Cosmic Funnies
AnasAbdin
Game of Thrones Daily
Cosimo Galluzzi
KIROKAZE
dirt enthusiast
Three Goblin Art
h
❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
Love Begins
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
ojovivo
No title available
No title available
oozey mess
Show & Tell
roma★
taylor price
Not today Justin
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
seen from Canada
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from St. Vincent & Grenadines
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Canada
seen from Brazil
seen from Italy
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from Türkiye
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from France
@madrewrites
Write it badly or it'll never be written
Write it badly or it'll never be written
Write it badly or it'll never be written
Write it badly or it'll never be written
Write it badly or it'll never be written
Please keep interacting with this post because when I come to tumblr to procrastinate, this shows up again in my notifications and guilts me into writing again
If you haven't heard, the em dash has been getting a lot of attention lately…
Because it was trained on pirated work—including freely accessible online writing (like fanfic, academic texts)—ChatGPT picked up patterns and quirks native to human writing.
Including (sigh) the em dash.
There are other victims here (RIP tapestry and delve 🫠), but the appropriation of the em dash—a punctuation mark beloved by writers everywhere—feels especially personal.
A kind of low-grade panic is ensuing. Writers who once memed their own em dash overuse—the greatest punctuation mark ever to grace the control-freak’s lexicon, frankly—are suddenly backing away to avoid accusations.
No. More. We have centuries of dash-abusing writers behind us. We will not sit quietly while AI repurposes our beloved stilted aside—or the just-one-more clarification the sentence demands—or the dramatic pause your comma could never—etc.
You don’t write like AI—AI writes like you.
Defend the em dash.
(Feel free to download/share/stick it where it matters!)
YOU DON'T WRITE LIKE AI.
AI MAKES A POOR ATTEMPT TO WRITE LIKE YOU.
LONG LIVE THE EM DASH!
Reblog if you love “—” and have never used ChatGPT
listen i may take 4 weeks to write a 3k word chapter, and i may take 45 minutes to decide whether i should use “laugh” or “chuckle”, but at least i don’t use ai and whatever you’re getting is pure chaos from a human brain
Listen, an author who takes forty-five minutes to choose between ‘laugh’ and ‘chuckle’ is what gives the story its soul.
No machine could ever replicate this.
sometimes you need dialogue tags and don't want to use the same four
now for all your bodily perception needs
praise the rainbow wheel of writing assistance
NOTICE: As more and more fanfic writers are using generative AI for their works (you uncreative dweebs), I hereby swear on everything I hold dear that I have not and will NEVER use generative AI in ANY of my written work. Everything I post will be organically and creatively my own.
genuinely cannot believe this is a PSA I have to give: I will NEVER use generative AI literally EVER in my writing.
it's me, my delusions, and my cup of tea against the world.
Some idiot: "Why are you reading your own fic, that's shallow and stupid"
All fanfic writers and writers everywhere: "Who the fuck do you think I wrote it for?!"
weird to think we're all on here interacting with australians. any given user on ur dash could be an australian, if you think about it
It could be any one of us.
it could be you.
day for it (a nap)
no time spent writing fanfic is ever wasted
op being deactived really sells this
so. as you may know it’s christmas eve. as you probably don’t know i am eastern european. and probably the only real tradition anyone holds onto is christmas eve. normally my great aunt does all the food and very begrudgingly sometimes lets everyone help make like. one thing.
well.
this year. the year of our lord two thousand and twenty four. she decided she was done cooking and it was up to everyone else.
so i got a phone call from my mom a few weeks ago being like hey so. you’re making the cake. got it? good.
the cake in question is a walnut cake. i was entrusted with my great aunts recipe about seven years ago. i’ve made it twice. the first time i fucked up the frosting quantity. the second time i fucked up the eggs. both times were passable at best and notably! my great aunt did not taste either of them.
and i have to make this cake. on christmas eve. it is dessert. for everyone. my extended family will all be eating the cake. the walnut cake. on christmas eve. even my great aunt.
so yesterday, december 23 if you are counting, i went on the annual Last Minute Christmas Food Shopping Trip with my father, watched him climb into the case to get his half and half like he does every year, and stressed about my cake as i made sure i had all of the ingredients.
then. we went to my great aunts house. where i was met with Trial Number 1: The Cognac
this cake has cognac in the frosting. not a big deal really. except for the fact that my mom hates that there is cognac in the frosting. (my mom is hell bent on making christmas eve dinner vaguely healthier. no one else agrees.) and i was to be making the cake in my moms house.
also important to note: we (as in my parents) do not own cognac. mostly because none of us drink.
so my great aunt is like oh i have to give you the cognac. cause she knows. i am baking the cake. the walnut cake. (my dad told her. he is a traitor). and i say okay. sure. this won’t be a problem at all.
so she gives me. a shot of cognac. and when i say a shot. i mean an Entirely Full Shot Glass of Three Hundred Dollar Cognac. in a jar. for the cake. the walnut cake. that i have to make.
upon bringing the cognac home my mom says no we’re not putting that in. the cognac sits on the counter in its jar. no one touches it.
then i was met with Trial Number 2: The Frosting.
this recipe requires a pound of chopped walnuts. first. i couldn’t even find the walnuts. my sister and i searched high and low and in every cabinet we could find but no nuts. i called my mom. and said mom where are the walnuts? and she said. “they’re in the nut bag behind the basement door.”
oh of course. how could i have missed the nut bag? a holiday bag full of bags of nuts that was half hidden by wrapping paper and also behind a door?
