spoons

ㅤ— 𝙼 𝙰 𝚁 𝙺 𝙴 𝙳 𝚃 𝚁 𝙰 𝙸 𝙻 𝚂 —

➵ 𝙵𝙸𝙴𝙻𝙳 𝚁𝙴𝙲𝙾𝚁𝙳𝚂 (𝙾𝚁𝙸𝙶𝙸𝙽𝙰𝙻 𝙴𝙽𝚃𝚁𝙸𝙴𝚂) ➵ 𝙵𝙸𝙲𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽𝙰𝙻 𝙰𝙲𝙲𝙾𝚄𝙽𝚃𝚂 (𝙽𝙰𝚁𝚁𝙰𝚃𝙸𝚅𝙴𝚂 / 𝙱𝙻𝚄𝚁𝙱𝚂) ➵ 𝙻𝙴𝙵𝚃𝙾𝚅𝙴𝚁 𝚃𝙷𝙾𝚄𝙶𝙷𝚃𝚂 (𝙵𝚁𝙰𝙶𝙼𝙴𝙽𝚃𝚂, 𝙷𝙰𝙻𝙵-𝙸𝙳𝙴𝙰𝚂) ➵ 𝚅𝙸𝚂𝚄𝙰𝙻 𝙻𝙾𝙶𝚂 (𝙶𝙸𝙵𝚂) ➵ 𝚁𝙴𝙵𝙴𝚁𝙴𝙽𝙲𝙴 𝙲𝙰𝙲𝙷𝙴 (𝚁𝙴𝙲𝚂) ➵ 𝙻𝙾𝙾𝚂𝙴 𝙿𝙰𝙶𝙴𝚂 (𝚁𝙰𝙼𝙱𝙻𝙸𝙽𝙶 / 𝚄𝙽𝙲𝙰𝚃𝙴𝙶𝙾𝚁𝙸𝚉𝙴𝙳) ➵ 𝙸𝙽𝚅𝙰𝚂𝙸𝚅𝙴 𝚂𝙿𝙴𝙲𝙸𝙴𝚂 (𝙷𝙾𝚆 𝚃𝙾 𝙳𝙴𝚃𝙴𝙲𝚃 𝙰𝙸 𝙸𝙽 𝚆𝚁𝙸𝚃𝙸𝙽𝙶)

𝑅𝐸𝑆𝑇𝑅𝐼𝐶𝑇𝐸𝐷 𝐶𝐴𝐶𝐻𝐸: #𝑆𝑇𝐸𝐴𝐾 𝐾𝑁𝐼𝑉𝐸𝑆 (𝑁𝑆𝐹𝑊)

𝙰𝚂𝙺𝚂 𝙰𝚁𝙴 𝙲𝚄𝚁𝚁𝙴𝙽𝚃𝙻𝚈 𝙲𝙻𝙾𝚂𝙴𝙳. 𝙰𝚂𝚂𝙸𝙶𝙽𝙴𝙳 𝙰𝙽𝙾𝙽 𝙽𝙾𝚃𝙴𝚂 ↭ 𝙴𝙼𝙾𝙹𝙸: 🤺, 🪐, 🍓, 🎲, 🪼, 🌕, 🐈‍⬛️, 🐛, 🦎, 💽, 🦌, 📼, 🪸, 🫩, 🌊, 🌙, 🍒, 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩, 🪽, 🧦

You meet Baran Al-Hashimi during the transfer of an emergent patient—male, twenties, unresponsive with agonal breathing and a weak pulse. You're the one doing compressions on him when the gurney is rushed into the ED.

He's pronounced dead not long after.

You're sitting with your head in your hands in the ambulance bay when footsteps approach.

"Is this your first patient death?" the voice asks, gentle, as though you were a scared animal and not a paramedic who had seen some shit you'd never be able to forget.

"No," you murmur, tilting your head up to meet her gaze. "But it never gets any easier."

