A woman's heels could be heard clicking off the floor, as she walked into the hotel with a mean glare in her eyes. It had taken enough badgering to persuade the hotel bouncer that she wasn't just some lowlife hooker, swearing she was an A-List celebrity. But even when she was quizzed by the staff member on what he had seen her on, Celebrity ManHunt wasn't exactly the biggest accomplishment to write home about.
She hit the button on the elevator with an annoyed expression, examining the card she had in her clutch. "Do you want to be a star?" it read obnoxiously as she rolled her eyes. Blaineley O'Hallaran was nothing short of a star, but through a pandemic and what she feared was underexposure, she was desperate for a second shot into stardom to rightfully reclaim her place as an A-list celebrity.
Blaineley stepped into the elevator, scanning through the buttons and ultimately finding the floor she was looking for. She absent-mindedly looked around at the mind-numbingly boring posters that were littered across the wall and checked herself out in the mirror.
"Hold the elevator!" A masculine voice called out, calling Blaineley back to earth. As she debated on whether it would even be worth letting the man in, she ultimately decided to keep the door open for him, hoping that her flirtatious aura would at least earn her a free dinner.
The man in question was another celebrity who had had his fair share of time in slums, coping with the fall from fame. Similar to Blaineley, he hadn't had the chance to continue being the host that he had once dreamed of being. At least the odd commercial allowed him to have some fame, although unless someone was examining his perfectly manicured hands carefully, it wasn't much. His go-to of acting in hand cream commercials wasn't doing the best, with the casting directors saying they were too wrinkled to be on live TV. Seriously!
"Thanks… Hey wait a minute, do I know you?" The man, Don Burgun, asked the other host.
"Of course, you know who I am. From television obviously." Blaineley laughed, allowing the man she did not recognise to butter her up. She flicked her hair back behind her shoulder and winked at him, to which Don responded with a recoil.
"Right…" He muttered, pulling out a card of his own from his jeans pocket. He read it silently to himself, thinking about the possible career opportunities that this card could present. He was secretly hoping that some producer finally recognised his greatness, and picked up the amazing idea that was 'The Ridonculous Race' for even one season. Noticing the button for the floor he wished to go to was already selected, he glanced over at Blaineley although didn't enquire.
Blaineley herself was a bit miffed from the lack of reaction from the man. She rolled her eyes, focussing them on his appearance, checking if he was even in her league before her eyes caught wind of a particular card in his hand.
"Wait a second... That card! You have one too?" She accused aggressively, causing Don to jump back a small bit at the confrontation.
"Yes? Wait, what do you mean too?"
Blainely sighed, presenting her own card. Don flashed her a grimace, not expecting whatever this was to be a two-person job, but as the elevator approached its final destination, they knew that whatever was beyond the door would be an experience.
"Well, well, well. If it isn't Blaineley and Don, my good friends," An omnipotent voice rang out, concealed by shadows at the desk as the two hosts stepped out of the elevator.
"Cut the shit McClean, we know it's you." Blainely hollered out, as the lights thundered back on, revealing a pouting Chris McClean at the desk.
"Well cut me some slack from trying to add some spice and drama to this meeting," the host with the so-called 'most' defended, getting up off his cushioned seat and making his way over to the other two hosts.
"Do you want to explain what's going on Chris?" Don asked nervously, looking around his surroundings to admire the office.
While not extravagantly decorated, pictures of Chris were hung around in between marble pillars adorning the walls. A red carpet separated the soles of his feet from the cool floor and a hard oak desk standing before a grand wall made entirely out of glass stood at the head of the room. It was decorated with a plaque that read, Chris McClean, a laptop and a coffee mug. There was no clear indication that there was a fall from fame present with this reality TV host at first glance, yet Don knew that Chris had suffered the same treatment that the other two had had, with Great-Minton not being that big of a success.
"I have some good news for you two. You will both be the hosts of Total! Drama! Stardom!" McClean exclaimed, nearly shattering the eardrums of Blaineley with his outburst.
"McClean. This isn't funny. Do you want to tell us what's really going on?" Blaineley accused, narrowing her eyes at the man.
"Baby, why the frown? I'm giving you the opportunity of a lifetime," Chris rebutted, with Don raising an eyebrow in response.
"If this is the opportunity of a lifetime, why aren't you the one who's taking it?"
"My God, do I need to explain everything from scratch? I'm giving all three of us one free ticket right back into the spotlight. My producers got in contact with me, saying that reality TV is missing a certain je ne sais quoi. Fans have been asking for seasons with more drama, more flair, more pizazz and more relatability. Thus, the creation of Total Drama. They managed to get two new seasons to get the green light, and of course, there is only one of me."
"What's the catch? What's in it for us?" Blaineley asked, wary of jumping to this idea. As far as she was concerned, this could be some big blowout or even a cruel prank for whatever show Chris was airing. She could picture it straight away, 'Washed-up celebs have their dreams crushed'.
"Other than the paycheck? A second chance in the starlight. Face it, you two haven't had a break in your careers in almost a decade, and this is a chance for all three of us to rise back to fame," Chris expanded, feeling pity as he knew the same failure after certain projects that didn't exactly get the reception they deserved.
