#Emotional Blackmail

[crazycatsiren]

Your character and personality aren't defined by which fundraiser you reblog or don't reblog on Tumblr, by the way.

Like, for reals, no social media platform is a judgement of ethics and morality.

We have lives offline.

The internet is just the internet. It doesn't determine who we are as people.

[furiousgoldfish]

me as a child when I realized my parents will punish me by withdrawing all parental love and affection: FINE! I don't WANT any! I literally don't want anyone to look at me or hug me ever again! I wouldn't accept it if offered! I don't need any of you! I don't need to be loved by ANYONE!!!

me thinking back on it now: it was the correct thing to not give in to such blackmail. But I did need love, like all children do, and nobody thought I didn't, no matter what I said back then. I shouldn't have been in a situation where someone tried to control me by taking away basic care from me. I stubbornly tried not to have needs but nobody was fooled. I was emotionally abandoned and dealt with it the best way I could back then. I needed actual parents, not those sadistic clowns.

[family-trauma]

There's nothing really subtle about it, atleast what I'm facing.

[sadhappylady]

Can we also talk a little about Kristina this season?

The manipulation and emotional blackmailing of Wille had me so furious!

Calling him to say she cannot handle this anymore! What about Wille? How is he supposed to handle it? He also lost Erik, and in addition he was outed to the world in such a horrenduous way, and then he was pushed into the closet and lost Simon because of that. And even if he won Simon back, he is under constant pressure.

And Kristina has the audacity to put the responsibility of the Crown on his shoulders! To carry alone, with no support.

I know she is grieving and that she is trying her best. But her best is not good enough!

The way I screamed when Wille called her out on her bad parenting!

[inevitablysomber-dark]

Under The Radar 1

Started a new AU called Affectionate Obsession, with Steve Rogers as the first Character Story Series to be told I hope you all enjoy and don't be afraid to tell me what you think.

Dark! Steve Roger x Kiwi! Reader

Warnings:

This story contains themes of emotional manipulation, power imbalance, dubious consent, toxic relationships, and psychological control. It deals with difficult subjects such as forced dependency and mental/emotional abuse. Reader discretion is advised.

Description: Kiwi thought she had her life under control—until a chance invitation to the Maldives from her former friend pulls her into a web of manipulation and control. What starts as a luxurious vacation turns into a slow descent into captivity as Steve, the wealthy man funding her escape from reality, begins to tighten his grip on her life. Now trapped in a toxic relationship where affection becomes control, Kiwi must navigate a world where every decision is made for her, every boundary crossed, and escape seems impossible.

Is it too late to reclaim her freedom, or will she succumb to the life Steve has crafted for her?

Story Masterlist

The low hum of the factory machinery buzzed in my ears as I sat in the breakroom, staring at the sad sandwich I’d slapped together this morning. How did I end up here? After years of hard work and late-night study sessions, my Finance degree didn’t seem to mean anything anymore. Instead of crunching numbers and living the life I’d dreamed of, I was here—packaging cardboard boxes and watching my future slip away.

I glanced down at my phone, a knot forming in my throat. Rent was coming up in two weeks, and I had no idea how I was going to scrape the money together. The thought of moving back in with my parents twisted my stomach in knots. No way could I go back to their judgmental looks, the snide remarks about my life choices, or their constant need to belittle everything I’ve done. I'd rather sleep on a park bench than deal with that.

My phone buzzed on the table, jolting me from my thoughts. I looked down at the screen and felt my heart sink a little deeper.

Sharon.

Of all the people who could be reaching out, she was the last person I expected—or wanted—to hear from. We hadn’t spoken since graduation, and that was by design. Things between us hadn’t ended well, and the fact that she was contacting me now couldn’t mean anything good.

With a sigh, I swiped to answer. "Hello?"

"Wow, you actually picked up," Sharon's voice dripped with that same smugness that always made me grit my teeth. "I wasn’t sure if you were still alive."

I rolled my eyes, immediately regretting answering. "Yeah, still kicking. How are you?" I shot back, not even trying to hide my sarcasm.

"Fabulous, of course." Her voice was so sugary sweet it made my stomach churn. "Anyway, I’ll get to the point. A few of us are going on a trip—Maldives. One-month private villa. You should come."

I blinked, trying to process what she’d just said. A month-long vacation in the Maldives? Out of nowhere?

"Uh… I don’t think I can," I muttered, the discomfort rising up my spine. "I’m working right now, and I can’t afford a trip like that."

There was a brief silence, followed by Sharon’s familiar, annoyed huff. "Steve’s paying for everything, so don’t worry about that."

As if money was the only issue. I shook my head, feeling my frustration rise. "It’s not just about money. I can’t take off from work for two months."

"Why not?" she snapped, sounding genuinely confused, like the concept of having to work to survive was foreign to her. "Just quit."

I almost laughed at how ridiculous she sounded. "I can’t just quit, Sharon. I need this job. Some of us actually have bills to pay."

"Whatever," she sighed, clearly losing interest. "Look, if you change your mind, you’ve got three months to figure it out. We’re leaving in July."

I clenched my jaw, fighting back a smart remark. "I’ll let you know."

And with that, she hung up.

I stared at the phone, my mind spinning. Why now? Why was Sharon suddenly interested in inviting me on this extravagant trip after all this time? After everything that happened?

Shoving the phone back into my pocket, I shook off the nagging feeling. Whatever she and her clique were up to, I wasn’t about to fall for it. Not this time.

I had more pressing things to worry about—like making it through the rest of my shift without falling apart.

***

Three weeks after Sharon’s call, I found myself standing in the manager’s office, trying to make sense of the words coming out of her mouth.

“Budget cuts,” Diane said flatly, as if that explained everything.

“But I’m the only one being fired,” I pointed out, confusion mixing with anger. “How does that make sense?”

Diane shrugged, clearly uninterested. “It’s just how things are.”

I knew better than to push back too much, but it still gnawed at me. Budget cuts? No way. This factory wasn’t exactly rolling in dough, but I’d seen plenty of new hires lately. So why me?

