#they’re more like neighborhoods

[crowcryptid]

gringos discover miami (real)

[botanyshitposts]

the city I live in had to take down a big old tree on public property down the street from where I live but before they did it they stapled a sign to it giving the reason (tree was dead and rotting and was a threat to the road and power lines) and then included contact info for objections to removing it to be brought before the city and idk I know it’s not much but I just think that’s….nice. like a nice acknowledgment that people have connections to plants and particularly big old trees around where they live and should at least be able to be like Please Do Not Cut Down This Big Old Tree For A Parking Lot Or Something. their reasoning for this one was super valid and they did indeed remove the tree earlier this week but quite frankly I was just like. surprised to (at least in theory) be able to have a say in it at all lmao

[mangoamango]

(threatening) we’re GONNA be friends

[deanmarywinchester]

disappointed I might not be able to take the real estate finance class in my program <- insane sentences. what have I become

[romance-incubomp3]

some of the people in those notes are in a different world

[yourqueenb]

I think Dirty Little Secrets is interesting so far. And I’m surprised I haven’t seen more about it. It feels different than PB’s usual in some ways

[benbamboozled]

Antis: “Jason Todd is a cop!!!!!!”

Also antis: “Hello FBI I’d like to report a fanfiction.”

[winemom-culture]

I can’t find it now but I think I’ve posted previously about my kid’s slightly overbearing neighborhood friend, yeah that has devolved into an unfortunate but hilariously concerted effort between Charlie, my mom and I to literally hide from that kid daily

[flashhwing]

always thought having a balcony was the height of luxury but now I have a balcony and I’m like Whar am I supposed to do with this? stand outside in the freezing cold and gaze over the parking lot????

[lyracreek]

Hi yes obsessed with these tags from @abyssalzones because I hadn’t fully thought it through but yes yes yes

Image description: [Screenshot of tags from @abyssalzones “#I know I talk about this fucking show all the time know but re-examining gravity falls remembering alex hirsch grew up in piedmont #california was so eye opening for me. that is one of the richest parts of california #and a massive part of the plot hinges on the stans having grown up worrying about being breadwinners for their family #but the thing about this. is that Alex fundamentally cannot understand ford’s motivations to escape his home life and go to college #because in all likelihood he didn’t have to worry about getting into calarts #he didn’t have to worry about getting a job making a show at disney #so he literally has no reference point for ford OR stan’s situation financially #like no wonder he thinks ford is selfish. he literally has never had to fight tooth and nail for success #autism rant over”]

I think one of the most important parts about film and tv analysis is never forgetting that no matter the genre or setting, the story is probably being filtered through the perspective of a person who lives in California

[digitaldiseas3]

i can’t remember if i told tumblr about this already but whateva. i’m still thinking abt the dude who was hitting on me so hard this morning on my way to class. and i’m still thinking abt the hinge comment i got this morning that said smth like “you’re the kind of woman men used to go to war for, and id be first in line” like damn what was in the air that was making men NEED me

[randomtheidiot]

Socialize your small dogs with bigger dogs.

I don’t care if you think it’s unnecessary. Just do it. Teach them how to act around big dogs.

If you’re worried about your little dog getting hurt, keep an eye on your dog and have the big dog owner do the same.

I am saying this as an owner of two Italian greyhounds (little dogs) and someone who has worked with big dogs extensively. My dogs were socialized well as puppies but there’s so many people who have small dogs that don’t know how to act around big dogs (or anything else) because the owners coddled them as puppies. There’s always a stark difference between the little dogs who were exposed to big dogs and the little dogs that weren’t.

Little dogs have the same rules as big dogs. You don’t just lose all those pet owner obligations because your dog can fit in a purse. Teach your dogs to behave as puppies and it’ll be easier for both of us.

I don’t normally beg for reblogs, but I desperately need this message to spread. The only way to prevent the existence of horrible, yappy rat-dogs is to train small dog puppies before they grow into that dog. Only you can prevent bitey little shit gremlins.