"Okay, but co-host? With this dunce? You have got to be kidding me," Blaineley continued, still reluctant as Don winced at the jab.
"Think of it less as co-hosting, and more of a competition. You'll both be working together, but taking charge of two separate teams, and let's be real. We all know how big of a shit-stirrer you are Blaineley O'Hallaran," Chris argued back, causing the woman to give a knowing smirk. "Besides, I'm sure you'd rather host a production of stars and songs, rather than be stuck on on a volcanic island like I'm going to be."
Blaineley pondered for a moment, shuddering at the thought of rough-housing it on a remote island. She nodded her head. "I'm in. Don?"
"It beats recording more audition tapes."
"I like the way you both think," Chris smiled, before hitting send on the email he had composed on his laptop. "Trust me, we will all be actual A-List celebrities by the time this is over."
Some time had passed, as Don glanced towards Blaineley. The two hosts were in a dark, secluded room where one could only imagine some sort of shady behaviour to occur inside it. While not extremely scandalous, you could argue that the stalking that was occurring in this room was definitely not the most ethical.
"Are you sure they consented to this?" Don asked Blaineley nervously, as they both overlooked an intern typing furiously away on a laptop.
"Oh shut up Don, they're all at least eighteen! They're legal by now," Blaineley snapped back, her eyes narrowing in on the screen. "Besides, their applications didn't give nearly enough information."
Don sighed, squinting at the screen as well. "I don't know, this just doesn't feel right."
"It's the internet baby, and they want to be stars. This is like literally what they're signing up for," Blaineley defended. She was confident that her actions were the right call. After all, it was her ingenious idea to stalk security cameras to see their potential cast in action. Blainely had a flair for the dramatics after all and she knew that her choices would take this show far higher than whatever 'spin-off' Chris was recording. She had to select the perfect cast for her plan to properly take off.
Don was understandably a little more hesitant to start off their show with a stalking scandal. When he said he wanted to reintroduce himself to the world, he wasn't exactly envisioning a prison sentence. He could imagine the headline 'Former host turned stalker. The story of Don Burgun.' He shuddered slightly, getting lost in his own thoughts, only being warped back to reality by an 'A-HA!' from Blaineley.
As he focussed on the screen himself, he could see what Blaineley was cheering about. The unnamed intern, with his degree in computer science, had managed to display eight surveillance cameras that had images of the eight contestants they had so far chosen for this new season. Although impressed, Don was dreadful about the legal trouble they could get into and made a mental note to blame Blaineley for all the casting drama they'd be faced with.
Meanwhile, the hostess herself was practically foaming at the mouth and seeing the cameras narrow in on eight unsuspecting men and women. She made a mental note to herself to claim the perfect casting selection credit for herself, because as far as she was concerned, Don had spent most of the time talking her out of this practical and innovative idea.
"Don, are you ready to rumble?" She asked, flicking her hair back and grinning at the host with a deadly smirk on her face.
Don, exasperated, threw his hands up in defeat and gave Blaineley a slight nod. With a devilish glint in her eyes, she clicked one of the rectangles of the eight characters and turned up the sound on the computer.
The scene Blaineley had clicked into seemed to be presented at some sort of club or bar. Loud pop music pounded through speakers, and while the volume was deafening, the vibes were immaculate. There were women and men on the dance floor, grinding off each other and dancing without a care in the world. Slobbery kisses were being planted everywhere, while one man swiftly made his way through the crowds, diving through people expertly as if he'd been doing this his whole life.
He scoffed, dusting off the blonde hairs left on his navy dress shirt from the girl he was talking to. See, Drew Hanson may not be of the American legal age yet, but working as a singer in this club has always gained him an easy drink or two from way too drunk customers willing to throw their cash at him. He'd been doing it long enough using a fake ID to buy himself cigarettes, he wasn't surprised when it had worked at this nightclub, plus, with the traction that he brought in through his gigs, he knew that that club couldn't afford to lose him.
He made his way out to the open smoking area and released the breath he had been holding in while traversing the dancefloor. He pulled out the box, carefully selecting a rollie and flicking a lighter to light it up. Inhaling a deep puff of smoke, he let it settle in his lungs for a second before allowing it to escape his body.
Drew grabbed his phone from the pocket of his grey faded jeans, looking over three messages in his inbox. He sighed, deleting one message instantly after reading the name of the sender, and focussed his attention on one from his mother.
"Andrew, there seems to be a letter for you," he read out loud, a small bit puzzled. Who'd be sending him a letter in this day and age? As hard as he racked his brain, he could not think of any possible answer. Drew simply shrugged it off and moved on to the last message.
"Star potential is what we see in you," He read out, the confusion soon being morphed into glee. "Of course, they had to accept me, I mean have you seen me," He laughed to himself, catching a glimpse of himself in a reflective window. His dark brown was swept back over his head, and with his muscular and tall, tanned figure, it was clear that he was undeniably attractive. Some might say a bit of a douche, but he digressed.
