting, aides recalled, he suggested that they shoot migrants in the legs to slow them down. That’s not allowed either, they told him.

“The president was frustrated and I think he took that moment to hit the reset button,” said Thomas D. Homan, who had served as Mr. Trump’s acting director of Immigration and Customs Enforcement, recalling that week in March. “The president wanted it to be fixed quickly.”

Mr. Trump’s order to close the border was a decision point that touched off a frenzied week of presidential rages, round-the-clock staff panic and far more White House turmoil than was known at the time. By the end of the week, the seat-of-the-pants president had backed off his threat but had retaliated with the beginning of a purge of the aides who had tried to contain him.

Today, as Mr. Trump is surrounded by advisers less willing to stand up to him, his threat to seal off the country from a flood of immigrants remains active. “I have absolute power to shut down the border,” he said in an interview this summer with The New York Times.

This article is based on interviews with more than a dozen White House and administration officials directly involved in the events of that week in March. They were granted anonymity to describe sensitive conversations with the president and top officials in the government.

In the Oval Office that March afternoon, a 30-minute meeting extended to more than two hours as Mr. Trump’s team tried desperately to placate him.

“You are making me look like an idiot!” Mr. Trump shouted, adding in a profanity, as multiple officials in the room described it. “I ran on this. It’s my issue.”

Among those in the room were Kirstjen Nielsen, the homeland security secretary at the time; Mike Pompeo, the secretary of state; Kevin K. McAleenan, the Customs and Border Protection chief at the time; and Stephen Miller, the White House aide who, more than anyone, had orchestrated Mr. Trump’s immigration agenda. Mick Mulvaney, the acting chief of staff was also there, along with Jared Kushner, the president’s son-in-law, and other senior staff.

Ms. Nielsen, a former aide to George W. Bush brought into the department by John F. Kelly, the president’s former chief of staff, was in a perilous position. She had always been viewed with suspicion by the president, who told aides she was “a Bushie,” and part of the “deep state” who once contributed to a group that supported Jeb Bush’s presidential campaign.

Mr. Trump had routinely berated Ms. Nielsen as ineffective and, worse — at least in his mind — not tough-looking enough. “Lou Dobbs hates you, Ann Coulter hates you, you’re making me look bad,” Mr. Trump would tell her, referring to the Fox Business Network host and the conservative commentator.

The happiest he had been with Ms. Nielsen was a few months earlier, when American border agents had fired tear gas into Mexico to try to stop migrants from crossing into the United States. Human rights organizations condemned the move, but Mr. Trump loved it. More often, though, she drew the president’s scorn.

That March day, he was furious at Mr. Pompeo, too, for having cut a deal with Mexico to allow the United States to reject some asylum seekers — a plan Mr. Trump said was clearly failing.

A complete shutdown of the border, Mr. Trump said, was the only way.

Ms. Nielsen had tried reasoning with the president on many occasions. When she stood up to him during a cabinet meeting the previous spring, he excoriated her and she almost resigned.

Now, she tried again to reason with him.

We can close the border, she told the president, but it’s not going to fix anything. People will still be permitted to claim asylum.

But Mr. Trump was unmoved. Even Mr. Kushner, who had developed relationships with Mexican officials and now sided with Ms. Nielsen, could not get through to him.

“All you care about is your friends in Mexico,” the president snapped, according to people in the room. “I’ve had it. I want it done at noon tomorrow.”

The Start of an Overhaul

The president’s advisers left the meeting in a near panic.

Every year more than $200 billion worth of American exports flow across the Mexican border. Closing it would wreak havoc on American farmers and automakers, among many others. Senator Mitch McConnell, Republican of Kentucky and the majority leader, said in an interview at the time that a border shutdown would have “a potentially catastrophic economic impact on our country.”

That night, White House advisers succeeded in convincing the president to give them a reprieve, but only for a week, until the following Friday. That gave them very little time to change the president’s mind.

They started by pressuring their Mexican counterparts to rapidly increase apprehensions of migrants. Mr. Kushner and others in the West Wing showered the president with emails proving that the Mexicans had already started apprehending more migrants before they could enter the United States.

White House advisers encouraged a stream of corporate executives, Republican lawmakers and officials from the U.S. Chamber of Commerce to tell Mr. Trump how damaging a border closure would be.

