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[cloudyfromoobsession]

guy who has mistaken adrenaline for love and isn’t interested in correcting the mistake

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Kaiju No. 8 - Chapter 101

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I do wholeheartedly believe Wes Anderson is a sick sick freak. I like his movies but I definitely think this guy has like a hidden room in his spacious french apartment that he slips into quietly each night and it is just filled with tiny little doll replicas of all the actors he's ever used in any of his movies and he puppets them around and mimicks their voices and shit. and sometimes he'll text Owen Wilson pictures of his little doll with a comb or something from an untraceable number and pair it with like "see how I take care of you Owen?" and then the following day Owen Wilson will find him at the service table and go, "Geez Wes look at this," and Wes will pretend to be all concerned and horrified but there is this calculating almost eager look in his eyes that unsettles Owen Wilson. and the next time Wes is having a little soiree with all his actors, his beloved beloved actors, maybe Owen Wilson will accidentally get lost on his way to the beautiful bathroom and find that little room and see all those dolls and his throat will hitch with horror. And before he can call Bill Murray or Adrian Brody to look a dark silhouette will appear in the doorway and Wes looks sort of resigned when he says, "I see you finally found my secret, Owen," and Owen Wilson will try and pretend that he's fine with it but they both know better. and Wes will go (the look in his eyes back again) "We both know this can't get out, right?" and he'll grin very suddenly and Owen Wilson will laugh along very nervously and leave the room and eat some brioche and when the evening is over he will rush over to his Prius and frantically click his keys but over the cobbles on the beautiful beautiful street there is the sound of footsteps. and tears are running down Owen Wilson's cheeks but he can't say a word and Wes, emerging from the shadows, will gently touch him on the shoulder and say, "look, I'll drive you to the airport, huh?" and Owen Wilson will try to refuse but they both know it's futile. and, halfway through the drive, Wes Anderson will smile and say, "I'll miss working with you" and then perfectly jump and roll out of the car, wiping off his corduroy pants, while Owen Wilson's Prius swerves into a local patisserie, bursting into flames

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I like to imagine that the Winter Soldier would have been programmed with basically every language that he would need for missions, and, for the sake of versimillitude, his handlers would make sure that he had the appropriate accent/diction and backstory to flawlessly pass as a native of a decently sized city in the country he was working in. So he speaks French like he’s from Toulouse, German like he’s from Cologne etc., allowing him to seamlessly blend in with the locals when he’s out raining destruction across Europe.

Unfortunately, the Red Room – not being known for its commitment to multiculturalism – didn’t think this system through very carefully when it came time to send the Winter Soldier off to do his first ever long mission for their comrades in China. They just program him to speak Mandarin like a statistically unremarkable proletarian from Zhangjiakou and send him on his merry way.

So he arrives in China with his Soviet handler and the following circumstances align to make the entire mission, from the perspective of the Red Room, a disaster from start to finish.

1. It’s 1971, and China is not open to the outside world. Most of the men on the Soldier’s strike team have never met a foreigner in their lives.

2. Those who have met a foreigner have never met one who speaks completely fluent Mandarin with a paint-peeling Hebei accent.

3. This is ENORMOUSLY INTERESTING AND ENTERTAINING to everyone he encounters.

4. Instead of being unremarkable and blending in with the locals he gets mobbed by curious spectators everywhere he goes. His strike team, despite being a little scared of him at first, are so excited to talk to a foreigner who they can actually communicate with that they constantly come up with excuses to hang out and chat.

5. China’s relative lack of development in the early seventies means that there aren’t the facilities to wipe him or put him in the freezer, so the main weapons that Handler Dima has at his disposal to keep the Soldier in line are 1. it’ll be hard for him to run away because he tends to attract crowds, and 2. He sometimes looks very ashamed of himself if you give him a sternly worded talking-to.

6. The Soldier is having the time of his life. Look at me, look at all of my friends, I have so many friends, EVERYONE LIKES ME.

The Winter Soldier, doing shots of baijiu and toasting to the health of Chairman Mao. The Winter Soldier, chain smoking and eating millions of sunflower seeds while playing Fight the Landlord with his new pals on a cross-country sleeper train. The Winter Soldier, doing morning tai chi and calisthenics along with his team. The Winter Soldier, preening every time someone tells him that he looks like a movie star (his handler says “They’re just saying that because they only ever see Europeans in films,” to which the Soldier replies, “But Dima, why don’t they say that you look like a movie star?”). The Winter Soldier, showboating shamelessly for his strike team, who have started calling him Lao Da and looking to him for orders while ignoring Handler Dima, who can’t speak Chinese and definitely can’t shoot two people at the same time while doing a backflip. The Winter Soldier, making elaborate Chinese puns and teaching his guys useful English phrases that he can’t remember learning (Did you come here alone, doll?). The Winter Soldier, harassing his buddies until they show him pictures of their wives and kids and then sincerely complimenting them on their beautiful families. The Winter Soldier, suspecting that he has experienced this kind of camaraderie before but unable to remember when and how.  