He chuckled, plopping his phone back into his pocket, and taking the last drag of his cigarette. He dropped the burnt roll to the floor, stomping on it to stub it out before making his way back into the nightclub. Ducking and diving through people again, he gestured at the DJ to cut the track.
The DJ abided, not yet over the last time he attempted to defy Drew. The smooth talker himself had grabbed hold of the microphone at the centre stage once again, purring towards the crowd.
"This is Drew Hanson, ready with another track. Let's make it a blast, as it could be the last one you get for free," He said, hyping up the crowd with his sly demeanour.
"Step, one, two, step, one, two," A prim and proper voice could be heard commanding a ballet room. The ballet teacher was exasperated, to say the least, with the teaching of this class. It was one of the worst groups she had seen by far, with them having a severe inability to tell their left from right. No matter how much of her time and effort she put into these students, they always ended up on the floor in a tangled mess. Was it her? Was she the problem?
One woman dove from the cluster of feet and legs sprawled out on the floor, and she perfectly landed on the tip of her toes. She extended, her heels extending sharply outwards as she gracefully pirouetted on the spot, lost in her own thoughts. Her black hair which usually fell in an asymmetrical bob was tied up into a sharp bun for her training, the only colour added being a few silver highlights streaking through her hair. She was literally dancing circles around the other girls.
Ms. Juniper sighed in relief, knowing that she at least had one successful prodigy in her class of losers. Yuki Burizādo, her pride and joy. She knew that that girl had what it took to become a star one day, and she was ever so grateful to have been able to pave the way for that child. She hurriedly clapped her hands, dismissing the class, keeping her eye on Yuki.
The class grumbled and groaned about how advanced the class was for what they deemed as a beginner's course. Yet Yuki had no complaints. Her porcelain skin dripped with sweat, as she reminded herself of her end goal. To be just like her mother. She already found it difficult enough to train with these amateurs, due to her mother not being willing to let her take part in the ballet classes she ran. It wasn't her fault Yuki was born under her!
Yuki quickly took off her recital outfit, switching to her more comfortable black jeans and purple blouse. She laughed to herself, always amused at how different she must look at practice, all dolled up in her pink tutu and her hair done up. It was in stark contrast to how she normally strolled around. She pulled on her black leather jacket and shook her hair loose from its bun, effortlessly rocking the more edgy style.
"Yuki, can I have a word with you?" A familiar voice rang out, as Yuki grabbed her purse to meet up with her ballet teacher.
"Yes, Ms Juniper? What are your regards? Don't tell me my poise was sloppy," Yuki asked, slightly dreading if she wasn't as much of a belladonna as she believed was.
"Nothing of the sort Yuki," Ms Juniper reassured, looking at the young Japanese girl up and down and shedding a tear. "I'm afraid our journey together is coming to a halt."
"What are you saying?" Yuki asked, puzzled at what she could be on about. Maybe she had gotten recruited by a more senior company. She could only hope.
"Your mother wanted me to give you this letter." Ms Juniper continued, handing it over. "I believe your journey to stardom starts sooner than any of us anticipated,"
With a grin that could not be contained, Yuki let out a laugh. "Oh they better be ready for this primadonna," she cheered, wrapping Ms Juniper into a hug. The ballet teacher couldn't keep her tears at bay anymore, unleashing them all upon the ballerina's shoulder.
A woman could be seen coughing from a splutter of smoke. Vapour swooshed around her, with synth wave lights cutting through the dust with laser-point accuracy. A helmet crashed to the floor, as she frantically hit a button, causing the opening of the garage door she was practising behind.
"Note to self, I need a bigger studio," Jessica Quinn choked out, shaking the dust and debris out of her unruly black hair. Her black complexion was covered in soot and she was very disorientated and puzzled at what went wrong.
"If only Gramps was here," She muttered out dejectedly, knowing that her grandfather, whose legacy was what she wished to follow, would've perfected the trick rather simply, with half of the chaos that was occurring behind her. He wasn't dead mind you, just not present at the moment although as far as Jess was concerned, he was on a different planet (a solid ten-minute walk away).
As the smoke cleared out of the garage, she looked at the mess that was surrounding her and let out a dejected sigh. Jessica wandered back into her workshop to aim to continue perfecting the trick, although she couldn't lie and say she wasn't feeling a little lost. She was the illusion master, so what was stopping her from mastering this trick?
Jess was slumping her way back to the station she was working at, but before she could reach it there was a certain spherical object in her way. She let out a cry, as her curvy body crashed to the ground in a painful thud. She rubbed at her shin, cursing at the idiot who had left whatever was lying there- oh wait that would've been her.
She glared at the inanimate object she had stumbled over, but as she recognised what it was she couldn't help but drop the accusatory glare and remember what had made her start this all in the first place. She dusted off her helmet, placing it on her head and adopting a much more confident posture.
"That's right. I am Mysterio, the Mistress of Illusions! I won't let one slight squabble stop me from achieving my dreams," She announced, causing a couple of passersby to accelerate their speed as they walked past the front of her house. She couldn't help if she just had the personality they all lacked.
