#impact on children

[chaiaurchaandni]

does throwing a stone at a tank

make a child a terrorist?

is terrorism about resisting oppression? is terrorism about demanding your birthright to live safely and peacefully in your homeland? is terrorism about hating the killers of your family, your friends and your people?

accusations of terrorism are often weaponized against those fighting for liberation and sovereignty and dignity. the french settlers called the algerians terrorists. the indian government calls the kashmiris terrorists. the pakistani army calls pashtun activists terrorists. the turkish government calls the kurds terrorists. apartheid south africa called nelson mandela a terrorist. americans called the vietcong and the black panthers terrorists. the israelis call the palestinians terrorists. all oppressive regimes are connected. all oppressed people are connected. injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.

[clouvu]

Father-Son bonding moment ✨

[vesnawinters]

She cracks dad jokes around her kids, mihoyo told me

[d3adseas]

father's little princess ~

[i23kazu]

wriothesley, who falls asleep as your children giggle and stick their colourful stickers all over his face. their daddy is turned into a work of art, sporting hello kitty and thomas the train – an artwork reminiscent of a certain album cover? wriothesley doesn't stir, and the quiet giggles of your two mischievous ones fill the room. when he does wake up, though, he's not mad – instead, he laughs and scoops up the two children and lay them on his lap. it's an adorable sight to see.

[pencilofawesomeness]

Fontaine, amiright?

[aventurineswife]

Gepard, Diluc, Kaeya and Sampo meeting their future child(ren)

The future child(ren) time travelled to the past to see what the characters and reader look like in the past or the future child(ren) messing with some device and it sends them tumbling to the past where reader and the characters were still not together

The Past Meets Future

Tags: Gepard Landau, Sampo Koski, Diluc Ragnvider, Kaeya Alberich, Time Travel, Future Children, Parent-Child Relationships, Alternate Realities, Family, Humor, Heartwarming, Surreal Situations.

Warnings: Mild Language, Minor Time-Travel Paradoxes (Not extensively explored), Light-hearted Mischief.

[Continuation]

It was a quiet morning in Belobog when Gepard felt the strange hum of energy near his quarters. He was in the midst of preparing for his duties as Captain of the Silvermane Guards, but something told him that today would be anything but ordinary.

The air shimmered briefly, and before him stood a young child—no older than twelve—dressed in unfamiliar clothing. The child had a strange aura about them, their presence both comforting and bewildering. The child’s hair resembled his own, and the eyes, though softer, were unmistakably his. They even stood with a quiet dignity, much like him, though they wore a curious look on their face as they took in the surroundings.

"Captain Landau," the child spoke, their voice clear yet tinged with a familiarity that sent a shiver down his spine. "It’s so nice to finally meet you."

Gepard’s brow furrowed. "And who might you be, child?" he asked, his hand instinctively resting on the hilt of his sword. Despite his confusion, his protective instincts kicked in.

"I’m... your child," the young one replied, somewhat sheepishly. "From the future. I... uh, sort of messed with a device and ended up here."

Gepard's eyes widened in surprise, and for a moment, the world seemed to freeze around him. His child? From the future? A million questions flooded his mind, but the most pressing was, "How did you get here?"

The child smiled sheepishly, holding up a small, glowing device. "I wasn’t trying to time travel, honest! But the device malfunctioned, and... here I am. I just wanted to see what you were like back then."

Despite the whirlwind of emotions crashing through him—astonishment, worry, and something else he couldn't quite place—Gepard knelt down to the child's level. "Then... you’re safe. That’s all that matters. I won’t let anything happen to you."

The child smiled warmly, and Gepard’s heart clenched. He didn't know what the future held, but with this child in front of him, the weight of his duty to protect the people of Belobog felt more personal than ever.

[Header credits]

Diluc stood at the balcony of his manor, gazing at the sky. It had been a peaceful evening, and yet, something about the air felt charged with an unfamiliar energy. His thoughts were momentarily interrupted by a soft voice calling from the doorway.

"Daddy?"

Diluc turned sharply, his heart racing. Standing before him was a young child, their hair practically glowing in the fading light, a small figure dressed in an outfit that looked both futuristic and out of place. Their eyes, a perfect blend of his own, looked up at him with confusion and a little bit of awe.

"Who are you?" Diluc asked, his voice soft but firm, wary of the sudden intrusion.

