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sheepispink · 5 months ago

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Distance makes the Heart grow Fonder ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི Chapter 6 of my Sweet As Sugar Series (baker!reader x lt ghost

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི Summary: Simon leaves in deployment, though just before he goes, your father unintentionally sets a fire alight in Simon’s chest, one he’s never felt in years. It brings him to a realisation he didnt think was possible.

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It’s surprising; in Soap’s entire career, he never thought he’d see the day that Ghost actually looked reluctant to come back to work. Usually he was the one to complain about everything he missed, especially in the mess hall when they grabbed their meals together. Though today Ghost’s eyes were particularly downturned, and he hadn't interrupted Soap once to tell him to do less speaking and more eating. “Ye not gonna tell me to shut up today?” He tilts his head towards the masked man before promptly shoving a bland potato in his mouth, chewing it without a care in the world.

“This tea is horrible; that's why.” He grunts, placing the cup down onto the table with so much force the liquid almost splashes out of the cup altogether. “Thought ya didn't care about the taste?” Soap raises a brow, even more confused. When had his Lt thought twice about how good his tea tasted? Sure, he’d been bragging about the cafe in town for a while now, but he didn't think anything would sway Riley this much. He’s only seen the man this annoyed that time he was given rice instead of pitta when they grabbed their post-deployment kebab.

“My standards have been raised.” Ghost scoffs a little, watching as Soap gulps down a large swig of his strong coffee as always—licking his lips from the three sugars he had just stirred in. “Are you going to finally tell me who that lass was now? Gaz is dying to know too.” He rests his elbows on the table, grinning cheekily at the man opposite, who only shoos him back and narrows his eyes in a faux glare. “You told Gaz?”

“Wait till Capt’ comes back–”

Ghost wasn't sure how to feel about his team’s sudden interest in his private life, but he supposed it seemed natural given that he wasn't one for making friends, let alone getting close to the baker girl in the town they frequented off deployments. “She works at the bakery, that’s all. I helped her with some heavy things.” He chooses to omit the part where he had willingly joined you on a mini road trip and spent time with you at the winter market. Soap will definitely never know about the incident at your apartment either.

”Wait, she’s the one who makes those pastries your unit had? We ‘ave to pay her a visit too. I mean, my mouth watered when i smelt ‘em.” He laughs, remembering the time he had begged Ghost to let him try just a tad of the cookie you had graciously provided him once. He’d take the death glare, especially since after he ate half, he had easily decided it was the best one he’d ever tasted. Besides, he wanted to see what had caught Ghost’s eye to the point he spent more time off base than on. Unfortunately, the masked man had caught onto it quickly, standing with the tray in his hands. “Yeah, you go spillin’ crumbs on yourself in the middle of the briefing we have in ten.” He rolls his eyes, already expecting the alarm in Soap’s eyes as he quickly stands and throws his tray away too—he always had a tendency to rely on Ghost as a personal reminders app.

————

The meeting seemed to last forever, and he had to adjust himself to stand straight every so often just so his mind wouldn’t wander off with the memories of only last week. Though, he couldn’t keep them away for much longer since as soon as he was on the treadmill, everything in his mind was let free. The thing was, even though he hadn't said it directly, Johnny was right—you had caught his eye in a way that he couldn't even figure out himself. From the day he saw you in that shop, dancing along to a song that you embarrassedly shut off as soon as he entered, to the pretty smile you flash every time he enters the shop. In fact, your demeanour seems to light up without you even realising; it’s adorable, really. He notices the pep in your step, the slightly higher pitch in your voice, and even the way you greet the customers with happiness just ‘cause you’re eager to draw your doodle on the side of his coffee cup again. Maybe if he had a little more experience in all of this, he would’ve teased you about it all, or he would even go as far as to admit that you’ve made his heart thump more than any life-threatening situation will. Though, if he told you that then you might just force him to a doctor out of sheer worry.

