#Skyline Boulevard

[graveyardrabbit]

above the morning fog on California State Route 35

[toyastales]

San Francisco, California

[nashra]

For the ones who dream of stranger worlds .

[bubblesorbubbles]

Winter in Baku

Kodak Ektachrome E100

[circuitmouse]

Los Angeles

[wolfephoto]

Champs-Élysées from the Arc de Triomphe by John Wolfe Via Flickr: Paris, France 2023

[hometownhistorychicago]

71st Street and Jeffery, Chicago (1955)

In 1955, the intersection of 71st Street and Jeffery Boulevard in Chicago's South Side was a bustling commercial hub within the South Shore neighborhood. This area was known for its vibrant mix of small businesses, shops, and services that catered to the local community. The intersection was a key part of the neighborhood's economic and social life, with heavy foot traffic and active storefronts. The surrounding area featured a blend of residential buildings and commercial establishments, reflecting the prosperity and strong community ties that characterized South Shore during the mid-20th century.

[hyper-trash-panda]

Teaser: Bad Boys - Legacy

Fandom: “Bad Boys” movie franchise

Storyline: Continues the franchise after “Bad Boys: Ride or Die”

Timeline: Three-ish years following ROD

Warnings: Guns I guess?

In the fifth installment of the Bad Boys franchise, Miami is under siege as a potent new drug dubbed Helios has flooded the streets, leaving a trail of chaos and mass casualties. The narcotic's rapid spread threatens to overwhelm the city, pushing Mike Lowrey and Marcus Burnett to the brink as they scramble to uncover its source with the help of their next in line: Former Marine Reggie and recently acquitted fugitive Armando.

The Miami skyline raced by in a blur as Mike Lowrey's Porsche 911 rocketed down the sunlit streets. Traffic parted reluctantly in the car's wake, horns blaring as the sleek vehicle wove through lanes with reckless precision. Mike's jaw was set, his eyes narrowed behind his Ray-Bans with determination as he ignored the pounding in his chest.

Beside him, Marcus Burnett clutched the door handle, his knuckles white, eyes wide with a mix of fear and frustration. He braced himself as they narrowly missed a delivery truck, the tires screeching in protest.

“Mike, man, slow down! I didn't sign up for the Daytona 500!" Marcus's voice was strained, each word laced with anxiety as his stomach churned, his breakfast threatening to make a return visit.

Mike didn't glance over, his eyes locked on the road ahead. "We're late. And if you hadn't stuffed your face with that stack of pancakes, we wouldn't be in this mess!"

Marcus groaned, leaning his head back against the seat. "I told you, my metabolism ain't what it used to be! I needed a good breakfast to get me through the day."

"You needed a good breakfast? Or you needed to sample the whole damn menu?" Mike shot back, swerving around a taxi that had stopped abruptly. The sharp turn caused Marcus's stomach to lurch, and he swallowed hard, regretting the third helping of bacon.

"I swear, you always gotta bring up my eating habits when we're in a life-threatening situation," Marcus muttered, clutching his stomach.

"Oh, your life gone be threatened alright if you so much as drool on my leather seats." Mike snapped.

From the back seat, Reggie, Marcus's son-in-law and new recruit to the Miami PD, leaned forward, his brow furrowed in concern. "Uh, sir, this speed is unlawful given that we're not in pursuit of a suspect. According to Miami's police code of conduct, officers are required to maintain—"

"Reggie, shut up!" Mike barked, cutting off the younger man. "We're late, and I don't need a lecture on driving.”

Reggie, still trying to process the banter, cleared his throat awkwardly. "Sir, I'm just trying to follow protocol."

"Protocol's for rookies," Mike snapped, turning his attention back to the road. "And last I checked, you're riding with the best. So buckle up, kid."

Marcus shot Reggie a sympathetic look, though he was clearly not thrilled about the situation himself. "Mike, he's got a point. The kid's just doing what he's been trained to do. Besides, we're supposed to be setting a good example as his shadowees."

Mike glanced at Marcus, an eyebrow raised. "Shadowees? The only reason he's even allowed to shadow us is because you're sweet on the receptionist who pushed the paperwork through."

Marcus bristled, his voice defensive. "I'm not sweet on her. I'm just polite and charismatic—something you wouldn't know nothing about."

"I wonder how 'polite' Theresa would be if she found out just how 'charismatic' you've been." Mike shot back, a smirk tugging at his lips.

"Hey, now!" Marcus's eyes widened, his voice dropping to a hushed tone. "Ain't nobody being anything but polite. Don't start something you can't finish, Mike."

Before either could respond, the radio crackled to life, cutting through the tension in the car. "All units, be advised, we have a 10-80 in progress near Biscayne Boulevard. Suspect vehicle is a black SUV, heading northbound. Requesting backup."

Mike's eyes lit up with sudden interest, and he gunned the engine, the Porsche surging forward with impossible speed. "Well, would you look at that. Sounds like our kind of party."