She hums thoughtfully. "No, it doesn't. We just learn how to cope with it." A beat. "How are you coping with it?"

You scoff on instinct and roll your eyes, straightening your back and dropping your hands from your face. "I don't need a psych right now, but I appreciate you checking in. I'll be okay—just need to forget the feeling of his ribs cracking under my hands."

"Oh, I didn't intend to act as your mental counsel, I apologise if it was expressed that way. I'm just inquiring as to ensure you are doing… okay. I don't expect you to feel excellent right now, but I know what it's like to be left alone after losing a patient. It can lead us down some dark paths."

She doesn't elaborate on that. She doesn't need to—you understand and hear the words that aren't said.

"Yeah, uh… I think I'll be okay." You spare a glance down at her badge and give a short nod. "But… thanks. For checking in, Dr. Al-Hashimi. You didn't have to."

A small smile twitches its way onto her lips. "Baran. Dr. Al, if you're feeling more formal. And don't mention it—we have to care for each other as much as we care for our patients. We cannot save someone from drowning if our heads are also below the water."

Volunteering for the Street Team is a choice you'll never regret.

Healthcare is expensive. Healthcare is full of bias. Healthcare is a privilege in this country, not a basic human right. So, you help out where you can. You already work a pretty tight schedule—twelve hours a day, four to six days a week—but doing this has never felt like work.

Plus, it's how you meet Cassie McKay.

The two of you get paired up for a shift. You've been paired with a handful of people on the shift before—some talkative, some stern, some doing this purely to get brownie points on their resume… But you've never been paired with someone like Cassie before.

She genuinely cares about the people she interacts with out here, and it's obvious in the way she works—how she spends extra time with those who so desperately need it, but are terrified to ask for it; how she actually listens to what they need and how they feel; how she doesn't treat them like a burden, despite the way they've been made to feel by healthcare workers in the past.

It's a busy Saturday, but you manage to find a beat to take for yourselves between patients you're currently treating at a homeless camp.

"I appreciate the way you deal with everyone, you know?" you tell her between bites of a warm egg salad sandwich. "Like they're more than just something to check off for your 'good deeds' list'."

"A little empathy goes a long way in this job," she says while staring at the almost-empty bottle of water in her hands. "Have you ever worked with Josh before?" A scoff. "He's always on some bullshit moral high ground when it comes to people suffering from addiction."

"Makes you wanna punch him, right?" You shoot her a lopsided grin. "Do you even know where he works? I swear he shows up just to talk shit about people who are asking us for help."

"Yeah, some plastic surgery clinic downtown." She turns to look at you now, and it's the first time you've properly seen her eyes since you two started today. And they are damn pretty eyes.

That's a thought for another day.

You chuckle and shake your head. "Ah, so someone who is just here for those karma points."

Cassie laughs and nods, then lets her expression sober after a second. "I think I'm gonna like you, y/n."

You meet Dana Evans while you're hitting a vape outside of your rig. You completed a handoff about five minutes ago, and you're more than grateful to be outside the ED after spending three hours inside the stuffy halls with a non-emergent patient.

Another hit from your blue raspberry-flavoured vape earns you a low chuckle from a vaguely familiar voice.

"Don't they teach you kids that smoking's bad for 'ya?"

You cough out the vapour and turn toward the voice, recognising the face immediately—Dana, one of the ED's charge nurses, and the one you're most familiar with.

A wry smile crosses your face. "Live fast, die young?"

She chuckles and places a cigarette between her teeth, lighting it like she's done it a million times before. "That your motto? Makes sense," she gestures vaguely at the ambulance and your uniform. "All paramedics are thrill-seekers. Always have been."

"You say that like you can speak from experience."

"Kid, I've been putting up banana bags since before you could walk. I've got more than enough experience to speak from, thank you."

You throw your hands up in mock defense. "Apologies. I should learn to respect my elders. I'll keep that in mind for next time."

Dana shoots you a lopsided smirk as she ashes her cigarette. "You'd better. I don't wanna have to make an example outta 'ya in front of the whole ED, y/n."