"Ow, what is in this?" She complained, feeling an oddly sharp sensation jabbing into her cranium. She removed the helmet, examining the inside and finding a letter there.
"Maybe that was the illusion I was experimenting with all along!" Jess chirped, laughing as her eyes scanned the document before her. It was clear that her entire body language had changed, as those watching her eyes could see the puzzled squint go to excited wide eyes.
"Gramps you're going to have to wait a little longer to help me with this trick, I've got a lot of other ones to showcase for now," Jess exclaimed, twirling around on the spot with the letter in her hand. "How will I fit it all in my baggage?!"
A man was seen rocketing down the street, pumping his feet in tune with his skateboard as he traversed the streets of Los Angeles, the place he was so used to. He had an important delivery to make, and of course, the one to who it was addressed was late for work by the time he woke up and shot out of his house in a souped-up lowrider.
"Da tingz my man haz me do for 'im," the man in question, JD said as he used his legs to propel him further down the street. His friend in question on the other hand. Well, that could only be Craig Kendricks. He may be a handful most of the time, but JD had to admit that that was his homie right there, and knowing what was in this letter, he had to deliver it as soon as he possibly could.
Kicking up his heels, and parking his skateboard, he arrived at the 'In n Out' where Craig was employed. He knew the place a little too well, as although Craig worked like a dog when he was on the clock, he did always sneak in a couple of extra fries when JD and the gang showed up.
"Yo Lamar? You there?" JD called out, not concerned about the ruckus he was making. He was practically the cousin to the hardest worker here, and he did recall some sort of saying about 'your home is my home' or something of the sort. English wasn't his favourite subject, he preferred going with the flow of it all... Dawg? Well, that's what he said at least.
A lean man with caramel skin appeared from a doorway, being summoned by someone that he instantly recognised as his best friend. He let out a toothy grin, his standard LA Dodgers baseball jacket put on over his uniform. His eyes were joyful, although it wasn't apparent due to sunglasses preventing others from staring into his brown wide eyes.
"JD!? What's good homie?" Craig popped out, giving the other man a fist bump. "My shift just ended but I thought we was waiting til' night before we went from a ride."
JD shook his head, his grin not able to be contained anymore. That was his favourite part of Craig. He was just a doofus. Always calm, collected and simply a solid rock for JD to bounce off of. "Dude, you left your house so quick."
Craig smiled sheepishly. "I was running late, ya dig? Still made it on time though," Craig replied, flicking down his shades to meet the eyes of his friend. Puzzled by his friend's hand outstretched, he followed it down to see a letter located in his grasp. Craig's eyes, no longer concealed from vision, widened as a result, glancing back up at his friend.
"I may have read it already, dawg, but hey. Don't forget me when you make it big, eh?"
"Fly, fly, fly, fly, uh-oh, uh-oh-oh," A woman sang out, commanding the stage with her vocal prowess. She may not have the one this performance centred around, but she sure wasn't about to let herself get up-staged by any means.
See, Rina was a vocalist at heart, but she had to admit that no one had the stage presence that her best friend Quaker Aquino did. She may have the vocals, but watching that man perform was one of the things she always declared she was thankful for.
"Fly, fly, fly, fly, uh-oh, now sissy that walk!" She finished off with a flair, as the instrumentals took on full force. She watched as her spotlight dimmed, shining directly on Quaker who was doing way too much for how cheap this gig was. She rolled her eyes, admiring their talent as they spun around on their heels and dropped to the floor, shimmying without a care in the world.
Rina allowed Quaker to live in his moment, sashaying her way backstage and grabbing a bottle of water from her vanity. Her voice, while powerful, was still sore after just about reaching the interval and she always pondered how Quaker still had the energy to continue performing after the countless numbers.
"Oh my God, Rina did you see that bitch in the front? She was giving us the dirtiest look, I bet it's because we look sooo much hotter than her. Like did you see her eyes? Girl, I was doing better eyes than that when I was like five!" Quaker spluttered out, rushing into the dressing room behind the singer. There was truth behind his statement, as it was evident that the red eyeshadow surrounding his ocean blue eyes was done with pristine precision, and nothing could be clocked about his drag artistic abilities.
Quaker bounced over to Rina, grabbing her water bottle and lightly dousing his light blue locks with the water. He stuck her tongue out at her, shaking out the liquid from his dark blue hair and pushing it back away from his face; save for the few strands that wouldn't cooperate. His golden skin glistened with sweat, but his cheery demeanour was fiery hot.
"Quaker, please. I need five minutes." Rina laughed, looking at the short man up and down. They had been friends since when they both shared a college dorm room, and they had been killing performances from that night on.
"Okay but like the tea is boiling hot mi amiga!" Quaker continued, toying with the girl. They were prideful of their nationality and honoured their Spanish heritage with their head held high.
Rina laughed again, flicking through her phone and spending an unusually long amount of time with one message. The gossiper in Quaker was too curious to let this lull in the conversation go untouched, needing to make some sort of comment, but Rina spoke again before being given the opportunity to.
"I am going to miss you," She said softly, looking at her friend, leaving him very perplexed.
"I know, you're on that Inferno Island gig."
