#son travel asia

[whencyclopedia]

Antipater (Macedonian General)

Antipater (c. 399-319 BCE) was a Macedonian statesman and loyal lieutenant of both Alexander the Great and his father Philip II of Macedon. As a regent in Alexander's absence, Antipater subdued rebellions and mollified uprisings, proving his unwavering loyalty for more than a decade. Unfortunately, a serious disagreement between the two led to a once trusted commander being implicated in the suspected poisoning of one of history's greatest leaders.

Early Career

Antipater had always been considered a trustworthy commander, representing Philip at Athens in 346 BCE. Following the Battle of Chaeronea in 338 BCE, he was entrusted with the task of accompanying the young Alexander in taking the ashes of fallen Athenians killed in battle to the city. After Philip's assassination by the disgruntled Pausanias, a disagreement arose among the nobility as to who was the rightful heir to the throne of Macedon. At a meeting presided by Antipater, several nobles voiced support for Amyntas, the son of Philip's brother Perdiccas. Some of these men disliked Alexander only because his mother was not a true Macedonian. However, Antipater and fellow commander Parmenio, who was in Asia Minor at the time, remained loyal to Alexander, so with the urging of his doting mother, Olympias, Alexander became king at the age of 20.

The first few years of his reign were not easy for the young king. Following his father's death, Alexander found not only his ability but also the strength of Macedon's control over Greece threatened. While the young king and his army traveled northward to secure Thrace in 335 BCE, Antipater remained in Macedon, serving as his deputy. While in Thrace, word of Alexander's supposed death made its way to the Greek city of Thebes and they revolted. When they heard of the approaching the Macedonian army, they assumed, incorrectly, that it was under the command of Antipater. Wrong! It was Alexander, and the city would suffer. The rest of Greek city-states - except for Sparta - quickly realized the true strength of Alexander and submitted willingly to his leadership.

Continue reading...

[thepastisalreadywritten]

Zhiying Zeng’s eyes begin to sparkle and her gestures become more animated as she recounts the day her lifelong Olympic dream came true.

She had to wait longer than most athletes, too: At 58 years old, Zeng will be one of the oldest Olympians at Paris 2024.

But for Zeng, whose Olympic journey began in China in the 1970s and culminated in qualification for Chile’s table tennis team earlier this year, it was worth the wait.

She had even retired from professional table tennis aged 20 – something which allowed her the opportunity to uproot her life in Asia and move across the Pacific Ocean to Chile – and at one stage went almost 20 years without playing.

“It was the biggest dream of my life,” she tells CNN Sport with a thick, unmistakable Chilean lilt.

“Even when I was a little girl and they would ask me what my dream was, I would say: ‘Become an Olympian.’”

Chile has now been Zeng’s home for 35 years and she is as Chilean as they come.

She is known in her adopted country as ‘Tania’ – because Chileans struggle pronouncing the Z in her name – and her favorite dish is pantruca, a kind of dumpling soup.

She also eats beans, a staple of the Chilean diet, every week.

Zeng loves empanadas, too, but doesn’t indulge too much now that she’s an elite athlete again. “Too many calories,” she laughs.

From China to Chile

Zeng was born in Guangzhou in 1966 and picked up a paddle almost as soon as she was physically able.

Her mother was a table tennis coach, which meant the then-government housed the family next to a sports complex, allowing Zeng to train every day and surround herself with professional players.

She was trained by her mother until the age of nine when, Zeng says, she became a typical grumpy child that didn’t want to be coached by a parent.

So her mother enrolled her in a school that employed a table tennis coach and after nearly two years, aged 11, she entered an elite sports academy.

Even in China, by far the world’s most dominant table tennis nation, Zeng’s talents were evident from an early age.

She became a national junior champion and won several regional tournaments before turning professional at the age of 12.

When she was 16, she was called up to the Chinese table tennis team for the first time.

“So many players in China have that dream because it’s so hard to achieve,” she says.

However, in 1986, two years before table tennis made its Olympic debut at the Games in Seoul, the “two color rule” was introduced, meaning the two sides of the paddle now had to be different colors instead of both black.

Zeng explains that the two faces of the paddle produce different types of effects on the ball and she would regularly rotate it in her hand to confuse opponents.

The different colored faces meant opponents could better predict her shots.

“The change of rules affected my game a lot,” she recalls. “That’s when I had a big downturn and left the national team.”

It was a painful moment for Zeng, who says she idolized players who were not much older than her that had already become Asian or world champions, and she was desperate to follow in their footsteps.

But the rule change paved the way for the next chapter in Zeng’s remarkable story.

In 1989, she received an invitation to coach schoolchildren in Arica, a city in northernmost Chile.

It was a job she adored, but it wasn’t until 2003 that she picked up the paddle to play competitive table tennis again.

She wanted to introduce her son, who was 13 at the time, to the sport in order to drag him away from playing too many video games and watching too much television.

In 2004 and 2005, Zeng comfortably won two national tournaments but once again stopped playing when her son was old enough to go to training on his own and travel with the team’s coach.

Third time’s a charm

Zeng only picked up a paddle again when the Covid-19 pandemic struck.

“More than anything, just to exercise because we weren’t doing anything locked down in the house except eating!” she laughs.

“I got the bug and, once we were able to leave, I immediately wanted to play against someone to see what level I was at – and see if I could I still run or not.”

She contacted the federation in Iquique, where she lives today and owns a furniture business, and was soon playing – and winning – regional tournaments against mostly men given there were few female players.

“That gave me a lot of confidence,” she says.

“I had no problems with running, with fatigue or anything. I wanted to know how much more I could do.”

In 2022, the Chilean Table Tennis Federation sent an announcement to the regional associations that it was hosting a tournament to put together a team for the 2023 South American Table Tennis Championships.

Despite her success, Zeng was skeptical about going.

All of the best players in the country would be there and she doubted that she would be able to keep up.

In the end, she only went because a friend managed to convince her.

“‘Go and find out if you can compete or not. If not, at least you’ll be left with no doubts,’” she recalls her friend telling her. “I thought she had a point.”

Zeng qualified for the team, of course, and led Chile to first place in the team tournament, while also coming second in the singles and women’s doubles.

“I forgot what I was afraid of and what I was worried about,” she says.

But it wasn’t until the 2023 Pan American Games in Santiago that her life really changed.

After her first appearance at the tournament, Zeng became a national icon overnight.

After losing the first two sets in her opening match, Zeng rattled off four straight to win 4-2 in front of her new adoring fans.

Chileans gave her the nickname ‘Tia Tania’ – Auntie Tania – and the AP reported that one young fan said he had gone just to watch the “table tennis grandma.”

Even Chilean President Gabriel Boric became a fan and congratulated her on a “tremendous” victory.

Zeng, who will play Lebanon’s Mariana Sahakian in the preliminary rounds of Paris 2024 on Saturday, says being in Santiago as an athlete during the Pan Am Games was a surreal experience.

She spent much of her time with other athletes, going out to dinner and taking photos.

“I lived like that when I was 15,” she says, recalling her time as a professional in China.

“It had been a long time since I experienced something like this. I was like an excited teenager again. I forgot I was 56!”

It proved to be a successful tournament on the table, too, as Zeng won team bronze for Chile alongside Daniela Ortega and Paulina Vega.

Zeng’s sons also noticed that her Instagram following had grown by almost 10,000 in a matter of days and had to teach her how to use social media, so she could keep her hordes of new fans updated.

Finally, 38 years after she gave up on her Olympic dream, Zeng qualified for Paris 2024 at a pre-Olympic qualifying tournament in Lima, Peru, in May this year.

Zeng says she didn’t sleep at all the night before the deciding game as she played out every imaginable scenario in her head.

On match point, when she went to collect the ball, her mind again began to run wild.

“Calm, calm,” Zeng, who says mental fortitude is her biggest asset in table tennis, repeated to herself. “You’ve got one more point.”

After winning match point, the emotion of everything she had experienced in the sport came flooding out.

Her father, who is 92 and regularly visits her in Chile, and her brother stayed up until 5 a.m. in China to watch the match, while her husband and friends were in Lima to celebrate the moment with her.

“My dad was able to see his daughter qualify for the Olympics,” she says, visibly emotional.

“He used to take me to training and to matches when I was a girl and now at 57, I made it. I made it.”

[meichenxi]

languages, travel, identity, grief

Maybe some of you have heard of Xu Zhimo's Second Farewell to Cambridge (徐志摩 再別康橋 Translation: Saying Goodbye to Cambridge Again, by Xu Zhimo | East Asia Student). It's an achingly lovely poem about a Chinese scholar who studied in the UK, and how he left so gently, taking nothing with him as he went. It brought me solace over the last year.

I thought for a very long time about how I felt about having to leave China, and what it felt like to mourn for a future that was never going to mine. I cried. How am I supposed to explain why? I'm not Chinese. I've got no family there, or a childhood to look back on. I couldn't explain it even to myself.

That pain was coupled with a type of uncertainty, a discomfort at myself for feeling so strongly. This feeling was not allowed. It meant - what? Something awful, probably. I was a racist, probably. I should hate myself, probably. Fetishization is the word that gets thrown around for white people and their time spent in East Asia at one end of the spectrum - at the other end it's just seen as embarrassing and deeply, you know, cringe. It's a self-interrogation - why do I feel so sad? Why do I feel this pull so strongly anyway, to a country that's not even mine? Why should it matter so much when I leave? I didn't feel like this grief has any sort of legitimacy. But it has taken from September - eight months after leaving - for me to pick up Chinese again.