As I walked out of her office, I thought back to the time I’d corrected Diane on… well, something trivial. She’d been going on about a new process we had to follow, and I’d pointed out a mistake in her instructions. It wasn’t even that big of a deal. I remembered she’d gone all red in the face, tight-lipped, and I could tell she didn’t appreciate being corrected, but it seemed like she was over it.

Did she have something to do with this? It didn’t make sense. I was practically invisible at the factory. Why would she care?

Still, it stung. Whatever the real reason, I was out of a job.

A few weeks later, my luck hadn’t changed. I spent every waking moment job hunting, praying something would come through before the end of the month. But it didn’t.

When it became clear I couldn’t afford my rent anymore, I had to make a decision: drown in debt or swallow my pride and move back in with my parents.

I hated the idea. But bills were piling up, and the pressure was too much, so I chose my parents.

The moment I walked through the door with my boxes, my mom took it upon herself to help me unpack—which, of course, meant a nonstop commentary on all the poor decisions I’d made in life.

“I told you this would happen,” she said, folding one of my shirts with military precision. “You never listen. You should have stayed closer to home, gone into something practical. But no, you wanted to follow your dreams.”

I clenched my jaw, biting back the urge to snap. It was always the same speech: how I should’ve done this, should’ve done that. As if I didn’t feel bad enough already. But I stayed quiet, nodding along while she reminded me just how incapable I was.

I’d been living with my parents for a month and a half now, and I was at my breaking point. Their constant nagging, the tension, the way they hovered over me—it was driving me insane. I needed out.

One week before Sharon and the girls were set to leave for the Maldives, I caved. Desperation took over, and I found myself texting Sharon, asking if there was still space for me on the trip.

Honestly, I didn’t expect her to respond. But then, there it was: a yes. Along with a list of things to pack and an address of where to meet them.

I stared at my phone in disbelief for a second. I was actually going to do this. Anything to get away from my parents.

When I told them about the trip, their reaction was immediate approval. Of course, the second they heard Sharon and Steve would be there, they were practically pushing me out the door.

“Oh, that’s wonderful!” my mom beamed. “Sharon’s such a successful young woman. You should really try to get back on her good side.”

I rolled my eyes. Of course they loved Sharon. She was everything they wanted me to be—successful, put together, and always in the right circles. And Steve? They practically worshiped the guy. The heir to a tech empire. Who wouldn’t?

“Just make sure there’s no more falling outs this time,” my dad added, like I’d ever intentionally ruined things with Sharon.

I remembered the first time I told them about our fallout. They acted like I’d told them I was addicted to drugs, and they never really forgave me for it.

Now, it seemed I was being given a second chance to make everything “right.”

And honestly? I wasn’t sure I wanted to, but at this point, I’d do anything to get away from here.

***

I couldn’t shake the feeling that this whole trip might be some elaborate prank. I half-expected to show up and find a hidden camera crew waiting to embarrass me. But here I was, standing in front of a private jet, struggling with my heavy luggage.

“Need a hand?” a man’s voice cut through my thoughts. Before I could even respond, he was already taking my bags, prying them from my grip with an ease that felt almost dismissive.

"Uh, thanks," I muttered, watching him haul the luggage up the steps of the jet. Was this even real?

Inside, Sharon was waiting, her bright smile as fake as I remembered. “Kiwi! Oh my God, look at you!” Her eyes swept over me, lingering on all the wrong places. “Still… you,” she added, her tone too sharp to be anything close to nice.

“Yeah,” I replied, biting back the instinct to roll my eyes. Same old Sharon. Still poking at me for being shorter and curvier than the rest of them. “Still me.”

I looked to Natasha, Jane and Pepper and waved before following them into the Private Jet.

Sharon smirked, gesturing toward the jet's sleek interior. “Welcome aboard. I bet it’s been a while since you’ve ridden in anything like this?”

I didn’t bother with a response. There were a million reasons why I didn’t fly on private jets, one being that I couldn’t afford too, but it wasn’t worth the energy. I followed Sharon inside, catching sight of the group lounging around like they belonged there.

Steve was the first to greet me, his golden hair practically glowing in the soft light as he flashed that easy smile. “Hey, Kiwi,” he said, patting the seat beside him. His tone was friendly—maybe a little too friendly—but I hesitated. Before I could move, Natasha grabbed my arm and steered me toward a different seat.

“We saved you a spot over here!” Natasha chimed, squeezing my arm with just a bit too much excitement. She shot a quick glance at Steve, then back at me, like there was something I wasn’t picking up on.

Peter was already seated across from me, leaning back with a casual confidence that made me uncomfortable. His dark eyes met mine for a split second, and he gave a small nod. There was nothing awkward or out of place about him—if anything, he looked like he belonged here. Like this was exactly where he wanted to be.

“Glad you could make it,” Peter said, his voice smooth and low. There was something about the way he said it, something that felt off, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.

The conversations around me were light, but every now and then, I’d catch something—a quick glance between Steve and Peter, a soft chuckle from one of the boys, or Sharon’s eyes sparkling with something that wasn’t amusement. It felt like they were all in on something, like the air was thick with an inside joke I wasn’t a part of.

I tried to brush it off, joining in on the small talk and ignoring the strange tension. But with every shared look between the boys, every lingering gaze from Sharon, that unease just kept creeping back.

It was like they were waiting for something.

Something I wasn’t in on.

***

I stirred awake to the gentle shake of my shoulder and a soft voice calling my name. “Hey, Kiwi, we’ve landed,” Natasha said, with a small grin, wiping her own hands on her lap. “You’ve got a little drool there.”

Still groggy, I wiped at the side of my mouth, feeling my face flush as I tried to erase the evidence of my nap. I sat up, blinking a few times, trying to get my bearings. When I looked around, I noticed the plane was emptier than before.

“Where is everyone?” I asked, my voice still thick with sleep.

Natasha stretched, her arms raising above her head. “They already headed to the villa. I guess they didn’t want to disturb you.”

I glanced over at Peter, still slouched in his seat, eyes closed, completely knocked out. The soft rise and fall of his chest made him look so peaceful, like the weight of the world wasn’t even a concern. He hadn’t noticed anything either.

Natasha smirked, shrugging. “I felt bad leaving you two alone, so I stayed back.”

