#death of author

[prokopetz]

Folks act like "maybe the author isn't the final authority about what their work means" is some wanky post-modern nonsense and not a simple recognition that a lot of authors are perfectly prepared to bullshit about their own work. Like, leaving big-name popular media aside, I have personally encountered authors being actively disingenuous about their own work for all of the following reasons:

A true answer wouldn't fit the image they've cultivated.

They've decided they like the explanation the readers/viewers have come up with better than what they actually had in mind.

Something that was originally intended as a standalone work ended up growing into a franchise or series, and now they're pretending that was the plan all along for some reason.

They don't want to admit that the bit you're asking about is genuinely just a plot hole.

The real answer gets into some shit they don't care to discuss, so they've prepared a cover story to explain away the parts they don't want to talk about.

Their politics have changed since they wrote it, but they don't want to acknowledge that, so they're constantly trying to re-interpret everything they've ever written to be perfectly consistent with whatever their positions are this week.

They wrote it decades ago and they honestly don't remember what they were thinking at the time, so they're just making shit up; sometimes they also don't remember what shit they made up the last time, so the answer is different every time they're asked.

The work in question is at least partly autobiographical and they can't tell the truth without confessing to a crime in the process.

Most of the good bits are plagiarised and they don't really understand it themselves.

They're lying to you on purpose, for evil reasons.

[throesofincreasingwonder]

"A story doesn't need a theme in order to be good" I'm only saying this once but a theme isn't some secret coded message an author weaves into a piece so that your English teacher can talk about Death or Family. A theme is a summary of an idea in the work. If the story is "Susan went grocery shopping and saw a weird bird" then it might have themes like 'birds don't belong in grocery stores' or 'nature is interesting and worth paying attention to' or 'small things can be worth hearing about.' Those could be the themes of the work. It doesn't matter if the author intended them or not, because reading is collaborative and the text gets its meaning from the reader (this is what "death of the author" means).

Every work has themes in it, and not just the ones your teachers made you read in high school. Stories that are bad or clearly not intended to have deep messages still have themes. It is inherent in being a story. All stories have themes, even if those themes are shallow, because stories are sentences connected together for the purpose of expressing ideas, and ideas are all that themes are.

[rs-hawk]

Working on my novel and couldn’t figure out why it felt so empty. I didn’t have any filler. It was all 100% plot. The characters only interacted when necessary. I didn’t prattle on about the scenery or how the birds sounded. I had all my fuller stuff that I loved saved in another file because I “didn’t need it”.

Y’all, I knew this existed in TV shows but it didn’t hit me until this that everything is being whittled down. We are so starving for filler that we snap up anything. I unload all mine on Tumblr or keep it in a massive Google Docs. It SUCKS.

Honestly? Death to plot necessity. Revive filler. Revive unnecessary interactions. Revive just vibing with characters sometimes. I don’t want to just consume the plot and I don’t want to just create the plot either.

[neil-gaiman]

I told my mother you had Tumblr and the absolute shock she was in that you are still alive and of somewhat sound mind was hilarious, would you be able to just tell her you are alive and not super old?

If not that's totally okay, ik you probably get a ton of these :)

I am sorry, but I fear I must disappoint you, for when you reach my advanced age it is difficult to remember whether you are alive or not.

[galaghiel]

Both Jack and Maddie stared at him, speechless. Silence blanketed the lab, everything but Danny’s strangled crying, his hand pressed over the muzzle as if to hide it. No- to hold it still, to still the dozen wicked barbs that were digging into his tongue, probably ripping it with each sob.

a little sketch of @liketolaugh-writes amazing one-shot fanfic that you can read here

[harbingerofsoup]

there’s death of the author and then there’s whatever the fuck is up with danny phantom

[angry-kid-with-no-money]

"Nora doesn't know anything about the things she writes about" "aftg is terrible queer rep" "the queer characters in aftg are so problematic"

Idk guys maybe the book series abt problematic ppl set in 2006 and written in the mid 2010s shouldn't be expected to hold up against scrutiny of what we consider to be moral and correct now, in 2024

Idk tho, idk

[artemis-pendragon]

Imagine you're some religious guy who agrees to let an angel inhabit your body for a holy purpose and it all goes great except your wife thinks you're insane and threatens to take your daughter and leave but this is IMPORTANT so you let the angel in anyway. But then BUT THEN. it turns out the angel's mission is to pull Some Guy out of Hell and the fucking angel is gay and insane and rebels against Heaven because he wants to kiss this guy from literal Hell on the mouth so so so bad. Also many years later he does use your now thankfully empty human body (you got killed by Lucifer during the fight to stop the apocalypse btw) to fuck nasty with the guy he rescued because again, he's gay and insane. Every day Jimmy Novak wakes up

[katakaluptastrophy]

Periodically, I remember how absolutely fucked up the necromancers in TLT are meant to look. Like, necromancy does an absolute number on people physically.