What if you don’t even see it the same way? What if you’re just being friendly and he’s acting like a creep, reading into all of your actions? He ramps up the speed on the treadmill a little more, his thighs starting to burn the more forceful his strides grow. It’s empty in this room, no sound around save for the heavy thump of his boots bouncing off the walls. He’s heard female soldiers complain before; they huff about how the younger soldiers ogle, and the older lieutenants shamelessly give their remarks. What if he ruins everything and makes you uncomfortable? He’s not even sure he can handle a relationship; he always thought he could never commit to it, nor did he think he could put the constant energy and thoughts into caring so much for somebody. But with you, it just comes so naturally; he barely has to think twice when he converses with you, even less when you chatter to him about something that happened the other day. Relationships always seemed like obligations to him, even if the girl was nice or sweet; something always sucked the life out of him dry until he broke up with them just for their own sake. He didn't want the same to happen to you; no he wouldn't dare hurt you in such a cruel way.

Then what, should he just pull away from you altogether?

That thought alone stills him, the idea of never seeing you again making his body still like a bucket of cold ice dumped over his head. His feet falter as his heart stammers, and his hands can only graze the handles before his knees hit the floor with a painful slam—sliding off the treadmill altogether in a heap of limbs. He looks down in shock, more so down at himself as he sits on the floor in front of the treadmill he had accidentally pushed to the maximum speed. Damnit; he really has fallen for you.

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The little bell rings as he pushes the glass door open; it’s the day before he leaves for deployment, and he was hoping he’d see your grin one last time before he goes. To his dismay, you’re not on shift today, likely doing a grocery run or something similar. Today, your parents are handling the shop, and although you informally introduced him once, he’s almost sure that they don't approve of him. It’s not like they’ve made it obvious; it just seems inevitable due to his chosen attire and his line of work. Naturally, he hadn't expected your father to smile at him widely and know his order before he could say it.

“Flat white or black today? No tea today, unfortunately.”

Simon can only blink in surprise, clearing his throat in hopes he doesn’t sound too hoarse. “Flat white. I’ve got deployment tomorrow, so I'll have to indulge now rather than later.” He doesn't usually add on detail, but he feels like he’s obliged to, just for the sake of seeming a little better towards your parents. Thankfully, there’s not a hint of the disdain he expected on your father’s face; he only laughs, ringing in the order whilst he turns to make the drink for him. “I’d hardly call a flat white an ‘indulgent’, kid.”

Simon barely gets the chance to acknowledge the fact someone just called him ‘kid’ before he’s talking again, and he feels himself stand a little straighter to make sure he doesn't look like some sleazy boy.

“She’s gonna be upset, y’know? Maybe you’ll be better off paying a stunt double to take your place instead of saying you’re on deployment.” The man chuckles again, his face lighting up the same way you do, and you’ve clearly learnt his technique of pouring the steamed milk too.

“I’m sure she’ll forget by the second day; the other customers will have to suffice with all her stories.” Simon brushes off your potential reaction, almost positive that you wouldn't even lose sleep on the matter. Besides, you’re plenty more friendly than he’ll ever be; he’s sure you’ll make quick friends with the other regulars.

“Forget? I won't hear the end of it until you return. I don't know what you did to that girl, but she’s been as bright as the sun since you showed up.” The older man pressed the lid onto the cup, turning around to hand it to Simon. “We’re grateful, y’know? She had a tough time when we first opened; it didn't help that we couldn't afford her further education.”

“I.. didn't know that.” He can't say much else, the words spilling out and surprise evident in his tone.

“We travelled a bit before buying this bakery, so she’s never had many constant friends; it was out of our control.” The man packs up a small bag, placing it on the counter for Ghost to take as well before giving him a grateful smile. “She’d have come around eventually, but the point is, she’s very fond of you. Always makes sure she has your favourite biscuits restocked too.” He chuckles, and Simon stares down at the bag, the faint outline of chocolate bourbons inside. He truly was a lucky man.

———-

Ghost had a hypothesis, and that was that the simplest missions were always the longest. Well, not literally, but they felt as if they dragged on forever. He was positioned up in these mountains to scope the area prior to his team’s entry; however they wouldn't be here for another two hours anyway due to unforeseen circumstances. That meant that for the meantime, he was a sitting duck. It also gave way to the thoughts he hadn’t been able to consider ever since he first processed them, promising himself he’d debate it later after this all blew over.