I felt, for months, hollow and unsettled and drifting from place to place. I opened my textbook, and closed it again. The memories there were too painful. I'm not going to write about why I had to leave, but it wasn't by choice. I had loved the people in the school, even if it was for a short time. When you have no internet and are training eight hours a day, the days are coloured more sharply: bright and hurtful and wonderful all at once. We had no running water. It was in an abandoned hotel. I miss the monk at the temple door opposite the school, always on time at 6am to open it for our classes. I miss the folk at the local shop who invited me to watch films on their projector; once they killed a chicken for us. I miss the woman in the woods who gave me the chestnuts she had picked. I gave the chestnuts to the cook, and we steamed them and ate them by the lake. He wanted me to marry his son; he wanted it so strongly that he brought me pork, and desserts, and gave me paper, and promised me I could have a jade bracelet, that he would buy me a house. I miss the oldest martial arts teacher, who spoke in such strong dialect I could barely understand him. When I was sad and missing home one night, he told me that I should stay after dinner. In the silence and against the cicadas, he started to play the erhu for me. Later, my friend told me that he hadn't know what to say, how to comfort me; I was a foreigner and a young woman, after all. We had very little in common. But nobody has ever played a piece of music for me like that before.

And I miss X, my best friend there and partner in snack-smuggling crime. She is 19 years old, and a janitor's daughter, and one of the wisest people I have ever met. (She also rides an excellent motorbike, and lent me her hanfu, and we sped through the city giddy with our own daring and trying not to be caught.) We got matching haircuts; she had always wanted to cut her hair like a boy, and was too scared to do it alone. When I left, I told her to stay in touch: she shook her head. She said that some people were meant to know each other for some time, and no more. I think the death of friendship by attrition, by - as Elrond said! - the slow decay of time, is one of the saddest things of all. I deleted Wechat. I don't want to read over the old messages. By having this place - her, and the chestnuts, and the cicadas - as a memory, I can tuck it away it. I can keep it close.

I wrote a poem myself on the plane. That was the last I thought about China, the last thought I let myself have, in eight months. I kept myself away from it. It felt like a wound. And against that hollowness, there was constantly the question: Why should I have any right to miss this place? Who I am there? Why does it matter? We are all different people, wherever we go, and whoever we are with; we wear different skins, large or small. In China I was [...]. She was who I was. That name, that I introduced myself to people with - she was bright and friendly and tried to translate things just so. Everybody who goes as the only foreigner to a place - or the only foreigner that speaks the language - is a little bit self-obsessed. It happens. It's unfortunate, and something to guard against. But it also gives you its own kind of identity in a way: your identity is Foreigner. Your identity is a cultural bridge. Everyone you meet, in a country as friendly and curious as China, has questions about you. You stand with your feet in both worlds, and are not really part of either of them. That identity is easy to slip into, like cool water, like trying on new clothes. It's easier that thinking: who am I outside of that? Where am I going? I don't really know. I don't think anyone really does.

And then the second thing happens. I speak Chinese well, by this point. My accent is there, but it's slight. I am short, and have dark hair, and a generally similar build to many East Asians - so the questions I have got in the last few years have changed. Sometimes people think I have been raised here. Sometimes they think I am ethnically Russian, and nationally Chinese. Sometimes I get asked if I am half Chinese. Usually they know I am a Foreigner, 100% white - but not always. There is a peculiar rush that comes from that acceptance; from feeling the relief, just for fifteen minutes, that you belong. It's not about 'passing', or race-bending, or anything twisted - it's nothing so unnerving as that. It's just the human need to belong. Everyone gets tired of being stared at, after a while. And after a while, you start to think - I wish I understood. I wish they understood. I wish this were easy.

But then the conversation keeps going. You don't know a local word, or you misunderstand. You say something in a strange way, or you make a strange gesture, and the glass shatters, and - there you are again, naked again, exhausted again, explaining yourself again. That's the other half of it. There's solace in the Foreigner identity, because that means that's all you are. You don't have to think about your parents, or whether they worry about you so far from home; of course they do. The Foreigner is good and filial and a wonderful daughter. You can craft her into any shape you like. But it also marks you out again and again, endlessly and again, as Other.

There was a paper published a while ago that showed measures of acceptance of non-natives in native-speaking communities. It highlights a strange, but familiar experience to those who have lived abroad - the people who spoke the language to a medium level felt more accepted and less lonely than those that spoke the language to a high degree. It makes sense, and mirrors what I have found with both Chinese and German. When you speak a little Chinese, you are a wonder - a curiousity! Look at the Western girl go! People are kind, and curious, and will slow down to include you in conversations. You are thrilled with what you can access - all this knowledge, that other people don't have! Look how special you are!

And then you get better. And then you realise, cut by cut, that you will never be one of them. You don't want to be Chinese, per se; but you do want to be accepted. You are happy to be British; but you miss China like a wound, an old one, festering, even when it was never yours. How do you tell your family that you are not grieving a lost romance, a beautiful girl, but a language and a life? That there are words of majesty, of playfulness, that will never be yours? You speak well enough that people no longer bother to dumb things down, or explain them; you sit with your discomfort, smile painted on, because - you know. It's not bad. You understand most of it. And on the edge of that circle, smiling uncertainly, following the vast majority of what is being said, you are not clever enough and not witty enough to keep up with the chengyu, the cultural references, the slang, and the raucous laughter around you erupts, and you don't know what you've missed, and everybody says - she's quiet, that one. Maybe all the foreigners are? And all you are doing is sitting and feeling the distance between You and Them as heavy and as stifled in your chest as an ocean of dark.

So you go back. Back to your people. But when you sit with the other foreigners, you are apart. They laugh; what are these nutters doing? The Chinese don't make any sense. The Chinese do this - they do that. You sit there, and then there is a pressure building in your chest too, a discomfort, the desire to stand up and say - well, actually.

You are responsible for everything the Chinese teachers do, and have to explain things in a way that the students understand - Confucian thought, and Buddhist philosophy, translated in pithy bite-size adages for the West. You have no qualifications for this; everything you assert, you feel unsure. Uncertain. Someone else could explain it better, more nuanced, and you need to do more reading anyway - but here you are, and here they are, and you're the only one. And you do know. Not enough, but enough that their jokes, their pains, make you uncomfortable. You feel the need to defend both parties; to be a diplomat, every second of every day. In turn, when the students come to the teachers with problems, you have to translate their grievances in a way that the Chinese teachers will be sympathetic towards. Once I got asked: why do you never join us after class? Why are you always so quiet when you're not working? As a translator, you are always working. Every time you speak, you are working; what you choose to say, and what you choose to not say, and where you choose to intervene. You are building relationships, and disappearing, and you are becoming invisible, and you're a nothing, and you're everyone and you're nobody and nobody realises you are doing anything more than translating at all.

I wanted to stay. I couldn't have stayed. I wanted to be accepted as one of them. I wanted to be accepted for who I was. That means a foreigner. I wanted to be true to myself, which means that I would always be the Foreigner, which means I would always be apart from them. It is that contrast and juxtaposition which causes the grief. And there was never an ending to it, a resolution, a chance to reconcile myself (in China) with myself (in the UK), because all at once I had to leave. The grief comes most from the second arrow - not the pain of leaving, but the bewilderment of not knowing why I was in pain at all.

It's been eight months. Slowly, as spring comes, I feel like I am on surer ground. I can look at my old books, those painstaking notes, and I could look at new ones too and I'm starting to think, because this is what I tell my students, and maybe there's some truth in it - it's okay if you're not perfect. It's okay if you didn't achieve what you wanted to, and that the language - in its wholeness, and who can ever know that? - will never, not quite, be yours. It's the struggle and the process that means that I will know and understand Chinese in a different way, in my own way, in a slanted-to-reality sort of way, that is a treasure in and of itself. There is beauty in its brokenness too.

And there is sorrow, too. The sorrow that comes with easing yourself into a different life, and it holding you gently for a while. I sat there - I spoke to them. It's not only missing a place; it's missing a person you were, a stage of your life, for a time. It's knowing that a place has reached inside your ribs and taken root there - even if you don't return, you can never fully get rid of that again. You are two people now, with feet straddling two oceans. There are parts of you that loved and suffered and hated and grew in Chinese, not English. You can't explain that. You can't even begin. Sometimes - not often - you are a stranger in your own land. The poets spoke of that. In the age of fast travel, of the weekend break, we have forgotten the ways a place can burrow itself inside you, and find its own home.

It's not the same as the grief that someone Chinese will face. But it's still grief. I have put my life into Chinese. Maybe that is all it takes to grow love.

Now, I turn back to Chinese - as a foreigner, as Melissa, as myself. It's a bittersweet thing. I know that I cannot hold all of it. It will spill out, like the sun, and there is no way I can be that without losing myself and my history and my own green woods. But I think I am ready now. I am surer, and a little steadier on my feet.

[cienie-isengardu]

Bi-Han and Kuai Liang through the timelines, p.1

>> MORTAL KOMBAT II (1993)

Sub-Zero (Kuai Liang)'s BIO

"Thought to have been killed in the Shaolin Tournament, Sub-Zero mysteriously returns. It is believed he traveled into the Outworld to again attempt to assassinate Shang Tsung. To do so he must fight his way through Shao Kahn's tournament."

Sub-Zero (Kuai Liang)'s ENDING

"When Sub-Zero failed to return from the Shaolin tournament and rumor of Shang Tsung's survival reached the Lin Kuei clan, they immediately sent another assassin to complete the task. This new warrior is actually the younger brother of the original Sub-Zero. He enters the Outworld contest and accomplishes his task. He learns of Scorpion's foul vendetta against his brother, but will never know why his life was spared. Perhaps a third tournament is in his future?"

>> MORTAL KOMBAT II COLLECTOR'S EDITION COMIC BOOK (199?)

Liu Kang: You are not Sub-Zero. I saw him die. Murdered by Specter called Scorpion. Kuai Liang: Yes, we all have our ghosts. The Sub-Zero you saw killed was my older brother. He was stubborn in many ways. Refused to utilize modern technology on his missions. A shame, really. He was among the Lin Kuei's finest -- although fast becoming obsolete. I am taking his place -- and as I am slowly discovering, inheriting some of his ghosts. [...]