Harrow is "rather small and feeble".

Necromantic Ianthe is "the starved shadow" of her non-necromantic twin.

Our first description of Palamedes is "a rangy, underfed young man" who is "gaunt".

Silas is "knife-faced...He had a necromancer build."

Ianthe parodies make-over scenes in House novels with "if the hero’s a necromancer it’ll be described like, ‘His frailty made his unearthly handsomeness all the more ephemeral'"

Jod acknowledges to Wake that even small children with aptitude would look odd to non-House eyes: "“I have access to any number of cute pictures of necromantic toddlers with their first bone. They don’t make for fat-cheeked roly-poly babies, but they’ve got a certain something."

In As Yet Unsent, Judith brags about her previous physical fitness: "I could run a kilometre in ten minutes, which was among the fastest for my adept group in the junior reserves." Which is about double the time you might expect for a physically fit woman her age.

In non-necromancer-friendly New Rho, Harrow's body is mistaken for a child's and has to be explained as a result of starvation and trauma to seem plausible: "Pyrrha explained without missing a beat that what with everything Nona had gone through she had been ill and still didn’t eat very much, which was why she was so knobbly and undergrown. The nice lady said that yes, many of the children had problems like that, but it was still hard to imagine Nona was anywhere over fourteen, wasn’t it?"

Tamsyn Muir's descriptions of the Canaan House gang on Tumblr back this up: "Judith is somewhat less completely scrawny than other necromancers on the cast, though she should be less built than Marta is", Palamedes is "seriously underfed" and "bony", Harrow is "scrawny".

And that's just what I can think of off the top of my head - I'm sure there's more.

Anyway, necromancers aren't slender in a conventionally attractive way, they're gaunt in a concerning way...and probably the only reason no one instantly clocked that Coronabeth wasn't a necromancer was because they all just thought it was par for the course that a Third House princess would have had a lot of plastic surgery flesh magic.

[millaniumcat]

"But we need to separate the art from the artist..."

NO. STOP.

"Separating the art from the artist" and "death of the author" does not mean what most people think it means, and i am so sick of people using this as an excuse for an artists horrible behaviour. Yes, i am looking at you, J.K Rowling and Till Lindemann (and so many more.)

"Death of the author" is a LITERARY THEORY that argues that the meaning of a piece of art is determined by the readers interpretation, not the authors intention. It is a TOOL used by LITERARY STUDIES to determine the meaning of a piece of art.

It is not a good argument in an everyday discussion about problematic authors. And it is certainly not an excuse for people to keep supporting artists (and art!) that are queerphobic, transphobic, anti-feminisitc, antisemitic and misogynistic.

And no, "separation of artist and art" is not a reason to ignore the problematic views of the author that are INHERENTLY INCOPORATED in the art.

DO NOT EVER use "death of the author" or "separate art from artist" as an excuse. It is not.

[filibusterfrog]

could i ask if you'd do a version of sapient undead sorcerer that isnt evil?

[tea-cat-arts]

Shen Yuan getting transported into pidw isn't "the system punishing him for being a lazy internet hater," but instead representative of "step 1 of the creative process: getting so mad at something you decide to go write your own fucking book" in this essay I will

[shelfperson]

i am literally losing it people

[tossawary]

Trying to judge Kakashi for his teaching fuck-ups is hard because everything keeps getting skewed by everything that is wrong with this man and also everything around him. He ends up being graded on the triple wonky curves of: 1) "You know, I'm not sure that you specifically could have done much better." (Child soldier as a preschooler, isolated genius prodigy fast-tracked out of childhood, violently orphaned twice, war veteran, late teenage years and nearly half his life spent in black ops, he's only like 26 years old, etc...)

2) "I'm not sure that the average Konoha ninja could have really done much better in Kakashi's shoes." (Inconsistent prior Academy training for students, little to no apparent teacher training or solid child development resources for genin team teachers, inconsistent oversight from neglectful superiors, promotion exams where it's apparently normal-ish for participants to be either killed or permanently injured, etc...)

3) "I don't think anyone could have handled this situation well, honestly. It was fucked up before Kakashi showed up." (Sasuke.) (Also Naruto if his personality had been slightly different, after 12 years of neglect and shunning. What the fuck.)

[tampire]

"Give me Coffee or give me Death"

[loeh]

From the moment he saw your portrait, his life began to change in ways he could hardly understand. At first, he attended the auction out of obligation. He was indifferent to the event until he saw you, captured in a frame, almost lost among the other items on display.

