Abuse by parents is so insidious, especially emotional abuse. Because parents can be fine and supportive and loving until something doesn’t go their way and then it’s guilt and appeals to authority that border on gaslighting.
Because I don’t know what else to call it when a parent says the way they remember it is the TRUTH, negating a child’s experience and memory and then saying that they are right because they are the parent.
Their version of what happened is the official story and a child gets manipulated into believing it or agreeing with it.
And sometimes these relationships don’t necessarily change when the child becomes an adult, sometimes that child standing up for themselves and holding their ground becomes evidence that they don’t “care” and that they are “unfeeling” or “unappreciative” of what the parent has given them.
And sure, maybe overall they are top tier parents worthy of awards, but so many can’t face that at best they have been using abusive tactics to emotionally manipulate their children.
Headcanons for our precious boy Tamaki!! Maybe how he is a parent? Love your blog!! 💜
Parent Tamaki is a Tamaki we all need and deserve. Buckle up guys. This is gonna be long because what is Tamaki? Everything!
Did somebody say over-protective parent? BECAUSE OVER-PROTECTIVE PARENT TAMA-DAD IS IN THE HOUSE!
When his child was a baby, every nook and and cranny of the house was baby-proofed. Baby gates, stoppers on every single corner and sharp edge, covering all plus sockets. You name it, he had it covered.
Reading “Parenting for Dummies” books because boy does he need a lot of help.
Guess who the Godfather is?!? Godfather Mirio has helped Tamaki with his child plenty of times and is pretty much the child’s wacky uncle.
Seriously can you imagine Mirio helping out with his child?! Peek-a-boo just got so awesome since he can phase through walls. And giving the child piggy-back rides and throwing them in the air and catching them (while Tamaki freaks out).
When his child’s quirk manifests, he is there and ready to help. He doesn’t exactly know how he’s gonna do that but he’d sure as hell try!
Being a hero means that Tamaki doesn’t always have a lot of time. He’s always going to try and make time so that he can go to his child’s shows, games, activities and just generally support them. If he can’t make it though, he’ll always try and make it up to them.
Imagine his child being scared on the first day of school and Tamaki gently encouraging them by telling his child to be themself and good things would happen.
Awww imagine his child being accepted into UA and he’s so proud and happy. He’d probably get out his old yearbook and show them what it’s like and get all flustered when his child gets excited over the fact he was one of the big three.
Sealand. Just Sealand. Gave America a bad taste in food. This:
Ruined Davie’s life goal and didn’t get the flowers on time to Davie before he died. How does it take 50–60 years to get an effing flower?! Leaves really young kids home alone.
I may add more to the list. This is just off the top of my head. I don’t know. Spain MAY be worse than him, since he was apparently harsh to everyone but Romano. But since we haven’t seen him with most of his colonies, we can’t judge. So England gets the crappy parent award this year. Happy Father’s Day. You tried.
“Baby, will you please come out of there?” Yoongi, sighed, pressing his forehead against the wooden door in exasperation.
“No!” You said on a choked sob, searching around for another roll of tissue considering you had gone through about two since you had clambered into the bathroom to cry.
“I’m sure she didn’t mean it, ____.” Yoongi said calmly.
“Well, then why did she say it if she didn’t mean it?” You sniffled before turning to right the row of toothbrushes, your hand hesitating on the one that had pictures of frozen going up the base, you set it back down before you considered dunking it in the toilet.
“Because she’s six and six year olds are generally assholes, especially the ones that hail from your loins.” Yoongi pointed out mildly. “Look I already took away her iPad and told her she can’t go to that birthday party for that weird looking kid in her class who’s parents always invite us over to their swinger parties.”
You paused in your crying long enough to frown, “… but she was really looking forward to that.”
“Well she should’ve thought of that before she commented on your parenting skills but also you have delusions of grandeur if you think I’m sending my six year old into that sex house.”
“Just because they’re swingers doesn’t mean they hold weekly orgy’s in their living room, Yoongi-ah.” You wiped at your running mascara a fresh wave of tears coming on at the mention of your daughters earlier comments, “Y-Yoongi what if I am a bad mom?”
Yoongi sighed when he heard your wails pierce through the door once more and he knew you were sitting in the tub, your knees tucked to your chest with those stupid bunny slippers on because that was your go to crying position. And he wouldn’t lie, he had made you cry his fair share of times in your marriage so he was familiar with it at this point. That didn’t mean he didn’t hate witnessing it.
“I’m tired of talking through a door, will you please come out?” He drawled, making idle circles with his fingers against the wall.
“S-she was j-just so mean!” You hiccuped hysterically, “They all inherited your personality!”
“Yes,” Yoongi sighed, frustration edging his words, “I’m sure our daughter inherited her love for Celine Dion’s entire discography from me.”
Yoongi dug in his pocket for a coin as you continued to sob, a sligh ‘ah-hah!’ leaving his lips when he came out victorious. He pressed the side of the penny against the screw in the knob before turning, satisfied with the click that followed when the door popped open.