"Mike, you can't just—" Marcus began, but his words were drowned out by the roar of the engine as Mike made a sharp turn toward the boulevard.

"Can't what, Marcus?" Mike snapped, his voice edged with impatience. "According to Poindexter back there, we ain't supposed to drive like this unless we're chasing a suspect."

Mike smirked as he pushed the car to an even more reckless speed. "I'm just trying to set a good example as a shadowee."

Reggie fumbled for his seatbelt, his eyes wide as he prepared for whatever chaos was about to unfold. "Sir, are we engaging?"

"Hell yeah we are!" Mike grinned, his tension replaced with the adrenaline that only a high-speed chase could bring. "Bad Boys for life."

Marcus sighed, his stomach knotting even tighter. "Bad Boys for life," he muttered, knowing there was no turning back now.

The Porsche hurtled down the streets of Miami, the roar of its engine echoing through the concrete jungle as the radio crackled with updates from the chopper overhead, its pilot providing a bird's-eye view of the chase.

"Suspect is heading northbound on Collins Avenue, approaching the airport," the dispatcher's voice crackled through the speakers.

"Well, isn't that convenient," Marcus muttered, gripping the dashboard as Mike took another sharp turn, the tires squealing in protest.

"There he is!" Mike pointed ahead where a black SUV was weaving through traffic, trying to shake off its pursuers. "We're in this now, Joker. Time to show 'em how the big boys play."

Marcus squinted at the SUV speeding ahead, his heart pounding as he took in the chaotic scene. Civilians scattered, cars swerving out of the way as the chase tore through the city.

"Alright, Marcus, shoot out his tires!" Mike ordered, eyes locked on the target.

Marcus's eyes widened in disbelief. "What? Hell no! There are too many civilian vehicles out here, Mike. You trying to get someone killed?"

From the back seat, Reggie interjected with a nervous glance at the manual in his hand. "Actually, according to the handbook, we're supposed to request the driver to pull over through the intercom first—"

"Reggie, I don't care what the handbook says!" Mike barked, cutting him off. "Marcus, shoot out the damn tires!"

Marcus shook his head adamantly, his hands clenched tight. "I'm not shooting in the middle of all this traffic. Do a pit maneuver or something!"

Mike's grip on the steering wheel tightened as he scowled. "I'm not messing up the new paint job on my car for this fool."

Marcus shot him a disbelieving look. "So you'd rather I risk shooting a civilian than scratch your precious car?"

Mike huffed, frustration mounting. "You won't hit a civilian if you put on your damn glasses before you fire."

Marcus opened his mouth to argue, but Mike was done with the back-and-forth. He turned his head slightly to the back seat. "Reggie, shoot out the tires."

Reggie's eyes widened. "Is that an order, sir?"

"Damn right it is!" Mike snapped as he hit a button, opening the sunroof of the Porsche.

Reggie swallowed hard, then reached out, taking the gun Mike handed him with disciplined hands. Standing up through the roof, he positioned himself for the shot, his military training kicking in as he steadied his aim. The wind whipped around him, but Reggie's focus was unshakable.

With perfect precision, he fired two shots, the bullets hitting their mark and blowing out the SUV's back tires. The suspect's vehicle swerved wildly, its speed dropping as the driver struggled to regain control.

Reggie dropped back down into the car, his breath coming in short bursts, adrenaline pumping through his veins. "Tires neutralized, sir."

Mike flashed a grin as he maneuvered the Porsche closer to the now-crippled SUV which careened wildly as it barreled toward the passenger pickup area of Miami International Airport. The tires left dark streaks on the pavement as the driver fought for control. Smoke began billowing from under the hood, the engine pushed beyond its limits.

"Pull over and stop the vehicle!" Marcus's voice boomed over the intercom, but it was clear the SUV had no more fight left. The engine coughed, then with a final groan, it blew out, sending a cloud of smoke into the air. The SUV slowed to a crawl, finally rolling to a stop right in front of the airport's sliding glass doors.

Mike brought the Porsche to a screeching halt in front of the smoking SUV, his eyes sharp and focused. "Showtime, boys," he said as he threw the car into park.

In unison, Mike, Marcus, and Reggie exited the vehicle, guns drawn and pointed at the SUV. Civilians in the area scattered, some ducking behind pillars and parked cars as the trio approached the suspect's vehicle with the practiced precision of seasoned cops.

"Hands where I can see 'em!" Mike barked as they neared the driver's side.

The door creaked open, and a man stumbled out, coughing and waving his hands in surrender. Before he could even think about making a run for it, Marcus was on him. He grabbed the suspect by the collar, yanking him from the SUV and slamming him onto the hood of Mike's Porsche with a force that made the man wince.

"You're under arrest, jackass," Marcus growled, snapping a pair of handcuffs around the man's wrists. "Don't move unless you wanna get to know my bullets real well."