You blink. "You know my name?"

She laughs. "You're wearing a name badge."

The first time you meet Melissa King, she's singing 'Savage' by Megan Thee Stallion.

You're leaning against your rig, idly scrolling through your Instagram feed while waiting for another call to come in, when a resident—you assume, based on the scrubs—speedwalks out of the ED, takes a deep breath, and immediately starts muttering the aforementioned song.

You watch her for a beat, a slow grin crawling its way onto your face at the sight before you.

"That your hype song?" you ask teasingly, smiling like a dork. "That's a good one. Mine's 'Goosebumpz' by Mac Miller. Hard to be stressed when you've got something like that pumping through your brain, huh?"

She whips around to face you, clearly flustered at being caught, and immediately starts stammering through some response.

"Woah, woah, I'm not… dogging on you, or anything. I like it. I'm y/n."

"Oh," she murmurs, straightening her back. "Oh. Um. I'm Melissa—but everyone calls me Mel." She wrings her hands in front of her, whether a nervous trait or a calming behaviour, you aren't sure, but it's endearing nonetheless.

"It's nice to meet you, Mel." You tuck your phone into your pocket and take a step towards her. "I take it today's been… stressful, then? If you're out here singing in an attempt to calm down, I mean."

Her shoulders lose some of their tension, as though she's unloading a weight she's been carrying for far too long. "I just… hate seeing families torn apart."

You offer an empathetic smile. "Yeah, I get that. I'd argue that death is the kindest way to lose someone—it's so much worse when they're still alive, but you know that you can't see them."

Mel looks at you for a long moment, as if digesting and considering your statement. She doesn't ask who you've lost or how you understand that particular brand of grief; she just gives you a short, sharp nod and smiles a fraction more than she had been before.

"Yeah," she exhales. "I feel the same way."

You're about to continue the conversation, maybe offer another anecdote, then your partner yells at you from the cab of the ambulance—"Oi! We've got places to be!"

"Well, that's me." You take a few steps back towards the rig and point at her with a grin. "I'll see you on the next drop-off, Mel. Stay Savage in the meantime."

Your first interaction with Samira Mohan is when you're attempting to hand off a patient who has been fighting you the entire ride there.

"Four of LORazepam twenty minutes ago and one-fifty of ketamine given intramuscular fifteen minutes ago with no immediate change," you manage to relay as you wheel the patient into the ED. "Bystanders claim he was 'screaming at the sky' and blocking traffic. Initial attempts at verbal de-escalation failed, which is why—" you nod to the cops helping restrain the man, "—they are here."

"Taser was also ineffective, prongs shouldn't be in him anymore," one of the cops adds as you transfer the patient to the hospital bed and off the gurney.

"Okay," the resident, Dr. Mohan (if you can see her badge through the chaos) says. "Let's… let's give 5 of haloperadol and see where things go from there—"

Things move fast.

Some more thrashing from the patient before they slowly relax and eventually pass out, and you leave the room with a sigh.

"Do we know the reason for the psychosis?" Dr. Mohan asks, sanitizing her hands as she exits the room.

You shake your head. "Based on the ID we found in his pocket, nothing notable. Early twenties, no prior history, family history of mental illness unknown. Could've been drugs or a sudden break; I'm not sure." You roll your shoulders and finally feel the ache in them from the strenuous activities of the morning.

She pauses to look at you, noting the way you massage one of your shoulders as though it's been bothering you far longer than just this shift. Gratefully, she doesn't comment on it—but you think she's looking at you like more than just a pair of hands on a gurney or someone who flies in and out of the ED with different patients every few hours. She offers you a tired, lop-sided smile that doesn't fully breach that professional mask.

"Well," she says, waving her hands to dry them faster. "For someone who just wrestled a human thunderstorm, you're remarkably composed. Most medics would look a lot worse for wear than you do right now."