Mr. Miller, meanwhile, saw an opportunity.

It was his view that the president needed to completely overhaul the Homeland Security Department and get rid of senior officials who he believed were thwarting efforts to block immigrants. Although many were the president’s handpicked aides, Mr. Miller told him they had become part of the problem by constantly citing legal hurdles.

Ms. Nielsen, who regularly found herself telling Mr. Trump why he couldn’t have what he wanted, was an obvious target. When the president demanded “flat black” paint on his border wall, she said it would cost an additional $1 million per mile. When he ordered wall construction sped up, she said they needed permission from property owners. Take the land, Mr. Trump would say, and let them sue us.

When Ms. Nielsen tried to get him to focus on something other than the border, the president grew impatient. During a briefing on the need for new legal authority to take down drones, Mr. Trump cut her off midsentence.

“Kirstjen, you didn’t hear me the first time, honey,” Mr. Trump said, according to two people familiar with the conversation. “Shoot ’em down. Sweetheart, just shoot ’em out of the sky, O.K.?”

But the problem went deeper than Ms. Nielsen, Mr. Miller believed. L. Francis Cissna, the head of the United States Citizenship and Immigration Services until earlier this year, regularly pushed back on Mr. Miller’s demand for a “culture change” at the agency, where Mr. Miller believed asylum officers were bleeding hearts, too quick to extend protections to immigrants.

They needed to start with the opposite point of view, Mr. Miller told him, and start turning people away.

John Mitnick, the homeland security general counsel who often raised legal concerns about Mr. Trump’s immigration policies, was also on Mr. Miller’s blacklist. Mr. Miller had also turned against Ronald D. Vitiello, a top official at Customs and Border Protection whom the president had nominated to lead Immigration and Customs Enforcement.

By midweek, the campaign to change Mr. Trump’s mind about closing the border seemed to be working.

Maybe there’s another way to do this, the president told Ms. Nielsen. How about if I impose tariffs on the Mexicans, or threaten to impose tariffs? Tariffs are great.

But the staff worried that his retreat would only be temporary. The president never really let go of his obsessions.

They were right. On a trip to California late in the week, Mr. Trump turned to Mr. McAleenan, the Customs and Border Protection chief, with a new idea: He wanted him to stop letting migrants cross the border at all, with no exceptions. If you get into any trouble for it, Mr. Trump told him, I’ll pardon you.

The Turning Point

Once on the ground, Mr. Trump met up with Ms. Nielsen and worked a room filled with Border Patrol agents. Start turning away migrants at the border, he told them. My message to you is, keep them all out, the president said. Every single one of them. The country is full.

After the president left the room, Mr. McAleenan told the agents to ignore the president. You absolutely do not have the authority to stop processing migrants altogether, he warned.

As she and her staff flew back to Washington that Friday evening, Ms. Nielsen called the president. She knew he was angry with her.

“Sir, I know you’re really frustrated,” she told him. The president invited her to meet with him on Sunday in the White House residence.

Ms. Nielsen knew that Miller wanted her out, so she spent the flight huddled with aides on a strategy for getting control of the border, a Hail Mary pass. She called it the “Six C’s” — Congress, Courts, Communications, Countries, Criminals, Cartels.

Unbeknown to her, Ms. Nielsen’s staff started work on her letter of resignation.

When Ms. Nielsen presented her plan to Mr. Trump at the White House, he dismissed it and told her what he really needed was a cement wall.

“Sir,” she said, “I literally don’t think that’s even possible.” They couldn’t build that now even if it would work, which it wouldn’t, Ms. Nielsen told him. The designs for steel barriers had long since been finalized, the contracts bid and signed.

The president responded that it was time for her to go, Mr. Trump recalled later. “Kirstjen, I want to make a change,” he said.

The president said he would wait a week to announce her resignation, to leave time for a transition. But before Ms. Nielsen had left the White House that day, the word was leaking out. By evening, Mr. Trump was tweeting about it.

“Secretary of Homeland Security Kirstjen Nielsen will be leaving her position,” Trump wrote, “and I would like to thank her for her service.”

The dismissal was a turning point for Mr. Trump’s immigration agenda, the start of the purge that ushered in a team that embraced Mr. Miller’s policies.

