#segmentation task

[andranikfakirian]

Further projects

Besides, I didn't waste any time in the summer and signed up for two more research projects. Don't worry, it's too early to bury me yet, I'm somehow coping with the workload at the moment. Considering what prospects their implementation will open up to me, I shouldn't complain.

The third project is about meteorology and cyclone detection using ML-technologies. The work is based on an article created by Chinese (I think so) scientists, and is an improvement on the machine learning models used in their research. In a nutshell, we are trying to implement another kinds of algorithms for a 2D map to search for cyclones and develop the programs for a 3D map (to detect and determine the volumetric shapes of cyclones). Maybe, we can even devise an algorithm to predict the movement and evolution of cyclones in the future. And once again, I say "we" for a reason. I do this job together with my partner. I also will introduce her if she doesn't mind.

P.S.: Here's a cool image of geopotentials below to illustrate the map we are working with. The blue spots on it stand for cyclones.

The fourth project is also about ML techniques, but now in the area of astronomy and astrophysics. I'm not sure how much can I say about the project itself now, but one thing I can say for sure. And this thing is really hard to believe in. I got the offer for this work from abroad, more precisely, from Taiwan.

To get this offer, I just threw my candidacy at almost all the available summer internship programs that I could find during my entire current year of study. Thus, it worked, and I was able to get the only offer from Taiwan, which I gladly agreed to. (I'm a lucky one, what can I say).

My summer internship lasts for two months: from the beginning of July to the end of August. At the moment, I have been working on the project for the fourth week and have already achieved significant results. I expect to achieve as much as possible in the allotted time. And today I plan to finally ask my supervisor about the confidentiality (what can I publish here) of the project.

However, my trip to another country will not only be about work. And also about life here. More content from my travel blog (it turns out now) can be found on my Instagram and X/Twitter (I guess, I'm not sure... go check it out or something).

[ajdrawshq]

not that i havent said it a million times already but kris' piano playing in noelles house is so so charming and fun to listen to. big fan of when u can hear them try to remember the next part of a song

[personinthepalace]

Rhys Nicholson in the ballpit - Taskmaster Australia

[velen-is-full-of-mud]

I like to think that Odysseus throws a guy off a wall at the end of his boss music, you know, for old times sake

Speaking of boss music, when the chanting started I'm sure that an enormous health bar appeared above Ody for the suitors

[catboygirljoker]

(smiling so smiley) waiter more lamia lore please 😊

:3 !!

uhhh they were friends with lea and isa growing up! mostly lea. i think isa didnt particularly like lamia, but certainly neither of them believed lamia deserved to be bullied by their peers or singled out by their teachers. lea would stand up for lamia, and isa would often get roped in. sometimes lea would hang out with lamia when they were lonely.

since lamia's dad was a scientist, i imagine they lived in the castle, and so did lea and isa after they became ansem's apprentices—but they became pretty busy, so lamia didn't see much of them. and lamia wouldn't have gone to see them at the labs; they tended to avoid people as much as possible, especially authorities, even finding back ways to sneak out of the castle to avoid the guards.

later, saïx reads xigbar's reports that mention lamia, and he doesnt really think much of it. just like, "oh, huh. i remember them. seems they havent changed much." axel might have a stronger reaction to hearing about lamia, but all of that happens during Days, and, yknow. axel's got a lot more on his mind then.

[love-songs-for-emma]

say what u will about taylor swift, but "you kept me like a secret, i kept you like an oath" is a couplet that hits me like a brick to the skull every time i hear it

[lemememeringue]

looking over my promotion track plan. girl help they want me to develop soft skills

[boundinparchment]

Am going absolutely bonkers.

[momo-shut-the-fuck-up]

I just submitted my last assignment for the year. I am now free to do as i please until september. I am about to get so autistic (threat)

[andranikfakirian]

Current Projects

After so much time of silence, I feel the necessity to report about the past and current situation. I'm sorry if it seemed to you that I've abandoned the blog idea. I didn't forget it, I just couldn't find enough time to start publishing again. But now I'm determined to come back with news. And I definitely have a content to tell you.

And the first will be the satellite project. Honestly, we still haven't finish it, and I'm not sure if I have time to continue the work right now. Therefore, there won't be many updates about this project at the moment (if there are any at all). We do have some results for our assessment for Data Analysis subject, so we obtained some good grades. But I'll do my best to continue working when I'll find enough free time to do so. And yes, when I say "we", I am not mistaken. This project is being conducted by me and my partner. I'll introduce him if he doesn't mind.

P.S.: Here's the performance of our model. The first image is a satellite photo, the second - ground truth mask image, the third - prediction made by our not enough trained model.

The second will be the computational mathematics project. I have reached a milestone in the form of an almost beta version of the software package. The solver with automatic timestep sampling has already been created and works pretty well. It's still not really optimized but it's already useful and precise. There's still enough space fpr research and testing the algorithm, so it's possible to obtain in the near future enough material to make a publication in a scientific journal.

