Because when the stars call, you answer. Even if you don’t know if they really called you. Even if you don’t believe that they can call anyone. Even if maybe you were just outside, like normal. Just looking up at the sky, normally. And the stars were as they always are. But you weren’t as you always are. Because the stars didn’t change, you did. And once you were different, you couldn’t live like you were the same. You had to live differently. You had to. You had to.

Alice Isn’t Dead, Part 1, Chapter 6: Sylvia (via aibohphobia)

Fan fiction is what literature might look like if it were reinvented from scratch after a nuclear apocalypse by a band of brilliant pop-culture junkies trapped in a sealed bunker. They don’t do it for money. That’s not what it’s about. The writers write it and put it up online just for the satisfaction. They’re fans, but they’re not silent, couchbound consumers of media. The culture talks to them, and they talk back to the culture in its own language.

The Boy Who Lived Forever | Time Magazine (via gypsy-sunday)

This is probably the best, non-judgmental description of fan fiction I’ve ever heard of in main stream media. 

(via raeseddon)