The child hesitated for a moment before grinning, their expression full of mischievous confidence. "I’m your kid! Well, I’m from the future, but I wanted to see you back when you were younger. So... I accidentally used a time-traveling device and, uh, here I am."

Diluc’s heart skipped a beat. His child? From the future? He stared at the child, momentarily lost for words. His gaze softened as he looked at the redhead who had inherited his fiery hair and, undoubtedly, a fierce spirit.

"You’re... my child?" Diluc muttered, his hand resting on the balcony railing, as if steadying himself. "How is this possible?"

The child’s grin widened. "I’m not sure how I got here, but I guess this is your present! Cool, huh?"

Diluc chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. Despite the strange situation, he couldn’t help but feel a flicker of warmth in his chest. "You’re quite the troublemaker, aren’t you?" he said, his voice filled with affection.

The child laughed, and Diluc’s stoic demeanor melted for a moment, replaced by something akin to hope. Maybe the future wasn’t as uncertain as he thought, if this was what awaited him—someone to carry on his legacy, someone to share his heart.

[Header credits]

Kaeya was lounging in his office, his feet propped up on his desk as he sipped his drink, savoring the silence. That was until the air around him began to shimmer and warp, and suddenly, a small figure appeared at the doorway.

Kaeya’s gaze locked onto the child standing there, their his, and their eyes—bright and familiar—locked with his. The child was grinning mischievously, their posture radiating the same confidence that Kaeya himself carried.

"Well, well, who do we have here?" Kaeya raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair with a smirk. "You seem familiar, little one."

"I’m your kid from the future," the child replied cheerfully, practically bouncing with excitement. "I wanted to meet you, and—well—I may have messed up a little with a time-traveling device. Whoops!"

Kaeya leaned forward, his smirk turning into a full-blown grin. "From the future, huh? Interesting. So, what brings you to the past?"

The child put their hands on their hips, looking proud. "I just wanted to see you back when you were younger. And maybe cause a little trouble along the way."

Kaeya chuckled, the sound rich with amusement. "Of course, I’m raising a troublemaker. Seems like you’ve inherited more than just my looks, haven’t you?"

The child nodded enthusiastically. "Definitely! Got all your charm, too."

Kaeya’s heart warmed at the sight of the child—his child—standing before him. He wasn’t sure what the future held, but seeing this little version of himself made him believe that maybe, just maybe, it could be a future worth fighting for.

Sampo was busy in his workshop, his hands deftly working on a new "project" when he felt a sudden shift in the air. He looked up to find a small figure standing before him, their appearance completely out of place. Their eyes and mischievous grin were all too familiar.

"Well, well," Sampo said, raising an eyebrow. "Who’s this little troublemaker?"

The child, no older than twelve, grinned. "I’m your kid from the future! I wanted to meet you, and I might’ve messed up with a time-traveling device... but I’m here now!"

Sampo laughed, his usual charm never faltering. "Oh, is that so? A little time traveler, huh? You’ve got guts to show up like this."

"Yeah! I figured if anyone could handle a little mischief, it’d be you," the child replied, eyes sparkling. "So, what’s it like in the present or the past? I bet it’s all sorts of exciting!"

Sampo’s heart skipped a beat. His child. From the future. The idea was surreal, but there was something undeniably precious about this small version of himself standing before him.

"Well, the present is never boring," he said, grinning. "But I’m sure you’ve got a lot to learn before you can keep up with me."

The child grinned back, full of mischief and curiosity, and Sampo couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride. Despite all his faults, maybe this little one was proof that, somewhere down the line, he’d found something truly worth protecting.

[reenaki]

You're growing up too fast!

[genshinimpactresources]

Genshin Impact BR | 2024 Children's Day Artwork (2)

Artist: su34ma

[uncanny-tranny]

To my fellow US Americans: If you are planning on arming yourselves because of the election results and what might be on the horizons, I urge you to be a responsible gun owner.

Take as many classes as you can. Get certified in gun safety, even if it's not required to own a gun in your state. Get a gun safe. A good gun safe. Lock your gun up. Don't leave it armed. Don't wave your guns or gun-owning status around and don't pose with guns like they're toys. I'd say not to make gun buying an impulse purchase, either. You are investing in something that holds great potential risk to yourself and others - treat it like a responsibility.