P.S.2: Here you can see the difference in performance of two algorithms: explicit RK4 (the upper image of unstable solution) and mine implicit (m, k)-method with autostepper (the lower image) - for the same problem.

[dare-g]

I have got to type out the lyrics/script out to several parts of Robert Ashley's operas Celestial Excursions and Dust

[ozymoron]

i love you sponserblock i love you adblock i love you extensions that skip ad or just video nonsense bits that waste your time

[inkandapex]

through the lens — drive to survive moments

Lando Norris x Y/N

Summary : The cameras may be there for Formula 1, but somehow, they keep capturing them. From playful bickering in the paddock to wholesome moments in McLaren’s garage, from Y/N’s growing fan club to Lando’s exaggerated jealousy, Drive to Survive unknowingly turns their love story into a viral sensation—one chaotic moment at a time.

Words : 3.6k

Warnings : swearing

Friends turned Rivals Lovers

The camera focuses on Lando, settled in the driver’s seat, before shifting to the seat behind him. Just beside the cameraman, Max F is seen scrolling through his phone.

“Max is pouty because he usually sits in the passenger seat,” Lando quips, drawing the camera’s attention back to him. A glimpse of his cheeky grin is visible from his side profile.

Reaching over the passenger seat, Lando rests a hand on her thigh. Max chuckles softly. “Bit more legroom up front.”

The scene cuts to Lando, now sat in a studio. From behind the camera, a voice cuts in. “You’ve been a hot topic this off-season. Any updates you want to share?”

Lando leans back in his chair, fixing his hair as he readies himself for the interview segment of Drive to Survive.

"What makes you say that?" A shy smile creeps onto his face just before the screen transitions to a montage of headlines and social media posts.

"Lando Norris seen kissing mystery girl in his Ferrari" "Lando Norris and mystery girl spotted driving around Monaco" "Mystery girl identified—longtime friend Y/N L/N" "Friends to Lovers? The true identity of McLaren driver Lando Norris'new girlfriend"

Lando nods with a smile. “Y/N and I have been friends for a long time. Finally found the guts to ask her to be mine.”

“Are you the romantic type?”

He chuckles, shrugging. “You’d have to ask her.”

The scene transitions to the paddock, where Lando walks hand-in-hand with Y/N, her bag slung over his arm. Max trails beside them, hands in his pockets. The trio makes their way into McLaren’s hospitality, settling at a free table tucked away in the corner, away from the crowd.

Y/N takes a sip of her smoothie before glancing at Lando. “Excited for today? First practice of the season.”

Lando looks up from his phone, nodding. “Yeah, feeling pretty good. Car felt good during testing—hope it translates well throughout the season.”

“Think he’s more nervous about the fact that you’ll be here watching,” Max teases, a smirk playing on his lips.

Y/N laughs softly. “I’ve been to races before, you know.”

“Yeah, but not as his girlfriend. Now he’s got to win for the team and to show off for you.”

“You dick,” Lando chuckles, grabbing a straw wrapper and tossing it at Max, who dodges it with a grin.

Lando glances at his watch, letting out a soft sigh before pushing his chair back. “Alright, I gotta go get ready.”

Max leans back in his chair, nodding. “We’ll be in the garage before you head out.”

Lando grabs Y/N’s bag from the table, slinging it over his shoulder. “Let’s go, baby.”

Y/N blinks up at him, confused. “Am I not staying with Max?”

Lando shrugs, a small smirk on his lips. “You could… but I want you with me while I get ready. Your choice.”

Y/N smiles and stands up, slipping her hand into Lando’s. Max groans dramatically. “I can’t believe it. I’ve been benched. I’ve lost my WAG status.”

--------------------------------------------------------

Air Max

Lando holds up his phone, the camera capturing the view outside Max Verstappen’s private plane. His team had arranged with Drive to Survive to give Netflix a small peek into his life outside the paddock. Now, he’s tasked with filming parts of his day—something he’s getting used to but still isn’t entirely comfortable with.

The camera shifts, panning around the cabin before zooming in on Max and his girlfriend, who sit across from each other, faces buried in their phones.

“Look at these two… they’ve been like this since we took off,” Lando murmurs, walking closer while keeping the camera focused on them. He tilts the screen toward their hands, revealing the game they’re both locked into—a racing simulator. Neither of them spares him a glance.

“We asked you to join, mate,” Max chuckles without looking up.

Lando plops down beside Y/N, setting the camera down at an angle that captures all three of them. He starts poking her cheek, then her side, trying to get her attention.

“Lan. I swear, if I lose—”

“—Of course you will. You’re racing against Max.”

“She’s actually pretty good, you know,” Max chimes in, eyes still glued to his phone.

Before Lando can tease again, Y/N suddenly shrieks, making him flinch. She drops her phone onto the table, leaning back in her seat with a dramatic groan of defeat.

“What did I say, baby?” Lando laughs, nudging her shoulder.