You shoot that lop-sided grin right back at her. "Must be the hairspray I bought—has a firm hold." You make a display of running your hands over your hair.

A short, gentle laugh leaves her, and her eyes linger a little too long on the motion you make and the muscles it exposes.

"I'm Samira. I'd say it's a pleasure, but I think we both know that's far from the truth."

"Y/n. Likewise, my caffeine hasn't even kicked in yet. If I knew my first PT of the shift would be someone who could take a shit ton of ketamine, I would've had more to drink than just a RedBull."

"Well…" Samira hums, clearly wanting to linger but knowing she's got other patients to attend to and you've still got a shift to work. "I hope the next time we meet, you're properly caffeinated, y/n."

You meet Trinity Santos in the middle of what is obviously a terrible day. She's standing in the ambulance bay, hitting a vape like it owes her money and mumbling something in what you believe is… Tagalog? Regardless, she clearly knows you're there, even if you're standing on the opposing end of the ambulance bay and not saying anything.

Eventually, she groans and turns to face you with all the grace of a toddler throwing a temper tantrum.

"Jesus Christ, take a fucking photo if you're gonna keep staring, it'll last longer."

You throw your hands up in defense immediately, chuckling quietly. "My bad, I just couldn't help but notice you are very obviously stressed about something, and clearly not handling it that well. You look like you're one second away from a full-blown crashout."

She scoffs, crosses her arms, and cocks a hip out. "Yeah, I'm stressed. I work in an emergency department where shit is constantly going wrong, and the solution seems to be rehiring the guy that's been—" She takes a deep breath through her nose and shakes her head with another scoff. "Whatever. It doesn't even matter."

"It obviously does if it's stressing you out this bad," you murmur as you lean against the wall next to her, keeping a respectful distance. "I know you don't know me, but like…" You shrug. "I'm also someone who gets what it's like to be stressed in an environment that never seems to be stable."

She considers the offer for a moment, then snaps out of it and rolls her eyes. "Whatever… Code Blue. I'll be fine without the on-call trauma support."

You shrug, clearly knowing when to pull back instead of continuing to push. "Offer stands if you need it, Doctor…?"

A deep, heavy sigh leaves her, as though telling you her name is the most difficult task she can imagine. "Santos. Trinity."

"Bond, James." You grin to yourself, but relent when her expression remains deadpan. "Y/n."

"Cool," Trinity states with a barely disguised annoyance. "Well, y/n, I have work to get back to. Try not to work too hard… leaning against the wall in the ambulance bay."

Your grin returns.

"Try not to smoke your head off on a gas station dispo, Trinity."

--

note: all screenshots in this post were taken from different authors who i believe display traits of ai writing, unless stated otherwise. i will not be naming them. this post is not to encourage hate, but to bring awareness to the topic.

first, lets go over what does NOT indicate ai text:

use of emdashes (—)

i love my em dash. alt 0151 my beloved. em dashes are a hallmark of human writing and date back to the 15th century. they fell out of use when type writers came into market (as there was no button for it), but they remain in literature use to this day.

curly or smart quotes (“ ” / ‘ ’)

i recently found out this is a default setting for apple devices. if someone types on an ipad, it's likely that their work will spit out curly quotes. that being said, it's glaringly obvious that ai has been used in the context when the work shifts from straight quotes to curly quotes. example:

single sentence paragraph pacing: one of the most IMMEDIATE giveaways is the staccato pacing. LLMs are trained to be highly readable, which often results in... constant line breaks—almost every sentence/short phrase is in its own paragraph. while human authors do this occasionally for dramatics, ai uses it as a default setting to create a "poetic" or "profound" feel.

excessive em dash usage—i love my em dash. i have the alt code memorised by heart(alt0151). ai just... uses them to create fake tension or lack of breath.

lack of paragraph density—there are no "meaty" paragraphs (for lack of a better word). humans typically vary in paragraph length, mixing long descriptions with short burst of action. (this was from my presentation. i marked the one that was ai gen with blue (as i have been so far), but i'd hope it's obvious anyway.)