in any case. could i have used a food processor? absolutely. did i? no. half because i forgot and half because i didn’t want to accidentally grind the walnuts into a paste. so i enlisted the help of my younger sister to chop the walnuts By Hand while i embarked on the real devil: the frosting.
which remember. is supposed to have cognac.
so i cream my butter. i add my sugar. i’m careful not to over sugar. i taste it a million times. i add my coffee and my vanilla extract (instead of cognac. which is still sitting on the counter) and it was all going so well until. the butter rebelled.
now remember. one time when i made this. seven years ago. i made too little frosting. so i made more this time. and i thought i had all my conversions right but evidently i did not because suddenly there was too much liquid in my frosting and it split.
the frosting for the walnut cake that everyone was going to eat. on christmas eve. the very next day.
i felt like a contestant on great british bake-off getting smited by the tent.
so i did the logical thing and shoved the whole mess into the fridge hoping that it would sort itself out overnight.
then it was time to face Trial Number Three: The Cake Itself.
as i have said this cake is a walnut cake. the christmas eve walnut cake that has been at christmas eve longer than i have been alive. and it requires no less than ten egg whites. which i whipped and i added to my walnuts and shoved the whole thing into the oven in my two baking dishes.
only to discover no less than 40 minutes later that the batter in the pans was Not Even (despite my best efforts). so i cooked one longer than the other and hoped that i hadn’t monumentally fucked up the walnut cake. like i had the frosting. which was in the fridge. and i was ignoring.
which leads to Trial Number Four: The Egg Yolk Cake
see i had ten egg yolks. i didn’t know what to do with them. my mom said flush them. my dad said make a custard. i proposed making egg nog. my mom said she didn’t want it in the house cause it was too fattening (a blatantly incorrect statement. please, if you are reading this, go drink a glass of eggnog. or some other fun festive drink. food is for the soul.) so i produced a recipe for an egg yolk pound cake. i made it. i still don’t know if it came out good cause i haven’t tasted it. i hope it did. but that was not the point. the point is the walnut cake. the christmas eve walnut cake.
and the following morning i was met with Trial Number Five: The Frosting Part 2
first i threw my failed frosting back in the mixer and it immediately secreted a brackish combination of vanilla extract and coffee so i did the only thing i could. facetimed my dad and said “father there are problems abound.” and he gave me the fatherly advice of “make it again.”
and so i did.
with more correct measurements. still scared it would split at any second.
though it didn’t.
and i didn’t add the cognac.
maybe no one will be able to tell???
my mom said that if anyone asks the first batch of frosting failed and i had to toss it. this is technically true.
but i had frosting. i had two uneven cakes. and it was time for Trial Number Six: Decorating
decorating cakes is easily in my top ten least favorite activities. decorating the christmas eve walnut cake is easily in my top three least favorite activities. because i am terrible at decorating cakes. and also because it has a filling.
the filling is jam. and i once again made the wrong choice because i put the jam on first before the frosting. which to be fair is what the directions say. but as everyone knows, the directions in recipes you get from your eastern european great aunt are not the real directions. so now i had to smear butter cream. on top of jam. for the filling of the walnut cake. for christmas eve. that we would be eating in a few hours.
and we didn’t have a cake plate. we had a large dish.
i had to use my fingers. i had to use three spatulas. i got jam everywhere. but i did it. and as soon as i set the top cake on top of the filling i realized my monumental mistake: i was supposed to trim down the cakes.
so now they were uneven. and lopsided. and there was nothing i, a mere mortal tasked with the impossible task of making christmas eve walnut cake, could do about it.
so i continued to spread my frosting. which i had enough of. and tried and failed to not get jam everywhere.
in the end it was almost presentable. not great. slightly lopsided. and definitely not as nice as any of my great aunts cakes.
which left me with Trial Number 7: Chilling It
our fridge was being taken up by other important christmas eve things (though not as important as my cake. the walnut cake) so i had to put it in the car. which was fine because there is snow on the ground.
i covered my cake. the walnut cake. in tin foil and hoped i wouldn’t accidentally squish it. and then i went outside. i tried to steal my moms shoes to walk outside. she was not impressed.
“you know, saph,” she said. “some of the time you’re pretty great. the other half of the time you’re really weird.”
i could not agree more.
i put my cake on the trunk. prayed to the cake gods and went inside.
on the one hand if the cake is good, i will be stuck making walnut cake for christmas eve for the rest of my life. on the other hand, if it sucks i will never have to make another one.
Trial Number Eight: The Tasting still waits.
the cake. the walnut cake. has survived transportation.
my great aunt peeked at it. she says it looks “very nice.” my aunt thinks i’m being too hard on myself with the cake.
i remain stressed.
it is cake time. walnut cake time. on christmas eve.
Trial Number Eight: The Tasting
it was time to taste the cake. the walnut cake. on christmas eve.
first i was given a giant bread knife to cut the cake. then a normal knife. then i cut it.
and then we ate it.
“so good,” said my great aunt. “you did a good job with the cake.”
she did not ask about the missing shot of 300 dollar cognac.
i am at peace. i am also doomed to a lifetime of making cake. walnut cake. for christmas eve.
merry christmas everyone.
this genuinely reads like a classic christmas children's story book that must be read Every Christmas because it is Not Christmas without a Reading of the Christmas Walnut Cake Story.
I actually think I might try out this text post on the niblings tomorrow night as an official test screening.
nosferatu? non. VOSferatu. c'est pas mon problème
tried to think of an english equivalent for several minutes but couldn't so non-french speakers are just going to have to trust that this is funny
This has definitely been done before.
she just gets it. play glinda sapphic or don't play her at all.