Scorpion (to Reptile): The Lin Kuei's life is not yours for the taking. Only I, Scorpion, will dictate when his life is over. For I am a warrior not of this Earth -- but from the very depths of its hell. My life was taken my Lin Kuei known as Sub-Zero. I killed my murderer, thus my journey for revenge is complete. This is not the same Sub-Zero. But I return with a new mission. I have taken a lifee -- now I must devote myself to protecting one. Kuai Liang: If this is my brother's assassin shouldn't I strike him down?

>> MORTAL KOMBAT: TOURNAMENT EDITION - “A COLD DAY IN HELL” (1995)

For the context: the main story of comics is about two teams, representing Outworld and Earthrealm that compete in Shao Kahn's game. "Bi-Han" took part in it as one of good guys and won the challenge for Earthrealm. However he paid for that victory with his life due to confrontation with Scorpion (Hanzo Hasashi). In the epilogue of comics, Lin Kuei ninjas are seen in Japan two months after "Bi-Han"'s death looking for "Kuai Liang":

Kuai Liang: Treachery and deceit were not part of the Lin Kuei Order when my brother was a part of it. I denounce this clan as being unworthy. Unworthy of the continued services of Sub-Zero.

>> MYTHOLOGIES: SUB-ZERO (1997)

From Game Official Site:

Somewhere in the northern most parts of Asia, there exists a secret clan of assassins and thieves known as the Lin Kuei. This group has existed for centuries and thrives on the evil intention of the people who pay for their services. Its warriors are chosen at birth to be raised apart from the workings of day to day civilization and are stripped of their former lives. Only the clan knows their existence. Each of them posses certain skills and abilities that set them apart from normal men. These abilities are passed on from generation to generation and honed throughout the experiences of life. Born in America, Sub-Zero was the oldest of three children, which included a brother and sister. Their mother wanted a normal life for her sons, who had already been chosen by the Lin Kuei to become warriors for the clan. She tried in vein to hide them from their father whose own life in America was only a cover for his true identity and purpose. Eventually they were found and their father returned with them to his homeland. Their mother and sister were never seen or heard from again. Sub-Zero learned of his ability as a young adult. It was passed on to him by his father, a fourth generation Lin Kuei warrior himself. The ability to harness the element of cold is one that takes years of practice. It's full potential realized only by those who've mastered it at the latest stages of life. Sub-Zero's skills have the ability to develop much faster than those of the other Lin Kuei. This was realized by the Lin Kuei Grandmasters who picked the young warrior to take his deceased father's place as the next Sub-Zero.

>> MORTAL KOMBAT 4 Limited Edition Comics (1997)

Narrator box: Several days later on Earth, Sub-Zero returns to China, to the ancient Temple of the Elements. The Temple's location is secret, but Sub-Zero learned how to find it from his older brother, the original Sub-Zero. *Flashback* Kuai Liang: What is the Temple of the Elements? Bi-Han: The Temple of the Elements exists to protect Shinnok's sacred amulet. The Amulet that keeps him trapped in the Netherrealm. It's protected by the four Elements -- Wind, Earth, Water and Fire. As long as the amulet remains on Earth, Shinnok cannot escape the Netherrealm. *End of flashback* Kuai Liang *holding his Sub-Zero's mask*: What has happened here brother? I came here to make peace with the gods of the Elements that you fought. But they're all gone. The Temple is unguarded.

Liu Kang: Sub-Zero! Kuai Liang: Liu's right. Shinnok is evil incarnate. I think my brother, the original Sub-Zero, had some sort of an encounter with Shinnok. Iy may be what caused the whole thing. It's up to us to put an end to this.

Side note: In Mythologies: Sub-Zero, Bi-Han said he had never heard about Shinnok or Netherrealm before:

Rayden: Do you realize what you've done?? Sub-Zero: I was just earning my living. Rayden: Your clan's ignorance and greed will cost this entire realm. You must now set things straight. Sub-Zero: Quan Chi could simply be a lunatic sorcerer. I've never heard of an elder god named Shinnok or of a place called the Netherealm. Rayden: Well, you'd better start believing in both, because you're going to the Netherealm and you're going to bring the amulet back. We must act quickly. I have no dominion in the Netherealm... You are reality's only hope. Sub-Zero: I'll do it, Thunder God... but only because I have no choice.

If Bi-Han, the "most cunning assassin and thief" according to Lin Kuei Grandmaster, had no idea of Netherrealm or threat of Shinnok, thus it is safe to assume Kuai Liang had no such knowledge either. Kuai Liang learning from his brother about Shinnok is mentioned in MK4 Sub-Zero's BIO (seen below).

(Mythologies: Sub-Zero's dialogues copied from here)

>> MORTAL KOMBAT 4 (1997)

Sub-Zero (Kuai Liang)'s BIO:

"After Shao Kahn's defeat at the hands of Earth's fighters, Sub-Zero's warrior clan known as the Lin Kuei is disbanded. But with the new threat brought on by Quan Chi, the ice warrior once again dons the familiar costume once worn by his brother, the original Sub-Zero. He also holds secrets passed onto him from his sibling... secrets that could hold the key to stopping Shinnok."

Kuai Liang's Ending:

Sub-Zero: The battle is finished! Your quest for vengeance is over, Scorpion! Scorpion: You cannot kill a dead man! You have defeated my physical form, but my soul is eternal. You will pay for the massacre of my clan and family! (Quan Chi sneaks up on Sub-Zero and knocks him down) Quan Chi: Well done, Sub-Zero. Like your brother before you, you have served my purposes well. Sub-Zero: I serve no one! Not the Lin Kuei, and not you! (Quan Chi stomps him) AAAUGH!!! Quan Chi: Scorpion agreed to fight for us in exchange for freedom from the Netherrealm. A deal I had no intention of fulfilling. By killing him, you saved us the trouble. Both you and Scorpion were pawns for Shinnok... (Scorpion stands up and uses his powers to make Quan Chi levitate) Scorpion!!! NOOOO- (Scorpion releases an energy sphere that destroys Quan Chi) Scorpion: Our battle is finished. You are now freed from my curse. Live well, Lin Kuei warrior.

(script copied from MK wiki)

Scorpion (Hanzo Hasashi)'s ending:

Scorpion: By defeating you, Sub-Zero, I have avenged the death of my family and clan. Now my soul can finally rest. Sub-Zero: Your soul will never rest, Scorpion. The Lin Kuei may have been responsible for your murder... But your family's true killer still remains free... Scorpion: If you are not the murderer, then who is? Quan Chi: (comes in) I am the one you seek. To defeat my nemesis Sub-Zero, I needed the power of a spectre. You've done my bidding well, Scorpion. But now, I must return you to the Netherrealm. (Quan Chi performs a spell that starts engulfing Scorpion, intending to take him to the Netherrealm) Scorpion: NEVER!!! (runs towards Quan Chi and tackles him before disappearing. Both reappear in the Netherrealm) Quan Chi: NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

(script copied from MK wiki)

>> SHAOLIN MONKS (2004)

Sub-Zero (Kuai Liang)'s BIO:

"With his mastery of cold, Sub-Zero freezes his opponent into submission. Though his loyalties lie firmly with his clan, the Lin Kuei, his purpose in Outworld is known only to him."

Story Mode:

Kuai Liang: The man you saw die was my brother. And I am not even certain he is truly dead. I came here to avenge him and believe that he may still yet live in one form or another. I've been told that if I can find some vestige of his power... I may find him.

and

Kuai Liang: Don't take another step, or I'll stop you myself! Liu Kang: Sub-Zero... Kung Lao: What happened to Scorpion? I thought you were after him. Kuai Liang: I was. Scorpion is still here, but I will not allow you to face Noob Saibot. Liu Kang: Noob Saibot? Kung Lao (to Liu Kang): For all we know, this could be Shang Tsung. He's trying to stop us from getting the key to save Earth. Kuai Liang: Do not worry. He does not serve Shang Tsung. He is possessed by one of the Elder Gods. There is more than just Shang Tsung's attempt to invade Earthrealm. The gods are involved. Liu Kang: How do you know Noob Saibot is not a part of this? Kuai Liang: Because, I... I think he is my brother. If you want to defeat Shang Tsung, defeat Scorpion. [...] Liu Kang: If your brother is possessed, how can you help him? He'll most likely try to kill you again. Kuai Liang: I will find a way to free him. Kung Lao: That could take a long time. Kuai Liang: As long as it takes. Finding Scorpion should not be as hard. He wants to kill you.

[vioranhyperfixation]

Damian : #011, it has come to my attention that you are unproductive at the leisure time you are excuse with during the time when I'm unavailable. And that's just improper.

#011 : um.. Then what I'm supposed to do? There's nothing here.

Damian : i have realized that too so I decided to brought upon you this

#011 : ???

Damian : this is doll's, a toy with a shell that have similarity to human that most use to play pretend.

Damian : that would also be the case for you. You shall use this doll's to help develop your productivity and creativity.

#011 : ahhh..

Damian : would you like to play it with me?

#011 : yeah!

Damian : then shall we make a series of stories with those doll? Let me start it, this girl is a star, her name is Khalila. She is a bright star, it just that she has a problem, she has not yet granted a human wish like all other star has done. So she was hoping to find someone to grant wish to, upon that thought she caught a brown girl looking hopefull at the sky and she thought, maybe this would be the day!

#011 :

Damian :

#011 :

#011 : uhhhh,, should I continue it?

Damian : yeah, just said anything you want

011 : "star, if you can hear me, please listen to my plea. My brothen had betrayed me and I'm left with the rubble of my home..

