“I’m a human,” Castiel says into the mirror, “I’m a human,” again and again until the words begin to lose meaning and his hands weave into his hair frantically like he can rip that out too, “I’m a human, I’m a human,” until Dean finds him in the bathroom and reaches for his shaking hands, cradles them like a broken bird.

“I know.”

“I’m a human.”

“I know.” The aging light bulbs above the sink buzz. “You’re gonna get used to this, you know that?”

“I’m…” he stutters, like a broken cassette tape sputtering in the last moments of its life. “Dean, I can’t- I’m an angel of the Lord. I would say that, remember?” Dean starts to nod but Cas keeps going, “I’m an angel of the Lord. It was- it was what I would say and it had symmetry, the syllables all lined up, it was iambic and the meter rolled off so easily and now I- I’m a human. It doesn’t…” With his shoulders heaving in panic he looks like he could collapse right there, and Dean keeps his hands on Cas’s shoulders, lifting him and holding him up like wings. “I’m a human of- of what? What… am I?”

“You’re a Winchester,” Dean tells him without hesitation.

“I’m-”

“You’re Castiel.” The reflections watching them, that of one destroyed man pulling himself together to help another, look like some kind of summary, a representation of their lives up to this point and of what’s to come.

“I’m Castiel Winchester.” And this time, the syllables all line up as he stares at his own blue eyes. 

ranty thoughts about authors against fanfiction

When a writer takes a stance against fanfiction, it’s a 110% guarantee I’ll never read/watch/play that person’s work. I mean, why should I?

Stories are communication, and communication is meant to be a two-way street. You put stuff out there, I engage with it. Give and take. Just because I’ll probably never meet these writers doesn’t mean we’re not still having a conversation about their story.

Writers, you don’t get to tell me how to react to what you put out there. If I feel like writing a story that supplements or otherwise engages with yours, that’s my prerogative. I can choose to do that, just as much as I can choose to write a story about anything that inspires me. Hell, I can write a story about about a particularly inspiring can of tuna, if I wanted to, and you don’t get to say boo about it, because you don’t get a say in my creative process, no more than I get a say in yours. 

And if you feel so possessive about your story that you think you get to shut it down after you’re finished telling it, you clearly have zero respect for your audience’s imagination and creative autonomy, and you need to re-evaluate why you do what you do. Because you’re not looking for fans. You’re looking for worshippers.

Writers, my emotional attachment to your work is a gift. It’s not something you’re entitled to. And how I choose to engage with your works is my choice, not yours.

So if you’re against fanfiction, go ahead and cry it loud and proud—that way I know not to ever give you a dime of my hard-earned money, or a second of my precious time.