Kotake hummed happily and sipped her tea. “Are you one of our apprentices from... I believe you’re displaced in time or space somehow, aren’t you?
Link opened his mouth and had to force himself to close it, swallowing hard. He cleared his throat and shook himself before he managed any words at all. How did she know ? How much did she know? It made him nauseous to even think of it ; nauseous, and on the edge of hysteria that she'd guess him her apprentice . What did his magic look like to her that she thought that?
“I never would’ve dreamed...” he breathed; he'd rather die. “I knew of you and your sister, but that’s all. It’s an honour to meet you.”
In which Time gets help from the last people he expected when Legend gets kidnapped. (Or, the most stressful tea party he never would have imagined.)
Silly cute cat and tea cups cats / coffee cup cats while I talk about how Starbucks fails so bad down under Australia 🇦🇺
Like Starbucks can’t get a foothold in Australia 🇦🇺 at all
We have so many coffee and tea 2 shops here
(We even have adorable chocolate shops here too)
Starbucks has no chance in heck making it down here it’s ridiculous
Like only seen maybe one Starbucks here in Sydney Australia and that’s like closer to the tourist trap part of the city closest to airports only
Like Starbucks tried to open shops everywhere but nope couldn’t get Australian’s to buy their overly sugary drinks when Australia have better options for tea and coffee
I'm curious. What's the tea on Banksy then? I'd love to hear your thoughts on him in general as I've found it hard to find criticism of him 🤔
The below is an answer to a similar question I got in 2017 so apologies if some links are outdated:
For starters, he keeps hijacking walls that are not his. Not only did he paint and tried to beautify the apartheid wall in Palestine, but he literally went to predominately Black and Latinx areas in East NYC, where art is strictly local, and painted over the walls there.
He has the disgusting habit of normalising and whitewashing struggles. Like how he painted an Israeli occupation solider having a “pillow fight” with a Palestinian or how he graffitied Steve Jobs as a Syrian refugee in order to bring “awareness” to the refugee issue, as if all immigrants have the same privilege as Jobs or that they should be dismissed if they don’t become a version of Steve jobs. He simplifies and glorifies oppressions and struggles.
Which brings me to my next point. He butts into issues that aren’t his and to which he shows little to no understanding at all. Like how he had the nerve to paint a “go back to Africa” in a area of poverty and racial tension, which he believes is “satire” that marginalised communities are ought to understand and recognise as beautiful and be happy about it (as if such phrases are not traumatising in nature). He’s basically shoving his way down these communities’ throats as a white saviour whose stencils are going to bring about change, and god forbid we say anything against them. He’s been asked numerous times to leave, be it in East NYC or Bethlehem, and yet there he is.
He views himself as this edgy hipster and as a result he does not understand how complex of a subculture graffiti really is. His white opportunistic ass is always ready to jump onto issues that are not his own, dominate spaces that aren’t his and in the meantime making profit (some of his work has been valued in six figures) by using our struggles and painting over our walls. He shows no regard or respect to writers and as a matter of fact, he painted over the oldest graffiti in London which made many artists angry.
In short, he’s corny and shallow. His attempts are very lazy, peak liberal and weak and are mainly celebrated by the bourgeoisie. What’s treated by law as “vandalism” apparently only applies when the artists are Black/brown/lower class, yet he gets the police protecting him. And while he can tag walls freely, other artists get arrested for it, and while they hardly get any recognition, his white ass gets coddled by the elitist art scene.
You should also go through my Banksy tag for more Banksy hate.
Warnings: Fluffy, Simon likes you and it's obvious
Simon likes to bring you back little souvenirs from his missions. You talk about wanting to travel all the time but there's too much work to be done on base to ensure his job goes smoothly overseas.
He calls them little work trophies to make you feel more like you're part of the team. You'll never actually get a medal since you're not a soldier but as far as he's concerned your work is just as necessary to the team as his, whether it's the diplomatic emails you draft up to get the 141 into other countries with as little resistance as possible, or the intel you organize into files for their missions.
Once he's back on base and had a chance to shower, he's making a beeline to drop off his mission report to you along with your newest little trophy from Russia.
Your expression of boredom turns to a soft little smile when you see him enter your closet of an office. You at least have a little window that you've lined with tea lights and set a candle on the windowsill.
You always like to keep your spaces cozy, and he finds himself wondering how charming your quarters are.
"Done with your paperwork?" you ask, gesturing to the folder. He's always finished earlier than everyone else.
He nods and holds out a brown paper bag. "Brought you somethin' you might like."
You grin like a little kid as you pull out the gift. Sometimes it's cool rocks, an old book, or on occasion small art prints from local artists. You aren't sure where he finds these things, or even the time to go out and look for them.
This time it's a little puzzle box, about the size of your hand with intricate carvings on the side. It had a little weight to it, and you could tell there was something inside.
"Gonna make me work for it, huh?" you ask with a grin.
"A distraction to get your head out of all that paperwork," he says, his eyes crinkling softly at you, and you just know there's a smile under that mask. "Go on, give it a try," he urges.
"You're going to watch me struggle with this thing?" you ask with a laugh that sounds like music to his ears.
"It'll be some amusement for the both of us," he teases, earning a swat on the arm as you bring the box closer to your face.
"Alright, challenge accepted." You fiddle with it for about ten minutes, with Simon occasionally raising a brow at your attempts to open it until you hear a little click and pull the lid open.
You've got a triumphant smile on your face when you glance up at him, before inspecting the powdery substance inside. "Is this sugar?"
"To go with the tea from Vietnam," he explains.
"Thanks, I love it," you say, standing on your tip-toes to place a kiss on his masked cheek.
Simon is grateful for the mask hiding the red in his cheeks.