Damian : *nod and nudge him to continue

#011 : "I use to think that they would always stand besides me, I don't know they feel that that they are behind me! I- I just want the best for all of us!

Sometimes in the future at the wayne manor

Bruce : Rafi, is there anything you want to do on the weekend?

Rafi : yeah, I'm going to continue the ten wish

Bruce : is that a show you watch?

Tim : what it is about? I don't think I ever heard of that.

Rafi : of course you don't, because ten wish is not a show. It's my doll's lore on the 34th universe

Bruce : sorry?

Tim : well, that's interesting

Rafi : it is, currently my main character. River, is undergoing a survival competition to secure a position on the Catalyst. But because she is well known on her talent of fighting and intelligence she need to use other way to compete, and that's is by registering herself as a professional mourner

Bruce : what?

Rafi : you know, It is a tradition in South East Asia that a loud funeral will assist the dead as they travel to the afterlife, so professional mourners are hired to cry and weep loudly throughout the service. And she register herself as that. I mean, most of her loved one are dead, so she's pretty good at it. Crying and weeping that is.

Bruce : I don't think that's a good way to deal with having your loved one died.

Rafi : I don't want to hear that from someone going feral when his son died.

Bruce :

Tim :

Tim : yeah, I won't lie. It is pretty bad bruce

Rafi : anyway, it has been going pretty well on river part. On the other hand, things are going pretty badly on Khalila part. Jupiter and Neptunus heve yet to come back after the moon revolution.

Tim : wait- wait- you mean evolution?

Rafi : no, revolution.

Tim : okay- I think we skip a big part here.

Rafi : yeah, obviously. This is part 57, you skip 56 part, you're missing on a lot.

Tim : can't we, start from part one?

Rafi : god no, it's a lot. If we put it into book it can lead from 7 to 9 book! If you want to know about what you're missing at you can ask Jason, he listen from the start since we are at LoA. If you don't feel like asking then just skip it, you will understand later anyway.

Jason *who's putting a criminal body to a trash can : hatchuu-

Roy : bless you man

Jason : is someone talking about me? God I hope it's not Bruce.

[ap-kinda-lit]

Saiyan Squad AU (part 1) ⭐️

The Saiyan homeworld is Sadala (because Planet Vegeta is ridiculous), but its capital city is Vegeta, where, of course, the royal family resides. Sadala itself is a conglomerate of Australia, Asia, and Africa and the Saiyans are a mishmash akin to the Spartans, Celts, Aztecs, and Mongols. Sadala is pretty much like a space version of Australia: it’s a chaotic death trap from its climate and wildlife to its inhabitants. The Saiyans are made up of clans and have a feudal system, but they all serve the one ruling monarch.

Saiyans act as mercenaries and hunters. Like Predator, they are best known for traveling galaxies to find worthy opponents to fight. They’re feared and reviled as a race of barbaric savages.

They also look more animalistic: they have pointed ears, sharper teeth, claws, and some fur on their bodies.

Saiyans have had a feud with the Cold Empire for a very long time. At one point, they were allied together but the Cold Empire looked down at the Saiyans and began to subjugate them, so the Saiyans started resisting which led to all out war. When Frieza came to power, he amped up the war. He killed King Vegeta III but spared his young son, Vegeta III, to make the boy his puppet king/child hostage.

The city of Vegeta’s center is where the royalty live, while its outskirts is made up of the slums the third class inhabit. This is where Raditz and Kakarot are born and live with their parents Gine and Bardock. Gine serves as a cook to the troops and the residents while Bardock is a captain of his own troop. Gine and Bardock both teach the boys about hunting but Bardock is mostly in charge of their combat training. The boys start their formal training at five-years-old and are put in the same unit as young king Vegeta.

Raditz is the atypical rough and crass Saiyan boy, but Kakarot is another story. He inherited Gine’s kind heart and good nature, making him seem as weak by most Saiyans. He’s unfortunately treated as an outcast and subjected to bullying from his peers. However, he’s passionate and hard-working and wants to become a great and strong warrior, like his big brother and dad, so he’s committed to training hard. It pays off and he makes enough progress so that when his father Bardock talks with the higher-ups he’s able to convince them to put Kakarot on the same unit as Raditz and Vegeta under Nappa, Vegeta’s guardian.

The Saiyan-Frieza feud reaches its turn years later, when Vegeta approaches age fifteen. By then, he’s old enough by law to rule on his own and he’s determined to break free from Frieza’s grasp. As Vegeta begins to secure his independence and throne and wiggle free, Frieza has become fed up with the Saiyans and sees them as a genuine threat. The final nail in the coffin is when he and his men consult the Kanassans on the future of Frieza’s reign. A Kanassan oracle foretells that Frieza will meet his end at the hands of a golden warrior, presumed to be the legendary Super Saiyan. Frieza straight away comes up with a diabolical plan.

To everyone’s surprise, Frieza not only agrees to Vegeta ruling independently, he also agrees to signing a truce with the Saiyans and ending the bad blood for good. In celebration, a formal coronation is held for Vegeta along with ecstatic festivities all over Sadala. Every Saiyan is recalled back to homeworld for the momentous occasion. However, Bardock and his troop stumble upon Frieza’s real plan: to get all the Saiyans together in one place, make them vulnerable, and destroy them all along with their planet altogether. Bardock’s team is attacked and killed to quiet them but Bardock survives and despite being wounded he races to tell everyone and save his family.

Bardock barely makes it back in time. Just as he’s warning the others, Frieza’s soldiers attack and Frieza himself forms a Death Ball to strike at Sadala. Saiyans desperately try to fight back and escape, but many are killed by Frieza soldiers and many more as the Death Ball collides and the planet begins to destruct. Bardock fights on while trying desperately to find his family.

During Sadala’s destruction, Gine and teenaged Raditz and ten-year-old Kakarot manage to find a pod, but it can only fit two of them. Gine makes the boys get in and go without her, assuring it will all be fine (she knows she’s probably not going to make it, but at least her children will be safe). Sadala finally explodes into oblivion just as Raditz & Kakarot make it to safety. Bardock barely makes it out in time. Gine doesn’t make it.

The Saiyans are thusly reduced to the brink of extinction as only a few thousand remain. Surviving Saiyans flee to a desolated planet to recover. This includes Vegeta, Nappa, Raditz, Kakarot, and Bardock (who barely made it out in time). Because of his wounds, Bardock is put in a comatose state in a healing tank for a few days.

In spite of the loss of Sadala and the majority of the Saiyans, Vegeta swears revenge on Frieza. All remaining Saiyans are ordered to group up and spread out across the galaxies. The war against the Frieza Empire is to continue by any means necessary. Saiyans resort to whipping up secret settlements on planets and fighting back via piracy and guerrilla warfare. The endgame is to tear down Frieza’s empire brick by brick and, ultimately, kill Frieza himself.

Vegeta calls on Raditz and Kakarot to join him and Nappa on his quest to hunt and kill Frieza. Vegeta initially doesn’t want to include Kakarot, whom he deems a liability, but acquiesces.

Frieza puts out a bounty on each and every remaining Saiyan, most of all on the “so-called King of Saiyans” Vegeta.

And so, the Vegeta Force moves out. But they become known as the “Saiyan Squad”. Vegeta and Raditz don’t like it, but Kakarot thinks it’s a cool name.

[salparadiselost]

Do you have any headcanons or blurbs about To Hear, To See, To Smile by chance? I love abomination batboys so much🥺

I have this blurb. It may show up as a beginning of a story one day. Me and @jube514 were actually writing it out for a bit, but we kinda lost the plot. I do think the lore implications are fun though. IDK if it will ever fully develop, but this is the intro scene. -----

Bruce ambles behind his pack of children, slowly bringing up the rear in their little journey to the Gotham Museum of Science & History. It’s the middle of a day on a weekday, timed exactly to when the museum would be the least busy. 

And yet, there’s still some people milling about, floating through exhibits, and subtly avoiding his sons as they tear through centuries of humanity.

“I want to do the Egypt section next,” Dick gripes as his siblings drag him in the exact opposite direction of the Egypt section. They had already done South America, Africa, only part of Asia, and had just finished up with the “The Fight for a Better America: The Wake of the Civil War”. Now they were traveling out of the Americas more towards the European section.

“We will get to Egypt, Dickie,” Jason growled, shoving Dick with a shoulder. “But that’s on the entire other side of the museum. It’s going to be our last stop.”

“Well, it could have been done sooner if someone hadn’t wanted to look at the most depressing photos I’ve ever seen.”

Jason’s head reared back and Bruce rolled his eyes. He hoped his boys would eventually grow out of the phase where their favourite sibling bonding activity was bickering with each other. 

Tim freezes as they enter the next exhibit of the museum, making Dick and Jason abruptly end their argument about ‘The Dead of Antietam’ to avoid almost slamming into him.

“Move it, Timbo,” Jason growls, the sound harsher than was actually meant. His human form flickers for a second (too wide a maw, too many teeth), but Jason brings it under control with practiced ease and only a twitch of his glamored-on nose. If his puppyish ears were out, they would be flat against his skull. 

They knew that they needed to be very solidly human while they were in public places nowadays. Bruce didn’t want any threats made against them, more afraid of his boys getting hurt than saving the sanity of the general public to be honest. The man already had too many close calls with one of his boys flickering and resulting in some instinct-crazed person deciding they would try to be a hero by attacking his sons.

They’re called many names by many cultures– engkanto, fae, yōkai– but the scientific name of what they are in papers is H. admonition solitaria. God’s lonely rebuke.

There are several theories on how the etymology went from ‘admonition’ to ‘abominations’, but that’s what they’re called colloquially nowadays. The wretched. Monsters. Abominations.

No matter what they are called, the reaction they get has always been the same, often triggering the same primal instinct to hurt, maim, kill, on humans. 