I'm not here to argue about if Americans ought to exercise the second amendment in the way it currently exists. That's not the point - we have always had the second amendment, and I doubt it's going anywhere. I am more interested in making sure we don't see a surge in accidental, negligent gun ownership.

As a queer person in the US, I can understand the mindset behind people's spiked interest in arming themselves. I'm not arguing against that. As a child of gun owners, I know just how huge a responsibility it is to own a gun, and I hate the general attitude we Americans have about guns. Please don't contribute to that. If you own a gun, it is you inherent responsibility to take care of that gun (which is why I can't own a gun yet - I don't have the resources to pour into proper ownership).

[lovesickeros]

☆ even the gods bleed

{☆} characters furina, neuvillette {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, multi-chapter, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings blood, injury, light angst {☆} word count 2.3k

What was justice?

Focalors had asked herself that question many times during the long nights she spends awake pouring over the prophecy of a dead God, words replaying in her mind like a broken record until the sun rose like a blooming flower.

She was the God of Justice, an Archon, yet she herself lacked the answer to such a simple and yet so very complex question.

How does one define what is just and what is not? How does she know that what she believes to be just is right? Is it justice if one being alone may sway the scales of justice on a whim? What justice is there to be found in the cold, watery grave that awaits her nation?

She does not know.

Perhaps she may never know.

What she does know, at least, is that this is not justice.

It is a mockery of it.

She stands before the bloodied, broken body like the judge, her sword held so tightly in her hand her fingers feel stiff, a dull ache adding to the weight of what she's seen. For a long, horrible moment she almost thinks they are dead – something she would have reveled in, only a day prior – before she sees the subtle rise and fall of their chest. Breathing, but barely.

The rain felt heavier upon her shoulders at the realization – she was not sure if it was in relief or horror.

Her nails dig into her palm, mind stuck somewhere between that abject horror and confusion so palpable she swore she could hear the gears in her head turning.

For a long, silent moment as she stares upon the body beneath the heavy rain..she wonders if this is how it all ends instead. If the world itself will simply crumple in on itself and cease – without its heart, it will wither, after all – long before the waters ever swallow her nation whole.

Because, try as she might to rationalize it, for every drop of rain that hits her like pins and needles, soaking her down to the bone..the body of the imposter is completely dry. Even the water pooling along the stones dares not to leave so much as a splotch against their ragged, torn clothes.

She remembers the meeting so very clearly, and she thinks she is a fool to not have noticed sooner – the Creator upon their gilded throne, finger pointed in accusation at the visage far too similar to their own. The imposter. She remembers the lilt of their voice as they called for their death as easily as one would speak of the weather – and to no one other then herself would she admit the spark of fear it had ignited within her. Because beneath the divine charade there was a sick enjoyment in the way they looked upon the imposter – like a bug beneath their shoe.

She understands, now.

She had thought that perhaps finally – finally – she could do right by her people, by her Creator, if she rid Teyvat of this..intrusion.

Now she sees herself as what it all really is – blind lambs following the herder.

Perhaps she would be considered a heretic under the eyes of the law – beneath the weight of justice, heavy as the heart that bears its sins. Perhaps this is a mistake, one she would come to regret.

But for now, she sheathes her blade with unsteady hands, the sound making her ears ring – for what she had almost done, what she had already done – as she stumbles like a newborn lamb towards the broken body of..

..What, exactly? Human? Divine? She is not so sure what to call them. Creator? No. The name is bitter upon her tongue, now, burning like liquid flame down her throat.

Where once she had spoken it in reverence and admiration, it felt hollow and empty, now.

Her vision wavers as she kneels down against the rain soaked stones, the rain upon her back growing heavier as she reaches a shaky hand forth – and for a moment, however brief, she feels the weight of expectation, of a title she fears she may never live up to, wash away with the waters that fall from the heavens.

The bruises and blood smeared across their skin are like strokes of a paintbrush, their body the canvas from which such horrid art is created. It makes her ill.

Doubt wavers her composure briefly – her position is already unsteady. She has never been seen as an equal to many of the other Archons. Her own people do not see her as their Archon, but an actor in a grand play that they shall simply toss aside and replace like a broken doll the moment she bores them.

What does she have left to lose?