His next mission, in Vietnam, is the first time that they muzzle him.

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can you believe that we have fanfiction. that we have websites dedicated to fanfiction. that there is a place that you can go and read tens, hundreds, thousands and thousands of pieces of writing that strangers have made. people who are not "writers". people who come home at the end of the day and have feelings and say, i am going to put that into words. i am going to share those words. short, long, sweet, sad, horny, funny, wonderful words. we are all just human and we all love to make and remake and share that with others. can you believe that.

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yes yes characters doomed by the narrative always slap BUT what about characters saved by the narrative? characters who have already given up hope and don't know they have a happy ending? characters who believe they are a lost cause, characters who feel irredeemable, characters who think there's nothing left for them, but the narrative does provide a way out? what about the characters who don't expect anything good, who don't even remember how to wish for it anymore, who get the things they need anyway? what about the characters who actively run from being saved getting saved in a way they can't stop or control. what about being saved by the narrative!!!

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Love how tumblr has its own folk stories. Yeah the God of Arepo we’ve all heard the story and we all still cry about it. Yeah that one about the woman locked up for centuries finally getting free. That one about the witch who would marry anyone who could get her house key from her cat and it’s revealed she IS the cat after the narrator befriends the cat.

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Melissa Harris-Perry, Black Female Voices: Who Is Listening?

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I think the Ratiorine fandom really moved on too fast from the fact that Hoyo chose "charming audacity" and "dear gambler" as the first words players would hear from Ratio to Aventurine. Not the second scene. Not the third. The very first sentence players ever hear between those two.

And you know what, we also moved on much too quickly from the next scene too. Ratio was the one to start the whole "Aventurine is a peacock" thing. Why are you sitting around thinking about what alien animals your coworker reminds you of, Veritas? The joke is supposed to be that peacocks are noisy, but then they just drop that like a hot rock so the camera can do a slow pan on Aventurine's chest and Ratio can comment on Aventurine's clothing choices. Since when does Dr. Ratio care what people wear? Why were you looking?! Fellas, is it gay to compare your partner in crime to the symbol of male beauty???

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Interpreting Aventurine's Situation

(HSR 2.1 spoilers, watch out!) I think one of my favorite things to come out of Penacony is that the plot has left us with two completely opposite but equally valid interpretations of Aventurine's character. Is he a chosen child or just a "lucky" dog? The story leaves the door wide open for both possibilities.

Under a read more for space:

One Interpretation: Unfortunately for Him, Aventurine is Actually Blessed by an Aeon

If you work from the assumption that the Avgin mythology is correct, and Gaiathra Triclops is actually real (possibly a minor aeon of an unknown path or Ena, if you're on that train), then it's entirely possible, in game, that Aventurine has been blessed by a goddess to the point that he functionally cannot lose any gamble he makes. The odds are, literally, ever in his favor. In this interpretation, it doesn't matter how many gambles he takes with his life as the chip because he will always succeed. Despite how risky his behavior looks to everyone else, he's actually been perfectly safe all along.

But this is especially tragic because it means that, despite his mother's and sister's belief that his blessing will help everyone in their tribe, Aventurine's blessing has only ever extended to himself. He's not an omen of good fortune for his people. His luck was never going to protect his parents, sister, or friends. The goddess of the Avgin chose just one person and left the rest of her people to die.

This is where Aventurine's doubts stem from. He asks repeatedly: If the goddess can bless people, then why is life so miserable for the Avgin? Why do they have to live in pain, suffering, fear, and abject poverty if she could make them lucky enough to thrive? Why do people live if it's just going to be horrible?

(To be honest, I don't think this is out of line for the behavior we've seen of aeons so far. Even with aeons like Yaoshi, described as gentle and benevolent, with no intention to cause harm, their gifts often create horror in the human world.)

Aventurine's hands still tremble when he bets. He doesn't really believe he's blessed and still expects his own downfall at every turn--but it's never going to come because he is one of the few human beings in the entire universe with the direct favor of an aeon. Even Ratio, a skeptical, evidence-based genius, seems to think this might be the case.

(Choosing the Chinese because the text is a little clearer than the English, but basically: "This guy always has a way of dragging himself up out of the abyss, which can't be explained by just 'good luck.' Everyone is waiting to see him fail... Maybe even he's waiting too. But as time passed, I couldn't help but wonder: Will that day really come?")

This means Aventurine has lived a life of fear and uncertainty for nothing. He's spent his entire life awaiting a failure and painful death that will never come. He can't recognize the love of his own goddess nor trust in the faith of his own family.

The central question of this interpretation becomes "What does it mean for a single human to be favored by an aeon?" Can Aventurine really be called lucky after losing every single thing that has meaning in his life--all because an aeon chose him and only him? Should that be called a blessing or a curse?