As Marcus secured the suspect, more officers arrived on the scene, their flashing lights adding to the chaos. Marcus handed the suspect over to a pair of uniformed cops, then turned back to Mike, who was still watching the scene with a careful eye.

"Alright, suspect's in custody," Marcus said, wiping his hands on his pants as he approached his partner. "Not bad for a morning's work."

But Mike wasn't listening. His gaze had shifted, his focus drawn to the figure standing just beyond the smoke, his silhouette becoming clearer as the cloud dissipated. Although it had been over three years since he last saw the man, Armando hadn’t changed since; standing there with his duffel bags slung over his shoulder, a bemused expression on his face.

Mike holstered his gun and approached his son with an apologetic smile. "Sorry I'm a little late for pickup," he said, trying for a light tone as he gestured back at the chaos behind him. "Got stuck in some traffic."

Armando stood there, his face a mask of indifference. Without a word, he rolled his eyes and walked right past Mike's open arms, heading straight for the trunk of the Porsche. He tossed his bags in with a casual ease, as if this kind of thing happened every day.

Mike lowered his arms, the smile fading as he watched his son's retreating back. He sighed, the weight of the moment pressing down on him.

As Marcus walked over, having finished briefing the other officers, he took in the scene and couldn't resist. "Well, at least the kid's punctual," he joked, clapping Mike on the back.

Mike shot him a look that could melt steel. "Not now, Marcus."

"Hey, just trying to lighten the mood, man." Marcus raised his hands in mock surrender, though the grin on his face said he wasn't all that sorry.

Mike shook his head, glancing back at Armando, who was now leaning against the Porsche, waiting. The distance between them felt like miles.

"Let's just get outta here," Mike muttered, brushing past Marcus to head toward the car.

[jjasen]

this is how to disappear

summary: keeping jj from slipping away from you, inspired by how to disappear by lana del rey

warnings: cursing, mentions of alcohol, angst

word count: 1.5k

john met me down on the boulevard

“Hey.”

“Hey.” You glance over your shoulder at John B.

He shoves his hands into the pockets of his cargo shorts. “So,” he greets you noncommittally, “can I sit here?” You nod and bite your lip, turning back to watch the waves crash onto the shore, the remnants of the sunset casting a soft orange glow onto the water.

cried on his shoulder ‘cause life is hard

He sits down beside you. A few moments pass in quiet contemplation. “He doesn’t mean to hurt you, you know,” he says, squinting at the horizon. 

“I know.” You run your hands down your thighs. It’s starting to get chilly as the last beams of sunlight dip below the skyline. “It still does, though. Hurt, I mean.” 

He looks at you, his cinnamon-brown eyes sorrowful, then sighs, ducking his head. “Yeah. I know.” He pauses, gathering his words. “He just- he’s so scared that you’ll leave him. I think it gives him a sense of control if he’s the one to withdraw first.”

You smile mournfully, thinking back to your argument. 

You were - all of you, even Sarah - hanging out in John B’s yard, lounging around in camp chairs and hammocks under the shade of the oak trees, hoping to escape the oppressive summer heat. The Chateau’s air conditioning system was broken, and there was nothing to drink except for tap water and few lukewarm beers, which hadn’t deterred JJ from snagging a can and popping it open in his hammock. Pope had dug out a box of sticky cherry ice pops from the freezer for the rest of you. 

“So, JJ,” Kie had leaned forward, elbows on her knees as she cupped her chin with her palms, “Are you, like, gonna return the hot tub? It’s been less than a month, so theoretically you could get the restitution money back.”

the waves came in over my head

“What?” Your outburst was half-laughter, half incredulous. You turned to look at him, sitting up in your hammock, a dull ache beginning to throb in your chest. “You didn’t tell me you used all of the restitution money to buy the hot tub.” 

what you been up to, my baby?

A quick glance at all the others confirmed that they had all been aware of your boyfriend’s expenditure. Pope looked down at his lap, his melting popsicle slowly dripping onto the grass, John B muttered a low, “Shit, man,” and Sarah stared at you worriedly, biting on her lower lip. 

all of the guys tell me lies but you don’t 

JJ clenched his jaw, the muscles in the column of his neck ticking, and refused to meet your gaze. “It’s nothing, dude,” he mumbled, getting up to crush his empty beer can with his boot and walking inside the Chateau. An uncomfortable silence settled over the group and you could feel the pogues watching you carefully, sending a prickle down your spine. 

you just crack another beer

“I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have- It’s my fault for mentioning it,” Kie said, fidgeting with her bracelets. 

“It’s fine,” you sighed, brushing your hair behind your ear. “I should- I should probably go talk to him.” The sweet taste of cherry ice on your tongue had quickly turned sour, and you tossed your wooden popsicle stick, stained a bright red, somewhere into the yard before following JJ into the house. You found him in the kitchen, braced over the sink, and you could tell he saw you in his periphery by the way his knuckles whitened, biceps flexing in his threadbare black muscle tank, the way he pressed his lips together. 

 and pretend that you’re still here

“Were you going to tell me?” You crossed your arms casually, leaning against the kitchen counter. “Because this feels like something a person would generally tell their partner about. Maybe before they tell literally everybody else.”