2. "The Gaze" and micro-physicality: LLMs have a specific way of describing physical intimacy and tension that focuses on a predictable set of actions. for example, The Eye-Flick (these are both from the same author, different fics posted a day apart)

this "eye-to-mouth-to-eye" sequence is a staple in ai writing for romantic tension. don't get me wrong, human writers do this too (i might have even done it before idr), but there's a point where it's in every single piece an "author" puts out and you start to wonder if they have any other thoughts in their mind other than "grok make romance" hands/wrist focus—the description of the thumb resting on the wrist to feel a pulse ("Fast. Human.") is a very common AI sensory beat. it uses "human" as a shorthand for emotional weight in a way that feels slightly detached. because... ai doesn't feel emotion. it doesn't understand tension. (also, ai's are OBSESSED with the concept of humanity, so adding in a "human" here and there makes it feel more ""human"" in a way it never will be.) for example, i have 2 uses of the word "human" in a fic i am writing that currently has ~60k words total. here are all 2 uses:

3. sentence echos, rules of 3 and symmetry—AI often repeats sentence structures for emphasis, which is repetitive and blatant when overused. the "not this, but that" construction—

now, this one needs some nuance. human's love 3's. the rule of three has been around in writing forever. it's seen a lot in children's books (goldilocks and the three bears, three blind mice, three muskateers, etc) but LLM's have a tendency to overuse the rule of 3, ESPECIALLY when using adjectives, which makes the writing lack depth despite being bloated. that being said, here are some examples that i think are sus—

(a side note, i would like to thank @moesthinking for highlighting this blog—in the first 3 images—in their anti-ai post. it has been so useful for examples.) (im sorry for tagging you i hope you dont get scared immediately IUGHAIUGHAEGIUAHGUIA)

4. vagueness—because ai doesn't actually "know" what a character is feeling (spoiler; it isn't human), it often resorts to telling the reader that an expression is impossible to read, because it's easier to explain something you don't understand when you dodge the subject matter ex: "...something unreadable flickering there.(in that post i mentioned we'd talk about later... here we are)" human writers are more likely to describe a specific internal conflict or a unique facial twitch rather than calling it "unreadable" 24/7

5. overuse of select words—there are certain words that ai models gravitate toward when trying to write tension or atmosphere. now, human writers also love certain words. i, for example, am guilty of the following:

what can i say! i love saying my characters mumbled/murmured words. but there's a point where it becomes... egregious. some words that are typically overused/used out of place are:

shiver/tremble

electric

palpable

something

almost

pulse

lingered

loomed

barely

there are many more, but it's far too many to list in a tumblr post. of course, none of these immediately mean someone is using ai—these are words that human writers use, and words that i've probably used before, but you begin to notice a pattern after a while.

now, let's get into some speed-rounds because i've been doing a lot of yapping:

uncanny valley of english language/metaphors & similies that dont make sense (rain-soaked laughter, the sound itself burned, opening a door that didnt exist yet, striking the perfect pose in photography)

excessive vague praise (you embodied them / essence of what makes you, you / you gifted them to the rest of us / you give them life)

constantly restating itself or adding unneeded context (see: section 3)

generic stories. human stories typically include the author injected into the writing. (i dont have a direct example for this. here's a bit from a draft of crush that is literally stuff that reminds me of my ex-situationship)

anyways, if you've read this far, thank you for reading. once again, this post isn't to direct hate towards any blogs/works of writing in this post, and to remind you that none of these will 100% confirm ai usage, but it's simply to call out behaviour and provide what i hope is context for those who arent aware. if you're going to actively claim you don't use ai but use it (esp. so obviously), you need to get ████ ███ ███████ ███████ ███ ██████ ████ █ ███████ █████ ███████ ███ ███ ███ ████ ███ but anyways. this blog doesn't have asks on, but i'd love to hear your thoughts in tags/comments. much love yall.