I looked between Natasha and Peter, my stomach twisting. “Oh… right,” I muttered, feeling a familiar awkwardness settle over me. My head dropped slightly. It wasn’t the first time I felt like an outsider with these people, but moments like this seemed to make it worse.

Natasha didn’t say anything, but she gave me a look, one that spoke volumes without needing words. Then she moved toward Peter, giving him a nudge. He jolted awake, eyes wide as if he had no idea where he was. “Where is everyone?” he asked, his voice a little too casual.

Natasha repeated the same thing she told me, though this time, there was a teasing edge to her tone. “They left for the villa, but I didn’t want to leave you two sleeping on the plane.”

Peter ran a hand through his messy hair, giving a lazy stretch before standing up. I wondered if I was overthinking things, but Natasha’s earlier look stayed in the back of my mind.

“Alright, let’s catch up,” Peter said, flashing that easygoing smile of his.

As soon as I stepped off the plane, the warm, salty air hit me, carrying the scent of the ocean and sun. Waiting outside was a sleek black car, ready to take us to the villa. Peter led the way, while Natasha shot me an encouraging smile, like she knew exactly what I was thinking but wouldn’t say it out loud.

But once we got in the car, the excitement that had been bubbling inside me during the plane ride started to fizzle. Reality was sinking in, fast. I stared out the window as the scenery blurred by, and that familiar, sinking feeling crept in.

What am I even doing here?

Every part of me was screaming that this was a mistake. I didn’t belong here. These people had made me feel out of place back then—why would now be any different? I had spent so much time trying to distance myself from them, so why was I here now, in the same circle that made me feel like I wasn’t enough?

Was it going to be like this the entire trip? A constant feeling of not fitting in? The idea of spending two months like this, constantly questioning why I came, made my chest tighten.

I imagined stopping the car right there, getting out, and figuring out a way to go home. But how? I came here with them, and I was stuck until they decided to leave. There wasn’t exactly an easy way out.

I sighed, feeling a knot form in my throat as the tears threatened to well up. But I fought them back, forcing myself to take a deep breath. ‘Hold it together,’ I told myself. There was no way I was going to fall apart in front of Peter, Natasha, or anyone else.

I stared out at the horizon, the villa still nowhere in sight, trying to clear the anxious storm swirling inside me. I would just have to figure this out somehow. I always did.

***

When Natasha, Peter, and I finally arrived at the villa, the others had already claimed their rooms. The place was breathtaking—open spaces, stunning ocean views, and a luxurious atmosphere that screamed money. I was almost tempted to be impressed until Sharon appeared, smug as ever, pointing to the far side of the villa.

"Natasha, Peter, your rooms are down the hall," she said with a wave of her hand before turning to me. Without a word or explanation, she just motioned to the other side of the villa, not even bothering to look me in the eye.

I stood there for a second, waiting for...something. Maybe an explanation, a reason for the sudden isolation, but nothing. No one said anything. Natasha gave me a quick, apologetic glance, but even she stayed quiet.

“Guess I'm on my own then.”

I walked in the direction Sharon had pointed, my suitcase bumping against my heels as I made my way down the corridor. The villa was massive, sprawling in all directions, but as I got closer to my room, I noticed how much plainer and utilitarian the space became. The opulence of the rest of the villa seemed to vanish the farther I went.

And then I found it—a small, one-off room that looked like it had been tacked on as an afterthought. My stomach twisted as I stepped inside. It didn’t have the same elegance as the other rooms I’d seen. The furniture was basic, the decor minimal, and there was no sign of the luxury that was displayed on the other side of the villa.

It looked like a remodeled servant’s quarter. I knew the vibe all too well. Being around people like Sharon, I had seen enough servant quarters to know what one looked like, no matter how much they tried to pretty it up.

I stood there for a moment, soaking it all in. There had to be at least one or two other rooms left over in this massive villa, but I wasn’t given one of those. No, this room was chosen specifically for me. The message was loud and clear: *Know your place. *

I set my suitcase down with a sigh, biting back the frustration swelling in my chest. I should have expected this. I knew what I was getting into when I accepted the invite.

I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at my half-unpacked suitcase, trying to figure out a game plan for the next two months. The thought of spending all that time with these people—people who barely knew me, or worse, remembered me only for what I wasn’t—made my stomach twist. I didn’t want to be ignored the entire trip, but becoming a complete recluse would probably just make things worse. What if they just... left me behind?

The more I thought about it, the more frustrated I got. The walls seemed to inch closer, squeezing the air out of the room. My anxiety gnawed at me from the inside. Was this really worth getting away from my parents?

Before I could spiral any further, a light knock on the doorframe jolted me from my thoughts. I turned to see Natasha standing there with a soft smile and a casual “Hey.”

I forced a smile in return. "Hey," I said, trying to sound less flustered than I felt.

Natasha stepped inside, looking around the room before glancing back at me. “Nice room,” she commented.

I glanced at her, trying to figure out if she was joking. Was she being serious? Because this room—my room—was anything but nice. It was clearly the smallest, most tucked-away space in the entire villa. My little corner of the world, far from everyone else.

“Yeah,” I muttered, not sure what else to say.

“They’re about to get ready for lunch in like two minutes,” Natasha added, a little too breezily, as if she hadn’t noticed how awkward this all felt.

"Okay," I said, figuring that was her cue to leave. But instead of leaving, she sat down on the edge of the bed, her gaze still fixed on me, like she was waiting for something.

I shifted uncomfortably, unsure of what to do next. “Was there… something else?” I asked, hesitantly, trying to figure out what this impromptu visit was really about.

Natasha took a deep breath, still staring me down before stating “Sharon invited you to keep Peter busy.”

  I froze for a moment, blinking in disbelief as Natasha’s words settled in. "Wait… what do you mean I was invited to keep Peter busy?"

Natasha’s shifted uncomfortably, avoiding my gaze for a moment before facing me again "Look, it wasn’t meant to be a big deal. Sharon didn’t want things to be awkward, you know? If you didn’t come, there would've been an odd number, and Steve didn’t want to leave Peter behind."

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “So, I was invited to… what? Be Peter’s distraction?”