[natugood]

I wanna know what it’s like to live in other cities cause every damn time I do a long walk here (ESPECIALLY at night) I end up so fucking angry!!!!! Like super pissed off and deeply bothered at the world!!!! and idk if it’s just the disparities and contrasts of issues *here* that bother me so deeply or if it’s more stuff related to modern US/western society in general, or if it’s a little bit of both and I’m just more sensitive to it here cause it’s more visible to me.

[dreamed-for-not]

I really hope Diego gets a job at the Holocaust Museum because them both him and my mom would be working near downtown. If we decide to still sell the house we might be able to move to the White Rock area

[celestialmancer]

💢 //

[little-pondhead]

[unedited. In this, I gave Danny a walking cane to help with mobility issues caused by his nerve damage. Feel free to continue where I left off!]

Everyone knew about the coffee shop. They couldn’t remember the name. It’s been there forever, on the corner of Gotham Proper and the East End. Northwest of the opera house. A few blocks away from the high school. You know, that coffee shop.

Some of the seniors at the high school insisted it really did have a name. It was one of many in some corporate chain. They couldn’t tell you what it was no matter how hard they tried, and none of the freshman believed them. Why would the coffee shop need a name? Everyone knew where it was. It was a popular spot. There were only a few employees at a time, but they always knew what everyone wanted and the line was always super short from how fast they worked.

There were a few odd things that always stood out, however. The coffee shop was always ahead in food trends and popular drinks, so they never ran out of supplies. The kitchen had been expanding to fit more equipment than what a coffee shop needed. (The construction crew didn’t make a peep, even in the middle of the work day.) Those few employees that could cook prided themselves on being able to make anything you wanted, even if they shouldn’t logically have the ingredients on hand. They always charged you what you could afford and not a cent over, which seemed weird considering it was part of a chain. Shouldn’t they be focusing on profits? But no one had ever met the local owner, and no one had any complaints about it, so the issue was left alone.

All of these points were easy to look over. Most people were just glad to have a warm drink and a filling meal at the end of the day.

There was…one more thing, however. Something that caused the hairs on people’s necks to rise as soon as they crossed the threshold, right before the warmth of the shop hit them, brushing the feeling away. Something that called for them to come back, to relax, to be kind and quiet. Something that was a waiting danger in a cursed city.

That something was a boy.

He was by far the youngest employee there, and always worked the register, sitting on a little stool with a cane by his side. Probably wasn’t even of legal working age. But this was Gotham; who the hell cared?

No, what made him strange was his piercing eyes that seemed to look straight into your soul. He was the best at telling you what you needed, no matter if you knew it yourself or not. His cold hands made people shiver as he exchanged money with them, and his voice was smooth when he asked for their name.

People gave it to him without hesitation. He would smile gently, say thank you, and write the name in horrible cursive on a cup or kitchen ticket, never misspelling it, and sending it back to be made before beckoning the next customer forward. The first time someone experienced this, they usually experienced some sort of foggy overstimulation as they wandered to the pick up counter, thanking the kind baristas. Everything felt bright and strange and loud, like they were just plopped into another world.

The second time was easier, and they often felt light as a feather. The third time made people sneeze. The fourth made them cry, and the fifth made them happy. This tended to go on up until a person’s twelfth visit. As soon as they gave their name for the twelfth time, a few things clicked into place, and a few slipped away. It was always a special visit, whether they knew it or not, and they never walked out of there the same.

Today was Tim’s twelfth visit.

The commute to the coffee shop was the same. He’d memorized it months ago, even though he hadn’t had the chance to go as often as he’d liked. The shop was always neat and tidy on the outside, and he took a strange comfort in the split second feeling of fear that shot through his system as he opened the door.

Something felt wrong, why was he happy to be afraid?

“Hello! Nice to see you, Tim!” The boy was at the counter again, smiling widely and waving to Tim.

Tim smiled back and approached the register. “Hey, uh, how are you today?”

Why don’t I know his name? He’s wearing a name tag.

“Doing okay so far. My cane was being an ass, but I made it to work safely.” The boy tapped away at the menu, apparently ringing up Tim’s order.

I haven’t even told him what I want.

“Don’t worry about what you want, this is what you need, Tim.”

“Oh, okay.” Tim felt a little floaty. Of course the boy knew what he needed, it was obvious. Man, how tired was he? Tim rubbed his eyes and turned away for a second.