 “Just- just fucking stop, okay? Just stop,” he bit out, holding a hand out towards you, his voice ragged. He turned to face you, running his hand through his blond hair, and stared at you for a moment. His chest heaved and he shook his head. “This is- I don’t wanna fucking talk about this shit. Not with you,” he said stiffly, before stalking out of the house. You made to follow him, briefly, but as if he knew what you were doing, he held up his hand from the yard, signaling you to stop.

“Don’t!” he called, not bothering to look back at you.

this is how to disappear

You watched him helplessly from John B’s sun-bleached porch, JJ’s figure shrinking into the distance. Dust flew up in the scorching summer heat, clouding his retreating silhouette. You pretended that the pogues weren’t watching you with their pity-filled eyes, and they pretended that they hadn’t witnessed your fight. You appreciated it, awkward as it may be; it was easier this way. And you knew that for JJ, it was easier to just up and leave. 

this is how to disappear

“I should talk to him.” It’s not a question, but you still look over at John B. He’s gazing into the horizon, watching the sea swirl inky indigo blue as the sky darkens, fiddling unconsciously with that tattered old bandana he wears around his neck. 

“Yeah. Yeah, you should,” he says. He’s still sitting there when you get up from the pier.

I know he’s in over his head

You know JJ well enough by now that you know where he goes when he’s in his moods, or needs to think. And sure enough, you find him at Rixon’s cove, sitting in a low-hanging branch of the oak tree that overlooks the ocean. You’re certain that he clocks your presence in the subtle ways his body shifts - an almost imperceptible head tilt towards you, his hand threading through his messy blond hair, a quiet intake of breath. 

“I care, JJ. I care so much it hurts sometimes.” You skip past any semblance of greeting him and resume the conversation you’d had, hours earlier. You liked that about JJ, and he liked that about you: that the two of you could switch and weave through different discussions seamlessly, without a blink of an eye. 

 but I love that man like nobody can

“I know.” JJ turns to face you and it’s now that you register his reddened eyes, a smear of dirt and a few scrapes on his cheekbone. You move closer to clamber up onto the branch he’s sitting on, the tree’s bark rough under your palms. He looks down at his trembling hands. “It’s just- I do these stupid, shitty things all the time. And I don’t know how to stop, and I just want to do the right thing, and I- I fucking can’t.” He’s getting himself worked up again, frustration seeping into his voice, his jaw tensing.

he moves mountains and pounds them to ground again

“The gun, the hot tub - JJ, look at me,” you say softly. JJ gives people only enough of him to form a relationship; never enough so they could hurt him. For why would he trust anybody to love him when he has been taught that all people know how to do is hurt him? “I don’t care about that. It’s stupid. Of course it’s stupid. But there’s nothing you could do to make me stop loving you,” you say gently, reaching out to take his hand, to brush your thumb over his calloused palms. His fingers shake with how desperately he wants to be loved. The weight of his hand in yours is warm and familiar and comfortingly heavy.

I watched the guys getting high as they fight for the things that they hold dear 

JJ closes his eyes. “Do you promise?” It’s no more than a whisper, a murmur through the cool night air. The last dregs of sun tint his face with a golden glow, his blue eyes now a clear silver in the evening light. His gaze is wide, searching, as if he will find the key to the universe scattered across your cheekbones. 

to forget the things they fear

“I promise.” There is nothing you have ever been more sure of, and the fact that JJ sits back, relieved, as though he hadn’t been sure, makes something akin to sadness bubble up in your chest. 

this is how to disappear

“Come here.” You wrap your arms around him, careful not to fall out of the tree. JJ buries his face into the nape of your neck; his hair smells like the earth, like weed and cedarwood. Like home. He holds you tight, as if at any moment you could slip away from his grasp, his hands warm and pressed against your back, your waist. 

I watch the skies getting light as I write, as I think about those years

You lean down slightly so that your lips brush the shell of his ear. 

as I whisper in your ear 

“I'm always going to be right here. No one's going anywhere.”

[strangelittlestories]

Three weeks into the latest depressive episode A magazine calls - they want me on the cover

I tell them they’ve made a mistake I tell them the only reason I picked up Was for the sticky ‘ew’ feeling Of answering a phone call In this day and age

I tell them I haven’t showered And all I’ve eaten today Is a pack of six bake-at-home cinnamon buns And I feel a bit sick

He tells me I work for ‘Not Okay’ Magazine And we don’t make mistakes

Well, okay, we do Often But most of the time they’re sexy mistakes. We both know he’s lying, But I agree out of exhaustion.

They send a photographer to my flat We agree on a series of tasteful nudes With unwashed laundry And mouldy mugs In all the right places. They ooze attitude They also ooze literal ‘ooze’ Because of the, y’know, mould.