The Opposite Interpretation: Aventurine Isn't Lucky At All, He's Just Skilled

On the other hand, the story leaves the door open to interpret Aventurine's situation in the complete opposite manner too. If, as the IPC seems to think, Gaiathra Triclops isn't real and Aventurine isn't blessed at all, then that means every single risk Aventurine has taken has actually been life-threatening--and that every single achievement he's reached has been by his own merits alone.

If Gaiathra's blessing isn't real, then Aventurine's life becomes one long self-run psyop: Everyone tells him he's blessed, he's lucky, he's favored--so young Kakavasha starts gambling early. Banking on this idea that he's favored, that he's chosen, he starts paying attention, he learns the tricks of the trade, figures out how to slip cards up his sleeves, how to word things just right so people will take his bait--he practices, practices, practices, until he can spot winning odds a mile away, until he can predict every possible outcome, until he's seen it all before.

In this situation, every single gamble he's ever made or will make carries a very, very real risk of failure--but Aventurine continues to succeed because he's just that quick-witted, just that aware, just that good at reading people. (He's been doing it for so much longer than everyone else he meets, after all.) He is the gambler extraordinaire, the archetypal charming rogue who can squirm his way out of any tight spot he gets into, time and time again.

He fears every gamble he makes because he has good reason to--there's literally never any guarantee that he will succeed, and he's constantly just flipping a coin to see what outcome he'll get. His personal skill and quick wit continue to turn things in his favor, but it's inevitable that one day he'll meet a situation that outwits him, a gamble where only a supernatural force could have saved him. And if you take this second interpretation, Gaiathra isn't real, so there won't be one.

This story choice would be interesting because it implies a greater degree of responsibility for everything that happens. If it's Aventurine's own quick wit and skill that continually save him, shouldn't he be able to help others with that skill? Shouldn't he have been able to help himself? How was he able to save himself from death but not from slavery? If it was skill, not luck, all along, then who do you blame for all the misery he still experienced?

This interpretation leads to greater questions of self-doubt and anxiety: Is it actual skill or just sheer dumb luck? Does Aventurine have what it takes mentally, psychologically, emotionally, and even physically to always come out on top by his own merits, or is he just the benefit of the wheel of fortune--statistically speaking, a one in a million chance still has to come through for that one, right? And when it all comes crumbling down eventually, will he have only himself to blame?

A Life of Uncertainty

The story doesn't actually give us any firm indication whether Gaiathra is real or not, or--even if she is real--if Aventurine is actually genuinely blessed. We just don't know, as players.

And Aventurine doesn't know either.

His faith in the goddess of the Avgin is shaky. He seems to want to believe and hold on to his people's mythology, but he has valid doubts that a goddess would choose to bless one person while leaving everyone else to suffer.

Is he the chosen of an aeon? And if he isn't chosen, then what meaning does any of it have? Is he just unbelievably skilled? Has he merely been lucky up to now? When will this blessing or luck or skill finally fail him?

Aventurine's most defining character trait is the extreme uncertainty that has plagued his whole life. What is true? What should he believe? Is he blessed or cursed? Does he have the talent to back up his massive boasts? Should others put any faith in him--should he put any faith in himself? Should he cling to his people's beliefs or reject the goddess that left him the sole survivor of a cultural extinction?

He can't trust anything. He can't trust his family's faith; he can't trust that he's actually a "chosen one" (because how could he chosen and his family be left to die?). He can't even trust that he's lucky because maybe it was just the years of suffering practice he put in. Then again, he can't trust in his own skill because maybe he's just blessed?

Which is it? Which is it? Which is it?

Nothing is certain. Nothing can be taken for granted. Nothing can be proven empirically true or false. There are no guarantees for Aventurine.

Every single thing in his life is a gamble, and none of that is his fault.

What an amazing character. What a great story. Thank you for the treat, Hoyo!

[cloudyfromoobsession]

A large part of housecat vocalisation toward humans isn’t goal-directed communication, but rather, affiliative signaling: a simple call-and-response protocol which establishes that the participants are part of the same social unit. Amongst themselves, most housecat affiliative signaling is non-vocal, but humans aren’t really physiologically equipped to respond to such signalling in a feline fashion, and cats, well, they’re adaptable.

Which is to say that when your cat yells, and you yell back, so the cat yells again, and so forth, what you’re really saying to each other is “hiiiiii~”.

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Keep seeing that post where OP starts like 'Thinking about...grieving the undead' and then adds on about like. Real life situations where people have not died but have left your life and you would have reason to grieve them.

All respect, that's an important concept, but that is not what I am thinking about when I read 'grieving the undead'.

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Aviation really is one of humanity's best endeavors.

when something bad happens, everyone within radio range drops whatever they're doing to help

entire regions will voluntarily clear themselves of traffic to accommodate a single passenger aircraft in trouble

after an air disaster, the rules are reviewed to see if there was anything that could be done to prevent the disaster, and if so the rules are changed

with a few exceptions, pretty much any aircraft from any country on earth can communicate with and land at any foreign airport

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