But Y/N is already sitting back up, snatching her phone with urgency. “One more, Max. Come on, let’s go. This is the one—I can feel it.”

Lando groans, throwing his head back. “Y/N, baby, please. Let’s watch a movie, take a nap, something.”

“In a bit, Lan, I need to beat Max.”

Max smirks, finally looking up at Lando with a teasing glint in his eye. “Sorry, mate. I win.”

"We're flying commercial next time"

--------------------------------------------------------

I'm just here for the coffee

The Drive to Survive camera crew catches up with Lando as he wraps up media duties alongside Oscar in McLaren hospitality. He’s distracted—eyes constantly scanning the room, phone in hand, thumb hovering over the screen as he checks it every few seconds. His expression shifts between mild frustration and confusion.

Just as he exhales sharply, about to shove his phone into his pocket, a familiar voice calls out.

"Lando!"

Max F calls out, relief on his face as he finally spots his friend sitting by the doors. Lando strides towards him, but before he can even greet them, Max speaks again.

"Oh, I thought Y/N would be with you. I've been trying to reach her for hours now."

Lando’s brows furrow, holding up his phone.

"I’ve been trying to call her too. I thought she was with you."

The realization hits him like a switch flipping. His expression drops into something between disbelief and sheer irritation. He exhales, shakes his head, and lets out a knowing scoff.

"I might know where she is."

Cue the most dramatic yet comedic smash cut imaginable.

Ferrari Hospitality – Where Y/N Has Been the Entire Time.

The camera immediately cuts to Y/N, relaxed and unbothered, seated at a table inside Ferrari hospitality. The atmosphere is lively, filled with laughter as they sip espresso, surrounded by Carlos, Charles, and their girlfriends. The Ferrari logo gleams proudly in the background, almost mocking.

Y/N leans forward, grinning at something Carlos just said, stirring their coffee absentmindedly. Charles adds a comment that earns another round of laughter. It’s the picture of comfort—warm, inviting, and clearly where Y/N has been all along.

Then, in the background, the doors swing open.

The camera follows Lando as he steps inside, expression unreadable—until the dramatic zoom-in captures the very moment.

"Unbelievable."

Lando’s voice cuts through the laughter, making the entire table turn their heads toward him. The easygoing chatter dies down as he strides over, hands on his hips, phone still clutched in one hand. His brows are furrowed—confused, mildly exasperated, and very much not amused.

"Baby, Max and I have been calling you."

Y/N blinks before reaching into their bag, finally checking their phone. The screen lights up with multiple missed calls. A sheepish smile tugs at their lips as they glance back up at Lando.

"Oops? Sorry, Lan. I had my ringer off."

Charles smirks, leaning back in his chair. "She’s been having a great time with us, mate."

Lando squints at him before turning back to Y/N. "How long have you been here?"

Before Y/N can even open their mouth, Carlos chimes in.

"Actually, quite late today. She came an hour later than usual."

Lando blinks. Processes. "Later than usual?" His gaze snaps back to Y/N, his confusion shifting into shock. "How often are you here?!"

Y/N, fully caught now, shrugs, setting their coffee down.

"I mean… almost every media day? You’re busy filming, and their coffee is really good here so I just—"

Lando groans, rubbing his face. "Oh baby…"

Before he can spiral further, Rebecca—clearly enjoying the moment—leans in with a grin. "Show Lando what Carlos and Charles gave you!"

Y/N shoots her a betrayed side-eye, but it’s too late. Lando’s eyes widen slightly as he looks between them. He nods at Y/N, expectantly.

Y/N sighs, reaching back into their bag. With hesitant hands, they pull out a very red Ferrari cap and place it on the table.

Silence.

Lando stares.

Alex, grinning, decides to throw more fuel into the fire. "You could’ve at least signed it for her."

"Oh shit—yeah." Charles grabs the cap, immediately patting down his pockets for a pen. He looks around helplessly before turning to Lando.

"Do you have a Sharpie?"

Lando blinks. His eye twitches.

"Do I—" He stops himself, inhales deeply, then exhales, running a hand down his face.

"Okay. We’re leaving. Come on."

Y/N barely has time to protest before Lando takes their hand and starts walking. "But— baby no my coffee..."

"I'll get you your own coffee machine"

--------------------------------------------------------

A victory in full bloom

It’s the moment Lando’s been dreaming of his entire career: his first-ever Formula 1 race win. The podium ceremony is over, and he’s just wrapped up celebrating with his team, taking photos and soaking in the victory. The Netflix crew trails him closely, hoping to catch a quick statement from the new race winner. But Lando’s not focused on the cameras or interviews—his mind is set on finding someone. He’s been eager to celebrate with Y/N.

As he walks towards the trailers, his eyes scan the area until they land on her. There she is, standing by his trailer with a small bouquet of flowers in hand. Lando stops dead in his tracks, his breath catching in his chest for a moment. A wide smile spreads across his face as he takes in the sight of her, the bouquet a simple yet perfect gesture for this milestone moment.

