I am pleased by people messaging me telling me that after adding a carb or protein to their snacks or meals they feel more satisfied all day. Yes, my plan is working. People are getting through their days with less hangry.
Rewatching season 2 of The Boys and I need someone to write a fic with platonic group omega Hughie where they all are super protective and put his safety over everyone else. If Butcher is a little more hard-core about that than the others I won't complain either.
huge fan of the headcanon of eddie coming out to buck & confessing his love in one go because he’s sure buck will reciprocate, and buck rejecting eddie on the spot because he’s taken off guard and hasn’t had the chance to process what the enormous amount he Feels for eddie even means because up until now eddie’s been Straight and his Best Friend and a renter.
so maybe eddie’s in the dumps and he’s a little tipsy and lamenting to henren because buck’s been burying himself in theo and work and procedure and anything that doesn’t have to do with eddie for the past week, and karen ends up setting him up on a casual date with a coworker of hers for the night after next. no pressure, no biggie. just a way for him to get out and maybe get some of the weight off of his shoulders for a couple hours by getting to know someone.
and buck hears about it, of course he does, because ravi’s razzing eddie in the locker room the next morning about the outfit he’s picked to change into after shift, chimney’s asking for pictures of the guy, and harry’s trying not to look at buck like he’s a kicked puppy. he’s antsy and irritable all shift, out of sync on the minimal calls they do have and skulking around the station for the most part because of course it’s a q-word shift, why wouldn’t it be.
by the time they’re off the 24 his body drives him to maddie’s house outside of his own volition, and as he knocks frantically on the front door all he can think is that he’s glad chim’s still held up at the station when maddie opens up and the first thing he blurts out is “i’m in love with eddie.”
maddie blinks, face shifting into something next to sympathy and understanding, and says, “i know.”
he tells her everything. by the time he’s spiraling into eight different ways to sunday that karen’s coworker could end up being eddie’s soulmate all because buck screwed up his one chance, maddie cuts him off.
“buck—back around when you started dating tommy, i told you something.” she pauses, pointed, and buck takes a breath. “i told you that if you had something to tell eddie, that you would… but it would be in your own time.”
buck swallows. maddie nods.
“i think you’ve found your time.”
“but maddie, he’s on a date—”
“evan.” there’s no misinterpreting the breadth of meaning beneath her tone. “go to him.”
and so he does. he’s skidding down the walkway and hopping in his truck cartoonishly fast, eddie’s location blinking away on his phone at some restaurant on the outskirts of the city, screen brightness near illuminating the cab in the evening shadow. seconds or lightyears could have passed by by the time he’s veering into a parallel spot on the street, crooked and careless, a drizzle beginning to dot the windshield, heart thumping desperately in his chest and whooshing through his eardrums. he crashes through the front door, entrance bell clattering, breath heaving, and—
“…buck?”
the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, bewildered and confused and a touch rightfully angry, cheeks flushed and hair carefully swept away from his face, deep burgundy button down collar flared open to the third button, st. christopher’s medallion winking under the low light.
“eddie.”
he had more to say, rehearsed it to all hell and jumbled in his head on repeat on the drive there, but it’s all stuck in his throat. eddie’s date—john, or ron, or don, whoever he is—is looking between them, expression neutral if a little curious. buck disregards him. tries again.
“i—don’t. don’t finish this date.”
eddie’s annoyance flares, then, a fire of challenge in his eyes, hurt and defiance and something else so close to hope that it burns at the back of buck’s throat and behind his eyes until he can taste it.
“you’re unbelievable.”
“eddie, please. just—don’t.”
suddenly eddie’s storming past him, linen napkin fluttering from the table to the empty seat of his chair before plopping to the ground, an air of date night cologne and pomade clouding buck’s senses until all that remains is a homing beacon pulling him after eddie. he follows the tinkle of the bell at the door and shoulders past the glass before it closes.
rain’s coming down heavy, now. he wades through it, sweatshirt soaking and dampening his undershirt to stick to his skin, and catches eddie’s shoulder before he can make it to his truck.
“what?” eddie asks. he has to speak up over the rain. it’s meant to be sharp, but it’s too weak to come across right. buck’s heart clenches, quick and painful.
“i’m sorry,” buck emphasizes, tightening his grip just a little harder, pressing the apology into the meat of eddie’s flesh through the sodden layer of his shirt.
eddie’s jaw tightens.
“i’m an idiot.” buck continues. eddie’s eyes shimmer bright, even through the rain, and his brow twitches. he remains silent.
“it’s—” buck’s words get caught in his throat again, and he can’t avoid how they break on the next breath. “it’s always been you.” he swallows. “it’ll always be you.”
then eddie’s fingers are twisting in the neckline of his hoodie, nails brushing slick skin, and buck shifts his hand from eddie’s shoulder to the perfect cut of his freshly shaven jaw to cradle his face just as their lips slot together.
thunder rumbles in the distance. the rain hammers on, and the smell of petrichor permeates.
buck licks salt from between the cradle of eddie’s lips and is sure it’s a mix of their tears.
if they're gonna remake The Princess Bride, it should open with a kid sick in bed scrolling on his phone. his grandpa arrives with a gift--it's a DVD player with a disc already inside. grandpa hooks it up to the TV and presses play. and we all just watch the original 1987 film again.
suburban women on september 15 1967 tuning in to star trek and seeing fuck-or-die mode spock getting in a sweaty man fight with captain kirk in amok time
"But AI can't do your job. It can help you do your job, but that doesn't mean it's going to save anyone money. Take radiology: there's some evidence that AIs can sometimes identify solid-mass tumors that some radiologists miss, and look, I've got cancer. Thankfully, it's very treatable, but I've got an interest in radiology being as reliable and accurate as possible.
If my Kaiser hospital bought some AI radiology tools and told its radiologists: "Hey folks, here's the deal. Today, you're processing about 100 x-rays per day. From now on, we're going to get an instantaneous second opinion from the AI, and if the AI thinks you've missed a tumor, we want you to go back and have another look, even if that means you're only processing 98 x-rays per day. That's fine, we just care about finding all those tumors."
If that's what they said, I'd be delighted. But no one is investing hundreds of billions in AI companies because they think AI will make radiology more expensive, not even if that also makes radiology more accurate. The market's bet on AI is that an AI salesman will visit the CEO of Kaiser and make this pitch: "Look, you fire 9/10s of your radiologists, saving $20m/year, you give us $10m/year, and you net $10m/year, and the remaining radiologists' job will be to oversee the diagnoses the AI makes at superhuman speed, and somehow remain vigilant as they do so, despite the fact that the AI is usually right, except when it's catastrophically wrong.
"And if the AI misses a tumor, this will be the human radiologist's fault, because they are the 'human in the loop.' It's their signature on the diagnosis."
This is a reverse centaur, and it's a specific kind of reverse-centaur: it's what Dan Davies calls an "accountability sink." The radiologist's job isn't really to oversee the AI's work, it's to take the blame for the AI's mistakes.
This is another key to understanding – and thus deflating – the AI bubble. The AI can't do your job, but an AI salesman can convince your boss to fire you and replace you with an AI that can't do your job. This is key because it helps us build the kinds of coalitions that will be successful in the fight against the AI bubble."
- Cory Doctorow, The Reverse Centaur’s Guide to Criticizing AI
prguitarman
ellievsbear
germansingergirl