These creatures drove regular people to do things they normally wouldn’t do– like maybe pull a knife on a ten-year-old’s throat as he held his father’s hand, or attempt to slam a small teen into the wall while they waited for ice cream. The affected humans never quite remembered why they had attacked the child — only that there was something deeply, inherently, wrong with the boys to receive such an attack.

It was a wrong that followed them from the very start. They could never quite shake it off. It drove them to cry into comfort, to home– to Bruce’s shoulder as he held their same shaking body and tried desperately to calm away the scare.

It made public outings dangerous, but Bruce wouldn’t lock his boys up in the Manor, even if it was the safest option. All three of them had been trapped for too much time in their short lives; Bruce wasn’t willing to be another jailer.

Hence, the visit to Gotham’s Science & History Museum. But only with certain parameters, of Bruce being right by their sides, and only in the middle of the day on a Wednesday when foot traffic would be at its lowest.

Dick sighs and pushes Jason to the side so they could walk around Tim.

“Come on,” Dick tells his younger brothers gently, his eyes crinkling at the corners with his smile. “You don’t want Bruce to leave you behind, do you?”

Bruce nearly scoffs at the implication. 

As if he would ever abandon any one of his children.

Jason stalks his way over to Bruce’s side, ignoring the way the people move away from him out of instinct. There weren’t any indications the fellow museum-goers even register he was there, just that there’s something wrong in the air and they have to scuttle outwards to the edges of the exhibit as soon as they can. 

Most people are like that– like they could sense the (many, so, so many) teeth even if they could not see them. 

Soon, only Bruce, his children, and the silent paintings of the exhibit remained in the room.

Jason makes his way to Bruce’s side, unconsciously bumping their sides together in a greeting that was more creature than human, but also a habit of Jason’s. Bruce found it to be wildly endearing.

Despite how human all of them looked, they always carried some bits of their creature bodies.

Dick is tactile as a bird, and even more so when he has a pair of hands. He’s constantly touching, grooming, or checking that one of his siblings is there next to him. 

He always listens, too. Of course, he always listened– is listening– but that was because of his species, with their (way too many) ears. Dick, as a constantly talking and touching brother, is because of his personality– someone who’s unlearning touch as something that hurts, that touch can be soft and caring, after all these years.

Jason, although he’s a wolf only in the vaguest sense, is prone to leaning up on his ‘pack’ and didn’t hesitate to show his teeth in a smirk or a (wide, too wide set) grin. Bruce knows that despite his comfort, the boy still fought to keep some of his more canine growls out of his throat. 

(Or, especially when he had been younger, to keep himself from biting visiting aristocrats who had patted his head and had complimented him on ‘developing manners despite being born in that horrid Alley’.)

Tim showed his alternative form in very different ways, unlike his brothers. He wasn’t bound to an animal (the way teeths were wolves and ears were birds), as his shadowy form was more fluid than form. He could be anything if he wanted to. Small or large. Solid as stone or as ever-changing as water. 

He showed he was something more by his stares and that, when he looked at you, you were always sure that (many, many more oh my god there’s too many) eyes looked back. 

A smile too wide, eyes too knowing, a face too distorted.

“Tim, what’s wrong?” The concern in Dick’s voice jolts Bruce out of his own head and makes him look toward their youngest. 

Tim is still standing in the entryway, eyes wide and fixed upon the exhibit stand in the middle of the room. 

For the first time, Bruce truly looks at it. 

It’s a crystal ball but with some kind of dark fluid suspended in the middle. The ball was on a moving pedestal that constantly turned it, making the dark fluid swirl almost hypnotically in the sphere. 

He guessed it was a display for ferrofluid, a magnetic fluid that was reacting to whatever charge was in the pedestal. A metallic ink that was constantly fleeing from the magnet underneath it. 

“Tim?” He asks, looking back toward his son. Dick’s face is growing more concerned by the second and even Jason began to shuffle at Bruce’s side anxiously. 

Tim shudders, eyes snapping towards Bruce. For a second, just a second, he looks scared and deeply unsettled in a way that inevitably puts Bruce on edge. Then, he schools his features and forces himself to look calmer. 

Bruce doesn’t doubt that Dick could hear Tim’s quicker heartbeat and that Jason could taste the sour tang of his discomfort.

“I… It’s fine. I’m being stupid,” Tim mutters, edging into the room like he thought the exhibit was going to bite him.

It set off all the alarm bells in Bruce’s head. 

It reminds him of the crying little boy in the Drake Manor who had constantly insisted that he was fine despite being blindfolded and locked alone in a room. Bruce still can’t stop the bile that rises to his throat when he thinks about the iron marks on Tim’s scarred skin.

Tim is scared. Bruce didn’t need to listen or taste to know that. Something is scaring Tim.

But what, and most importantly, why?

His eyes went back to the crystal ball and the churning fluid within it.

Was it…

“Hi!” A bright voice interrupts and all of their attentions snaps toward the chirpy museum volunteer that bounces into the room. “I saw you were interested in the crystal ball. Do you have any questions?”

Bruce is just about to say ‘no, thank you’, but Tim cuts in before he could.

“Yes,” Tim says, walking forward toward the crystal ball. He gives her a handsome gala smile. One that said Martha’s Vineyard summers and expensive polo shirts tucked into even more expensive jeans. Bruce could see it cracking at the edges, shadows flickering at the seams of his mouth. “What is it exactly? What’s in it?”

“Of course!” She replies, merrily walking towards the exhibit. She holds her arms out like she’s presenting a show rather than some display case.

“This is a crystal ball from the 12th century and we estimate its origin to be Romania, however this type of object is known to travel around so it’s impossible to know for sure. Crystal balls, like this one, were used in gypsy fortune telling—“ Bruce catches Dick’s flinch at the slur and the way he edges away from the volunteer and back towards Bruce and Jason “—and it traveled with them in their caravans so they could use them to predict the future for customers. This one, in particular, is a beautiful specimen and on loan from Rome.”

Tim nods along with the explanation, but his pinched look doesn’t waver. “And the inside?”

Her smile gets impossibly wider. “That’s the most interesting part. Nobody knows for sure and we’re hesitant to crack a ball open because they are so rare, but legend says that the black fluid is Seer blood and bone. The fortune tellers taught that it helped them see into the future and into other realms.”

Bruce’s breath catches in his chest and he watches Tim’s face pale. 

“Seer? Like an– like an abomination?” His voice trips up on the last word. The volunteer’s voice only gets more excited.

“Yes, the gypsies were quite adept in hunting down the seeing abominations. They were well known across Europe for their prowess and the little villages would hire them to take care of a seeing Abomination if they had one lurking about. The people were said to train owls to hunt them.”

“Owls?” It was Dick who asks this time.

“Yeah, owls! Although, it’s just a legend because scientists don’t know how they possibly could have trained any birds given their technology. Any modern attempts have failed to replicate any of them and it’s not like they were prioritizing making manuals when they had monsters to hunt.

The hunting owls of the gypsies are common figures in European myths, though. They are said to have been great listeners and able to follow any of their trainers’ commands. They were used primarily to hunt Seeing abominations,  but could also be used to bring down deer and boars. The gypsies treasured them and were said to sleep with them in their caravans, treating them almost like they were their children. Many European kings tried to steal the owls from them, but… well let’s just say it never ended up good for the Kings.”

Her smile turns a little dark, but then suddenly, it brightens.

“Do you have any more questions?”

[artandthebible]

The Predication of Saint Paul

Artist: Joseph-Benoît Suvée (Flemish, 1743–1807)

Date: circa 1779, Belgium

Medium: Oil on Canvas

Collection: Los Angeles County Museum of Art, Los Angeles, CA, United States

Paul the Apostle

Paul also named Saul of Tarsus, commonly known as Paul the Apostle and Saint Paul, was a Christian apostle who spread the teachings of Jesus in the first-century world. For his contributions towards the New Testament, he is generally regarded as one of the most important figures of the Apostolic Age, and he also founded several Christian communities in Asia Minor and Europe.

The main source of information on Paul's life and works is the Acts of the Apostles in the New Testament. Approximately half of its content documents his travels, preaching and miracles. Paul was not one of the Twelve Apostles, and did not know Jesus during his lifetime. According to the Acts, Paul lived as a Pharisee and participated in the persecution of early disciples of Jesus, possibly Hellenised diaspora Jews converted to Christianity, in the area of Jerusalem, prior to his conversion. Some time after having approved of the execution of Stephen, Paul was traveling on the road to Damascus so that he might find any Christians there and bring them "bound to Jerusalem". At midday, a light brighter than the sun shone around both him and those with him, causing all to fall to the ground, with the risen Christ verbally addressing Paul regarding his persecution in a vision. Having been made blind, along with being commanded to enter the city, his sight was restored three days later by Ananias of Damascus. After these events, Paul was baptized, beginning immediately to proclaim that Jesus of Nazareth was the Jewish messiah and the Son of God. He made three missionary journeys to spread the Christian message to non-Jewish communities in Asia Minor, the Greek provinces of Achaia, Macedonia, and Cyprus, as well as Judea and Syria, as narrated in the Acts.

[accessible-tumbling]

Video description: The Quora site is displayed and the narrator, who has a British accent and is speaking quickly and excitedly, opens by reading from it: "My MacBook Air weighs 2.3 pounds. If I download more files on it, will it make it heavier?

"This is Quora," he continues. "A place where once grand intellectual questions would be mused over. But if you recall, 2 years ago we sadly bid farewell to our friend, Yahoo Answers, a place where those sorts of questions didn't happen, and in that time it seems many Yahoo users have made Quora their new home.

"Do chimpanzees get pregnant? Does anyone live on the sun? How high do planes fly when landing? What percentage of people are going to die? Do lesbians get periods?"

(A response to that question is read in a gruff tone:) "Oh, come on! Where the hell are you getting that question?"