You didn’t stand out at first. Your beauty wasn’t the kind that demanded immediate attention. Yet, when the bidding for your portrait began, he found himself compelled to participate. Was it boredom? A reckless display of wealth? He couldn’t say, even to himself.

The moment he brought your portrait home, he placed it in his room—an odd choice, one that puzzled him. It started as a mere curiosity. What was it about you that had so many people interested? Why did you look so serene, yet so stern?

Your gown, with its deep crimson velvet, was a masterpiece of craftsmanship, clinging to your form like a whispered secret. The intricate lace on the bodice gracefully embraced your delicate shoulders, while the silk train flowed like liquid fire. It was mesmerizing, yet it was your expression that truly captivated him. It wasn’t one of joy or contentment, but of solemness—a quiet command that demanded respect and obedience.

Each night, as he looked upon the portrait, he became more obsessed, wondering who you were, what thoughts filled your mind when you posed for this image. It was as though you had reached out from the canvas, drawing him into a world where he couldn’t escape your gaze, a world where he was slowly losing himself to an obsession he couldn’t explain.

His curiosity had become an all-consuming obsession. The more he stared at your portrait, the more he needed to know about the woman who had captivated him so completely. He scoured records, questioned merchants, and chased down rumors, but for the longest time, his search led nowhere. You seemed to be a ghost, a figure lost to time.

Finally, after what felt like an endless pursuit, he encountered an elderly man who claimed to know your story. The man spoke with a somber tone, revealing that you were once the Crown Princess of a proud and flourishing kingdom. But tragedy had struck when your father’s own brother, betrayed the royal family. He committed treason, igniting a rebellion that tore the kingdom apart.

Despite being outnumbered and facing overwhelming odds, you stood as the last line of defense. You took up arms, leading the loyalists in a desperate attempt to save your home. The man recounted how you fought with unmatched bravery, refusing to yield even as the kingdom crumbled around you. But in the end, your efforts were not enough.

The last anyone saw of you was during a fierce duel with your once loyal knight and lover on the edge of a cliff. Some say you were killed in that final battle; others believe you vanished, your fate a mystery. The man who recounted this tale was none other than the head butler of your kingdom, a loyal servant who had witnessed the downfall firsthand.

Through further questioning, he learned that after your supposed death, your uncle’s reign quickly fell into chaos. The kingdom, once thriving, could not withstand the internal strife and soon succumbed to external wars. These conflicts were so devastating that they effectively erased the kingdom from history, leaving nothing behind but forgotten ruins and faded memories.

The more he uncovered, the deeper his obsession grew. You were no longer just a figure in a painting; you were a tragic heroine. The thought that your story, your life, could be forgotten by time haunted him. He felt an inexplicable connection to you, as if understanding your past could somehow fill the emptiness he felt within himself.

In the end, his search led him to a humble barhouse where you, once a Crown Princess, were now reduced to serving as a maid. The sight of you, stripped of your former grandeur, struck him like a blow to the heart. How could someone of your noble stature have fallen so low? The injustice of it consumed him, feeding the obsession that had taken root within him.

Determined to restore you to the glory he believed you deserved, he decided to take matters into his own hands. He married you, forcibly and without your consent, convinced that he was saving you from a life of indignity. To him, this was an act of love, a twisted belief that he was doing what was best for you, even if you couldn't see it.

He impregnated you with his children, two daughters who became the center of his world. In his mind, he had found his happy ending—a life with you by his side, a family that completed the vision he had constructed in his obsessive heart. He had given you back everything you had lost, or so he thought.

But you, despite everything, continued to resist. You sought every chance to escape, your spirit undimmed even in the face of his control. You spoke of how you didn't love this life, how you longed to be free from the gilded cage he had created. To him, your words were incomprehensible. How could you not see that he had given you everything? How could you reject the life he had worked so hard to build for you?

In his eyes, your ingratitude was maddening. He had rescued you, loved you, given you the children he believed would bind you to him forever. Yet you still sought to flee, still spoke of a life you wanted to escape from. To him, it was baffling—shouldn't you be more grateful? Shouldn't you love the life he had crafted for you with such care and obsession?

But in his twisted perception of love, he could not see the prison he had built around you, nor the pain he caused in his relentless pursuit of a happiness that was his alone.

Maximillian Ashet, Dylan Sean Blathe, Anastacius de Alger Obelia, Dion Agriche, Cruel Harte, Rezef Hill, Eros Vasilios, Callisto Regulus, Ahin Grace, Theobold von Baden Mismarck, Noah Wynknight, Abel Heilon, Prince Escalus, Luciano Valeztena