Blinking, he scanned the shop with fresh eyes, noticing things he never did before. The boy’s cane was made of wood, with an ugly face carved into it. Wasn’t it a black metal cane earlier? Some of the windows were casting rainbows despite the lack of sun. It smelled of ash despite no fireplace existing. A jackhammer was going off in the unfinished kitchen literally thirty feet away, but no noise was being made and no dust was in the air.

Something isn’t right.

The boy poked his arm, a cheeky grin on his face and a blue marker in hand. “Can I have your name?”

“Tim.”

A violent shiver ran up his spine as his name rolled off his tongue. It felt like he just got shoved to the side by a gust of cold wind. The boy-Danny-didn’t notice as he stuck his tongue out and drew little shaky stars around his name on a cup.

His name is Danny. That’s what the name tag says.

He blinked, moving to the side in a daze so the next customer could come forward. Were the lights in the shop always so bright? No, it wasn’t the lights. It was Danny. He practically glowed under the cheap fluorescent. His ears were pointed, and his teeth were sharp as he bared silly grins at everyone. His eyes were green now, too. Or were they always green?

They weren’t.

A barista behind Danny turned to grab a lid and he spied sparkling dragonfly wings cascading down her back, right out in the open. Another had longer ears than Danny did, and a third had actual metal disks braided into their hair. Almost everyone behind the counter was very much not human.

Why didn’t I notice this before?

The shop changed, too. Artistic scribbles on the walls became lines of swirling script-the same kind Danny had written on his name tag. He would need a notebook and a few days to properly read it all. More and more customers seemed to warp behind his very eyes. Every time Danny greeted them by name, they both glowed a little brighter. One little girl had scales on her face. An old man was sporting a pair of rat ears that twitched as he enjoyed a grilled cheese.

His skin suddenly felt itchy. He scratched absentmindedly at his hand, a little unsure of what was going on. He had the sudden urge to go stargazing.

“Hot chocolate for [ ]!”

His feet were moving before he realized. The barista smiled as she handed him a to-go cup of hot chocolate and a bag with a blueberry muffin.

I don’t want a hot chocolate. I need coffee. I have a meeting later.

As if hearing that tiny thought, Danny smiled mischievously to him and waved as he took his food and left. “It’s not about what you want; it’s about what you need! You’re gonna crush that meeting either way. See you next time, Tim!”

The itching got worse.

He felt his neck hairs raise again as the bell chimed, announcing his departure. Stepping back into the hustle and bustle of Gotham shocked him, and he had to wander over to a bench to sit for a moment.

He stared at the cup in his hands. T I M was written, with shitty little stars drawn all around. This drink was special, he somehow knew. If he drank from this, something in him would change forever. It already had, but this drink was important. He considered, briefly, about not drinking it. About tossing the cocoa and muffin away. Something wiggled at him to go through with it.

But Danny said he needed this.

Danny was always right.

He sipped the cocoa, letting the hot liquid settle into his body and soul. It eased aches and pains he didn’t remember getting, and he sighed, closing his eyes. He lost himself to the moment of peace the drink gave him.

If this wasn’t his twelfth visit, or if he’d waited a day to visit the coffee shop and come with the Laughing Magician instead, the boy on the bench would still know what his own name looked like. He would know what it sounded like. He wouldn’t be glowing and growing feathers, turning into something other than human.

But now the deed was done, and the heir to the Drake family belonged to Danny Phantom, the newest Lord to join Gotham’s magical courts.

Danny is a Fae at Starbucks

So! Danny works by Fae Rules, Names and all, but he has no idea about that because he was forced to run away from Home (and the Ghost portal) before his Ghostly Education could be completed.

He runs to Gotham and eventually gets a job at Starbucks, or some other Cafe.

He has to ask the question "Could I get your name please?" A LOT while working there. And unintentionally steals hundreds of Names by the end of his first day, much less a week or a month into his job.

One day, Constantine visits Gotham for a Meeting with Batman, but by the time he gets to the Meeting Point he has bigger issues to discuss.

"Why the hell does half of your City belong to a Fae Lord?!"