I list my nearest and dearest So they can ask for quotes. The one they print reads: “I wouldn’t really call us friends I haven’t heard from them In years I assumed they were mad at me.”

We chat in my living room Over a single measuring jug filled With expired instant coffee The interviewer breathes in a waft Of bovril-smelling caffeine slurry  And wipes the awe from his eyes Then says:

“A few years ago No-one knew you You were medium sad The human equivalent of a drive-thru restaurant Bad, sure, but everyone knew what they were getting. You were … a C minus.

But now? You’re a landmark A national trust ruin They may as well tattoo ‘This is not a place of honour’ On the small of your back.

My doctor heard I was interviewing you And referred me for therapy  As a precaution. So let me ask the question on everyone’s lips? What’s your secret?”

“What a great question.” I say, wrestling the coffee From his hands Because I deserve it

“It takes a lot of practice. You’ve just got to make time To remap your synapses I try to fit in one life-changingly bad event a year To really forge new wide-ranging roads Through my internal atlas Away from those depots of cloying serotonin I know I don’t deserve. Y’know, something really verve-destroying.

I’ve careened across the map Wheels burning into redundancy town Double-parking at heartbreak hotel (did you know you could fail a break-up?) Getting a ticket on bereavement boulevard A hit-and-run through jury service-ville (leaving my faith in humanity behind)

And of course Pandemic City was a blessing  for all us sad-sacks But an extra spicy affair if you worked in healthcare

Finally, I crashed the metaphor into a river On the coldest night on record But it was pretty shallow And I think the cold probably helped Shock me out of it. Plus, I made it home with my trousers only partially frozen.

We are creatures of habit, Michael Can I call you Michael?”

(He quickly corrects me - Michael is not his name - “I didn’t ask you what your fucking name was I asked if I could call you Michael” He says yes)

“Like I said - creatures of habit If you *practice* If you really dig your feet in If you cut a wide furrow through the mud Some part of you will start to think Of the hole you burrowed in the dirt As home.

Your highest landmarks Are distant skyline and To visit would feel like trespassing.”

At the end of the interview I ask Michael If he’s sure I’m qualified To be a coverperson

After all There are so many people More ‘not okay’ than me Or who have more reason to be Yet remain seemingly functional.

“That’s the beauty of Not Okay magazine,” he says, with a smile like marshmallow “We don’t judge or rank. We ask for one thing: That today you are not okay.

In its own way, every sadness is interesting Even when it feels boring as the road you grew up on Tomorrow you might even be happy That’s okay too. Tomorrow is an impossibility of sunrises. Today - you are seen.”

[maiochiruhanabiraaa]

Whispers In The City Of Dreams (Alejandro Balde.)

Summary: In Barcelona, Alejandro, a footballer, meets Y/N, an artist. They explore the city's landmarks, fall in love, and enjoy a romantic sunset boat ride.

In the heart of Barcelona, where the pulse of history intertwined with the rhythm of modernity, Alejandro Balde found himself strolling down the bustling Rambla de Catalunya one bright summer morning.

As a promising young footballer for FC Barcelona, Alejandro often found solace in the city's vibrant streets and hidden corners, away from the demands of the pitch.

On this particular day, fate intervened in the form of Y/N, an aspiring artist with a penchant for capturing the essence of Barcelona's soul in her paintings.

Y/N, lost in admiration of the intricate architecture lining the boulevard, nearly collided with Alejandro as he rounded a corner.

"¡Perdón! (Sorry)" Alejandro exclaimed, steadying Y/N with a gentle hand on her arm.

Y/N looked up, her eyes widening in surprise at the sight of Alejandro, whose name she had heard echoing through the city's football fervor.

"No, I'm sorry," Y/N replied with a warm smile.

"I was lost in the beauty of this city."

Alejandro chuckled softly, his dark eyes sparkling with amusement.

"It has that effect on people. Are you a local artist?"

"Yes," Y/N nodded, feeling a flutter of excitement at Alejandro's genuine interest.

"I paint scenes of Barcelona-its streets, its parks, its hidden corners that speak of its rich history."

Their conversation flowed effortlessly as they walked together, sharing stories of their favorite spots in the city.

Alejandro revealed his love for the tranquil oasis of Park Güell, while Y/N described the inspiration she drew from the whimsical details of Casa Batlló.

As days turned into weeks, Alejandro and Y/N explored Barcelona hand in hand, their romance blossoming amidst the city's iconic landmarks and hidden gems.

They shared stolen kisses under the shade of La Sagrada Família's towering spires, danced to the melodies of street musicians in the Gothic Quarter's labyrinthine alleys, and lingered over cups of rich Spanish coffee in cozy cafés overlooking the Mediterranean Sea.

One evening, Alejandro surprised Y/N with a sunset boat ride along Port Vell. They sailed past the shimmering lights of the city skyline, the sea breeze carrying whispers of promises and dreams yet to unfold.