Y/N looks up and meets his gaze, a soft smile tugging at her lips. It’s clear she’s been waiting for him. "Hey champ"

Lando’s eyes light up when he sees them, his smile growing even wider. He’s still buzzing from the excitement of the win, but this moment feels different—more personal.

Lando is grinning from ear to ear "What’s this? For me?"

Y/N shyly holds the bouquet out towards him, a soft smile on her face. "Yeah... It's not the best, but it's the only one I could get my hands on at such short notice."

Lando doesn’t hesitate for a second. He sets his trophy down on the ground, his attention entirely on the flowers in her hands. He takes the bouquet from her gently, inspecting it with a look of pure joy on his face. The smile never leaves as he admires the thoughtful gesture.

Y/N flinches slightly when she hears the clink of the trophy being set down. “Oh, Lan, don’t just leave it on the floor—”

Before she can even move to pick it up, Lando pulls her into a tight, elated hug, careful not to crush the flowers between them.

“These are beautiful, my love. Thank you,” he whispers against her ear, his voice full of affection. “God, I love you. You’re the best, you know that, right?”

Y/N, caught in the warmth of the moment, smiles softly, her heart racing. Lando’s arms around her feel like the perfect celebration of everything they’ve worked for together.

"I'm so proud of you, Lan, my race winner," Y/N says softly, planting a gentle kiss on his cheek.

Lando lets out a quiet laugh, glancing over her shoulder and catching sight of one of the camera crew members standing off to the side, clearly eager to capture the intimate moment. His smile widens, but then, with a mischievous glint in his eye, he pulls away from her and takes her hand firmly in his.

"Alright, you vultures," he calls out playfully to the crew, his tone teasing as he begins to walk away with Y/N in tow. "Go film someone else now."

Lando walks off, his stride confident and relaxed, one hand holding the bouquet Y/N gave him, the other wrapped around her hand. His focus is entirely on her as they move down the paddock together, the world around them momentarily fading away.

"Lando the trophy!"

--------------------------------------------------------

Fan Favourite

The cameras follow Lando and Y/N as they stroll hand in hand through the paddock, stopping every few meters to greet excited fans. It’s a typical moment for them, with Lando taking his time to chat and take photos with the crowd, but today, there’s a certain energy in the air that the fans—especially the ones around them—seem to feed off of.

Y/N stands to the side, watching with a smile as Lando interacts with a group of young fans. One fan, in particular, catches his attention. She’s holding a small, handmade friendship bracelet, her hands slightly trembling with excitement.

Lando’s smile widens as he notices the bracelet. He looks at the fan and gestures toward it with a raised eyebrow, "That’s really pretty. Is that for me?"

The fan's eyes go wide, her mouth opening and closing as she tries to form words. Finally, she manages a shy reply, "Oh, uh... actually, it’s for Y/N. If you could give it to her, please?"

Lando lets out a lighthearted laugh, realizing his mistake, a blush creeping up his neck. He turns over his shoulder, calling out to Y/N with a playful tone, "Love, c’mere. They wanna say hi."

Y/N steps forward, smiling warmly as she walks towards them. But before she even gets close, a few of the girls in the group let out high-pitched squeals, and Lando, hearing the reaction, pauses mid-step. He turns around to face the group, his jaw dropping in mock surprise. “Right, calm down,” he teases, raising an eyebrow. "It's almost like you're more excited to meet her than me!"

The fans giggle, some blushing, while Y/N smiles with a soft laugh, taking the bracelet from the fan’s outstretched hand. Lando, now with a playful smirk, shakes his head, clearly enjoying the teasing moment.

Y/N immediately slips the bracelet onto her wrist, admiring it with a bright smile. “This is so pretty! Thank you so much, you guys are the sweetest.”

Before she can say anything else, another fan eagerly steps forward, holding out a small crocheted cat dressed in what looks suspiciously like Lando’s helmet.

“I got you this as well!” the fan beams.

Y/N gasps, carefully taking the little plushie into her hands. “Oh my gosh! Is this supposed to be Lando?” She turns it over, inspecting the tiny details, from the pattern of the helmet to the little number on its side. “This is adorable—you guys…” Her voice softens, and she clutches the cat close to her chest, looking at the group with a touched expression, lips forming a small pout.

Lando, standing off to the side, watches with a fond smile, his heart swelling as he sees how naturally she interacts with his fans. He doesn’t even realize how long he’s been staring until Y/N turns to him, stretching out her arm with her phone in hand.

“Lan, baby, take a photo of us, please?”

Lando blinks, snapping out of his daze. He lets out a chuckle before taking the phone from her hand. “Yeah, yeah—sorry, got a bit distracted there.”

After snapping a few more photos and sharing a couple more laughs, Y/N and Lando exchanged their final goodbyes with the fans before continuing their stroll toward the McLaren garage.