"That's not what I mean."
Quaker looked towards Rina puzzled. Rina softly smiled, gazing at the emotion and sheer excitement in his eyes, as she flipped over the acceptance text message to him.
"Just a reminder to take moi, Rina Belle, on your journey to the top. I'll do the same for you after all, we have twice the shot at winning this!"
The sound of classical music lulled the air, and anyone who wandered by would think Mozart himself was being raised in this mansion that stood on looking at the inferior houses on the street below. Money was never a problem for the Bolton family, and neither was talent as every member of the household had mastered the craft of an instrument.
Francine Bolton was no exception to this rule, delicately strumming a melody on the cello. It was a large instrument for such an average girl, but Francine knew that it was a silent but deadly skill she possessed. Her life was the dream of many, yet very few really understood how the girl's brain worked. She was used to comments of her being snobbish and spoiled however she never let it phase her as she knew that she was raised better than to retort to underhanded, and frankly false, attacks on her character.
She delicately placed her cello back in the case it belonged to and took a deep breath, peering around her room; it would be the last time she'd be in for a while anyway. She definitely was unprepared for the lowly life she would have to lead throughout the course of the competition. She had a feeling that it would be a tough game, but Francine was always tougher. She knew though, that this season would be her rise to stardom, and to break away from the Bolton name and be recognised as her own person. Her own claim to fame.
"Alas, all good things must come to an end," Francine muttered out, peering at her reflection in her vanity mirror. Her white skin gleamed back at her, as she touched up her cheeks with the lightest of blush. A bobble laid on her wrist, reserved for when she expected her black hair to be tied back. At the moment though, she kept it loose, falling gently onto her shoulders.
Stepping away from the mirror, Francine glanced around at all the prized possessions she would have to leave behind on her journey. Her countless awards from her institution lifestyle. After all, she was a bit of a scholar and her effortless skill at the instrument she had grown to love only furthered her ability at gaining these trophies. Painting and statuettes gifted to her by her parents laced her walls and shelves respectively, and while she never considered herself materialistic, the irony was sinking in at all these trinkets she had out on display.
"Francine darling, there's a letter here for you," a feminine voice echoed through the halls of the house.
"Mother, it must just be another letter from Marilyn," Francine answered back, looking through her luggage to make sure she had everything.
"No my dear, it seems to be addressed from a… Total Drama company?"
France smirked, latching the clasp on her suitcase. She was already two steps ahead of the game; She knew she'd be cast. It was without a question and she was fully prepared.
"Understood Mother, I'll be down shortly."
A man stumbled through the streets of the city he lived in, good old Portland Oregan, lost yet again. Well, he wasn't exactly lost physically, he knew exactly where he was headed too but he was lost in the world of his own thoughts.
He turned the corner to reach a familiar park where he could always clear his head. He was going through a classic identity crisis, as with Robin Hawkins, the man of a thousand voices had forgotten how the track of his own voice went again.
"I like, have no idea. Like, how does my voice go again, like?" Robin asked the crowd of pigeons who had surrounded him at this point. It was the most entertaining part of the day to these birds, and as shameful as it was to admit, Robin felt as if these birds were the only people who truly saw him for him.
"Coo (Look at this clown again)," a pigeon chirped out to one of his pigeon friends.
"Coo-coo! (That one was like, a valley girl, like)," the other pigeon tweeted back.
Robin was clearly mistaken about the 'birds being his friends' idea, but hey, he didn't speak the language of pigeons. He pulled out his phone and reread the message for the umpteenth time that day. Star potential is what we see in you.
"Maybe this, duh-huh, will let me, duh-huh, rediscover myself, duh-huh," Robin told the birds again, as more flocked together to witness the impressionist in action.
"Coo? (Why's he acting Goofy)," The first pigeon asked again, turning to his friend and seeing the other bird rolling on the floor in laughter.
Robin himself was attractive enough to draw the attention of these birds towards him and entertaining enough for them to stay for the impressions. His tall, strong figure which had the ability to intimidate many was slumped over on the bench, and his brown almond eyes were distraught, piecing together who he was from the beginning. His brown hair was styled into a pompadour, and he felt comfortable that even if his voice was always changing, his appearance would stick with him.
"I mean I'll figure it out on the show. It's Britney bitch!" Robin continued, slipping into a spitting image of Britney Spears's voice. The pigeons cooed and cawed in delight once again, finding this the sheerest comedic show they had ever watched, other than watching a person tread a tasty track of breadcrumbs behind them for them to eat.
"Let's see... Coo-coo! (I slept with your mom)," Robin exclaimed, imitating the birds before him. He had never tried animal calls as imitations, and it showed as the noise that surrounded the flock of birds fell to silence instantly.
In a formation, led by the main two pigeons having the conversation, they spread their wings and took to the skies to fly away from Robin. As they did, they made sure to drop a special gift as they soared away. Robin let out a yelp from being bombarded with, quite bluntly, bird shit and ran away as fast as his strong legs could carry him.
"MAMMA MIA!"