"Barcelona is more beautiful with you in it," Alejandro murmured, his voice soft yet filled with sincerity.

Y/N leaned into his embrace, her heart overflowing with love for this city and for the man who had become her muse.

"And you, Alejandro, have painted colors in my life that I never knew existed."

Their love story became intertwined with Barcelona's tapestry, each moment etched with laughter, passion, and a shared appreciation for the city's enchanting allure.

From the heights of Montjuïc Castle to the quiet charm of Barri Gòtic, Alejandro and Y/N discovered that in the City of Dreams, every corner held the promise of a new adventure and a deeper connection.

As the sun set over the horizon, casting a golden glow over the city they both cherished, Alejandro and Y/N knew that their love was a masterpiece unfolding-one brushstroke at a time-in the timeless canvas of Barcelona.

In the amidst whispers of love and the echo of their footsteps in the cobblestone streets,

Alejandro and Y/N embraced the magic of their whirlwind romance in the City of Dreams.

[graveyardrabbit]

[dynamic8ball]

"The Girl in the Iceberg" synopsis/trailer

Before I introduce to the world of Tumblr and possibly beyond of what I'm about to write, I just wanna say what this "synopsis/trailer" thing is. You all know what a movie or TV show trailer is, right? Well I'm about to (sort of, maybe?) do it for a fanfic that I've been adoring for the past several months. A Legend of Korra fic titled "The Girl in the Iceberg" by RainbowRosieS (I'm not them by the way. I'm just promoting it because I love it so much as a reader) on AO3. Here's a link to it if you just want to skip my ramblings, but I just want to get this out because 1) I love this ongoing fic to death and 2) I could use the exercise for writing 3) I want to do it for fun. https://archiveofourown.org/works/44664853/chapters/112368748

Republic City, present day.

The hustle and bustle of Republic City is alive and well. Motor vehicles deafen the streets and boulevards; brands such as Satomobile and Cabbage Car making up the majority of the automobile market. Airships float high above the metropolis overseeing the urban landscape. The inner-city's ship yards teem with union dockworkers mooring ships to shore, lifting and transporting crates by hand off incoming ships, evaluating inventory and inspecting ships that prepare for yet another journey.

All this with the ever-growing city skyline sitting still yet tall in the background, unsuspecting of what a mere anthropology major has brought to these shores. She was no ordinary anthropology student: for one she was regarded as an outlier to the profession. Many regard Asami Sato with wariness and skepticism as an up and coming anthropologist, a field, like many others during this time, dominated by the male demographic. Many already know who she is - or better yet, who she is related to. The daughter to automobile magnate, Hiroshi Sato, Asami has grown to develop a passion for the field she studies at Republic City University. A passion, like many other things, she shares with her late mother, Yasuko.

It was unfortunate - tragic, Asami thought - that her mother couldn't be here to share this breakthrough with her. Asami, reservedly, has never been much of a religious person; her beliefs more or less relied on the laws of physics and what has been proven to be possible. But she could only pray that her mother could somehow see this. Her biggest discovery thus far in her young career and still in university.

On the surface, it just looked like a giant iceberg had been dragged all the way from one of the poles from the ship's stern. Asami's calculations proved to have been mostly accurate with how much the ice would melt over the course of their month-long voyage back home from the Southern Water Tribe without losing any precious cargo still frozen within the ice. This trek had been a long time coming; adversity from her skeptical colleagues and university staff, along with many sleepless nights studying numerous sites and artifacts for her expedition as the basis for her master's thesis had all been worth it thus far.

More work was to be done, for sure. The iceberg was to be craned and shipped to a nearby warehouse that her father owned by the docks. Then it would be a matter of time before her team chipped away at the melting ice and discovered more of what lay inside. Back at the South Pole, Asami could already tell roughly what sat inside was a woman in heavy furs surrounded by clubs and spears suspended within the ice along with a canoe and some unidentifiable white form that lay next to the woman.

Asami kept her excitement in check and expectations tempered as she should show respect for the dead and expect mild results and let the subjects of her studies surprise her. Little did Asami know that she was in for a surprise the likes of which hadn't been seen in recorded history and was long forgotten by the world at large. A generational being frozen for millennia and more, lost to time and history. The myth that turned true.

The girl in the iceberg had waited long enough.

__________

The Avatar is a myth. A tale of bygone eras where people possessed the power to control and bend the elements around them like it was an extension of themselves. The Avatar, born with the power to bend the four elements, was thought of as the bridging spirit between the material world and the spirit world.

Today, spirits are nowhere to be found. Bending has become extinct. The Avatar has long since disappeared.

History roughly remembers who some of the few Avatars were, or at least just by name. The last of these Avatars mysteriously vanished off the face of the Earth over 9,000 years ago, leading many through the annals of time to speculate: Was the Avatar cycle broken? Where could they might've gone? Did the Avatar even exist at all?