Y/N glanced down at the bracelet on her wrist, still admiring the thoughtful gift, while Lando walked beside her, hands in his pockets, a playful pout forming on his lips.

"Can't believe I gotta share my girlfriend with my fans now," he muttered dramatically, shaking his head.

Y/N let out a soft laugh, bumping her shoulder against his. "Oh, come on, don’t act like you don’t love it," she teased.

Lando sighed, pretending to be exasperated. "I mean, I was the main attraction. Now they’re out here squealing over you and giving you gifts." He shot her a look, but the corners of his lips twitched, betraying his amusement.

Y/N smirked, holding up the tiny crocheted cat. "Jealous?"

Lando scoffed, but his eyes flickered down to the plushie, and he hummed in fake thought. “Depends... do I get one in return?”

Y/N grinned. "Maybe if you win the race this weekend."

Lando groaned, tilting his head back. “So now I have to earn your love? This is outrageous.”

Y/N just giggled, slipping her hand into his, swinging it slightly as they walked. “You love the challenge, Norris.”

He sighed, squeezing her hand. “Yeah... yeah, I do.”

--------------------------------------------------------

P's new favourite

Lando’s relationship with Max Verstappen’s stepdaughter, Penelope, had always been a good one. Between race weekends and off-season meetups in Monaco, he saw her often, and they had their own little bond.

But ever since he started dating Y/N, it seemed like P had a new favorite.

Just before heading to the garage, Lando stood outside McLaren hospitality, casually chatting with his mom, a few friends, Kelly, and P—who, instead of paying attention to the conversation, was entirely focused on showing Lando her collection of stickers.

Lando’s smile softens as he looks down at the little girl, carefully pressing the sticker onto his fireproofs. “For me?” he asks, feigning surprise. “Thank you, P.”

“Bye, Lando!” P grins, bouncing on her heels before giving him a high five, which quickly turns into a hug.

Lando barely has time to wrap his arms around her before she suddenly gasps dramatically, pulling away as fast as she had latched onto him. Without a second thought, she bolts in the opposite direction.

“Y/N!”

The camera follows her path, cutting to Y/N just as she arrives. A wide smile spreads across her face as she kneels down, arms open and ready for impact.

P barrels straight into her, nearly knocking her over as she wraps her tiny arms around Y/N in a tight hug.

Y/N lets out a small laugh, steadying herself. “Hi, P! I love your hair—you look so pretty!”

P quickly pulls back, twirling proudly to show off her outfit. “Lando said he liked my hair too!” she exclaims.

Y/N gasps, playing along. “Well, if Lando said it, then it must be true.”

P giggles before Y/N takes her small hands in hers. “Alright, come on then, let’s go say goodbye to Lando.”

As they make their way back toward the group, Kelly watches them with a knowing smile. “She literally pulled away from Lando’s hug just to run to you,” she muses, shaking her head with amusement.

Lando lets out a dramatic sigh, crossing his arms. “Yeah, my family does the same thing when I bring her home with me.”

Cisca, who had been standing off to the side, bursts into laughter, nodding in agreement. “It’s true.”

“Hi, baby. I’m about to head off. I’ll see you after,” Lando murmurs, stepping in close to press a soft kiss to Y/N’s lips before pulling her into a tight hug.

Before Y/N can even melt into the embrace, a small but determined voice interrupts.

“Okay, bye now, Lando.”

P, eyes set with purpose, marches forward and starts pushing Lando away with her tiny hands.

Lando lets out a laugh, barely stumbling back before crossing his arms over his chest. “Excuse me? Am I not even allowed to kiss my girlfriend goodbye now?”

“She’s mine!” P announces proudly, wrapping her arms around Y/N in a possessive hug.

Y/N laughs, running a gentle hand over the little girl’s head. “Alright, missy, I think Lando gets the message loud and clear.” She glances at Lando with a teasing smile before blowing him a kiss. “I’ll see you later, my love. Good luck and be safe.”

Lando sneaks in a quick peck to her cheek before jogging off, grinning. “I’ll be back to take my girlfriend back, P! Watch over her for me!”

[probablyasocialecologist]

The Israeli government is behind a large-scale influence campaign primarily aimed at Black lawmakers and young progressives in the United States and Canada. The operation, whose existence was first reported by Haaretz in March, was launched after the start of the war in Gaza and was intended to sway certain segments of public opinion on Israel's conduct. The influence campaign made extensive use of fake websites and social media to promote content that is pro-Israel, anti-Palestinian and anti-Muslim content, as well as disinformation about antisemitism on American campuses, according to an investigation by the Fake Reporter organization, published today. The operation was run by a private Israeli online political campaigning firm called STOIC that was hired for the project. According to sources and information obtained by Haaretz, the operation was commissioned by Israel's Diaspora Affairs Ministry but carried out by a different party, for fear that its exposure could entangle Israel in a crisis. The ministry oversees a number of firms for a number of different purposes and goals. Among the candidates for the job was the organization Voices of Israel, which received half of its original funding from the Israeli government, though it was not tapped for the task in the end.