Mr. Trump quickly dismissed Claire M. Grady, the homeland security under secretary, and moved Mr. McAleenan to take Ms. Nielsen’s old job. Within two months, Mr. Cissna was out as well, replaced by Kenneth T. Cuccinelli II, a former Virginia attorney general and an immigration hard-liner.

On Aug. 12, Mr. Cuccinelli announced that the government would deny green cards for immigrants deemed likely to become “public charges.” Nine days later, Mr. McAleenan announced regulations to allow immigrant families to be detained indefinitely.

In the months since the purge, the president has repeated his threat of placing tariffs on Mexico to spur aggressive enforcement at the border. Mr. McAleenan and Mr. Cuccinelli have embraced restrictive asylum rules. And the Pentagon approved shifting $3.6 billion to build the wall.

Mr. Trump has continued to face resistance in the courts and public outrage about his immigration agenda. But the people who tried to restrain him have largely been replaced.

In the interview with The Times this past summer, Mr. Trump said he had seriously considered sealing the border during March, but acknowledged that doing so would have been “very severe.”

“The problem you have with the laws the way they are, we can have 100,000 of our soldiers standing up there — they can’t do a thing,” Mr. Trump said ruefully.

This article is adapted from “Border Wars: Inside Trump’s Assault on Immigration,” to be published by Simon & Schuster on Oct. 8.

[catsdaydreams]

Repercussion

Okay, so its been forever since I’ve touched this story, needing to step away from everything for some self care, but its back, and so am I, ish. I cant promise to be super active because my life is in transition right now, but I can promise that even if it takes me a while I would NEVER leave a story on here without conclusion. So keep faith.

When the Crown Calls (Maxwell x mc x Liam)

Rating: M

@decisso @mfackenthal @ladynonsense My tags literally just quit after this. RIP. 

Catch up Here.

No seriously, its been a long time, catch up lol.

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I let out a small exhausted laugh. “Perhaps we should get dressed this time before Bertrand finds us.” I said, flipping over onto my back and letting Maxwell collapse onto my chest. “I think I’m good right here.” He said, resting on my bare breasts. “I love you.” He murmured again, pressing a kiss to my sternum. “I love you too.” I said content.

Liam watched Kendra leave the palace shortly after he left her suite. A pang of hurt ached across his chest, branching out like a poisonous vine drenched in jealousy. Liam had his suspicions about Max and Kendra for some time, constantly brushing them off as him being paranoid. However now he knew for sure that he was in a competition for her heart. Liam had dispensed two royal guards to tail Kendra from a distance at all times after the poisoning attempt at the ball. 

Liam had spent months while Kendra was comatose following every shred of evidence he could. However there simply wasn’t much to find. The only people that even knew that they would be out there alone had been Bastien, and Liam knew that Bastien was fiercely loyal to the royal family. However, Liam didn’t miss the way Bastien avoided looking directly into Kendra’s eyes that morning. He didn’t miss the way Bastien shuffled uncomfortably when Liam hand picked the guards for Kendra's detail. 

In his heart, Liam couldn’t ignore the suspicion coiling in the pit of his stomach. Once the car carrying Kendra off the palace grounds disappeared from view, he turned and proceeded to his study, where he summoned Drake. Liam was leaning against his mahogany desk, staring at the ground when the door clicked open. “I thought you put an end to these meetings once you fell madly in love with Kendra.” Drake said dryly, closing the door behind him. Liam ignored the pointed edge his comment held, “I need someone I can trust, because I don’t think I can trust Bastien any longer.” 

The two men’s eyes met, and Drake noticed the cracks behind the pools of blue staring back at him. “Ah, so you found out about Beaumont and Hernandez.” Liam rolled his eyes, “Can we discuss something other than my current romance situation? There is a security issue at court, I know that you have been training to become the next head of security. You may have to take that title a little sooner than we thought, I need you to be able to focus on the security of myself and the royal family. If you cant put your own feelings aside long enough to keep your charges safe, I may need to reconsider your future position.” Liam snapped. 

He knew it wasn’t fair to take his frustrations out on Drake, who had his own hurt and frustration to deal with. However lately any private conversations between the two seemed to always circle back around to the same subject. Drakes game of snarky remarks had grown very old to Liam, who had learned from a young age to put his own feelings aside for the sake of the crown. Drakes posture stiffened, and guilt flashed across his face momentarily before he bowed his head lightly to Liam. “Of course, I apologize. What is it that you needed to talk to me about.” 