"Before they saw it coming, a masked man appeared from the shadows of the dark," A woman muttered to herself, feverishly typing away on her laptop. She was an esteemed scriptwriter and novelist, and she had just recently gotten hit with a wave of inspiration. She needed to finish as much as she could before the motivation left her soul as it had for many authors who had come before her.
"Elizabeth screamed in horror, seeing the silhouetted figure creep his way behind Jamie and tap him on the ba- AAAHHH," the woman, Aerice Bellial, screamed in pure terror as what she wrote came to life. Feeling the fingers on her back she leapt out of her chair and went crashing to the floor, her extremely tall body and limbs sprawling out under her desk. She was grateful for the life she had led and turned her eyes to who she thought would be her murderer.
"Oh my God, I am so sorry for scaring you Aerice," A woman's voice rang out who Aerice recognised as Molly, her uncle's girlfriend. Letting the adrenaline leave her body, she groaned in frustration.
"Molly why didn't you knock!" She cried out, panting a little from the fright she had gotten. Molly let out a laugh, sitting on Aerice's bed looking at the woman with a glint in her eyes.
"I did Aerice! I even called out your name multiple times but you were in a world of your own," Molly answered, teasing the girl but ultimately not cutting deep. Aerice had thick skin, and a simple scare wouldn't make her cut contact to the person she was closest to. Her complexion was also going to her normal light tan from the white she had gone into.
"Isn't it just a little ironic though how I scared you this time," Molly continued, causing Aerice to roll her eyes.
"You better sleep with one eye open tonight," Aerice taunted, wiping Molly's smirk clean off her face.
"Wait, no I didn't mean it!"
"Well too bad. Besides, now I've lost my motivation," Aerice added, groaning about how she just didn't know how to proceed with the story from that point on. She twisted her platinum blonde hair around, thinking about it but she couldn't think of the next scene to follow, let alone the next sentence.
"Well how's this for some inspiration," Molly asked, handing a letter to the other woman. Aerice glanced at it, not exactly sure of what the contents could be. Tearing it open, and speed-reading through, barely making a squeak as she did. Molly gave her a glance of worry, not sure what reaction could be next to come from the girl.
"Well?"
"Maybe you'll get off being scared for another little while. I'll be on Total Drama Stardom!"
Don and Blaineley glanced at each other after clicking off the last rectangle.
"Well that sure is an interesting cast," Don said to Blaineley, giving her a smile. He could already taste the good ratings that would be brought in by these eccentric young adults.
"Half a cast," Blaineley corrected, staring at the intern menacingly. "Where are the other eight?"
The intern just pointed at the screen where a 'Warning! Fraudulent Activity Detected' message was blaring on and off. The two hosts gave each other a nervous glance and bolted to the door at the same time.
"FIX IT INTERN! YOU'RE GETTING THE BLAME FOR THIS," Blaineley roared out, as Don and her crashed out the door. The unpaid intern glanced at the two of them before giving a deadpan look to the camera. He clicked the X button on the gif he had put up to scare the two of them. It's been a long enough day and he doesn't get paid enough for this.
As a week passed, Blaineley grew agitated. She shot a cold stare at the intern, as Don remained cool with his arms crossed on the other side of the chair.
"It's been long enough!" Blaineley snapped, peering at the code on the screen. She may not have understood it, but she understood drama and Blaineley O'Hallaran was determined to finish her dream cast. "Show us the last few security cameras' feeds."
The intern turned to say something to the female host, but Don clasped his hand over the intern. "Careful! We don't pay you to speak!"
The intern flashed a look at the camera, seemingly as if to say "You don't pay me at all." He rolled his eyes and continued to hack his way into the security cameras.
"Blaineley, I'm still not feeling that great about the ethics of this whole hacking thing," Don confessed. While he was entertained by the first batch of contestants they had ended up watching, he did have to say the scare really did get to him from last time. Don wanted his rise back to fame and fortune to be a little more filled with integrity; He prided himself on following rules and not showing bias at all. It was more than he could say about Blaineley or even Chris for that matter. He wasn't ready to abandon that part of who he was just because of a reality TV season.
"Ah Don, stop being such a wuss," Blaineley replied, rubbing the bridge of her nose. She didn't know how she was supposed to host a full season with that man when she could barely put up with him for five minutes. She rolled her eyes. She'd have to be the one that carried the personality of the show, an easy feat for her, but annoying nonetheless.
"Do we even need these? I mean, these last eight seem like they had all the personality we were looking for in the audition tapes?" Don continued, reluctant to commit a federal crime. At least he thought it was a crime, I mean he wasn't a law student. Where was Elle Woods when you needed her?
"We?" Blaineley asked, raising another eyebrow. "I have been the one doing all the work while you've been cowering in a corner. Besides, what do you know about drama?" Blaineley continued, causing her co-host to wince in reply.
"Hey, I'll have you know that I have a really smart idea for a reality TV show."
"Please, The Ridonculous Race?"
"Yeah, wait how do you know about that."
"You're not exactly the most quiet person when it comes to taking 'private calls'."
"It just sounds like you're just nosy," Don responded with a pout.