She shrugged, looking almost apologetic. "Well, it’s not like it’s a bad thing. You two are both nice people, right? It’s not like it was meant to offend you or anything"

I stared at her, still trying to process this. Peter? Then it hit me.

"What about Clementine?" I asked, my curiosity spiking. Last I heard, she and Peter were still together. Sure, she hadn’t been on the plane, but I figured maybe she was meeting up with us later. They were inseparable, after all.

Natasha shrugged again, but there was something uneasy in her eyes this time. "I don’t know. Sharon thinks they broke up, but…"

"But?" I pressed, sensing there was more to it.

She sighed, glancing away. "Clementine kind of just… disappeared. She stopped coming around, and Peter stopped talking about her. It’s weird, though. I don’t think anyone really knows what happened."

The room suddenly felt colder, and the walls seemed to close in again. Clementine disappeared? And now I was supposed to… what? Be Peter's distraction? None of this made sense, and yet, it felt like I was being pulled into something I wasn’t ready for.

I stared at Natasha, my mind spinning as she casually shrugged off the fact that Clementine had just disappeared. Clementine wasn’t the kind of girl to just vanish without a trace. She was... put together. Confident, smart, driven. The kind of girl who had her entire life mapped out from the moment she could walk.

Clementine had been a scholarship kid, just like me, but that’s where our similarities ended. She had that type of grace and poise that people like me only dreamed of. I remember seeing her around campus, always looking so polished, so in control, even though she came from a background as modest as mine. She had Peter wrapped around her finger—he adored her. At least, that’s what I’d always thought. They were practically inseparable.

The last time I heard anything about her, she was starting some fancy job after graduation, and Peter was supposedly gearing up to propose. That’s what people like Clementine did. She climbed the ladder, no matter where she came from, and she always seemed to have everything fall perfectly into place.

I couldn't wrap my head around this. How did she go from being Peter’s "forever" to just... disappearing? And now *I* was here? Supposed to "keep Peter busy" like some sort of replacement? None of this was making any sense.

Natasha’s voice brought me back to the moment. "Yeah, it was weird, right?" she continued, leaning back casually. "Peter just stopped mentioning her, like she never existed. He’s been pretty chill about the whole thing. But Sharon thinks they broke up, and... I don’t know, maybe she’s right. Maybe that’s why you’re here."

I shook my head, trying to process. "Clementine wouldn’t just disappear. She wasn’t like that. She had a plan, she was going to—"

Natasha cut me off. "Well, plans change, right? Maybe she wasn’t as perfect as you think. People always hide stuff. Maybe Peter saw something in her that no one else did."

The idea didn’t sit right with me. Clementine always seemed untouchable, like she had everything figured out. Now, she was just… gone. And here I was, caught in some ridiculous plan to "keep Peter busy."

I started gearing up to confront Sharon, but Natasha quickly stepped in front of me, stopping me before I could make it to the door.

"Where do you think you're going?" she asked, her voice edged with concern.

"I just want to have a little chat with Sharon," I replied, trying to sidestep her. But Natasha moved again, blocking me. She lowered her voice, clearly not wanting to make a scene.

"You're being ridiculous. Just calm down and think about this." Her eyes darted around nervously. "This is supposed to be a vacation. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. You could still enjoy yourself, Kiwi."

I paused and turned to face her, frustration bubbling up. "That was always the plan, but why did you have to tell me about Sharon’s little setup with Peter?" I tried to keep my voice steady, but it was sharp.

"I was just giving you a heads up," Natasha said softly, her eyes pleading.

I sighed, feeling the weight of everything pressing down on me. But I couldn’t just let it go. Without saying another word, I turned and marched toward Sharon and Steve’s room, Natasha trailing behind me, still begging me to think it through.

When I reached the door, I didn’t hesitate—I slammed it open. There, on top of Steve, was Sharon, practically tangled up with him. She scrambled off him the second she saw me, her face flushed. Steve, on the other hand, just stayed where he was, smirking like the whole thing was a joke to him.

"What the hell is your problem?" Sharon snapped, straightening out her clothes.

I didn’t flinch. "I want to go home."

I thought about calling her out right then and there, exposing the whole plan about setting me up with Peter. But I couldn’t do that—not without throwing Natasha under the bus. As much as I was irritated with her, I wasn’t ready to burn that bridge. So I kept it simple.

"This whole trip has been uncomfortable for me since I got on the plane. If it’s going to be like this for a whole months I don’t want to stay."

Sharon's expression shifted, her irritation melting into a smirk. "Sure, whatever."

Just as I was about to turn and leave, Steve’s deep voice cut through the air. "No."

I froze, watching as Steve got up from the bed, his frame towering over me. It was then that I realized how much bigger he was compared to me. He took a step closer, his eyes locked on mine.

"Why not?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Steve gave me a cold, calculated smile. "The itinerary is already set, Kiwi. We can’t just change everything around because one person is feeling a little uncomfortable."

I swallowed hard, trying to keep my voice steady. "I’ll pay you back," I offered, even though I knew it was a desperate move.

Steve laughed, a low, mocking sound. "You have over a hundred grand to pay back?"

My stomach dropped as he kept going. "I heard you were working at some factory for, what, twenty bucks an hour? I’m guessing since you suddenly had time for this trip, you lost that gig, huh?"

I could feel my face flushing as I tried to think of a way out. "I don’t need a private jet home," I said quietly. "Just a ride and an economy seat. I’ll figure it out."

Steve shook his head, stepping even closer. "You still owe me for your part of the trip," he said, his voice cold and final.

The reality of the situation hit me like a punch to the gut. I was trapped, and Steve was making damn sure I knew it.

Steve’s eyes softened as he stood in front of me, his posture relaxed, like he was trying to show he wasn’t a threat. He moved to block my way, but not in an intimidating way—it felt more like he was trying to keep me from making a mistake.

“You’re upset,” he said, his voice gentler now, almost coaxing. “I get it, Kiwi, I really do. But leaving right now? That’s not what you really want.”

I frowned, crossing my arms, my defenses already up. “I’m uncomfortable, Steve. Why would I stay?”