The thing is, he couldn't fathom the idea of you feeling low or even having a few friends. He considers himself to be on the loner side, considering most people perceived him that way, and he didn't exactly contact anyone outside of the military save from his old boss when he worked as a butcher—he always said happy new year to him. The difference is, he kind of liked it that way, but clearly you haven't been given a choice in that matter. It fills him with an urge, one that’s a little out of place for him yet fits perfectly in his chest. He wants to make sure you’re happy, well, as far as he can do so anyway. And on the off chance you do get upset, he wants to be the one to cheer you up after.

It’s weird to him, having someone that needs him as a presence in their life, someone who’ll miss him when he’s gone. But what’s worse for him, is that he realises now that he misses you every time you’re gone. He thought he had gone crazy the first time Johnny went on deployment without him, and he had to listen to Gaz talk about the latest football game all lunch— not that Johnny usually had anything better to say either. He had only realised he missed him when Soap described the same feeling when Gaz had left for deployment. He figured it comes with working closely with others very often; after all, being forced out of a routine would never feel right. So, he was even more surprised when he had only spent a month and a bit getting to know you, but somehow every moment away just seemed duller.

That night the evac trucks take him home quietly, along with the rest of his team. They’re exhausted, Soap and Gaz more so than himself; they're practically nodding off beside him. Not that he minds being their pillow for the ride, but he does stop to wonder what it’d feel like if your head was the one on his shoulder. He’d probably wrap an arm around you—if you’d allow him, of course—and maybe just sit in silence whilst a movie plays. You’d be happy with someone around, he’d be happy to have a quiet night in, and maybe a quiet sleep again.

That’s the moment he decided what he was going to do and what he’s currently doing right now. It’s two am, and he’s just got back, barely even washed up yet. His phone is in his hands, your little profile picture grinning at him cheekily as he stares at the unsent message.

“Are you free for dinner on Wednesday? My treat, and an apology for leaving you for so long.”

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Sweet as Sugar Masterlist

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི Taglist:

@hidden-treasures21 @bieberismysoulmate @gallantys @tessakate @galactict3a @krispymagazinepizza-blog @silas-aeiou @kupids-arrow

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x you #simon x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley #ghost x you #ghost x female reader #ghost x reader #ghost x y/n #cod fluff #cod fic #cod x reader #cod x you

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sizeofyoursoul · 3 months ago

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Anne Rice vs. A Chicken Restaurant

If you are a huge Anne Rice fan, you may have come across the weird detail that she had a feud with the guy who started Popeyes. You may know this New York Times article, this LA Times article, or this nola.com article. This Time article is not paywalled. But, if you're like me, you might be slightly frustrated when a lot of these articles reference multiple full page ads, but usually don't include their full text.

First, here's the actual scene from Memnoch the Devil (spoiler warning) that the articles keep referencing being set at the location where the restaurant Straya was later built (2001 St Charles Ave, which is a couple of blocks up from Jackson Avenue in the direction Lestat is walking):

I walked a long time down St. Charles Avenue. I walked under oaks I knew, on old pavements and stretches of brick, past houses new and old, and on across Jackson Avenue into the curious mix of taverns and neon signs, of boarded-up buildings and ruined houses and fancy shops, the garish waste that stretches to downtown. I came to an empty store that had once sold expensive automobiles. For fifty years, they'd sold those fancy cars in this place, and now it was a big, hollow room with glass walls. I could see my reflection perfectly in the glass. My preternatural vision was mine again, flawless, with both blue eyes. And I saw myself. I want you to see me now. I want you to look at me, as I present myself, and as I swear to this tale, as I swear on every word of it, from my heart. I am the Vampire Lestat. This is what I saw. This is what I heard. This is what I know! This is all I know. Believe in me, in my words, in what I have said and what has been written down. I am here, still, the hero of my own dreams, and let me please keep my place in yours. I am the Vampire Lestat. Let me pass now from fiction into legend.