Links: Haaretz archive.today wayback machine

June 5 2024

[raining-anonymously]

something about mouthwashing that has always bothered me is the cake-baking scene. where the game’s dialogue is usually very realistic, this scene feels… weird. the dialogue is unnatural and too video-gamey. anya, swansea, and jimmy are telling curly things he should already know for the player’s benefit, such as the backstory for the communal birthday parties and how to bake the cake. it’s strange. but i think i’ve finally figured it out!

We start with Daisuke. “Look at your face!” suggests that Curly’s reaction to being surprise-birthday’d was an expression of shock. This is supported by Jimmy later apologizing to Curly for jumping him like that.

Back to the present. Curly, who tends to use fewer filler words comparatively, uses the word “uh” twice in two lines. “Uh. Wow,” followed by:

I wanna talk about this question for a minute. Let’s look at the scene. Curly can see the birthday party decorations from his position. Curly knows the approximate date off the top of his head, according to the dead pixel scene, so he should know it’s around his birthday. Curly has also undoubtedly experienced many Pony Express birthday parties before. All this to say, why the hell is he asking what the occasion is? It should be pretty obvious, no?

The answer is dissociation.

We know from Curly’s POV introduction that he spaces out in conversation, and that Anya is aware of this. This lasts to the point where he’s staring off at nothing until Anya asks if he’s listening.

He also appears to dissociate during his conversation with Jimmy before the crash: he stops talking completely until prompted by Jimmy to respond and doesn’t seem to understand what’s happening (Jimmy tells him everyone on the ship should die and Curly seemingly agrees, only to very clearly be upset and in shock when Jimmy goes and makes this happen).

Now, Jimmy, Anya, and Swansea have known Curly for years. Seems pretty reasonable that they would be able to recognize signs of his dissociation, yeah? And they do.

Again, these are things that Curly should absolutely know. I believe Anya and Jimmy saw the facial expression that Daisuke referred to and noticed Curly’s inexplicable confusion and realized he was dissociating. They then informed him of the details of the situation while posing it as a question, likely in an attempt to ground him. Anya ends her information with “right?” while Jimmy ends his with “remember?” This allows them to give Curly the information he isn’t grasping in a gentle way that doesn’t call attention to the fact that this is something he should already know.

Anya then gives him more direct instruction by telling him where the cake recipe is (again, a thing he should absolutely know considering he eats in that kitchen every day) and lightly tells him to go make it. She’s guiding him to a task that he would ordinarily be able to complete on his own because she can tell that he’s unsure and out of it.

Swansea—who, while not as close to Curly as Jimmy and not as attentive to the crew’s mental wellbeing as Anya, has known the captain for years— does the same thing, more directly. He asks Curly about the cake recipe and tells him where to find the ingredients and recipe. Again, Curly should absolutely know this already, but for some reason he isn’t doing it on his own.

From the crew’s perspective, if you as Curly choose to engage in this optional dialogue, Anya and Jimmy told Curly to go make the cake, and instead of doing that Curly wandered quietly around the lounge. Brought on, probably, by this dissociative episode. So Swansea reminds Curly what he’s supposed to be doing and where to go to do it.

(While Jimmy and Anya are consistently shown to be in tune to Curly’s emotions (Jimmy moreso pre-crash), Swansea typically is not; however, he’s standing near Anya during this segment, meaning she had the opportunity to tell him what she’d noticed.)

Now, an interesting thing about Curly’s optional conversations with the rest of the crew here: He doesn’t say anything during them. This is a little odd, considering Curly is a fairly social character. He does have other optional interactions where he doesn’t respond, but those are typically after he’s just had a back-and-forth with the other person or where you’re able to respond nonverbally (such as closing/opening the door to Utility when Jimmy jokes about it). But for the most part, Curly does respond to what others say.

Not here, though. He can drift between Daisuke, Anya and Swansea, and Jimmy, but he doesn’t say a word apart from when Jimmy notices his silence and prompts him to speak.

Even then, he just agrees with Jimmy without any indication that he processed what Jimmy said. If you go for Jimmy’s second optional dialogue, Curly once again has no response.

All this to say—

This post was not made to demonstrate any overarching story element. Honestly, I kinda thought I was stringing conclusions together. But now that it’s all down? It… kinda makes sense. This is consistent with Curly’s character, with Anya’s and Jimmy’s dynamics with Curly, and with the typically excellent, human, non-meta dialogue Mouthwashing utilizes in all other scenes.

It works down to the little details, such as Daisuke being the only one who doesn’t have weird dialogue here; he’s only known Curly a few months and is probably less in tune to the captain’s mannerisms. (Plus the crew tends not to tell him about anything serious.) Furthermore, dissociation can be caused by stress, and Curly is VERY stressed in this scene, preoccupied as he is with needing to tell the crew about the termination. His flavor text during this scene demonstrates that pretty well; his flavor text is much more cynical than his norm and often leads to him thinking about the termination rather than what he’s supposed to be doing.

