✖ PARADISA

A panfandom roleplay

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Host King's Forty-Fourth Court
Behold! Coffee!
daddyhost wrote in paradisa
[In a small room of the castle, five kindred souls have come together just as they always have, determined to break the headlines on the next big story before anyone else.

And the story this time is a big one!

The Anniversary Host Club is approaching, and they're the ones that have to cover it. Who are these mysterious souls, you ask?

THE PARADISA NEWSPAPER CLUB, OF COURSE!]


[ooc: Closed to the Newspaper Club to mingle amongst themselves, and plan a line of attack for the next couple of days. Forward dated to tomorrow morning.]

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[The doors SLAM open suddenly, and in comes your fearless leader, a stack of papers under one arm precariously balanced as he leans her head forward to sip eagerly at the coffee she's got in that hand. Her gaze settles around the room, fiery determination in her gaze]

Alright, LOOK ALIVE PEOPLE. This is the EVENT OF THE YEAR we're dealing with, and I'm not gonna deal with anyone sitting down on their keisters while there are stories swimming around out there.

[Slamming the file down, with a heavy thud]

I've got working dossiers here but these are all the publicly known facts. What we need is to dig down deep, mine out the real story in here, and make this newspaper something Paradisa can be proud of. [She clutches the coffee cup to her chest with both hands, staring off into space with starry eyes, as she imagines getting the key to the city, her father proudly standing off to the side, saying 'That's my girl'. The starry eyes abruptly vanish and she turns an angry gaze across the room]

Well?!

You know what I think would REALLY blow this wide open, boss? Wardrobe malfunctions.

[She turns around slowly to glare in his direction specifically. A full 180 degrees, like in the Exorcist]

What was that, soldier?

Wardrobe malfunctions! We get a couple princess' costumes, rig 'em to rip ... and then get some primo shots of the Hosts gallantly rushing in to offer their jackets, cover it up, and save the day!

Y'know! We make 'em heroes, and the cover shots sell a billion copies! We'll be infamous!

That's a great idea!

[except her attention is on the 'tearing dresses off the pretty girls' part]

[And here comes a rolled up paper right down on your head, Mark]

No. No. No. No. A billion times no.

This paper isn't a tabloid, and I'm not going to shrink to trying to rig a news story in order to sell. Think about if that got out! Our reputation would be shot. Down the tubes before we even got off the ground!

Ow, Jesus! I'm not a dalmatian! [he flails a little]

Down the tubes, nothing! How would it ever even get out? We're the ones who catch all the big breaks, anyway!

Exactly! It's not like anybody would find out!

Lois's right. Could ruin our edge if they find out it's fake.

Hel-lo? So we just make sure no one does!

If I had any time to spare, I'd draw you a nice risk-analysis chart to smack you over the head with next time, but unfortunately for all of us, we have ZERO time to dawdle. Or waste breath arguing about this. Again.

It can't be that hard. Sneak in, cut a few seams, sneak out. They'll never figure it out.

Too sloppy, they'd suspect somethin' with cut seams.

She'd be too distracted to even notice as a Host gallantly bestows his coat on her, shielding her from the barbs of infamy and shame. As she feels the warmth of his body still lingering on the coat, she shivers out of anticipation and tentatively leans in to rest her hands on the muscled plane of his stomach and -

[a thoughtful look]

Wait. They wear another layer under that, don't they?

Now there's an idea for a story. Host undergarments: what's really below the surface?

Izzy. You're on it.

[Lois get an enthusiastic salute. BEST. EDITOR. EVER.]

Got it, Chief!

Oh, man! How come SHE gets the juicy assignment? Underwear is okay, but wardrobe malfunctions get ME hit on the head?

I think I'm being discriminated against, here. [this is what he gets for being THE ONLY GUY in the club]

Can't help it, she made it sound good.

They're already wearing the underwear, genius. We don't have to stage anything.

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