This is the end of the book, and was originally intended to be the end of The Vampire Chronicles. This was the original plan for how Lestat's character arc was going to conclude. I need you to know this because it will enhance the experience of the rest of this.

On Feb 4, 1997, Anne Rice published the following ad in the Times-Picayune:

A SPECIAL MESSAGE TO OUR MARDI GRAS VISITORS, OUR TOURISTS, AND OUR CITIZENS: I WISH YOU A WARM WELCOME FOR THIS CARNIVAL SEASON, AND ASK THAT YOU LET ME EXPRESS MY PERSONAL HUMILIATION, REGRET AND SORROW, AS PRIVATE CITIZEN ANNE RICE, FOR THE ABSOLUTELY HIDEOUS STRAYA'S RESTAURANT WHICH HAS JUST OPENED ITS DOORS ON ST. CHARLES AVENUE. THIS MONSTROSITY IN NO WAY REPRESENTS THE AMBIENCE, THE ROMANCE, OR THE CHARM THAT WE SEEK TO OFFER YOU AND STRIVE TO MAINTAIN IN OUR CITY. IT IS AS IF MR. COPELAND HAS TAKEN EVERY FAST FOOD RESTAURANT FROM HERE TO PANAMA CITY AND COMBINED THEM INTO ONE LUDICROUS AND EGREGIOUS STRUCTURE. THAT THIS RESTAURANT STANDS IN THE SAME BLOCK WITH THE VENERABLE PONTCHARTRAIN HOTEL DOUBLES THE INSULT TO ALL OF US. THE STRIP OF ST. CHARLES AVENUE BETWEEN LEE CIRCLE AND JACKSON AVENUE IS A KEY PART OF OUR CITY, WHERE BLACK FAMILIES AND WHITE FAMILIES CONGREGATE FOR MARDI GRAS. THE RESTAURANTS ALONG THIS STRIP -- SHONEY'S, HOUSTON'S, THE CARIBBEAN ROOM, DELMONICO'S – HAVE ALL GIVEN PLEASURE TO NEW ORLEANIANS. STRAYA'S, HOWEVER, IS NOTHING SHORT OF AN ABOMINATION, AND MR. COPELAND SHOULD BE ASHAMED. AS A RESIDENT OF NEW ORLEANS, I AM DISTRESSED. I AM SURE THAT I DO NOT SPEAK FOR MYSELF ALONE IN SAYING THAT IN SPITE OF THIS MOST RECENT INSULT TO ALL OF OUR PRESERVATION GOALS, NEW ORLEANS REMAINS OUR PRIDE AND JOY. THE HUMBLEST FLOP HOUSE ON THIS STRIP OF ST. CHARLES AVENUE HAS MORE DIGNITY THAN MR. COPELAND'S STRUCTURE. WHAT MAKES THIS REALLY TRAGIC IS THE FACT THAT THE STRUCTURE OF THE RESTAURANT ITSELF IS POTENTIALLY BEAUTIFUL. REMODELING PROMISED A REAL ASSET TO THE AVENUE, INSTEAD, WE HAVE AN EYESORE. NEW ORLEANIANS, I URGE YOU TO EXERCISE YOUR CONSTITUTIONAL RIGHT AS AMERICANS AND LET MR. COPELAND KNOW YOUR FEELINGS, IN WRITING OR BY PHONE CALLS. MAYBE THEN MR. COPELAND WILL REALIZE THE GRAVITY OF HIS MISTAKE, AND DO SOMETHING TO SHOW RESPECT FOR HIS FELLOW CITIZENS AND HIS CITY. ONCE AGAIN, A WARM WELCOME TO ALL OF OUR MARDI GRAS VISITORS FROM ALL OVER THE WORLD. ANNE RICE AUTHOR OF INTERVIEW WITH THE VAMPIRE

After Copeland's initial response, Anne Rice took out a second ad February 23, 1997, which I was finally able to find the text of here.