Bending and the spirits, too, are questioned to have existed. Throughout the centuries, humans have relied more on practical tools instead of hokey superstition. Evolving technology from stone tools to eventually reaching the industrial age. Beliefs and religion have shifted significantly as well through millennia. The most notable religion, the Church of Raava, has followers spanning the globe in millions. Believing Raava is an all seeing and knowing deity, he supposedly grants access to the after life in the spirit world to those who were devout in the church's beliefs, escaping the cycle of reincarnation.

The world itself is mostly the same geographically. New nations have risen and fallen with varying connections to one of each of the four elements. Bloody wars have been waged with clubs, spears, swords up until the invention of the firearm, shaping combat to be more distanced and deadly. The most recent Great War saw the introduction of the machine gun along with chemical weaponry when the world's powers collided in ruthless trench warfare.

Even with that war over, conflict still ravages the Earth Empire in a gruesome civil war. While the United Republic is experiencing relative prosperity since their arms ceased, trouble looms for immigrants fleeing from the Earth Empire civil war as living conditions worsen in Republic City. Aid groups such as the Red Lotus try and offer help to those in need, even when faced with the threat of Amon's separatists. The separatists' focus is forcing anyone who's not a United Republican out, dismantling the concept of the UR as a melting pot of cultures to establish isolationist peace and prosperity between cultures.

Problems and conflicts continue to mount for Republic City and the rest of the world. Resolutions seem to be growing scarcer by the day as millions still suffer. Perhaps the Avatar, master of all four elements, could save them. So much time had past, though, that the world almost looked unrecognizable to Korra. Without an Avatar for the time she was frozen, the world fell out of balance. And though this brave new world looks very bleak, she hasn't lost hope. Especially when her new hope had discovered her frozen in the iceberg and set her free.

Asami Sato didn't know it yet, but the ancient Water Tribe girl she had released was more than a capable warrior, she held the last hope for balance to be restored. And although her bending skills were great, Korra has a lot more to learn about this world before she should reveal herself to anyone. When the time comes, those that have come to know her will believe that Korra can save the world.

Again, here's the link to the story. https://archiveofourown.org/works/44664853/chapters/112368748

20 chapters are already out with 166,284 words already typed. Updates have been steadily published every Tuesday. If you got an account on AO3, please read it and if you like it, give it a Kudos and leave a comment to the proper author. If no AO3 account, Kudos and comment anyways.

I might do another for other fanfics that I like and enjoy. I've read enough in over a year's time that I could probably rank them in tiers or something that people do, right? Got a ton of LoK fanfic recommendations so go ahead and ask if you want my opinion or whatever.

See yall whenever!

[blueiscoool]

The World's Skinniest Skyscraper

The designers behind the world's skinniest skyscraper have just given fans of ultra-luxury living an early Christmas gift.

New York-based firm Studio Sofield has unveiled the interiors of Steinway Tower, the newly constructed 1,428-foot-tall tower overlooking Central Park. The announcement marks the completion of the opulent midtown Manhattan landmark, which was built on a site once occupied by the historic Steinway & Sons piano company.

The 91-story skyscraper, also known as 111 West 57th Street, contains 46 full-floor and duplex residences. Photos released this month by the designers show opulent lobbies decked out in limestone, marble, blackened steel and velvet, floors paved in smoke-gray solid oak and original artworks by Picasso and Matisse.

According to Studio Sofield, Steinway Tower's interiors were designed to evoke the grandeur of New York's Gilded Age, a period in the late 19th century when the city's boulevards were lined with the stately mansions of robber barons like Andrew Carnegie and Cornelius Vanderbilt. It sits on a Midtown street, filled with gleaming towers, that has become known as "Billionaire's Row."

Studio Sofield's founder, William Sofield, said he wanted to make the tower feel unmistakably New York.

"We've all been to very luxurious places, but I wanted to create a building that could not be anywhere else in the world," he said. "I know so many people might have multiple homes, who will have apartments here. And I wanted to create a very distinct experience that could only be had in New York."

A record feat

Elsewhere, the building's interiors include an 82-foot swimming pool housed in a light-filled room featuring floor-to-ceiling windows and a row of Kentia palms. There's also a modern take on New York's legendary King Cole Bar, complete with an ornamental balcony and custom gold and silver murals.

Other amenities include private dining rooms with a chef's catering kitchen, a golf simulator and a landscaped terrace.

"I always am very personal in my work," Sofield said. "So (take) the swimming pool, for example ... I didn't want it to feel like a normal swimming pool. It has wood paneling with great detailing and gold leaf details.

"It has a vaulted ceiling," he added. "It has draperies... So it's very unlike any swimming pool you would find in New York."

With a height-to-width ratio of 24:1, Steinway Tower has been described by its developers as "the most slender skyscraper in the world." The tower's facade includes blocks of terracotta, a material that appears to change color and texture when seen in different lights and from different angles.

At 1,428 feet, it is also one of the tallest buildings in the Western hemisphere, standing just short of two others in New York City: The 1,776-foot-tall One World Trade Center and the 1,550-foot-tall Central Park Tower.

