Fighting the constant aromantic urge to write an anthology story of a small old cafe throughout time and the friendships formed within over the centuries of its existence and how they parallel eachother .How humans have been doing the same mundane, beautiful things all through history but it's just lost under the better recorded history but it still existed, it still mattered and even if we never are remembered except for a brief glance at a doodle on the wall we did or a name on an ancient list of alumni or a note tucked away in an ancient library that we still were here, our lives: our happiness, out friendships, our laughs stumbling across a path on a cold night.
deanbenny is like benny could tear his throat out with his teeth if he wanted to. he could also kiss it gently. and he’ll do whichever dean asks him to.