EXCLUSIVE TO THE TIMES-PICAYUNE THE VAMPIRE LESTAT IS BACK!!!! READERS ARE OVERJOYED!! THE VAMPIRE LESTAT WANDERED INTO TOWN TWO DAYS AGO, AND WAS WALKING IN HIS DAZED AND SHOCKED MANNER DOWN ST. CHARLES AVENUE WHEN HE DISCOVERED THAT ON THE VERY SPOT WHERE HE HAD SAID FAREWELL TO HIS READERS--THE SITE OF THE OLD EMPTY CAR DEALERSHIP--A NEW AND WONDEROUS STRUCTURE HAD SPRUNG TO LIFE, LIKE A GIANT PINKISH PEACH PLANT, RIGHT OUT OF THE EARTH. LESTAT IMMEDIATELY KNELT DOWN AND GAVE THANKS--THE PEACH APPARITION SEEMED NOTHING SHORT OF A MIRACLE! LESTAT IMMEDIATELY CONTACTED HIS HARLEY DAVIDSON UNDERGROUND FRIENDS AND OBTAINED THE BIGGEST "HOG" HE COULD GET HIS HANDS ON. HE IS NOW DRESSED IN FULL LEATHER, PROWLING THE TOWN AS VIGOROUSLY AS EVER, SEEKING EVIL DOERS TO SLAKE HIS ETERNAL THIRST. HE SENDS HIS SPECIAL LOVE, SPECIAL REGARDS AND SPECIAL THANKS TO MR. AL COPELAND: "MR. COPELAND, NOTHING SHORT OF YOUR INDESCRIBABLE RESTAURANT COULD SHOCK ME OUT OF MY TORPOR AND MY COMA. I AM NOW MYSELF AGAIN! IT IS NOTHING SHORT OF A STROKE OF GENIUS ON YOUR PART TO CREATE A RESTAURANT THAT WILL BE IMMORTALIZED IN HISTORY, LEGEND AND LITERATURE. YOU ARE ONE HELL OF A GUY! MY IMMORTAL THANKS. I WILL ALWAYS COUNT YOU AS ONE OF MY DEAREST FRIENDS. YOUR KITH AND KIN ARE A MARVELOUS BREED. MAY GOD LOOK DOWN WITH HIS INFINITE MERCY WITH LOVE UPON YOU ALL. LESTAT" (END OF SPECIAL REPORT FROM THE ASTRAL PLANE) A.R.

And lo, The Vampire Lestat passed right back out of legend October 10, 1998 when The Vampire Armand was published. Because he was brought out of his coma because of how ugly a chicken restaurant was.

#anne rice #the vampire chronicles #vampire chronicles #tvc #lestat de lioncourt #meta and lists #how the fuck do I tag this #anne rice vs straya #anne rice vs al copeland #anne rice being the fucking funniest goddamn person sometimes #memnoch the devil #i really like the end of memnoch the devil #and i'm always like #i would have been mad about the fucking chicken restaurant too!

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unplaces · 5 months ago

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Rice Ave, Louisville, Kentucky.

#Louisville #Kentucky #May 2019

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eternitycongregation · 3 months ago

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Ave definitely tries to take over dinner when Ratio is busy!

I think Aventurine's initial cooking skills are more about making something edible to survive from whatever potential ingredients are around, and they aren't used to viewing meals as creating an enjoyable experience. Food was a struggle when they were little, and food is a tool in their adult life. It's a fight against the odds and a means to bring key figures into the right places for the next investment. And the latter is done by hiring a catering service and not done yourself, so there wasn't a huge incentive to develop their cooking skills.

Being in a domestic partnership changes things, as I imagine initially Ratio would do most of the cooking and Ave would help her with prepping the ingredients if he's home at the time. She'd show him how she prefers vegetables to be diced and give him volumes she'd like him to measure out and put into bowls for her. Ratio loves cooking and is particular about making hearty and balanced meals, and she has her own little cookbook of recipes she's tried (and some she's made!) and enjoyed. I imagine she fusses a bit over how underweight Ave is and will prepare heavier meals and larger portions for them, leaving little love notes with the plate if he's home late or she leaves earlier in the morning. Aventurine wants to reciprocate this care and attentiveness, take some workload of keeping the house off her shoulders, and most importantly spoil his girl...so he works hard to learn more about cooking as a science and an art.