He sighed softly, brushing a hand through his tousled blonde hair. “Look, I get that things have been a little weird, but think about it. Going back home, what’s waiting for you there? Things weren’t exactly great, were they?”

I blinked, surprised by his words. It was vague, but it still struck a nerve. My chest tightened at the reminder of how suffocating life at home had been.

Steve stepped closer, but there was no malice in his movements. If anything, his presence felt like it was wrapping around me, enveloping me in something familiar yet foreign.

“Why rush back to all that?” he asked, his voice low, almost tender. “You’ve got a chance here to take a break, to really breathe.”

I swallowed hard, trying to maintain my composure. He wasn’t exactly wrong. I hadn’t been thrilled about the idea of going back to my parents’ house—being treated like I’d failed, like I was just in the way.

“That’s not the point,” I muttered, my voice not as strong as I wanted it to be. “I didn’t come here to feel like an outsider.”

Steve’s expression shifted, softening even more. He moved closer, but not threateningly—just enough to let me know he was serious. “You don’t have to. No one here is against you, Kiwi. You’ve got space here to be free, to enjoy yourself. You’re not stuck.”

His words, smooth and almost too perfect, started to chip away at my defenses. He wasn’t wrong. There was a kind of freedom here that I didn’t have back home. No hovering parents, no endless job hunt. Just sun, sand, and a chance to let go of the chaos.

“I just want you to give it a shot,” Steve continued, his voice barely above a whisper. “If, after a week, you still feel like this… I’ll make sure you get home. Personally. But for now, just relax. Let yourself enjoy it.”

I hesitated, my mind a tug-of-war between the stress and frustration that had been building and the calm that Steve was offering. He seemed so reasonable, so understanding. Was I just being paranoid? Maybe I needed to take a step back and see if things improved.

“Alright,” I said finally, my voice soft. “I’ll stay. But just for a week.”

A slow smile spread across Steve’s face, his satisfaction clear, though he tried to hide it behind his cool demeanor. “Good. I knew you’d see things my way.”

He stepped back, giving me space, and for a moment, I felt the weight lift just a little. Natasha, who had been quietly watching, caught my eye, but her expression was hard to read. Maybe I wasn’t seeing the full picture. Or maybe I was just overthinking everything.

Am I making the right call? ***

Steve moved me out of the servant’s quarters and into a small, luxury room. It wasn’t anywhere near the others, but it was closer to the pool in the back, so I figured I could make do. At least it didn’t feel like a forgotten corner of the house.

As I unpacked, Natasha stayed with me, folding clothes and organizing things like she was trying to smooth over the mess from earlier.

“I’m sorry,” she said suddenly, breaking the quiet. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye, not entirely sure if I believed her or if she was just trying to stay on good terms. The side-eye I gave her must’ve said enough because she added, “Seriously, Kiwi. I didn’t think it would be such a big deal.”

I sighed, my shoulders relaxing a little. “It’s fine,” I muttered. "Just... don’t spring shit like that on me again."

Natasha nodded, her expression softening. “I promise. I just want you to enjoy the trip. We all do.”

Enjoy the trip. Right. That’s what I kept telling myself. I needed to enjoy myself, no matter what. To hell with everyone else. To hell with Sharon’s power plays and the thinly veiled insults. To hell with my parents, and their endless nagging about how I should’ve been more like Sharon. To hell with all of it.

I glanced around my new room, taking in the sleek design, the comfortable bed, and the view of the pool. This wasn’t so bad. Maybe I could actually breathe for a while. Just focus on enjoying the sun, the beach, the space.

Yeah. Fuck everyone. I was going to make this trip mine.

[coochiequeens]

Great now transbians can force their way into lesbian dating apps

Daisy Dumas Thu 22 Aug 2024 20.18 EDT

A transgender woman who sued a women-only social media app for alleged gender discrimination has been awarded $10,000 plus costs after a judge found she had been indirectly discriminated against in a landmark decision that tested the meaning and scope of the Sex Discrimination Act.

Roxanne Tickle, a transgender woman from regional New South Wales, sued the social media platform Giggle for Girls and its CEO, Sall Grover, claiming she was unlawfully barred from using the app in 2021 after the firm and Grover said she was a man.

On Friday morning, the federal court justice Robert Bromwich said the respondents had considered “sex” to mean an unchangeable sex of a person at birth.

“These arguments failed because the view propounded by the respondents conflicted with a long history of cases decided by courts going back over 30 years. Those … cases established that on its ordinary meaning sex is changeable,” he said.

Onboarding to the app required the user to upload a selfie verified as female by KairosAI gender detection software and then by Grover.

Tickle was barred after initially being allowed to join the platform – which was shut down in August 2022.

The judge said the evidence did not establish Tickle was excluded from Giggle directly “by reason of her gender identity although it remains possible that this was the real but unproven reason”.

Rather, the indirect discrimination case succeeded because Tickle was excluded from the use of the social media app “because she did not look sufficiently female”.

Bromwich disagreed with Grover and Giggle’s arguments about the constitutionality of the protections for gender identity in the act – in line with the position of the sex discrimination commissioner.

Tickle had sought damages and aggravated damages amounting to $200,000, claiming that persistent misgendering by Grover resulted in constant anxiety and occasional suicidal thoughts.

See rest of article

[unwelcome-ozian]

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

“I once had a friend who practiced blackmail: perhaps we have all had one. Mine would sometimes ask me to cancel an engagement in order to type a manuscript for him, then arrive toward midnight, the piece still unwritten, and explain that I could type it between four and six A.M., and why was I pulling that long face; not only upon me but upon anyone who would play along, he made demand after absurd demand. “Just this once,” he would say, hinting darkly at “emergencies,” “deadlines,” “saving my life.” Our occasional protests would draw forth no retractions but only impassioned apologies, colored with vivid intimations of his undiagnosed ulcers. (Other times it was angina, and on his most imaginative days it was cirrhosis.)

