On the night of the awards, Taylor Swift will get into the elevator on the top floor, dressed to impress in a 19th century petticoat she had shipped to her from the remains of the Titanic wreckage. She’ll stare into her hand mirror, gaze lovingly at her curls and practice saying, “oh this old thing? It’s just a vintage dress I found on the floor of the Atlantic ocean.” She’ll smile coyly and practice looking humble as the elevator opens up on the 18th floor.
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Stephenie Meyers writes a shitty, sexless teen romance called Twilight.
E.L. James writes a non-vampire, BDSM-heavy Twilight fanfic called Master of the Universe, which she renames Fifty Shades of Grey and makes an obscene profit off of.
Casea Major writes a Fifty Shades of Grey fanfic with equal amounts of BDSM, more submissive women, and brings back all the paranormal stuff. This is called The Darkest Shade, until she renames it Devil’s Brand and publishes it as an original novel.
WHAT IS THIS I CAN’T EVEN
INT. DAMON LINDELOF’S LIVING ROOM – NIGHT
Damon sits on his couch, watching an episode of Khourtney and Khloe Take Miami while Phillip Glass plays softly in the background. Next to the TV is a bookshelf of PHILOSPHY BOOKS, all checked out from the Harvard-Westlake High School library.
Suddenly, the window shatters. Terry and Michael burst through and land on the ground. They roll around a bit. Damon quickly switches the channel to a documentary on Ray Bradbury.
Fan Fiction: Writing The ‘Odd Jobs’ Pilot (via Crushable)