Liam’s voice softened, “Leo abdicated, this was never our plan. We will always have the cabin.” Drake swallowed the emotions bubbling inside of him at Liam’s words, the small reprieve in his usual callousness towards Drake since the night that they had ended their stolen moments. Drake swallowed and composed himself, as Liam continued. “I think that Bastien may have tried to poison me. I don’t know why, or how, or at who’s discretion. But he attempted to assassinate the King. I have no choice but to promote you to the head of security and arrest him for treason, but before I do, I want to talk to him privately.”

Drake took this information in, listening to Liam’s plan. He gulped down the fear in the back of his throat, a small voice whispering in the back of his mind like a heartbeat, you’re not ready, you’re not ready. Once he had committed Liam’s plan to memory, he gave his oldest friend a firm handshake, and set out to put the pieces of their mouse trap into place.

Liam never leaves the study, lost in thought and waiting for Drake to text him that everything has been set up. He remembers a time before Leo abdicated, when the two of them would steal away to Drakes fathers cabin in the woods, forgetting the rest of the world and its trouble. Even if for just a short time. He even remembers how they continued once his brother abdicated and Liam was lined up for the throne. Swearing to each other in the early mornings that no wife would come between the two of them. Things changed when Kendra stepped into their lives, unbeknownst to her she was like a walking hurricane, leaving a path of destruction in everyone’s romantic affairs. 

Maxwell inevitably became the first to fall, the two of them spending two years alone at Ramsford. Maxwell teaching her all the ways of the court and how to act as a lady. He gave her a few pointers, but he never needed to teach her how to enthrall the crown prince, who’s interest had been peaked at the bar in New York. Drake and Liam came second. Both boys taking an immediate interest in the new girl at court. The girl who somehow managed to have a foot in both of their worlds, one with Liam where she understood class and how to play the game and the other with Drake, drowning whiskey and poking fun at the stiff traditions. A lady, but still a commoner. Hana too, having her own short time period where she idolized the new American. Kendra was independent, and blunt, two very american traits that Hana had never had the confidence to posses. Kendra taught her that confidence, and Hana became infatuated with her because of it. 

Liam remembered the last night that he spent tangled in Drake’s sheets. The way the two of them shared no words, and loved for the last time. Liam tried not to notice the tears staining Drakes pillow, his own heart crumbling in response as he got dressed to leave. Drake knew that his heart had ultimately been stolen, and that their time as lovers had come to an end. Liam confirming as much the next day, as he confessed his love for Kendra. 

The notification on his phone went off and he braced for Bastien's entry, the tan skinned man striding into the office right on cue, a few moments later. “Your majesty. You wanted to speak with me?” He said bowing his head to Liam. Liam straightened his shoulders looked Bastien in the eye, leaving no more than two feet between the two of them. “Yes. I need to know why you tried to poison me.” Liam said, having no energy left to be coy with him. If Bastien had attempted to poison the king, he showed no sign of it. 

“What ever do you mean, my king?” Bastien said eyes never leaving Liam’s. Liam faltered momentarily, he wondered for a moment if he had made the wrong assumption. He shook the thought from his mind, even if he had been wrong, he had to keep pressing. “Bastien, you are the only person that knew Kendra and I were going out there. My real question is how you managed to fumble the dosage. Or was that on purpose to send a message that the crown was vulnerable?” Liam questioned. Bastien didn’t waiver, “Your majesty, I think you need some rest. You have become paranoid.”

Liam pinched the nose of his bridge, Bastien was seemingly unaffected. He was too calm, Liam realized. He wasn’t even upset with the kings accusations. It was in this moment Liam knew that his most loyal guard was to blame, without a doubt. “The waitstaff saw you tamper with the glass, Bastien.” A bluff, but an effective one none the less. Bastien shuffled, almost unnoticeable, and the two men stared at one another in a long silence before Bastien finally broke it. “Your majesty, I beg of you to let the subject go.” He said softly, knowing in his heart of hearts that the game the three of them had been playing was unraveling quickly. It would only take Liam moments to realize that there was only one person who could order something like that of Bastien. 