She reaches out again, her hand settling onto their shoulder and turning them onto their back. She..isn't sure what to do, actually. She's never been particularly physically capable – she tended to avoid fights, even if she oft provoked them – and she was certainly no healer.

Yet what choice does she have but to march on anyway? She is in the heart of the city, it is far more dangerous here then anywhere else..she had little time to make her move.

Fontaine was, after all, a nation founded on the principle of justice. To know an injustice has been made against the most Divine..the entire nation was in a frenzy.

Her eyes dart around nervously, hands clasped tight on their shoulders and her lips drawn into a taut line – someone would notice her absence. One of the Archons would point out her absence in the coordination of the search.

Her options were just as limited as her time – she couldn't just take them out of the city. Security was tight, and as much as she fancied herself an escape artist – Neuvillette could hardly keep her in one place for too long – she doubted she could do the same with the limp body of the imposter in tow.

..The Palais Mermonia it was, then.

Her room had a secret entrance that few knew about, and even fewer would dare to traverse. She just..had to hide them there for a bit and hope Neuvillette wouldn't notice anything different.

Probably.

Still, there was the problem of actually..transporting the body. As grim as it sounded. Her only solace was the fact she didn't have to worry about them catching a cold, at least, and their breaths were still audible, if only barely. So she had to resort to some..unexpected methods.

Seeing the limp form of, well, the imposter – she'd really have to ask for something else to call them when they woke up – stuck in a bubble of hydro wasn't exactly on her bucket list.

Then again, neither was treason.

Well, first time for everything, right?

It wasn't breaking the law if no one else knew about it.

..Neuvillette didn't have to know about it, really. It was fine.

She could, of course, technically try to talk some sense into Neuvillette – he'd listen to her, right? She thought she was pretty close with him..but he was also the one person more obsessed with justice then she was. Such a stickler for the law..so maybe she's breaking a few, it's fine.

But he was also pretty devout, as much as he tried to keep his worship private – with Focalors around, nothing was really secret. Maybe she could get him to settle down long enough to prove it.

..How was she going to prove it?

An exaggerated groan escaped her lips as she led the bubbled imposter – she really wished she didn't have to resort to that, it would be a lot a more awkward to explain then dragging the body around – through the winding streets of Fontaine. She's just glad she's already memorized the entire city like the back of her hand..and a little dramatics went a long way. People listened when the Hydro Archon spoke, and she was suddenly very, very glad for that fact, even if they treated her more like a mascot then a God.

And partially because she, maybe, just a little..stole a few documents detailing the layout and a little personal exploration of her own – but what Neuvillette didn't know couldn't hurt him!

After what felt like hours, though was really no more then half an hour at best, she'd managed to drag herself – soaked to the bone with rain – and the conveniently bubbled imposter up through the secret entrance and into her room.

The perceived safety, as flimsy as it was, was..comforting. Until she heard the rustle of fabric, the clearing of a throat and the pop of a bubble as she, in her surprise, popped it – and then the thud of the imposter hitting the floor.

She felt a bit of regret about that part, at least, wincing.

"Lady Furina." His voice was as sharp and cool as she remembered it always being – like fresh spring water, she'd heard it described. Soothing. It did not feeling very soothing right about now.

She turned sharply on her heel, a forced smile tugging at her lips on reflex, every muscle in her body tensed – she probably looked like a wet cat right about now, soaked with rain, but that was the last thing on her mind.

"Do you mind explaining what, exactly, you did?" Not what you're doing, she notes – what she did. He was mad. Oh, she was really in for a scolding now. She twiddled her thumbs, laughing weakly, though it quickly dies out at the awkward, tense silence.

"Well, you see – it's rather complicated! I can– I can explain." Her attempts to diffuse are met with a raised brow and the sharp tap of his cane. Every single thought is plagued with the urge to run, but the unsteady breathes of the 'imposter' keep her rooted in place. "Well?"

She was sweating bullets, her nails digging into her palm as she scrambled for any excuse that could warrant her not getting hauled off and scolded thoroughly at best – she was coming up empty. How was she supposed to prove that the 'imposter' was very much not what the 'Creator' said they were? Their unconscious body was doing no one any favors, certainly.

"The Creator is lying," She blurts out, immediately regretting her impulsiveness when she feels the sudden weight of his stare – the piercing hues of his eyes that remind her just who is the strongest between them. It is not her, she knows. It never has been. "You can see for yourself! Don't you trust me, Neuvillette–?"