And Ratio is proud of him for taking the opportunity to improve their skills! She thinks they are idolizing her cooking a bit, though, and wishes he wouldn't obsess over matching her energy. Just the thoughtfulness of bringing her anything, even if it's just a convenience store coffee and chicken sandwich, is enough (she used to have that combo as a university student herself all the time). And she knows once he gets started on an idea to do something for her, it's go big or go home with them. All or nothing, even. Her simple burner stove is going to be replaced with the most expensive and multipurpose one she's never seen before. The old fridge she's been keeping on its legs since her school years is now this big gaudy monster whose drawers can be set to different temperatures and can order ingredients for her. The kitchen is now full of brand new tools and racks to hold them, and it's all so Someone can feel they're doing the absolute best while they're putting together a meal to impress her...and if they don't manage that, at least all the new stuff can be a gift. Ratio has been with him long enough to predict that's exactly where his mind will go, and she always says he's doing too much for something so small. They're wasting money when the old kitchen was just fine, and it's not about how good the tools are but how you utilize them. Money is not a shortcut to mastery; and, frankly, there is no shortcut to mastery at all. And he has yet to listen to her on that <3

YOU. YOU'RE THE TRANSFEM INTERSEX RATIO PERSON. I LOVE YOU.

:o!! It's me indeed, hello!!!

I'm glad you like the headcanon, she's everything to me tbh. You can safely assume any time I talk about Ratio that this conception of her is in my mind.

ramblings under the cut (CW: vague mentions of intersexism and transmisogyny)

About her being intersex, I usually have two sets of headcanons: one where she has nCAH and the other hyperandrogenic PCOS. Part of why I have this headcanon is projection ofc; but it's also because I like the idea of Ratio in her goal to cure the disease of ignorance, she desires to destroy the false concept of the sex binary. It makes the goal very personal to her, being affected by intersexism, in addition to the altruism.

I think Ratio struggled a lot in her transition journey, because she felt like she had to give up a lot of the things she liked about her body and herself and had to conform to beauty standards she didn't like in her attempts to achieve the Ideal Woman status. I think she used to do extensive voice training, wear full beat makeup, and tried to avoid putting on muscle to give the thin and dainty vibe. Even though she likes her deep voice, a full face is a sensory nightmare for her, and trying to keep her body mass down was unhealthy for her...that's what she thought she needed to do. Her oddly British accent (odd for a character Greek and Roman inspired) is from imitating women she thought of as elegant and refined. She used to wear pumps in her classroom and offices even though she hated how they hurt her feet, because that's what other women wear to work.

And I imagine the Ratio we have in the present is one who is secure in her gender identity that she does not feel the need to overperform femininity. She knows that she does need to be accepted by others to know her own worth. Her body is toned and built, she speaks with a deep voice, wears clothes that are comfortable for her (cutouts for ventilation and a nice pair of sandals), puts on red eyeliner and calls it a look. And you can tell she loves it because of all those statues lmao.

#ave could probably make a decent stew. there's probably not enough salt in it bc he doesn't remember to taste as he's cooking but #the meat is tender and the carrots and potatoes are cooked thoroughly so the texture is good. and they remembered she likes jasmine rice #5 points. a few pointers. and a kiss bc she felt his left hand gripping the back of her chair bc he's worried she might hate it after all #they can hide how much he's shaking and give her the usual dazzling smile that doesn't quite reach their eyes but she's catching on #she can feel his eyes on her. studying her face with bated breath. he could do with sitting and down and where's their plate?#have they eaten already? and he could lie (she'd ask him what they ate) or admit he was so focused that they didn't consider himself #and now she will fuss at him for standing there watching her eat instead of fixing his own plate #win some and you lose some #idk therexs something about how aventurine desired so much to give back to the people who loved him. helped him. when he was struggling #but he was the last survivor of his people and the folks who helped him in his gambles before his induction into the stonehearts were killed #so he'd try to do the most to shower his lover with gifts and acts of service since he now has someone to take care of with his wealth #and relative power (or illusion of power) he's obtained through the system #it's everything to me and though ratio is all about self-sufficiency...she may be wont to indulge him a little bit #aventio

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qilingxiong · 5 months ago

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九龍城寨之圍城: Onscreen Timeline

All dates listed directly appear in the film in some type of written form, or they have been concretely verified through calendar search and date conversion.