“Some of us loved him and some of us did not, but whether we did or not we all acquiesced, helpless before the undertone his every plea carried: I need you. We acquiesced neither because he was charming (most of the time he was notably not) nor because he was a good and generous man (I think he probably was), but simply because he was bold enough or amoral enough or scared enough to make use of what exists in almost every heart: the potentially disabling fear of failure—in some cases neurotic, in others well-founded. I can't count on you, he would complain if thwarted, salting what was for some of us an ugly raw wound. We would see in his reproachful eyes, suddenly, the sister we had failed, the friend we had hurt—all the opportunities for goodness or glory or marks in heaven we had ever muffed, miserably. In brief, he could expose us to ourselves, and we quite flatly bought him off.”

Joan Didion

Vogue

[follies of god]

[karmaismyfriend]

Be aware of emotional blackmail 💜

☮️💟☯️

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Joseph Figliolia and Leor Sapir

Published: May 14, 2024

Ted Hudacko’s fate was sealed when his son’s court-appointed counsel, Daniel Harkins, wrote in his notes, “[t]hese parents have a choice, they can either continue to believe that they should be in total control of their child’s life or they can come to an understanding that those days are past . . . and give their children some independence and the ability to make some of their own decisions.”

The decisions in question? Whether to start Hudacko’s trans-identified 16-year-old son on a puberty-blocker regimen, followed by a course of estrogen.

As Abigail Shrier recounted in a 2022 City Journal investigative report, shortly after returning from a trip to New York with their two sons, Hudacko’s wife, Christine, told him that she wanted a divorce—and that their oldest son identified as transgender. During divorce proceedings, the presiding judge, Joni Hiramoto, granted Hudacko shared legal and physical custody of his youngest, but stripped him of all custody of his trans-identified son. Hudacko was concerned about administering experimental drugs and preferred to wait and see if his son’s gender issues might resolve on their own, as usually happens in such cases. To the California judge, this confirmed his unfitness as a father.

Hiramoto’s view is shared by a growing social movement bent on deeming parents “abusive” for declining to “affirm” their child’s “gender identity.” The idea that failing to endorse a child’s identity constitutes psychological abuse has spread across major American institutions and power centers and is reflected in recent court precedent, school “social transition” policies, journal publications, and several proposed state laws. Illinois’s House Bill 4876, for example, would redefine child abuse to include denying minors “necessary medical . . . gender-affirming services,” meaning parents who take a more cautious approach to their child’s dysphoria—an approach endorsed by a growing number of European countries—could become targets of investigation by the Illinois Department of Children and Families, with some even losing custody.

The Biden administration is seeking to entrench this redefinition of “abuse” with its recently published foster-care regulations. Guided by misleading characterizations and omissions of existing research, the new rules from the Administration for Children and Families (ACF) enshrine activist talking points about what constitutes a child’s “best interest,” with dire implications for foster children and parents alike.

Under the new rules, state agencies must follow specific protocols when placing “LGBTQI+” foster children in residential settings. Given what the ACF describes as the “specific needs” of these children, the agency requires federally funded providers to qualify as “Designated Placements” to serve such youth. To obtain this designation, providers must undergo specialized gender-identity and sexual-orientation training, facilitate access to “age- or developmentally appropriate resources, services, and activities that support the [child’s] health and well-being,” and “commit to establishing an environment that supports the child’s LGBTQI+ status or identity.” State foster agencies, to get federal funds, must develop and submit to the ACF case plans that ensure each child is placed in the most “appropriate setting available.”

Repeating popular activist talking points, the ACF claims that refusing to use a child’s chosen name and pronouns is linked with poor mental-health outcomes. The agency then follows a familiar pattern of citing self-reported survey data to show a supposed connection between “gender affirmation” and positive mental-health outcomes in trans-identifying kids. Surveys of this kind, however, cannot support the ACF’s conclusion that “significant mental health disparities” facing “LGBTQI+” youth “result from experiences of stigma and discrimination.”

One of the ACF’s sources, a research brief from the Trevor Project, claims that “LGBTQ youth” who say they have been in foster care had nearly three times greater odds than non-foster youth of reporting a past-year suicide attempt (notably, the final rules incorrectly cite the wrong Trevor Project survey for this claim instead of the correct survey cited in the proposed rules). The agency’s purpose in citing this study is to imply that youth suicidality is driven by how foster parents deal with the “gender identity” of those in their care. But the correlation has an alternative explanation: Youth who enter the foster system have more adverse childhood experiences (ACEs) than do non-foster children, a fact linked to increased suicidality. It’s possible that foster youth with more ACEs and higher suicidality are also more likely to adopt a transgender identity as a maladaptive coping mechanism. This makes sense, given the weakness of the “minority stress” hypothesis and the mounting evidence of elevated rates of co-occurring, suicidality-linked conditions in trans-identified populations that predate their trans-identification.

The U.K.’s recent Cass report bolsters this view. In that review, foster youth were overrepresented in the first clinical cohort seen at the nation’s gender-identity clinic, with nearly a quarter of referrals having spent time in foster care. A systematic review cited in the report found that among children referred to gender clinics, maternal mental illness (53 percent) and substance abuse (49 percent), paternal mental illness (38 percent) and substance use (38 percent), and combined neglect and abuse (11 percent to 67 percent), were very common—meaning that kids at the clinic likely had a higher-than-average number of ACEs, and may have identified as transgender as a coping mechanism.

A different survey question in the same ACF-cited brief tries to establish that trans-identified foster youth are “kicked out, abandoned, or run away” at disproportionate rates because of their “gender identity.” The survey question, though, conflates running away with being kicked out or abandoned; the actual reason for running away is not specified, and the results are not reported separately for each item. The group even disclaimed that its “data isn’t [sic] able to establish whether youth were kicked out, abandoned, or ran away prior to, during, or after being in foster care.” All we can conclude from this survey is that youth in foster care, who, for whatever reason, experience dissociation from their bodies or their sex are more likely to report negative family experiences compared with their peers.