“So who compromised your integrity.”Liam asked, his blue eyes piercing Bastien’s. “Was it the Son’s of Earth? Did you simply tire of the royal family? Who were you sending a message for? You are smart enough to poison me fully if you attempted to, so the dosage couldn’t have been a mistake.” Bastien frowned, Liam hadn’t connected the dots yet. “I wasn’t compromised I was following orders.” The Kings orders to be exact, orders Bastien couldn’t refuse. Liam’s gaze hardened, his sick dying father would have no reason to poison him, he concluded that Bastien had to be lying to cover his tracks. Liam sighed heavily when Drake knocked on the door softly before rushing in, catching both men off guard. “I apologize for the interruption your majesty, but Lady Kendra has gone missing.”

Liam, having watched Kendra drive off knowing she was headed to Ramsford, ignored the intrusion. “You cant honestly expect me to believe the the King father wanted me poisoned.” He stated, watching Bastien’s body language intensely. Bastien sighed, “I do as my King commands, as it is absolute. He is the only person to be able to order me to do such things. King father told me to slip you just enough to make you faint, however he wouldn’t tell me anything more as far as motives go.” Bastien relented. He hadn’t wanted any part of this, but the Kings order is absolute and he had no choice. Liam was his King now, and his word was just as absolute as his fathers before him.

Liam’s jaw clenched at Bastien’s accusation. The idea that his father would do such a thing made no sense to him, what reason would his father have to poison him half way? Liam’s mind began to spin and turn with the possibilities. “Drake, have Bastien arrested until I can further decide what to do with him and the information he has brought me.” He said distractedly, trying to piece together a motive for Bastien’s actions. Two more royal guards came and escorted Bastien out, and Liam noticed that Drake didn’t leave with them. He looked to the brown haired man expectantly, “And Kendra?” Drake asked gauging the Kings response. Liam shook his head, “She isn’t missing. She’s simply gone to Ramsford to talk to Maxwell. I saw her off this morning.” 

Drake stood uncomfortably in the presence of his childhood friend and lover, knowing exactly how well he would take this news. “No, Liam. Someone grabbed her at the train station. The small team of guard you attached to her was able to stop the attempted kidnappers, but they can’t find Lady Kendra anywhere. Local authorities are looking for her as well.”

Tensions were high at the palace as the four friends tried endlessly to reach either Max or Kendra, none successful. Liam hadn’t stopped pacing since Drake had broken the news to him. Olivia, Hana, and Drake eyed him nervously as they monitored their phones and the news, desperate for any information. “Some one really has it out for that girl.” Olivia said callously, earning her a side glare from Drake. She rolled her eyes, “honestly, its a miracle shes survived this long. We’re all thinking it, I’m just the only one saying it.” Hana walked over to Liam and put a hand on his shoulder, stopping his pacing. “She’s going to be okay. Her phone is probably on silent, or dead.” She said, trying to ease the mans fear. 

Hana’s phone rang loudly from the table, and all four of their eyes landed on it. “Its Kendra!” Drake exclaimed, reaching out for the phone. Liam was faster, answering it in the blink of an eye. “Kendra?” Liam said, feeling his heart pounding in his chest. He just needed to know that she was okay, his mind still reeling from his earlier encounter. “Λυπάμαι, δεν είμαι φίλος σου. αυτό το τηλέφωνο ήταν στο δάσος;” A confused voice answered him. Liam’s shoulders sank, responding to the man on the other side of the line asking him to turn the phone over to the police. The man quickly agreed and hung up. 

“Was that her? I don’t understand greek, what did you say?” Hana questioned, as soon as the words left her mouth she noticed her friends expressions and knew that it couldn’t have been Kendra. “A citizen found her phone in the forest. He dialed the last number to call her and reached us.” Liam said, and she patted his shoulder reassuringly.

Maxwell’s 80′s themed ringtone woke both of us out of the deep post coital slumber we had both been in. Max reached for the phone that had somehow been shoved into the couch cushions and answered the call. “Yellow.” He said chipperly, I couldn’t make out the words coming through the phone call as I got up and picked up my clothes from around the living room, but judging by Max’s side of it, I could only assume Liam and the others had heard about the kidnapping attempt. Max glanced at me before transitioning into greek to argue with the person on the other end of the line. I debated on if I was going to take a shower or not before we headed back to the palace. I had already been gone longer than I intended and I knew that it would be safest at the palace rather than in Ramsford. Maxwell looked troubled as he hung up the phone.