"You are sleeping with your partner and suddenly realize that he/she is a ghost. What would you do? Are there werewolves in Texas? Why does the sausage have two ends? What happens to the time it takes to actually time travel into the past/future? Which hole does an actress push out a baby in a birth sense?"

(Another answer is read:) "She doesn't. She acts."

"I heard that in the Middle Ages, nobles used to wipe their butts with ducklings. Is that right?"

(Response, gruffly:) "No!"

"Is it true that pregnant women should not sleep during a lunar or solar eclipse as it may cause harm to the unborn?"

(Response:) "No. That's the dumbest thing I ever heard."

"Can I sue Germany for putting my grandfather in prison for 7 years in the second world war?"

(Response:) "No, no, no, no, no!"

"Can you think of a sentence that contains the words 'book' and 'crabs'?"

(Response:) "Well, yes, I can."

"Why does the 'bros' abbreviation for 'brothers' end in 's' instead of 'th'?"

(Response:) "Because that would spell 'broth'."

"Do rich people get embarrassed that their servants know what their stuff in the toilet looks like?"

(Response:) "This is a very weird question."

"What happens when we wash vessel and use it with water in which a lizard was dead? Is it poisonous? What can we do?"

(Response:) "Uhh..."

"Why does the United States promote homosexuality and not consider what happened in the petrified village of Pompeii?"

(Response:) "Wha…?"

"How can I have sex with Asia?"

(Response:) "Pretty sure you mean an Asian girl."

"Is Israel on the world map? Are the Irish really from Ireland? My son speaks Arabic. (in a panicked, shouting tone:) What do I do? Does India have airports?"

(Response:) "Putin came to India in 2014 swimming in the ocean. I have a photo to prove." (A flash of a picture of Putin swimming can be seen briefly at this point in the video.)

"Where do animals live? Why are things? What is my date of birth? Do you know a microscope? Real mathematicians (in all caps): I have 5 live cows and then I multiply them by 0. How then do you come and tell me that I end up with 0? Where did the 5 go? Which is larger: 0 or 2+7? Math math what is angle?

(Narrator comment: "I do believe this Quora user was intending to ask 'what are the names of the most powerful angels?' but…) What are the names of moist powerful angles? I'm an atheist who believes in God. What should I do? Why do atheists watch fiction movies? During airplane turbulence, how do atheists keep calm?"

(Narrator comment: "This question I could only find an old link for, even Quora went nowhere, not even, that is way too stupid:) How do atheists know what foods are 'sweet' versus 'sour' or 'bitter'?

"I am 11 and stand at 5 foot 2. Am I obese? Do celebrities fart? What's the meaning of a single white egg left at my door? (narrator's comment: that is weird.)

"My mom slapped her own bum in front of me what does that mean? Is this correct, 'similarvgbhujkljhgtyhujk'? Why is Zelda so 'thicc' in Breath of the Wild? Do demons always say 'I am a demon' when they are introduced? Is it possible to balance your entire body on your penis?"

(Response:) " Yes, but I'm scared of heights."

"I saw the cop the gay eating a raw bird in my backyard. What should I do?" (Narrator comment: "I became a bit obsessed with this question, it's so indecipherable and googled it for clues to find apparently there was much debate on the site about whether this was a weird autocorrect from 'cat'. Which word was supposed to be cat?")

"Can deaf people laugh out loud? Can deaf people do surfing? How do def people know what facial expressions look like and how they're used outside of American Sign Language (ASL)? If so, how do they learn about them if there's no way to see someone else make that face?" (Narrator comment: "I mean, I don't think there's any intelligent questions actually left on this site, is there? Who's asking 'Can music cause candle to light?' Obviously, no!")

"Do people still eat mashed potatoes? (Yes!) Can semen travel up your foot? (No,, it cannot.) Is the word 'stay asleep' alwasy spelled 'J'? (I don't even know what that means.) Do lobsters pee from their faces? (Uh, ugh, are you mad? Obviously no!)"

(Response:) "Yes, as others have pointed out, many crustaceans have two different types of excretory organs, both near the head. Usually only one is used, depending on the age of the animal. Lobsters and crabs, etc, use their urine smell like cats, to mark territory, warn rivals, etc." (Uh..oh.)"

The screen goes white and the scene transitions to footage of the narrator walking up to a door. He places an egg on the mat, then runs away.

End video description.

[apiswitchcraft]

the greek/roman gods

Format is GREEK NAME/ROMAN NAME: description

starting at the beginning,

CHAOS: the void, everything and nothing, sometimes a deity, sometimes a stasis.

then there were the Primordials, that arose from Chaos and were more concepts than gods,

EROS (the elder)/PHANES: love and procreation

TARTARUS: the original deity/representation of the underworld

GAIA/TERRA: mother earth, the ultimate creator

EREBUS: darkness

NYX: night

AETHER: child of Erebus and Nyx, day

HEMERA: child of Erebus and Nyx, light

MOROS: child of Erebus and Nyx, doom

THANATOS: child of Erebus and Nyx, death

KER: child of Erebus and Nyx, violent death

MACARIA: death of the blessed

HYPNOS/SOMNUS: child of Erebus and Nyx, sleep

MOMUS: child of Erebus and Nyx, mockery and blame

GERAS/SENECTUS: child of Erebus and Nyx, old age

OIZYS/MISERIA: child of Erebus and Nyx, misery

NEMESIS: child of Erebus and Nyx, retribution

PHILOTES: child of Erebus and Nyx, affection

APATE: child of Erebus and Nyx, deceit

ERIS/DISCORDIA: child of Erebus and Nyx, strife

MOIRAI/PARCAE: child of Erebus and Nyx, the three fates

CHARON: child of Erebus and Nyx, ferryman of the Underworld

CHRONUS: the elder primordial of time

ANANKE/NECESSITAS: destiny

OUREA: created by Gaia, the mountains

NESOI: child of Ourea, the islands

PONTUS: created by Gaia, the sea

THALASSA: child of Pontus, a sea goddess

NEREUS: child of Gaia and Pontus, god of the sea

CETO: child of Gaia and Pontus, sea goddess

THAUMUS: child of Gaia and Pontus, a sea god

IRIS: child of Thaumus, goddess of rainbows

OURANOS/CAELUS: created by Gaia, the sky

TYPHON: son of Gaia and Tartarus, volcanic forces, the father of all monsters

CRONUS/SATURN: son of Ouranos, god of the harvest, slayed/castrated his father

then came the Titans, the children of Gaia and Ouranos (unless specified otherwise),

RHEA/CYBELE/OPS: goddess of fertility

OCEANUS: god of the oceans, conceived the Oceanids with Tethys

TETHYS: god of the rivers

TYCHE/FORTUNA: one of the Oceanids, goddess of good luck

STYX: one of the Oceanids

HYPERION: god of light, but more in a sunlight sense

THEIA: goddess of light, but in a light of the blue sky sense

HELIOS/SOL: child of Hyperion and Theia, god of the sun

SELENE/LUNOS: child of Hyperion and Theia, goddess of the moon

EOS/AURORA: goddess of dawn

CRIUS: god of the constellations

EURYBIA: child of Pontus, sea goddess

ASTRAEUS: child of Crius and Eurybia, god of stars and planets

PALLAS: child of Crius and Eurybia, god of war

PERSES: child of Crius and Eurybia, god of destruction

THEMIS: goddess of law and order

IAPETUS: god of mortal life

ATLAS: child of Iapetus and Asia (an Oceanid), carried the celestial sphere, god of astronomy

PROMETHEUS: child of Iapetus and Asia, god of foresight, creator of man and giver of fire to humans

EPIMETHEUS: child of Iapetus and Asia, god of hindsight

MNEMOSYNE: goddess of memory

COEUS/POLUS: god of the celestial axis

PHOEBE: a moon goddess

LETO/LATONA: child of Coeus and Phoebe, goddess of motherhood

ASTERIA: child of Coeus and Phoebe, goddess of falling stars

HECATE/TRIVIA: child of Asteria and Perses, goddess of magic, ghosts, and necromancy

ZEUS/JUPITER: god of sky, weather, and kingship

then the "modern" Pantheon,

ATHENA/MINERVA: sprung from Zeus' head, goddess of wisdom, war, and crafts

APOLLO: child of Leto and Zeus, god of the sun, healing, prophecy, music, and poetry

ASCLEPIUS/AESCULAPIUS: son of Apollo and a nymph, god of medicine

ARTEMIS/DIANA: child of Leto and Zeus, goddess of the moon, hunting, and the wild

HERMES/MERCURY: child of Maia and Zeus, messenger of the gods and patron of thieves and travellers

PAN/FAUNUS: child of Hermes, god of nature and shepherding

DIONYSUS/BACCHUS: child of a mortal and Zeus, god of wine, festivity, and madness

DIKE: child of Zeus and Themis, goddess of justice

EUNOMIA: child of Zeus and Themis, goddess of good laws

EIRENE: child of Zeus and Themis, goddess of peace

HERA/JUNO: goddess of women and marriage

ARES/MARS: child of Hera and Zeus, god of war and courage

EILEITHYIA: child of Hera and Zeus, goddess of childbirth and midwifery

HEPHAESTUS/VULCAN: child of Hera and Zeus, god of blacksmithing and fire

HEBE/JUVENTIA: child of Hera and Zeus, goddess of youth, cupbearer of the gods

DEMETER/CERES: goddess of agriculture

PERSEPHONE/PROSPERINA: child of Demeter and Zeus, goddess of springtime and queen of the Underworld

POSEIDON/NEPTUNE: god of the sea, earthquakes, and horses

TRITON: child of Amphitrite and Poseidon, messenger of the sea

HADES/PLUTO: king of the Underworld and god of the dead and wealth

HESTIA/VESTA: goddess of the hearth and home

APHRODITE/VENUS: sprung from the sea foam created by Ouranos' body being thrown into the sea, goddess of love, beauty and pleasure

HERMAPHRODITES: child of Aphrodite and Hermes, god of androgyny

EROS/AMOR/CUPID: child of Ares and Aphrodite, god of love

NIKE: child of Styx and Pallas, goddess of victory

ZELUS: child of Styx and Pallas, god of zeal

KRATOS: child of Styx and Pallas, god of strength

BIA: child of Styx and Pallas, goddess of force

[whencyclopedia]

Galen

Galen (129-216 CE) was a Greek physician, author, and philosopher, working in Rome, who influenced both medical theory and practice until the middle of the 17th century CE. Owning a large, personal library, he wrote hundreds of medical treatises including anatomical, physiological, pharmaceutical, and therapeutic works. With principles based on his anatomical dissections, he spoke and wrote extensively on the anatomy of the body emphasizing the role of the heart, brain, and blood. While he criticized many of his contemporaries, he embraced the ideas put forth by the Greek physician and theorist Hippocrates (460-370 BCE), primarily his concept of the four humours that controlled the human condition: blood, phlegm, black bile, and yellow bile.