Apparently unphased by these issues, the ACF used another Trevor Project survey to justify the agency’s claim that living in supportive homes results in fewer suicide attempts among trans-identified youth. Significantly, though, the Trevor Project report does not define the term “support,” effectively leaving it up to the child respondents to define it for themselves. Based on the most common ways youth in a separate item self-reported feeling supported—having parents use the correct names and pronouns, and supporting their gender expression—however, it seems reasonable to conclude that the respondents often conceive of “support” as affirming their identity. “Un-supportive” parents could therefore refer to anything—parents who are actually neglectful, or those who refuse to use their children’s preferred pronouns, or even those who do something as banal as not letting their children buy cell phones. Given the muddled inputs, the data are unpersuasive. Elsewhere in the document, the authors disclose that the self-reported suicide-attempt rate didn’t change much between youth who reported living in an a “gender-affirming” home (14 percent) compared to those who lived in a “not gender-affirming” home (20 percent).

Further, a child’s perceptions of “support” may be conditioned by his mental-health history, independent of his trans-identification status. A study by the Family Acceptance Project, for example, concedes that, “Independent of levels of family acceptance, transgender young adults reported lower social support and general health.” This is one weakness of the “minority stress” theory and the associated research, as noted by J. Michael Bailey: it never empirically tests for the possibility that the group in question has greater sensitivity to stressors to begin with, trading on the classic correlation/causation confusion. It is possible, therefore, that youth with more severe psychiatric issues are both more likely to identify as trans and to perceive and report familial situations as unsupportive.

The ACF later asserts that “research consistently shows that when LGBTQI+ youth experience supportive environments and services, they experience the same positive mental health outcomes as other youth.” It cites a Substance Abuse and Mental Health Administration (SAMHSA) report to justify this claim.

The citations SAMHSA uses to support its view that “access to gender affirmation can reduce gender dysphoria and improve mental and physical health outcomes among transgender and gender diverse people,” however, are two “conceptual framework” papers, not rigorous empirical studies. These documents cannot possibly provide the required evidence. Meantime, so-called social transition—publicly recognizing a trans-identifying child’s chosen identity, a practice the SAMSHA report endorses—has not been shown to be necessary in improving mental health in high-quality research. A 2023 study from the U.K., for example, found “no significant effects of social transition or name change on mental health status.” That finding is corroborated by a new systematic assessment published as part of the final Cass Review, which found no credible evidence that social transition is either helpful or harmful. Other emerging evidence suggests that “social transition” may interfere with the natural resolution of gender dysphoria and greatly increase the chances that a passing phase becomes the basis for lifelong and potentially harmful medical interventions.

The Cass Review alludes to this possibility, emphasizing that social transition is “an active intervention because it may have significant effects on the child or young person in terms of their psychological functioning and longer-term outcomes.” The Review recommends consulting a clinician when deciding whether or how to facilitate social transition for children. The Biden administration’s ACF, in contrast, instructs state recipients to ensure social transition on demand, no clinical input required.

The SAMHSA report—which, as mentioned, also endorses social transition—claims that “[e]xtensive research indicates that even just one supportive adult, such as a family member, teacher, or mental health provider, can have a positive impact on the mental health of youth of diverse sexual orientation and/or gender identity; such support can reduce adverse mental health impacts including suicide.” However, the research SAMHSA cites in support of this claim looked only at acceptance of sexual orientation, not of “gender identity.”

This points to another concern about social transition: the most common outcome of dysphoria is not a transgender identity, but homosexuality. As the DSM-5 observes, among childhood “desisters”—people who once identified as transgender or experienced dysphoria but later revert to identifying as their biological sex or cease having dysphoria—63 percent to 100 percent of natal males and 32 percent to 50 percent of natal females turn out to be gay.

The ACF guidance compares objections to child gender transition with “conversion practices” and claims that multiple professional organizations agree that gender-identity conversion efforts have been “rejected as harmful.” This comparison is spurious, however, and has been addressed by psychologist James Cantor in response to an American Academy of Pediatrics’ policy statement on “gender-affirming care,” which made the same argument. Cantor said that the AAP’s claim about “conversion” practices “struck me as odd because there are no studies of conversion therapy for gender identity. Studies of conversion therapy have been limited to sexual orientation, and, moreover, to the sexual orientation of adults, not to gender identity and not of children in any case.” He added, “it simply makes no sense to refer to externally induced conversion. The majority of children ‘convert’ to cisgender or ‘desist’ from transgender regardless of any attempt to change them.”

The ACF’s rules treat “LGBTQI+” youth as a monolith. They assume that research done on gay and lesbian youth applies seamlessly to youth who identify as transgender. This is a well-known strategy of transgender activism: to exploit the ignorance of well-meaning Americans about the differences between sexual orientation and gender dysphoria. 

The finalized rules also fail to address the actual problems in the U.S. foster system. Data on foster-care capacity show a critical shortage of available homes. State foster systems remain generally underfunded, and the average annual turnover rate at U.S. child welfare agencies is almost 30 percent. The ACF could have endeavored to solve these problems.

Instead, the Biden administration seeks to use federal policy to cajole foster families and agencies into affirming a child’s mistaken gender identity, entrenching the idea that failing to do so constitutes abuse. The policy will compound the challenges facing some of the nation’s most vulnerable children.

[norabh63]

Let me tell you a story. It is more like a short conversation between a mother who is a believer and a child who is an atheist.

Mother: I hope you take a religious oath like I did.

Child: No Mom, I won't because I am an atheist.

Mother: What?? Why are u an atheist?

Child: Because I don't think there is evidence proving a god's existence.

Mother: There is evidence.

Child: What is it?

Mother: It is you, us, and this world created by god.

Child: That still doesn't prove anything. You just claimed it.

Mother: (A bit aggressive) So You think god doesn't exist??

Child: I didn't say that. I said we don't have evidence to believe that claim saying god exists.

Mother (Now more aggressive tone): How dare you say that? Do you know how much god gave me hope to survive? I am all surviving and you are too because of god? I do so much worship to the god but my child turns out to be an atheist. How could U hurt me so much? How could my child give me so much pain? Why was it need to be an atheist?

Clearing this point it's not a fiction story. It's almost the same conversation me and my mother had. I tried my best to keep it at a minimal level but it did go to a serious extent as well.

So I'd like to talk about the way that the mother tried to gaslight their own child. When the child expresses that being an atheist then the mother gives a baseless claim as evidence. The child further tries to explain their point but then the real narcissist Gaslighting begins.