Is there a possibility that I’m completely wrong? Of course. But I finally have a plausible explanation for something that has been bugging me for months, so I’m satisfied.

hope you enjoyed today’s episode of MOUTHWASHING THEORY TO FILL A PLOT HOLE THAT NO ONE EXCEPT MY PEDANTIC ASS THINKS ABOUT <3

If I said anything wrong re: dissociation or if you have another Watsonian explanation for why this scene is written so oddly, please do feel free to share!

[josephquinnswhore]

replicate failure to protect - joel miller x female reader

summary: Joel cannot bare to lose you, not the same way he lost Sarah. Through his own self declared failure to protect.

word count: 1.8k

content warnings: ptsd episode, panic attack, mention of past attempted suicide, reader gets fucked up ig, blood, murder, guns, violence, age gap- unspecified. Established relationship.

It feels euphoric, the numbness that spreads from your side up your arms, parts of your body are fizzing with a lightheaded tingle as the blood seeps out of your body. Past the point of pain, the searing sensation of a dull arrowhead being pulled forward, taut at the hands of a single raider camouflaging into the surrounding bush—whistled silently through the air. The metal savagely tears through your flesh and stops right below your bottom rib on the left side.

As you lie on the ground, you’re unable to make sense of the blurred shapes and colours of the overgrown foliage on the slanted buildings, the sound of explosive gunfire is muffled by the ringing in your ears—you feel something. A tugging sensation, one that vibrates through the arrowhead and emits a protestful rumble from your lungs.

All you can make out is muffled ringing in your ears and some incoherent mumbling, watching the blurred outline of his lips move.

You can barely make him out, as he kneels above you, having snapped off the end of the arrow and tossed it behind him, knowing better than to take his eyes off of you for one moment. He’d looked away once, when he’d apprehensively watched you drop to the ground once the arrow had hit. In a moment of necessity to eliminate the enemy.

All you can make out is muffled ringing in your ears and some incoherent mumbling, watching the blurred outline of his lips move.

He knew tearing his gaze off of you a second time was a death sentence.

It had happened once before—the split microsecond that his deep brown teary eyes had sought reassurance from his younger brother in a moment of pure desperation. Pleading for any kind of comfort his brother could promise that she would survive, but she’d slipped away in his arms. The life in her eyes had faded the moment he looked away. Missing the last moments of light in her eyes that solitudes life.

This could not happen to you.

His aching fingers tear off a segment off his flannel below the last button, bending down to manoeuvre your body to slide the fabric under your back, wrapping it around the arrow to keep it stable.

The crimson blood had begun to seep through the flannel before he had finished tying a knot in the shredded fabric, even the loose strands of twine were stained.

But the blood.. your blood covers his hands, the colour burns the back of his eyelids. A burning sensation rises up his throat at the recognition. As he leans over you, the blood makes contact with his flannel, smearing a messy, damp pattern onto his clothes. He was reliving hell all over again two decades later.

But he broke his own rule, tearing his focus gaze away from your face to finish this task, it had been mere seconds of the process. He looked away a second time.

Speaking to you absentmindedly, his gaze returns to your face, dread filling his chest when he sees that your lips are slightly parted. The stress line in your forehead has ceased as your head is lulled to the side, the supple skin of your cheeks is grazed on the surface of the dirt on the ground.

Those beautiful, teary orbs that had just been staring at him with an unfocused gaze were now clamped shut.

A part of Joel wants to give up, reliving the traumatic event that had torn apart his will to live two decades ago, and left him with physical and psychological scars.

“No.. no, no no!” The shout is primal, a clear denial of acceptance that this was your fate.

The sight of you sends a jostle of dread through his veins. All he could see was himself re-living through the devastation of losing Sarah. On the account that he had failed once again to protect someone he loves.

Gathering his thoughts and thinking fast, he intertwined his hands and placed them in the centre of your chest, ignoring the ache in his knees against the crackled rubble of the concrete ground. He positions himself above you, bringing a inhuman-like strength into pounding his hands against your chest as he begins his compressions.

“Not you, not you baby.” He utters desperately, voice thick with emotion.

Unaware of his little brother’s presence—Joel’s eyes darken, black in colour and exerting a burning gaze through your eyelids, prompting you to open them.

To look at him. To prove he hadn’t failed you too.

An exhausted, broken cry rolls between his lips into the stale air between you, spit flying from his mouth as his actions become less precise and more desperate and harmful. Ignoring the fact that he had heard a substantial crack vibrate through his palms.

The burning sensation is all over, his shoulders, arms, wrists, knees. His heart.

“You’re not doin’ this, y’hear me? You have’ta stay.. you stay f’me baby.”

All the while your body is unmoving, limbs shaking with each downward thrust of his hands. “Just open ‘em for me, just look at me.”

Tommy watches the horrific scene, unaware of what your state was like—but he had seen Joel live through this once before.