You glared at him even as he took a seat next to you in the bathtub, his long legs hanging over the side. He scrunched his face at your tear streaked cheeks and puffy eyes before interlacing his fingers with yours.
“For the record,” he said quietly, “you’re a kick ass mom.”
“I’m not.” You sniffled quietly, “I’m always late picking them up from school and I burn breakfast so we’re late getting to school because you always have to stop to get them McDonald’s and I’m not good at fitting in with the other moms at that stupid fucking booster club and that bitch Pam always gives me judgey looks for wearing jeans from Forever21—like realistically speaking the most expensive thing I own is from Nordstrom rack and I don’t know how those uppity bitches can afford all those clothes and cars when the tuition at that stupid fucking school is through the goddamn roof. And I always say fuck in front of the kids by accident and you call them assholes and I… I suck, parenting is hard and I suck.”
Yoongi squeezes your hand reassuringly.
“Wow, you do kind of suc—ow! I’m kidding!” He cries out when you dig your nails into the hand he has interlaced with yours, “You’re a kick ass mom, ____. Yes, you fuck up sometimes but I don’t think I’m winning any goddamn parenting awards either, any chance of that was loss when I tripped that fat kid at chuck e. cheese. I wish you wouldn’t be so hard on yourself,” he murmurs quietly before pressing a kiss to your hand.
“I wish you saw yourself how I saw you—the person who’s up at 4am for each kids birthday to set up a ninja obstacle course or whatever the fuck bullshit you saw online. Or the woman who makes going to the goddamn grocery story an event, or the one who spontaneously decides that we need a family trip to Disneyland. You make all that shit happen and I love you for it and the kids love you for it.”
You were crying again but for different reason and you swiped at stray tears before biting down on your trembling lip, “You really mean that?”
“Of fucking course I mean that. I’m the last person that would blow smoke up your ass and you know it.” Yoong muttered, letting you curl into him, back pressed against the cold linoleum of the tub, “But what I don’t get is you know she didn’t mean it – she was spouting off at the mouth like kids do when they don’t get their way. She was pissed because you wouldn’t let her wear a goddamn tutu to school tomorrow. Why are you so bothered by this?”
“It’s probably just the hormones.” You grumbled, pressing your face further into his neck.
“Ah,” Yoongi murmured in understanding, “that time of the month?”
“No,” you sighed, “I’m two weeks pregnant.”
Yoongi chuckled before pressing a kiss to your temple and you pulled back with a frown.
Yoongi was quiet for a long moment as he scanned your face for any hints of a fib, but your tell-tale signs weren’t there—no bitten back smile or scrunched expression hinting that anything you were saying was untrue.
“Don’t fuck with me, ____.”
“I’m not!” You glared, “I missed my period this month and—”
“We’re having another baby?” Yoongi asked quietly.
And it never really got old, in the three pregnancies you shared together, hands down telling Yoongi was always the best part—second best part, aside from you know the actual child part. The first time had been the scariest but instead of his usual general gruffness and annoyance it was quickly replaced by a softened expression and an innocence you couldn’t replicate but it was always the same wonder that danced in his eyes when he would press a hand to your stomach hesitantly as though he couldn’t believe it.
You nodded your head with a grin that was returned to you to tenfold and Yoongi was scared to move, scared to speak, scared that he would wake up one day and all of this would just be a dream that he hadn’t managed to scoop you up all those years ago a time when even while he was hesitant, scared by the overwhelming emotion you evoked in him he was still drawn to you like a drug. He was scared that the three little brats tucked into bed upstairs would have all been his imagination running wild, his own secret little heaven carved into the crevices of his heart.
“Are you excited?” You whisper, taking his hand and pressing it against tummy.
Excited was an understatement. He was goddamn breathless.
“Are you ready to do this again?” He hummed, his fingers dancing hearts into the new love of his life, hoping whoever they were, they felt it.
“As long as you’re by my side, I can do anything Min Yoongi.” You sigh quietly, letting him press his lips to yours in a slow dance of tongues, his hands coming up to cup your face lovingly.
“So kid number four, huh?” Yoongi drawls. “Pretty soon we’ll have our own basketball team.”
“Don’t get any ideas,” you scoff before running a hand over your stomach idly, “let’s work on getting this one out first, yeah?”
“Sure.” He murmured. “Maybe we’ll have another set of twins and we won’t have to try again—not that I’m opposed to.”
“Yoongi.” You glare.
“It’s just a suggestion.” He shrugs guiltily before helping you to your feet. “C'mon, lets get you to bed.”
“It’s only 9:30.” You frown.
“You have to start taking your rest seriously, you know how fatigued you were last time.” He scolded and you narrowed your eyes at him, even as he led you into your bedroom.
“We’re not starting this yet Yoongi. I only just found out. Save the overprotective shit for the second trimester, yeah?” You scoffed.
“Not on your life.” He shrugs impishly before tucking you into bed and kissing the wrinkle from your brow, “I love you. Thank you.”
“Hey, it was a team effort, buddy.” You grin even as he rolls his eyes at you. “I love you too Min Yoongi.”