Being emotionally manipulative because your adult child refuses to believe in something that you believe is a peak narcissist behavior, You try to blame your child for the hardship you had to go through. It may be true that you suffered a lot to reach this point but it won't justify your words or make your words correct. U and your child are different individuals. They won't go on the same pathway as u and you can't do anything about it. They are a different individual and you can't blame them for existing and making your life harder because they didn't choose to come into existence. It was you who chose to bring them into this world which implies that it's a bare minimum for you to work and raise your child.

Since it was about the existence of god, let me bring it another point as well. The emotional blackmail and the act of victim card. In this conversation, the child just mentioned that they don't believe in god because of lack of evidence but the mother then goes on with the victim card about how they hurt her and caused her pain because they don't believe in something due to lack of evidence. 

This conversation gave me a realization that religion is a tool that stops the capacity of an individual to question. It's a tool that even your loved one might use to blame you even if u are not to be blamed. And I am glad that I learned to question things which eventually led me to be an atheist.

[temis-de-leon]

Just remembered when a guy from high school fell in love with a girl at the ripe age of twelve, but she didn't reciprocate.

He gifted her chocolates, flowers and poems on the daily, which only made her reject him even more. One Valentine's Day he gave her all of the above plus balloons (remember, trashy public high school, 12 years old) and she finally begged him to leave her alone.

We found out the next day that he'd tried to commit suicide by jumping out of his bedroom window to make her feel guilty, but he lived on the first floor and the fall was only 3 meters tall (9 ft or so), which only caused a sprained ankle.

He felt so embarrassed that he changed high schools and then he never bothered her again.

[bizcochitomarmolado]

Part 2.

Cr. selfcare4yu

[inevitablysomber-dark]

Under The Radar

Complete

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

[vivianbernadetteaurora]

Jennifer Lopez

At this point, Jay is very unpopular with the world at large. There’s many things come out about her that aren’t too good and also she could be attached to this whole Diddy drama with the fact that his house got rated the things with Rodney Jenkins the music prodigy who works on did he love album And the fact that at the time did he spilt some tea on the fact that the night he was in the club with Jennifer that they did have a gun and that she held it in his purse and he did shoot someone it was down to him even though somebody else got the jail sentence these fucking people up in power. Everything is a bribery. Everything is a game and you you win or you lose it so snakes and ladders, it’s why they’re also connected to Jeffrey Epstein as well because that was all a game of bribery they all cameras in the house they all up to the same debauchery rubbish but different degrees and it kind of reminds me of is the pornographic world and how porn actors go Darker and darker into the role of it so let’s say someone starts off doing a blow job scene, then they get told alright you’re ready for sex now we do it all different positions everything, and the woman’s like yeah sure I’ll do that I don’t mind at all and then carries on and something comes along. There is something that isn’t quite you but you get told that you’ll get paid a lot of money for doing this act now there are choices in this but they may not feel like they have those choices, especially if they’re working with the butcher kind of people which I’m sure they are, talk about it. She said about the time and she has tears in her eyes when someone pissed down her throat., and I’m sorry I have to say as somebody used to love porn in their 20s and late teenagers, looking back and I always thought it at the time anyway I hate the way they were the pornos and the films for example fat slut takes it up there or something like that, it’s never for men men just treated differently and always well-being. It seems., it’s just unfair that it’s just realistic.,,,, anyway going back to the scenario they get paid all this money for doing it so they do it and then another thing comes up and then they get numb to it and then they start taking drugs to cope with the pain all the time you’re gonna be destroying and you have to have the right mental constitution is gonna end badly.

She is definitely into this world Jennifer Lopez that that is she came into the scene with Diddy when he got her on this song that was originally somebody else’s surprise surprise I’m that was if you had my love, because before that she was more of an actress and if you’re a millennial you grew up with Jennifer and at the time of course he didn’t know all these things. I was a huge fan but we started to slowly realise that it was her vocals that she was using Natasha Ramos! Anyway, she got involved with Tommy Matola, who at this point was Mariah Carey‘s ex-husband and at the time he hated Mariah and he wanted to sabotage her career mainly because she’d got away from him he brought brought and had them but changed a little bit to her music. He’d ring up all the radio station saying don’t play any music off. The glitter soundtrack . Wendy Williams was one of the first people to Diddy and I think she was hinting at the fact that he was gay , see you guys people don’t mind if you’re gay. That is not the problem. The problem is that you are homophobic and closeted. That is the part that people do not like, and the other part people do not like is the fact that your predatory and that you grow up and that you do things to people , and let’s face it Jennifer Lopez is a glorified Kardashian if you wanna put it nicely , she’s an amazing business , a nice person she was told or told people not to look in the eyes and you know Wendy Williams dead she did it anyway and I love her. I miss Wendy somebody said she followed Jay to the bathroom and she didn’t wash her hands . but now she is connected to another ex who is her husband I think and that is Ben Affleck who has his own issues with addiction and alcoholism , and she still from Jennifer Gardner who was there for him , Yes, maybe so so she has a passion of being with people for my past and also while she was with Puff Daddy P. Diddy whatever you wanna call him he was with his wife Kim Porters, but Jennifer Lopez was his showgirl girlfriend his celebrity girlfriend his popstar .

So Jennifer isn’t that popular for many reasons such as that and the fact that she stole lyrics of Ashanti and her voice the fact I say she’s a glorified Kardashian she’s made a career of not very much and then there’s a few with Mariah Carey and I don’t know her, and I don’t take no shit. She’s not gonna pretend she’s not gonna be humble like Ashanti is because Mariah is not a libra like Ashanti she’s a powerful Aries woman and it’s just another case of. I don’t know her in my case me talking to you here Leo woman who cannot stand the fact she’s getting older and less relevant who is another Leo woman who does this? Why who else could it be? Madonna Who has a reputation of not being that madonna, who are the people who don’t Madonna Diana Ross Michael Jackson Cher . I think the time could come where she has looked into because of the whole Diddy situation correct me if I’m wrong but he’s just an example of why is not so popular but she has that healthy Leo ego I’ve not giving a shit .

[shadowsofcontrol]

Jokes should bring laughter not diminishment