Her voice is cut off by the sharp click of his cane as he strides across the room in only a few steps, his height making her feel like a child about to scolded. She hated it, but she grit her teeth through the exchange. She reminded herself that this was for the sake of the 'imposter' and any affront to her ego was..tolerable.

To her credit, too, she didn't immediately lash out when she saw him poke at their body with his cane, turning them onto their back – she wanted too, though. She considered it, but the thought was quickly shot down when his stare turned back upon her, and she felt frozen in place again, her tongue a heavy weight in her mouth.

Yet she couldn't shake the sudden tenseness to his shoulders, his brows furrowed and a distant look to his eyes. It was..haunting, in a way.

She knows it well, she realizes. The realization and acceptance, the crumbling of every solid foundation you've ever known – leaving you to flounder in the waves, alone and afraid.

The gentleness in which he picks up the limp body surprises her though, his cane set aside. The rain howls like a horrid storm outside, but she cannot focus on anything but the furrow of their brows, the soft noise that escapes their lips.

"I trust that you know that this must stay between us," His voice is soft, like the gentle lap of waves against the shore, as he sets their body down against the bed, his hand lingering against their cheek with something almost like reverence – and if her eyes do not deceive her, affection. "Lady Furina."

She does not hesitate to agree.

"Well– well of course!" She huffs, crossing her arms over her chest and frowning at the feeling of her wet clothes clinging to her skin, a heavy weight that feels like it's dragging her down. "Just what do you take me for?"

He doesn't deign to respond.

It only makes her fume more.

Not that he seems to notice, unbuttoning his heavy outerwear and tossing it on the bed, rolling up his sleeves and focusing on the injured– er..yeah, she really needed a new name for them. Calling them imposter felt wrong.

"So long as you understand, then we will have no problems." She huffs again, pouting and puffing up her cheeks, sitting down on the other end of the bed with only an occasional glance towards him as he worked at peeling away the ragged clothes and examining the injuries marring their skin.

She suddenly felt out of place.

..What was she supposed to be doing?

As if noticing her sudden quietness, Neuvillette sighed, his back turned to her though his attention very much falling upon her. She really hated the feeling like she was being dissected whenever he looked at her. It was unnerving. She doesn't know how anyone else handles it..

"If you are so eager to do something, Lady Furina, then please have something brought up for when our..guest awakens. They will need to recover their strength."

Finally! Something she can do. She perks up, her heels clicking on the floorboards as she darts out like a bullet, unable to stay still for so much as a moment.

Neuvillette, for his part..

Feels an odd sense of serenity as he stares upon the troubled features of the..guest. A peace that lessens the burdens upon his shoulders, the weight of a nation upon his back.

He cannot hear the rain, anymore.

..It must have stopped.

[clouvu]

Nothing in the world belongs to me But my love, mine, all mine

[brainrotisseriechicken]

scientist yuri anyone..

consuming einsla content as an enby einstein truther is a STRUGGLE so i took matters into my own hands.

old married couple core i hate them

+bonus joachim

[wonder-worker]

A central element of the myth of [Eleanor of Aquitaine] is that of her exceptionalism. Historians and Eleanor biographers have tended to take literally Richard of Devizes’s conventional panegyric of her as ‘an incomparable woman’ [and] a woman out of her time. […] Amazement at Eleanor’s power and independence is born from a presentism that assumes generally that the Middle Ages were a backward age, and specifically that medieval women were all downtrodden and marginalized. Eleanor’s career can, from such a perspective, only be explained by assuming that she was an exception who rose by sheer force of personality above the restrictions placed upon twelfth-century women.

— Michael R. Evans, Inventing Eleanor: The Medieval and Post-Medieval Image of Eleanor of Aquitaine

"...The idea of Eleanor’s exceptionalism rests on an assumption that women of her age were powerless. On the contrary, in Western Europe before the twelfth century there were ‘no really effective barriers to the capacity of women to exercise power; they appear as military leaders, judges, castellans, controllers of property’. […] In an important article published in 1992, Jane Martindale sought to locate Eleanor in context, stripping away much of the conjecture that had grown up around her, and returning to primary sources, including her charters. Martindale also demonstrated how Eleanor was not out of the ordinary for a twelfth-century queen either in the extent of her power or in the criticisms levelled against her.