"Or dramatic! Intern, how are the feeds looking?" Blaineley continued, happy with how she had demolished her co-host. She needed to establish her dominance somehow, being the Blainerific one.
The intern showed off the screen, now portraying eight new live feeds. It was honestly impressive how good this intern was at his job, with a few of the shots being taken from a laptop or a phone screen instead of just from security feeds. Blaineley was once again satisfied and turned to the host she had just roasted next to her.
"Are you in or out Don?"
"Like I even get a choice," Don moaned, peering into the screen.
Party music blared out of speakers as a group of teenagers all danced without a care in the world. Hip thrusting and gyrating, it was pretty much what you'd expect from one of the biggest college parties of the year. Well, any party was the party of the year when Vanessa Jordan was the host of it.
The girl in question was at the head of the entire group, spinning tracks at her make-shift DJ station. She was building hype just like her Dad had always taught her to and although she didn't know if the atmosphere of drunk students absolutely raving was what he had in mind when he said she'd make it big, she was sure he'd be proud of her.
"Alright, y'all! Make! Some! Noise!" Van cheered out, as everyone in their boozy states celebrated the party girl. "I'm gonna get some air but y'all keep it hot with this track by K$SHA!"
Van spun the track, as hollers rang out when 'TiK-ToK' started playing. She smiled, pushing her way through the crowd to get herself outside. She was average in height, but traversing parties on the weekly meant she knew what spaces she could fit her slim body through. She shoved her headphones off her head, wrapping them around her neck and pushing her black dreadlocks out of the way. Her chestnut skin glistened in the light, and Van took a deep breath in, smiling cheekily.
"Man is there anything I can't do," Van smiled to herself. "They ate that shit up and it was the bomb!"
She laughed to herself, spinning around in a small circle letting herself feel the music. She was in the zone not that long ago, so she wasn't able to dance like a normal college student. Van was a lover of parties, but she couldn't wait to find a moment for someone else to host so she could let her inner freak fly.
"Yooo Van… Your phone is like, blowing up like crazy," A smooth masculine voice rang out.
Van raised an eyebrow, turning to her friend Demetrius, and gave him a soft smile. It was nice to have someone to balance her wild side, and she thought of him like a brother. Although he did possess an exaggerated personality, Van felt rewarded to know that he trusted the girl enough to be chill and calm with him. Van, on the other hand, was cranked up to eleven, twenty-four-seven. The man handed her the phone and gave her a peace gesture as he went back to the party. Van couldn't help but chuckle, as she unlocked her phone to read the message.
"Star potential is what we see in you… Star potential?" Van read out, confused. Reflecting on what she had done recently, and mind you her schedule was packed, she crossed things off her mind.
"Ashley's party? No that was sun-themed… Wait? Total Drama!" She pieced together, shrieking with excitement. The world wasn't ready for her sick moves and awesome beats, and Van was ready to come in with a bang.
A calm breeze blew over the dusty street where a couple of kids were kicking a soccer ball. While not abnormally cold, it was slightly chilly for the time of year but with the children tearing down the road after the ball, there was a comforting sense of warmth surrounding the apartment complex they were outside.
A couple of their mothers, aunts and elder sisters all watched on from the balconies of their respective homes. Of course, a lot of them were intertwined, as it was one large family living in the whole complex. It made for one hell of a family tree; so bad that they just had one hung up in their Grandparents' living room for all future generations to copy for their school assignments.
A woman barged into the room of Johan Vialpando, causing the man to jump in response.
"Ay, Carmen! I'm changing in here," The man groaned, instinctively covering up his body. All he was wearing were grey plaid boxers as he quickly pulled up his black jeans.
"Nothing I haven't seen before," Carmen said laughing, sprawling out on his bed. "In fact, I've seen you in even less,"
"Shut up!" Johan yelled, a light blush crawling over his cheeks. "Just because you're my cousin doesn't make it any less weird."
"Aren't you the ladies' man then," Carmen continued teasing, prodding at the man's slim olive chest. He may have been standing tall, but Carmen always knew the best way to get under his skin. As his skin grew redder, Carmen rolled her head back and laughed again.
"I'm only messing," Carmen chuckled out, wiping a stray tear from her eye and looking at her cousin's pouting face.
"What're you even doing here? If Tía Alexis saw you she'd have your head on a platter," Johan continued. It was a struggle to keep track of their long family, but Johan considered himself to be one of the better ones at remembering them.
"Relax. Mamá sent me up. Well actually Abuela got a letter then she gave it to Tio José, who passed it to Giancarlo, the little one, not the big one, who passed it to Isabelle, love her, and then Isabelle gave it to Mamá and Mamá gave it to me and-"
Johan clutched his head, rubbing a hand through his neat chocolate brown hair. While he may be one of the better at the names, it didn't make complicated lists like that any better. "Right Carmen, but what does that have to do with me?"
"Oh right, yeah it was addressed to you! We all may have already read it too…"
Johan was dumbfounded. Of course, his family had to make the action of delivering a letter into this huge game of telephone. His eyes caught his guitar, propped up against the wall next to Carmen and sighed.