Much of our knowledge of early medicine comes from Galen's writings. Like Hippocrates and other theorists Galen believed that illness was caused by an imbalance, so how does one restore the balance: bleeding, enemas, and vomiting. Aside from his writings on medicine, he wrote extensively on language, logic, psychology, ethics, and even moral philosophy. Regrettably, most of his works no longer exist or survive only in fragments. He lost many of his writings, instruments, and medicines in a storeroom fire in 192 CE.

Early Life & Education

Born in 129 CE in the Asia Minor city of Pergamon, Galen was the son of the wealthy architect Nikon and was initially educated in both rhetoric and philosophy. The Pergamon of his youth was home to a sanctuary dedicated to the god of medicine Asclepius. His father, a member of the Roman elite, had assisted in the renovation of Pergamon's temple complex dedicated to Zeus. At the age of 16, Galen changed educational directions, possibly at the suggestion of his father, and decided to study medicine, eventually completing his schooling at both Smyrna, located on the Aegean coast, and Alexandria where he studied both anatomical science and physiological theory. At the time Alexandria was the premier center for the study of medicine in the ancient world. After the death of his father in 149/50 CE, he continued his studies as he traveled throughout the Mediterranean. In 157 CE he returned to his home town of Pergamon to be the physician to a group of gladiators; a position that provided him with an opportunity to study anatomy.

Continue reading...

[pastlivesandpurplepuppets]

[...]he definitely could be a lot of fun, too. He told us stories about cowboys, about a horse named “Old Paint,” from back in his cowboy days, and another story he made up called “The Little Boy Who Didn’t Like Ice Cream.” This story always included the world’s smartest elephant, who traveled around the jungle with a huge typewriter carried around by “coolies.” (Obviously the term “coolies” is not politically correct now, but things were different back then, and that’s the word Dad always used to refer to manual laborers from Asia.) People continually came up to this elephant and asked him yes or no questions. The bearers sprung into action and assembled a huge typewriter, and the elephant would type out his one word reply. Y-E-S or N-O. Then they disassembled the typewriter and continued their wild trek through the jungle. The story went on and on. We absolutely loved it. I should mention that the typewriter was a complete keyboard, despite that every question could be answered yes or no. We used to point out that this elephant did not even need a typewriter, he could just stomp a foot once for yes and twice for no, for instance. But then the whole story would have lost its appeal, Dad said with a grin. That’s how I’d want people to remember my father, C. Carwood Lipton: A strong, capable leader who had a great sense of humor. He could really keep us all in stitches. I wish he was still with us today.

~ Mike Lipton (Lip's son)

[ouroboros-hideout]

WIP WHENEVER

@chevvy-yates tagged me for this. Thank you a lot 💚

This will be a huge wall of text aswell, since I am not really of the „visual“ side of creating atm.

Writing // Worldbuilding

I'm still writing the next two chapters for my fanfiction, but would rather briefly introduce my other OCs here (yes, Aon isn´t the only one by now). Maybe I can create all of them ingame at some point, depending on how stupid I´ll act with modding etc. when I start. Since things can change quickly in the story while I'm writing, I wouldn't say that everything is 100% set in stone, a lot of it isn't finished yet. But it's a good base. Most of them appear in my „Like Napalm“ fic. Some of them will be in my main GARMR fic aswell. So prepare for half backed character data entries and some rambling.

Gan

Gan Tomobataar, or Iron as he is usually called, is a mysterious man. Many stories surround the Mongolian giant and it always depends on who asks him whether he affirms or denies these tales. It is therefore uncertain which of them are true or fictional and he really enjoys keeping his past in the dark. He is said to have served in an elite military unit. The metal teeth that earned him his iconic nickname are said to have been lost in numerous boxing matches as he tried to turn pro to make a better life for himself and his family, and he is allegedly a descendant of Ginghis Khan (which is probably one of his favorite rumors). One can assume that his closest confidants have more clarity, but none of them would dare say a word about it. Undeniably true is that he has two brothers, of whom he is the second-born. Together with them, he leads one of the largest nomadic clans in eastern Europe and Asia. The Tomobataar nomads are divided into three large families, each led by one of the three brothers. Iron's family stays mainly in Mongolia and Russia, but he would also travel to more distant parts of the Soviet Union for profitable contracts. He doesn't have many vices, but one of them is definitely greed.

By sheer luck, at least that's what he claimed, he picked up Aon on the street when she was trying to flee Moscow on her own. He promised to protect her from the Secret Police and other bounty hunters if she proved to be a useful member of his clan. However, his methods for testing her worth would put the young woman to the test.

Yakov

Yakov always had problems finding his place in the world. He grew up in St. Petersburg, studying or an education other than working in his father's car repair shop were never an option financially, but the young man always yearned for something greater than being stuck in the alleys and streets of his childhood. He decided to join the military when he was old enough, but was discharged immediately after basic training for insubordination and general unsuitability. What remained for him was to work in his father's garage until he died after a long illness. Yakov tried to keep the store running on his own for a while, but he found it difficult to do good business without proper management and eventually had to sell the store. This was followed by a relatively dark period. He saw himself as a failure, was unable to find a new job and drank away the money he had received for the workshop in the bars in his neighborhood. One evening, a man came into his local pub. His car had broken down outside, he wouldn't get any further that night and kept him company for a few hours. The next day, Yakov repaired his car for the man called Gan and left the town with him to live with the Tomobataar nomads.

Gregori

Gregori's mother, a singer from New York, came to the Russian capital for a gig and met a military officer there. The two got together and the result was little Greg. Shortly afterwards, however, the couple fell apart and she took her son back to America, where he spent most of his childhood and youth being raised by babysitters and nannies, while the singer preferred to spend her time on tour or in the recording studio. Gregori at least inherited much of her creativity, starting to make music himself at an early age and drawing a lot. Just what small children do when they need to keep themselves busy.

When he was 16 years old, his mother died of an overdose. As she never bothered to write down a testament or anything similar, her entire fortune goes to her greedy manager, who leaves Gregori penniless.

The boy, who has spent his whole life sheltered without much contact with the outside world, is left with nothing and doesn't know exactly what to do. So he scrapes together the last of his money and buys a ticket to Moscow, where he tries to find his father, but in vain. He quickly goes off the rails, barely speaks a word of Russian, is recruited by a gang and gets exploited. An arms deal with a group of nomads goes wrong, a shootout ensues and Gegori is the only one left of the gang because he hides instead of fighting. Yakov, who was on the other side of the deal, takes pity on him and eventually takes him to his new family where he tries to find his place within the group.

Anna

Anna grew up with the Tomobataar nomads from an early age. Her parents were killed in a botched mission when she was just four years old. Iron, who in a way blamed himself for this, took on a guardianship for her and looked after the little girl like the apple of his eye. As the years passed and Anna grew older, the relationship between her and her foster father changed. He became increasingly demanding, punished misbehavior and put the still young girl under pressure. Aon, who had already earned her place in the clan by this time, could not tolerate this behavior as she herself had grown up under similar circumstances. No one else in the clan interfered with Iron's "parenting methods", which is why she ended up doing it. Anna and Aon then became inseparable and she naturally followed her later when they left the clan along with many others.

Anatoly

Anatoly, or Tolik as Aon calls him, belongs to the Russian working class in Moscow and cannot claim to own much. As a boy, he dreamed of studying mechanical engineering in order to open his own workshop or business. A dream that his father would never have been able to afford in this life. So after school, Tolik started working at his father's scrap yard on the outskirts of Moscow, not an easy job. He regularly drives into the city to pick up old components and scrap metal from SovOil and other big corporations, where he meets Alyona one day. The two strike up a conversation, exchange banter and hit it off straight away, which over time develops into a teenage love story. Aon spends a lot of time with him at the scrapyard, where she can test and improve her skills on old machines and has a place to hide from her hated stepfather. He, in return, benefits from the knowledge she brings with her from university, and his dream of building his own big thing soon becomes her dream too. Together they consider leaving the city at some point and make plans for the future

unnamed_chromed_up_terrifying_SovOil_Secret_Police_agent

Yea well, I don't know yet how to call him. After Aon has fled Moscow, the officers of the normal police force give up the search for her, as it theoretically no longer falls within their area of responsibility. However, since Kristof claims that Aon stole the data he wanted to sell to Petrochem, SovOil is naturally very interested in finding her and the data chip. So they send a Secret Police agent after her, who, together with a small unit, tries to track her down. He actually already had a kind of "Easter Egg" appearance in my other AU. He would have been the agent sitting next to Kurt if he hadn't switched the cards on the table. Funny how differently things can go. Anyway, he doesn't really have much of a backstory other than he used to work for the KGB and is a bloodthirsty hound dog who chases Aon halfway across the country (spoiler: and finds her). If I were to compare him to another character from movies etc, he would probably have the closest vibe to Hans Landa from Inglourious Basterds. The character was very well written, even though I would probably make my namesless_pig a bit younger than him. But since he'll be pumped full of cyberware anyway, it probably doesn't matter much in the end. It's just supposed to be a fucking horrible character and Aon's nightmare.