Super-slender skyscrapers, also known as pencil towers, became standout features of the Hong Kong skyline in the 1970s. Since then, major cities such as New York have followed suit.

Residences in the Manhattan skyscraper, which was developed by the JDS Development Group and Property Markets Group, range in price from $7.75 million to $66 million.

By John Blake.

[wonderjourneys]

To Help You Plan Your Trip to Tuscany

Tuscany is a stunning region, somewhere in between Milan (north) and Rome (south). Tuscany is the heartland of Italy and ancient Rome: this was the home of the Etruscans from whom the Romans learned so much about architecture.

Welcome to Tuscany: enjoy.

San Gimignano

The walls around this city have been build in the 13th century. San Gimignano is known for its skyline of medieval towers. Oblong stone shapes overlooking the hilltop town and the lands around it. San Gimignano is located in the province of Siena, a little to the west of Siena itself. This historic center is a UNESCO World Heritage Site. And with good reason. Not only is it a wonder to walk through, but as it is not yet too touristy, it is quite the hidden gem.

Val d’Orcia

This is the place to visit, to see the cypress trees. The trees are in the whole of Tuscany, but Val d’Orcia is the hotspot.

Pienza

Marvel in this beautiful renaissance town. This too is an UNESCO World Heritage Site. This city was there in the 9th century, by another name: Corsignano. Perhaps Pienza is most known for its panoramic views of the Tuscan landscape. A must visit for every tourist is the panorama boulevard around the city.

Lucca

The city with the wall that has never been breached. Located in between Florence and Pisa. Lucca has an intact Renaissance-era city wall. It is called “Mura di Lucca”. It is not literally a wall, but a wide earthen structure. Approximately 4 kilometers in diameter, the Walls of Lucca functions today as a city park around the historic town. Within the walls is the entire world: palaces and squares, towers and churches, narrow streets, water, a prison and the famous Piazza dell’Anfiteator.

Fog over the Tuscan hills

This is what you see, if you are a bird at 6 o’clock in the morning and start to fly. Tuscan hills in the fog. Pure magic.

Siena

The red stone city. Just like other cities, this city was first settled by the Etruscans (900-400 BC). The floor mosaic in the Siena Cathedral of Hermes Trismegistus is a must see. The three time great Hermes Trismagistus may be connected to Greek God Hermes and the Egyptian God Thoth. The Hermetica is a teaching of philosophy and practical magic: the alchemical procedure to make the Philosopher’s Stone. Most noticeable of Siena are the Cathedral and the Piazza del Campo. The Siena Cathedral has that typical white / dark green layers. We see the same in the Duomo of Florence, and Byzantine architecture (like in the German city of Aachen, for instance). The streets of Siena are red and best discovered by just letting fate decide your path. You will be in for a treat at every corner you take.

Monteriggioni

A small walled village. Near Siena and San Gimignano. If you have the time: this is a wonderful place to visit. The medieval town was a front line in the wars against Florence. It is small. It is charming. It transports you to days long past. Truly wonderful.

Volterra

Yes. The home of the vampire royalty The Volturi: from the Twilight saga. But Volterra is a real place. And what a beautiful place. Founded in the 8th century BC, this town can take you through the ages. The ruins of a Roman theatre are in this city. The streets and buildings are stone like in so many Tuscan cities. But every Tuscan city has a character of its own. And so does Volterra. Tall stone structures. Not red as in Siena, but Gray and ochre. With the magic of the light in Italy, it can paint paintings you would love to see.

Florence

Florence. Botticelli. The birthplace of the Renaissance. After centuries of the Church telling people that only God can create, they realised the amazing works of Plato, Aristotle, the Greeks and the Romans. And there was the moment the Humanistic Renaissance was born. Brunelleschi studies the Roman structures and engineered never before seen techniques in creating the Duomo of Florence. Florence is very busy. Try to get to the main attractions early. And then: discover the marvels of this gem of a city by just wandering around. My heart belongs to Florence.

- - MUSIC - - 'Resolutions' by Scott Buckley - released under CC-BY 4.0. www.scottbuckley.com.au Be sure to check out his site: amazing work!

[tmrrwppl]

At a certain speed on the interstate Everything looks the same The blurry green helps me meditate When everything's always changing I took a ride down the boulevard To see where we use to hang It's worn down like the rest of us But that's a quick coat of paint I'm doin' buck 20 on I-75, 75, 75 Just to see if I'm dead or alive Dead or alive, dead or alive Cause I know I got you And you know you got me We got everything we need We got everything we need

I know I got you (I know I got you) And you know you got me We got everything we need We got everything we need When my mind's racing Yeah I just need some four-wheel isolation 'Cause Lord knows I can't afford that vacation And you can't see the skyline from the basement Yeah, you always remind me Yeah, you always remind me Ah, ah, ah, ah Ah, ah