“I ain’t mad at’cha baby. Jus’ open ‘em for me.”

Joel is begging you—if you can hear him, he can’t will himself to bring his fingers to your neck or wrist to feel your pulse point, petrified of feeling nothing.

His resolve crumbles when he sees Tommy, unable to stop.

“Joel.. Joel stop. Let me check, alright?” His voice hadn’t been this soft and insistent since he had pried his niece's cold body from Joel’s arms to bury her.

Joel falls backward onto the ground out of exhaustion, the ache in his chest is pressing upward into his throat, squeezing the life out of his oesophagus making him feel dizzy.

“She’s alive.” Tommy murmurs, turning to look at his older brother.

FOLLOWING MORNING

“You look like shit, Joel. Have you moved since we’ve been back?” He hears Tommy’s scornful voice, but he can’t bear to tear his eyes off of you. Watching the subtle rise and fall of the blanket that covers your chest.

“I ain’t movin’.”

Not an inch, not once did he allow his gaze to tear away from your chest, the proof that you were still alive. Some semblance of hope he was clinging onto that you would make it.

“You see her chest movin’?” He utters to his younger brother, seeking reassurance.

Without so much as a wink of sleep, he had begun wondering if he was hallucinating the faint movement from sleep deprivation.

“Course I do. You’re just tired.” Tommy reassured, holding out a mug of warm, black coffee.

Joel’s movements are piloted, automatic. Stiff as his arm lifts the mug to his lips, swallowing coffee with a bitter aftertaste of anxiety. The same heavy feeling builds in his chest for the second time he’d returned with you.

The pressure of his anxiety escalates, unable to focus his vision of you, or Tommy’s concerns he speaks, lungs stuttering and struggling to inhale as his hand begins to tremble.

Just shy of his fifties, Joel Miller was having a fucking panic attack. Again.

“Joel,” the weight of his younger brother’s hand digging into his shoulder with a firm grasp, withdraws him from his dissociative state, lying on his bed.

Tommy was staring down at Joel with a knowing expression. “She’s wakin’ up.” He repeats a second time.

Tommy and the coffee are long forgotten, set aside as Joel rises to his feet, looming over you in heavyset silence of anticipation and exigency.

His hands grasp onto your cheeks, cradling them as he lets out a long exhale of relief, staring into the familiar colour of your irises.

“Baby I thought you’d left me..” he utters shakily between the two of you, thick tears fall from his wet eyes down his face.

He watches as your dry lips part, a hoarse croak rolls off of your tongue in an attempt to speak.

“Don’t say nothin’, save your strength.”

His hands tighten around the small mug, tucking his thumb into the handle instead of four of his fingers, for the reason that his hands were too large to navigate the small curated gap.

Thoughtfully, he’d filled it only halfway with water and left it by your shared bed the previous evening, in the expectation of you regaining consciousness.

“Here,” he murmurs, with his free hand he urges you to tilt your head backwards. “There you go.”

Bringing the rim of his mug to your lips, he slowly tilts it upward until a small amount of water has seeped into your lips, allowing a small relief for the uncomfortably dry surface of your mouth.

The second time he encourages a little more, brushing the single few strands of hair from your face as you begin to sip on the water with a loud slurp.

When he’s satisfied you’ve had enough, he pulls the mug away and sets it back on the bedside table.

Your lips are tugged upward in a small smirk, the smallest huff of a laugh vibrates through your nose, and he raises an eyebrow.

“Straight back to annoyin’ me huh? Seems like my girl is feelin’ more like herself already.”

The coo sends your heart through an extra murmur, pulse erratically causing the flesh in your neck to pulsate.

“Know.. you..” your voice is strained, and hoarse from lack of water. “Love it.”

A hum reverberated through his throat in agreeance. Placing his hand on top of your own, clasping his fingers in between your own.

“I do love you.”

For a first confession, the words linger heavily in the air between you. An intense gaze is shared before you could process the weight behind them.

“I love.. you.” Taking a wheezing breath, you continue, the attempt to squeeze his fingers albeit weak—conveys the message. “Even if you.. cracked my ribs.”

His golden complexion reinforces a bright pink hue across his cheeks and ears. “Y’heard that, huh? I’m real sorry ‘bout it.”

Blinking lazily, you nod once, waving off his apology. “That an’ everything else.”

Continuing on from a brief pause, you place your second hand on top of his, grounding him, offering him a sense of security and reassurance he didn’t often receive as self appointed protector.

“You saved me.”

The look in your eye expresses deep gratitude and understanding, promising him that you wouldn’t end up like Sarah, that he would never have to endure pain like that ever again.

Not as long as you lived.

“No, baby. You saved me.”

There are many things you’ve saved Joel from, but he leaves them unspoken, because you know, whether or not he’s mentioned it—you know.

“Get some sleep Joel..”

He obeys, sliding under the thick duvet beside you in the bed you shared, unwilling to break the hold of your hands.