Robert Walker

Robert is one of the key-characters in my main fanfiction. I haven't thought about him in depth yet, but the general concept is there. He's a British journalist and photographer who wanted to go high by exposing wrongdoings in society. For him, there is nothing more exciting than achieving "fame and notoriety" as a whistleblower. He's not necessarily stupid or doesn't know what he's doing, he's just unlucky. He gets into trouble with the wrong people and upsets the even worse ones, which is why he has to flee the UK and ends up in NC. There he tries to start over and stay out of trouble. However, he soon develops an "unhealthy" obsession with Kurt Hansen. He is incredibly fascinated by him and spends every free minute in Dogtown so that he can perhaps take a photo (or two, or ten) of his idol. At some point, he goes so far as to seek direct contact and wants to interview him. Kurt is flattered at first, but has little desire to reveal information about himself in some strange blog or gossip magazine. But that didn't stop Robert from continuing to stalk him and even trying to become a member of Barghest. At some point, Hansen got too pissed off and gave him the choice of leaving Dogtown or catching a bullet. Robbie chose the second option. After all, he hadn't forbid him to camp outside the gates of Dogtown, had he?

Technically I could tell something about Aon´s mom and her stepfather too, but I don´t have that much yet. So will keep em for the next WIP together with the other OCs for my main fic. There will be three more. A general, a corpo guy and the last is still up for discussion with my brain. Considering somekind of warlord or a netrunner.

Art

I tried to do something different than a full rendered piece of artwork. I am not yet confinced that I like it. I like, that it was finished really fast lmao but...I dunno.

Aon and Tolik - 2055

But happy that Aon is actually recognizable in the end. During the process she looked so much like So Mi at a point that my brain went: WHO ARE YOU GIRL. But I like the long hair. Will give it back to her in her 2078+ appearance. Not exactly like this, but longer than her normal style.

Not quite sure about Anatoly tho. I mean, he looks like this in my head, but I will reconsidere if he will get some cyberarms. He is poor like a mouse, so probably can´t afford expensive tech like this, but he feels kind of „empty“ without anything.

Congrats and huge thanks if you read this far. Brainrot stronk!

Tagging some ppl aswell. Everyone else is invited too to show off some awesome stuff ofc, no pressure as always!

@blackrevell @olath124 @cyberholic77 @cybervesna @pinkyjulien @theviridianbunny @therealnightcity @wanderingaldecaldo @miss--river @barghestapologist @kdval @streetkid-named-desire @aggravateddurian @androgymess

[onwardnozward]

The Great and Terrible Humbug of Nebraska

Oscar Zoroaster Diggs was the son of a failed politician, growing up for the first part of his childhood in Omaha, Nebraska during the 1840s. His father was a cowardly humbug, relying upon the blinding greed of others to achieve his goals, however the one thing he was capable of teaching his son was how not to achieve success. Oscar was a dreamer, he saw the potential in his father’s lies, in the stupidity of men in power. From a young age, he knew the only thing he lacked was his own power to put his ideas into action.

The sins of his father would later catch up to the man, as he left Oscar behind without as much as a note before skipping town. The kid would roam for a while, before falling in with a traveling circus having stopped for a rest. It was here that Oscar would find his first home, finding familiarity in the carnie circuit as he got to experience adventure upon the midwestern prairies of the 1850s, and here where he earned his title and act, “the Great and Powerful O.Z., Sorcerer Extraordinaire from Faraway Lands.” Merely a con, he fabricated a story of having learned the Ancient Wisdom from the great crowned mystics and monks from Europe to Asia, using his learned talents for the manipulation of divination cards, sleight of hand, illusion, ventriloquism and mimicry in order to sell his act.

Years would pass, acts would be traded in for others and money would be lost with it, as well as general disinterest as the country closed in upon war. Oscar had grown almost disinterested in the circus, as his dreams of power had regained traction with his age. He tired of performing illusions to the everyday uneducated bumpkin in exchange for spare change. During his travels in the circus, he had overheard the older carnies and magicians talk of practices from older societies, of grimoires that held the key to power, the ability to control the very weave of reality. He had replaced his hobby of illusion and tarot divination with a true devotion to uncovering the secrets of the occult and ancient mysticism. It was during this time that he would become associated with the high ranking clerics and priests of the Theosophical Society, and the truth of the stories that had fueled his new found passion, the Lemegeton.

Many phony replicas had been produced in the centuries since its binding, however after tracing down the origins of the grimoires mythology, digging through many crypts only ‘said-to-be’ belonging to obsolete kings, Oscar would uncover the reason as to why the true Lemegeton had never been recovered; the court sorcerers of the dead king had recited a ritual to hide the book away beyond the veil of mortality, within the Other World.

Oscar Zoroaster Diggs was the son of a failed politician, desperate to prove he was better than the hand he was dealt. In the 1870s, he would research the ceremony to cross the planes of reality under the tutelage of his former associates, arrange the proper sacrifices, and hijack an old hot air balloon used for advertising the circus to sail into the arcane vortex ripped into the atmosphere by the ritual.

[lilithism1848]

Atrocities US committed against ASIANS

Between 1956-65, the Chinese Confession Program sought confessions of illegal entry from US citizens and residents of Chinese origin, with the (misleading) offer of legalization of status in exchange. The program resulted in 13,895 confessions, with about 10,000 in the San Francisco region (where the bulk of the illegally entering Chinese population was concentrated. This was far less than the number of people suspected of having entered illegally, and the less than complete usage of the program was attributed to lack of trust in the United States immigration enforcement agencies among the Chinese population, the lack of clear benefits from confessing, and the risk of deportation faced by the confessor as well as his or her (blood and paper) family. Since confessions by neighbors could implicate a person and cause him or her to be deported, the program created fear and distrust in many Chinese-American communities. Anybody who had illegally entered and came in contact with the FBI before he or she had confessed was subject to immediate deportation. The confessions had a significant impact on the Chinese-American community: as a result of the confessions, 22,083 people were exposed and 11,294 paper son slots were closed. For comparison, the 1950 Census listed 117,629 Chinese in America (excluding Hawaii).

From 1942-46, FDR imprisoned ~120,000 Japanese Americans in concentration camps after the attack on pearl harbor. The conditions of the camps were notoriously horrible, and most were forced to make “loyalty oaths”, or risk deportation and separation from their families. It was later admitted that government actions were based on “race prejudice, war hysteria, and a failure of political leadership”. Most lost their homes and jobs, as whites took over vacated homes.

The repression faced by Chinese Americans in the 19th and 20th century are found in the articles, History of Chinese Americans, and Anti-Chinese Sentiment in the US.

The Immigration Act of 1917 imposed literacy tests on immigrants, and created new categories of inadmissible persons and barred immigration from the Asia-Pacific Zone.

The Scott Act of 1888 was a law that prohibited Chinese laborers abroad or who planned future travels from returning. It left an estimated 20,000-30,000 Chinese outside the United States at the time stranded.

In 1882, the US passed the Chinese Exclusion Act, illegalizing Chinese immigration, in a long chain of anti-chinese legislation. It was repealed in 1943.

The San Francisco Riot of 1877 was a two-day pogrom waged against Chinese immigrants in San Francisco, California by the city’s majority white population from the evening of July 23 through the night of July 24, 1877. The ethnic violence which swept Chinatown resulted in four deaths and the destruction of more than $100,000 worth of property belonging to the city’s Chinese immigrant population.

The Page Act of 1875 prohibited entry of immigrants considered undesirable, classifying that as any individual from Asia who was coming to America to be a forced laborer, any Asian woman who would engage in prostitution, and all people considered to be convicts in their own country. It was introduced to “end the danger of cheap Chinese labor and immoral Chinese women”. The Page Act was supposed to strengthen the ban against “coolie” laborers, by imposing a fine of up to $2,000 and maximum jail sentence of one year upon anyone who tried to bring a person from China, Japan,or any Asian country to the United States “without their free and voluntary consent, for the purpose of holding them to a term of service”. However, these provisions, as well as those regarding convicts “had little effect at the time”. On the other hand, the ban on female Asian immigrants was heavily enforced and proved to be a barrier for all Asian women trying to immigrate, especially Chinese.

The Chinese Massacre of 1871 was a racially motivated riot which occurred on October 24, 1871 in Los Angeles, California, when a mob of around 500 white men entered Chinatown to attack, rob, and murder Chinese residents of the city. An estimated 17 to 20 Chinese immigrants were systematically tortured and then hanged by the mob, making the event the largest mass lynching in American history.

The Pigtail Ordinance was a racist law passed in 1873 intended to force prisoners in San Francisco, California to have their hair cut within an inch of the scalp. It affected Han Chinese prisoners in particular, as it meant they would have their queue, a waist-long, braided pigtail, cut off.

The Anti-Coolie Act of 1862 was passed by the California legislature in an attempt to appease rising anger among white laborers about salary competition created by the influx of Chinese immigrants at the height of the California gold rush.The act sought to protect white laborers by imposing a monthly tax on Chinese immigrants seeking to do business in the state of California.

[fameone]

One of my best friend's from childhood came to visit me in Japan. He's spending a year traveling throughout Asia. We caught up, shared laughs, mourned those who passed, drank more Ginger Highballs than we could count and threw darts. When I had him over to the house to meet the family, they immediately warmed up to him. My son taught him some Japanese. My wife said she understood me better after talking to him. These are the moments that make life beautiful.

I did lose the tattoo battle. Son got way more ink than I do.