If we look at Eleanor’s predecessors as Anglo-Norman queens of England, we find many examples of women wielding political power. Matilda of Flanders (wife of William the Conqueror) acted as regent in Normandy during his frequent absences in England following the Conquest, and [the first wife of Henry I, Matilda of Scotland, played some role in governing England during her husband's absences], while during the civil war of Stephen’s reign Matilda of Boulogne led the fight for a time on behalf of her royal husband, who had been captured by the forces of the empress. And if we wish to seek a rebel woman, we need look no further than Juliana, illegitimate daughter of Henry I, who attempted to assassinate him with a crossbow, or Adèle of Champagne, the third wife of Louis VII, who ‘[a]t the moment when Henry II held Eleanor of Aquitaine in jail for her revolt … led a revolt with her brothers against her son, Philip II'.

Eleanor is, therefore, less the exception than the rule – albeit an extreme example of that rule. This can be illustrated by comparing her with a twelfth century woman who has attracted less literary and historical attention. Adela of Blois died in 1137, the year of Eleanor’s marriage to Louis VII. […] The chronicle and charter evidence reveals Adela to have ‘legitimately exercised the powers of comital lordship’ in the domains of Blois-Champagne, both in consort with her husband and alone during his absence on crusade and after his death. […] There was, however, nothing atypical about the nature of Adela’s power. In the words of her biographer Kimberley LoPrete, ‘while the extent of Adela’s powers and the political impact of her actions were exceptional for a woman of her day (and indeed for most men), the sources of her powers and the activities she engaged in were not fundamentally different from those of other women of lordly rank’. These words could equally apply to Eleanor; the extent of her power, as heiress to the richest lordship in France, wife of two kings and mother of two or three more, was remarkable, but the nature of her power was not exceptional. Other noble or royal women governed, arranged marriages and alliances, and were patrons of the church. Eleanor represents one end of a continuum, not an isolated outlier."

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

Alright I gotta ask. When it comes to Melusine Creator... how does Neuvillette fit in? He basically sees the Melusines as his daughters, so what would he do when he learns of a new Melusine and their abyssal guardian? How would FL react? Would Neuvillette Know? I need answers!!!

teehee excellent you walked right into my trap >:) sit down, sit down, make yourself some tea

Neuvillette is a little confused when Sedene cheerfully tells him about the new sibling she and the other Melusine have welcomed into Merusea- as far as he knows, "new" Melusine aren't really a thing- but simply shrugs it off at first as his children being carefree and whimsical... until he overhears Menthe tiredly mumbling about a giant creature the color of night that sparkles like stars, and the Iudex's blood runs cold. he sets out towards the village the moment his work ends for the day, diving into the water and under the earth before surfacing in familiar caverns, ones he's had memorized for hundreds of years. Cosanzeana greets him cheerfully, with the same flower garden as last time, skipping alongside her father as he ventures deeper into the village, coming across a new seashell house tucked away in the corner

Neuvillette's eyes widen when he settles his gaze on an armored monster, wings all tangled with starlight, gently cradling an oddly patterned Melusine, similar stars in their eyes. the beast growls at him, holding the Melusine closer as they begin to shiver fearfully

it's you, the Creator- he knows it is. but how? perhaps the god of everything has a similar method of rebirth as he does... whatever the reason is, Neuvillette quickly gives you a deep, firm bow, keeping both of his hands in front of him, and the Abyssal creature's hisses slowly fade into soft purrs as you raise a mittened hand and pat it on the head

with your safety intact, you tell Neuvillette everything, the Hydro Sovereign listening with mounting horror. no wonder you wanted to stay hidden in Merusea- the only ones who showed you any kindness were the Melusine and this monster, the one you called Foul Legacy. you plead for him not to tell anyone, about you or Legacy, and he gives you his word as Iudex that he would make sure no harm came to you and your friends- after all, you were beloved by all of his children. as your disciple, it was his duty to protect you whenever necessary... although, with how you won the friendship of an Abyssal creature of all things, Neuvillette is sure you'll be well defended

so the Dragon of Hydro tells no one of his brief trip to the countryside, not saying a single word of what he found, for now

[sanjiafterhours]

And when sanji cut the sandwiches smaller for momonosuke and made a special kid's meal for him with french fries while the adults ate broccolis because why be sad when you can be DAD