“I imagine that was the rest of the gang on the phone.” I said, feeling more at ease as Max wrapped his arms around me. “Yeah, they are livid that we didn’t call sooner. I explained that you were upset and wanted to rest, and we didn’t think to check the phone.”  I leaned into his warm chest, breathing deeply. It seemed our moment of reprieve was over, and it was back to the never ending insanity of the Cordonian court. Almost as if reading my mind Maxwell brushed a piece of my hair out of my face as he pressed a kiss to my nose. “You know we don’t have to go back. You are entitled to a break, and can stay here as long as you want. We don’t have to go back to the court, even though Liam wants you too.” I sighed, it really was time for our reprieve to end. I had to tell Maxwell the reason I had come to Ramsford in the first place.

Maxwell looked at me, his emerald eyes shining and my heart broke a little. How could I tell this man that no matter how I felt about him, it wasn’t enough? That I intended to clear my name and marry Liam anyway? “I have to go back, Maxwell.” I watched the light dim in his eyes. Pain cracked behind them as the unspoken words clung to the air. “You chose him.” Max said, sliding his mask back into place. I looked down towards my feet, unsure of how to answer him. 

[roundtheworldrambles]

Hong Kong, China - Part 2

Day 67 – Hong Kong 

Waking up to an overcast morning, Christie and I pulled on our gym clothes and running shoes to begin the ascent up Victoria Peak. Starting at HKU and climbing to the summit, we followed the Lung Fu Shan Fitness Trail, winding up the 552-metre mountain. After far too much time on overnight trains and in transit over recent weeks – it was nice to stretch our legs and get some exercise in! (And not to mention…work off a bit of our dim sum consumption! ☺)

Victoria Peak

As we arrived at Victoria Peak, we were quickly joined by swarms of tourists emerging from the tram – and were very happy about our decision to hike! Stopping for a quick matcha break, we strolled around the walkways near the peak, taking in the impressive skyline and harbour below. 

Using Christie’s MapsMe app (our trusty guide throughout China – showing trails as well as roads!), we began to hike down the mountain, rapidly leaving the buzzing crowds behind. As we descended, we wound along Old Peak Road through the forest, passing a series of lavish properties– with sky-high prices to match the equally stunning views! Although the descent was a bit of a kneeknacker for us, walking provided us with a fascinating glimpse into this prestigious, secluded neighbourhood. 

Nearing the Mid-Levels, we decided to “off road” it a bit more, taking a hard left onto one of the tiny trails shown on MapsMe. This narrow, overgrown footpath was unusual, located in the forest directly above a block of pastel apartments hugging the base of the mountain. We followed the path along a crumbling channel, leading to a landslide of rocks, and up steep steps hewn from bare rocks. Long chains lined the vertical ascent, providing much needed stabilization. The trail seemed a bit mysterious to us at the time – with very little traffic, many technical sections and overgrown fences. I later Googled this trail – and with the limited info I could find, it appears that this was a section of the Cheung Po Tsai Ancient Trail – a secret path used by an infamous pirate (of the same name) several centuries ago! 

Mid-Levels

Taking a break the afternoon, I amped myself up to wash my clothes for the first time since Greece, as I had gotten pretty creative with “acceptable” outfits over the previous days – the definition of “clean” becoming more and more loosely interpreted. Having passed 2 months of travel at this point, my makeup routine had been pared down to sunscreen and mascara, my hair was usually in a braid, and I was repeating outfits constantly. Low maintenance was taking on a new meaning for me, and I was beginning to relish the minimalism and simplicity of long-term travel. There was something incredibly freeing about knowing exactly what belongings I had with me (down to the number of socks!), and exactly what purpose they served. Any new item to be added had to be carefully considered, as I would ultimately be carrying it. 