• Sep. 24, 1953 — Chan Lok-kwan is born [fake ID; birth certificate].

(The false date of issue on the ID is Feb. 5, 1983.)

• Oct. 2nd, 1984 — Lok-kwan runs from Big Boss and Wong Gau, enters the Walled City, and meets Cyclone and Shin [Cyclone's shop calendar].

• Oct. 3rd, 1984 — Lok-kwan meets AV, and starts work in the Walled City [debt promise letter signed in AV's clinic].

• Oct. 17, 1984 — Lok-kwan delivers propane to Cyclone's shop, now working multiple jobs and sleeping on roofs [Cyclone's shop calendar].

(With the context of dates before and after, this could be Oct. 17 or Nov. 17, 1984. I went with Oct. 17 based on the length/placement of the white-on-green day text beneath the date number, as the month itself can't easily be made out. Oct. 17 was a Wednesday while Nov. 17 was a Saturday, so the former would take up more character space as shown in the screencap.)

• Dec. 5, 1984 — Cyclone treats Lok-kwan to char siu rice, and offers him a place to live [BBQ restaurant calendar].

• Dec. 19, 1984 — Signing of the Sino-British Joint Declaration [BBQ restaurant calendar; history].

• Dec. 31, 1984 — The Walled City Four set up the karaoke machine. Lok-kwan tells Cyclone he wants to stay in the Walled City [Cyclone's shop calendar].

• Jan. 10, 1985 — Chau-gor and Tiger-gor storm into the Walled City to kill Lok-kwan. Big Boss and Wong Gau make a deal with Chau-gor to finish the job, and attack the Walled City. Cyclone dies. Big Boss takes over the Walled City and locks up Chau-gor [BBQ restaurant calendar; Cyclone's shop calendar].

• Jan-Apr 1985 — 3 month timeskip. Lok-kwan has been recovering from his wounds, and attempting to sort out his immigrant status. Shin, Twelve, and AV are in hiding/exile [onscreen text].

• Aug. 30, 1985 — Ghost Festival. Lok-kwan, Shin, Twelve, and AV have their final showdown with Wong Gau, and take back the Walled City [set pieces; history].

BONUS:

• Jan. 26, 1957 — Ah-Jim sneaks into Cyclone's new barber shop in the Walled City, and tells Cyclone that his wife is pregnant with Lok-kwan [converted from Chinese calendar date in the shop].

(Given that this is set after Lok-kwan's given birthdate, unfortunately it is a chronological inconsistency, although admirably the only apparent one in the film. The Chinese date on the calendar is Bingshen Year, 26th day of the 12th month.)

#hello! meta things that no one will care about! but i thought were fun #very surprised by the timeline consistency in this I won't lie. the attention to detail is very very good #九龍城寨之圍城 #twilight of the warriors: walled in #ashton originals

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stenoodie · 2 years ago

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Uni and Scallop Don at Hana Don Japanese Cuisine & Bar Markham

Uni and Scallop Don at Hana Don Markham. #uni #chickenkatsuwithcheese #rawscallops a/U

Hana Don Japanese Cuisine & Bar located at 9255 Woodbine Ave Unit B14, Markham After a massage, my mom and I had a kid-free lunch date at Hana Don, a restaurant that I had my eye on for the longest time. We actually have had their food here before but in takeout form, so I feel like it doesn’t count. To enjoy fresh raw fish and their dons, you just have to eat the real thing at the restaurant…