I also began to notice a few other inner changes as I moved beyond the trip’s two-month mark. The nervous anticipation I often experienced when arriving in a new country or city began to wane. In the past, I would usually deal with this by hyper-planning an itinerary, knowing exactly how I would spend my few weeks off, and mapping out every step I would take to get from point A to B to C. Although my organized, planning personality never switched off, around this time I noticed that my threshold for dealing with uncertainty and unpredictable situations had significantly increased. As I become more at ease in the new and wonderful places I was discovering, I also noticed a change in my ability to be present – something I have always struggled with. The combined simplicity and novelty that comes with long-term travel felt like its own kind of medicine, encouraging a lifestyle where I could “stop and smell the flowers” (or in Hong-Kong’s case, incense and dim-sum!) and really appreciate the current moment. In my trip journal, I promised myself that I would bring elements of this lifestyle back to Canada with me. 

As the evening fell, Christie and I walked over to Central Pier, where we boarded one of the historic Star Ferries to cross the harbour to Kowloon. Chatting with our parents earlier in the afternoon, they told us that they also took the same ferry on their world trip – over 30 years earlier! Turning back while we traversed the busy waterway, the sparkling skyline of Hong Kong rose behind us, framed by the dark silhouette of Victoria Peak. Massive neon billboards and light displays were mounted on many of the skyscrapers, their vivid colours reflected in the rippling water of the harbour. 

Symphony of Lights

Disembarking at the pier, we walked along the Tsim Sha Tsui waterfront on time to catch the Symphony of Lights, Hong Kong’s nightly light, music and laser show. Almost 50 buildings on both sides of Victoria Harbour are involved with this nightly show, setting the city and water ablaze with sparkling light displays, choreographed to music from the Hong Kong Philharmonic Orchestra. Incorporating traditional Chinese flutes and strings, and Mandarin singers, the Symphony of Lights was completely mesmerizing. 

Following the light show, Christie and I began to explore the neighbourhood of Tsim Sha Sui, meandering along wide, modern boulevards packed with luxury retailers, navigating through a scramble of shoppers hurrying in every direction. One of the main shopping areas of Hong Kong, this neighbourhood is home to many high-end flagship stores, often with long lines trailing outside their entrances. Hong Kong’s reputation as being a “city that never sleeps” was perfectly exemplified in this neighbourhood, as the crowds only seemed to grow as the evening went on. Wandering away from the large shopping crowds, Christie and I stopped for our final dinner together in Hong Kong, before she returned to Canada the next morning! 

Tsim Sha Tsui

Day 68-69 – Hong Kong  

After a glamorous breakfast of microwave noodles (our umpteenth of the trip!) Christie boarded the metro to the airport. I missed her almost immediately. The two of us had travelled together many times before, but nowhere as big or as different as China. It was pretty amazing having her around for this part of my trip – and aside from our not-so-occasional bickering (as sisters do!) we make pretty good travel buddies. Christie always challenges me to think outside of the box, and no conversation or topic is ever off the table. I’m very thankful to have her as my sister, and know for a fact that having her around makes me a better person. This trip was no exception. 

Fortunately, I had blocked most of my remaining 3 days in Hong Kong for a bit of R&R and trip planning – which I quickly realized how much I needed. Scanning through the news after Christie left, stories had begun to pour in about Mount Agung, an active volcano in Bali - which was erupting! A large plume of volcanic ash had risen several kilometres into the air around the volcano, disrupting hundreds of flights in the region. Somewhat problematic, as I was set to fly to Bali, Indonesia in less than 72 hours! Given that the airports in both Bali and Lombok looked set to close, I jumped into action - brainstorming alternative plans, and crowd-sourcing other suggestions for diving destinations between China and Australia. 

I ended up re-routing my flights to Cairns, Australia, skipping over Indonesia completely. I was very keen to do my open-water diving certification at this point in my trip, and was thrilled to be returning to the reef. The Campbell family had taken a trip there over a decade earlier, where we spent a few days snorkelling in some of the most spectacular waters I have ever seen. Fortunately I was able to find last minute accommodation in Cairns, and crossed my fingers that I would be able to enrol in a dive school once I arrived. 

Day 70 – Lantau Island

Well rested for my final day in China, I ventured down to the Central Pier in the morning to board a high-speed ferry to Lantau Island, the largest outlying island of Hong Kong. A mountainous area scattered with fishing villages along its shores, Lantau Island has a much lower population density than the rest of Hong Kong – and was a welcome reprieve from the hustle and bustle of the city. Travelling to Lantau Island by Ferry was equally enjoyable – the weather was mild enough to sit above deck and admire the city’s skyline as it got progressively smaller. 

Star Ferries

Arriving at Mui Wo Ferry Pier, I boarded a local bus to the fishing village of Tai O. Winding through the luscious forest around Lanteau Peak, we passed by the beautiful sandy beaches of Pui O and Tong Fuk along our route. After a scenic 20-minute journey across the island, our bus arrived at the picturesque fishing community. An incredible example of a traditional Southern Chinese fishing village, stilt homes lined a narrow ocean inlet, built to withstand the rise and fall of the tide. Framed by a backdrop of mountains, Buddhist temples and shrines could be seen in the distance, nestled into the surrounding hillside. 

Tai O Fishing Village

My strongest memory of Tai O was the smell – as it was indeed a very active fishing port. As one vendor joked with me, “good for the eyes, not so much the nose!” Meandering through the narrow stilted streets and rickety bridges, I took in all the harbour activity, with small boats putting in and out of the channel, packed full with nets and rigging. Tai O continues to operate a traditional seafood market, with massive quantities of fresh and dried seafood for sale (from a full-size, dried shark, to pufferfish that have been blown up and turned into decorative items!). Small boat tours are also frequent, taking visitors out into the nearby ocean to search for the rare pink dolphins that inhabit the waters. 

I walked through the length of the seafood market to the footbridges entering the stilted neighbourhoods. Leaving the tourism hub behind, I spent the next half hour wandering the footpaths and bridges lining the channel, circling back around to my starting point. I appreciated getting to see the community that has been built around this one industry of fishing. Even away from the main market, fish were everywhere – drying on corrugated tin roofs, being hauled out of boats, and being cleaned and filleted in people’s homes, their doors wide open to the footpaths outside. 

Dried Fish and Seafood for Sale in Tai O

Returning to the main village, I boarded another bus, which began to wind up the mountains to visit the highlands of Ngong Ping, located near Lantau Peak. Most famously known for being home to the Tian Tan Buddha, or “Giant Buddha”, this sacred site was easily visible long before we arrived – with the bronze Buddha standing at 34-metres tall! 

Walking through Ngong Ping Village towards the Giant Buddha, and through the gates of Po Lin Monastery, I was surprised to immediately notice cows – everywhere. Grazing next to the landscaped walkways of the monastery, the cows were thoroughly unperturbed by the passing groups of people. In Buddhist Culture, cattle are considered to be sacred, and it was clear in Ngong Ping that they had the run of the place! 

Tian Tan Buddha

I arrived at the base of the stone stairs leading to the Giant Buddha, and began to climb the 268 steps to the top. Altars filled with smoking incense lined the stairs, with Buddhists stopping every few steps to bow and pray. Facing North, this Buddha is pointed towards China, intended to act as a guardian for the mainland. Arriving at the top of the stairs to the Tian Tan Buddha, the scale was more impressive than ever. With an incredible view over the lush landscape of Lantau Island and the nearby Po Lin Monastery, the Giant Buddha is sitting cross-legged on a lotus throne, circled by six smaller bronze statues, facing the Buddha to provide offerings. Meandering the walkways and grounds of the monastery for some time, I caught a bus back to Mui Wo, boarding a ferry back into the city just as evening fell. 

Bronze Statues providing offerings to the Buddha

For my final evening in Hong Kong, I headed out to Causeway Bay, one of the busiest neighbourhoods on the island – and centered around one thing: SHOPPING. I hopped off the MTR in Causeway Bay and first headed to Hong Kong’s Times Square. Although much smaller than its NYC counterpart, seeing this neon-lit square at night was impressive, packed with high-rises filled with thousands of shops and boutiques, multi-storied shiny billboards, and a blur of video screens in every direction. “Overwhelming” would be an understatement when describing this neighbourhood! The massive, vertical malls in this compact area had everything one could possible want to buy – from high-end fashion, electronics, skin products, novelty snacks, vintage finds – the list goes on and on. I spent the next few hours going up and down on elevators in different buildings, getting thoroughly lost in the consumer chaos around me. Amidst Hong Kong’s shopping pandemonium, I was thrilled to stumble across Triple O’s – a favourite Vancouver burger joint, and a welcome taste of home after almost three months on the road. Not a bad way to end the China leg of my trip!

Times Square in Causeway Bay