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#"sea in a bowl"#9255 Woodbine Ave Unit B14 #Chicken Katsu Set #Chicken Katsu with melted cheese #Hana Don Japanese Cuisine & Bar #Hana Don Markham #Hana Don Markham menu #Hana Don Markham reviews #Hana Don menu and prices #Hana Don Winterlicious menu #Hokkiado Don #Kyoto Don #Markham #sashimi topped on rice #uni don bowls

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april-is · 3 months ago

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April 25, 2025: a remix for remembrance, Kristiana Rae Colón

a remix for remembrance Kristiana Rae Colón

For my students

This is for the boys whose bedrooms are in the basement, who press creases into jeans, who carve their names in pavement, the girls whose names are ancient, ancestry is sacred, the Aztec and the Mayan gods abuela used to pray with

This is for the dangerous words hiding in the pages of composition notes, holy books, and Sanskrit This is for the patients who wait for medication, for the mothers microwaving beans and rice at day’s end

This is for the marching bands and girls at quinceañeras, the skaters and the writers whose moms are eloteras, laughing “Cops don’t scare us, we sag so elders fear us We will rewrite our textbooks in our own language if you dare us”

This is for the Sarahs, the Angelicas, and Shawns, the Beatrices, Paolas, Danielas, and the dawns we scribble sunlight in the margins of horizons with our songs, for all the voices tangled with the silence on our tongues

Rivals in the parks, fireworks at dark, tired shirts that sweat your scent on hangers in the closet For the boys who fix the faucet while their sister fixes coffee ’cause mommy had to leave for work at 6 AM and laundry isn’t folded yet: you don’t have to hold your breath

You don’t have to behave: stage your own rebellion, paint canvases with rage and religion and prayers for pilgrims sleeping in the train cars at the border and their children Filibust the Senate and bust markers on the Pink Line, stain the prosecution’s case and force the judge to resign, force the crowd the rewind the lyrics you invented

Speak away the limits to heights of your existence Be a witness, be a record, be a testament, a triumph Set your poems flying in the glitter of the planets Feed open mouths with truth, the truth is we are famished The Universe is starving for the symphonies you play Clarinets and thunder and the syllables you say are the instruments: you are infinite. Stretch your hands to heaven Let your throat throttle the rhythms of all your fallen brethren Your legacy is present, your history is now You are the tenth degree of sound You are the nephews of the sky You are the bass line and the hi-hat and the snare drum and the cry of red Septembers. You’re the architects of winter You are the builders of the roads that you’re told you don’t remember You are the builders of the roads that you’re told you don’t remember You are the builders of the roads that you’re told you don’t remember

Cast poems in the river and tell them you remember Skate City Hall to splinters and tell them you remember Send diamonds to your islands and tell them you remember Find your God inside your mirror and tell Her you remember

I think rhyming poetry can often feel old fashioned -- yet this is anything but. I love how even when the rhymes disappear from the ends of each line, you can still find rhymes and almost-rhymes (slant rhymes!) buried throughout the stanza: parks/dark, closet/faucet. And it helps keep up the relentless, self-assured rhythm of the whole poem, rushing ahead and building.

More Latinx poets here.

Today in: 2024: from Moon for Aisha, Aracelis Girmay 2023: Still Life with Nursing Bra, Keetje Kuipers 2022: A Small-Sized Mystery, Jane Hirshfield 2021: Prayer for My Unborn Niece or Nephew, Ross Gay 2020: Vigil, Phillis Levin 2019: Nights in the Neighborhood, Linda Gregg 2018: I Dreamed Again, Anne Michaels 2017: wishes for sons, Lucille Clifton 2016: Told You So, Keetje Kuipers 2015: Accident, Mass. Ave., Jill McDonough 2014: This Hour and What Is Dead, Li-Young Lee 2013: To Myself, Franz Wright 2012: Manet’s Olympia, Margaret Atwood 2011: Three Rivers, Alpay Ulku 2010: Ode to Hangover, Dean Young 2009: We become new, Marge Piercy 2008: The Only Animal, Franz Wright 2007: Dream Song 385, John Berryman 2006: The Quiet World, Jeffrey McDaniel 2005: Man and Wife, Robert Lowell

#poetry #poem #national poetry month #kristiana rae colón

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