"Dios Mio, Jodie, you're the only one who keeps me sane," Johan muttered, addressing his guitar.
"Well, it's a good thing she does," Carmen said, a glint in her eyes. "She's all you'll have when you're on the show."
A man took a sip of coffee, as he scribbled down a note from the book he was reading. His desk was loaded with language books, science books, and so on. He always thrust himself into his academics, even though they might not have been his favourite way to pass the time. It's what came though, with a teacher and a doctor as his two parents.
Séamus Jun yawned quietly, as he finished off his last sentence with a full stop. He stood up, his skinny six-foot frame the same height as the plastic skeleton he had for his anatomy lessons, stretched his arms and looked at himself in the mirror. Freeing his shoulder-length red hair from the bun it was in, he shook out all the tiredness he was feeling in his arms and legs, to grab himself a cup of lavender tea. The coffee was just to keep him awake, the tea was simply for the flavour.
He hated the house he lived in, with all the bookshelves lining the corridor. Maybe he wouldn't have minded it as much if they were filled with dance routines, but the academics weren't what he thought he was destined for. He was counting down the minutes before his father left for an afterschool meeting when he could really let loose. He would've preferred having his music to help him study, but if Mr Jun heard even the slightest bit of noise coming from his room other than the scratching of his pens and typing on his laptop, there'd be war.
He wandered into the kitchen, preparing the mug for his tea while rooting through his cupboards for a small snack. Settling on a packet of spicy peanuts, he felt satisfied as he crunched his teeth on one. While not able to fully express his love for dance through his arms and legs, he rolled the chunks of the nuts along his mouth to the beats of his favourite song. He had gotten very good at picturing choreographies in his head and acting them out through his tongue movements.
"What do you mean Total Drama Stardom?" A masculine voice rang out through the house, echoing from the living room.
"Min-hu, please. It's what he wants," A feminine voice pleaded in response.
Séamus grit his teeth. He knew his parents were arguing once again, and he couldn't help but have a slight sense of guilt. After all, he was almost always the hot topic of their debates, and he couldn't help but wonder if they'd be happier if it wasn't for that faithful day.
"I will NOT have my son acting like a monkey on national television Maeve," Min-hu argued, as Séamus listened intently from the other side of the door. "I know what's best for him."
"Séamus is my son too," his mother, Maeve, clapped back rather quickly. "You don't rule this house."
Séamus backed away from the door, as his mother stormed out, puffy-eyed. Seeing her son, she wiped at her eyes and flashed a huge smile.
"Hello my superstar," Maeve said softly, causing Séamus to laugh. No matter how old he got, his mother would always keep calling him these pet names, and he'd be lying if he said she didn't know how to build up morale.
"Everything okay Mom?"
"Yes, my dear. You'll be going on a trip though, to reach your dreams. Just remember, don't let anyone dull your sparkle."
A woman ducked under a flying punch and the crowd around her roared in support. It'd be a lot more alarming if you weren't aware that she was in a boxing ring. This cage fight might not have been legal, but it was a surefire way to earn some quick cash.
Rosa Gutierrez thought she'd be able to leave this lifestyle when she moved away from her LA home. With a name and appearance like hers though, she was never destined to find a job easily in this economy. While prideful of her Mexican heritage, it was both a blessing and a curse in the world she lived in today. Yes, even in Canada.
Rosa continued to put pressure on her opponent, avoiding his punches with a sense of feline excellence. It was predictable at this point, and it was one of her favourite things to take down these big, cocky, in-over-their-heads men. She may not have liked hurting people, but she was damn good at what she did and beating up these assholes was a favour to the community.
"SHE'S JUST A GIRL," a man's voice yelled out from outside the ring, but it didn't phase Rosa at all. She may be just a girl, but she was a whole lot of a woman. She landed a devastating uppercut on the jaw of the brute of a guy she was fighting, and he was out cold before anyone else could jump on the hate train.
Satisfied, she grabbed the pile of cash left on the brown table off to the side. You'd have thought that by now, at least one other person other than herself would bet on her, but hey, she wasn't mad about not sharing her winnings.
She pulled on a grey hoodie over her regular outfit and pulled the hood up over her wavy dark brown hair. She had let it loose from its regular ponytail while she was leaving; the last thing she needed was to be caught for these boxing fights. She quickly paced her way back to the apartment block she resided in, her tan skin turning slightly pale from the cold. Ay, she missed her annual holiday to Mexico and the warm weather that came with it. She made a mental note to save up for a vacation there while her passport was still in date.
Rosa inserted the keys and unlocked the door of her apartment, met with a shadow of darkness.
"Kali? You here," She called out, confused by the state of the place. As far as she recalled, her roommate hadn't said anything to her about leaving the apartment while she was gone, so she was a small bit alarmed.
"SURPRISE!" Kali yelled out, jumping from behind their couch and frightening Rosa dearly.
"DIOS MIO! KALI!" Rosa screamed out, throwing a wild jab and narrowly missing her roommate.
"Oh… I forgot about the whole 'Don't scare the girl who could probably kill you' thing," Kali said sheepishly, rubbing the back of her head.
"Kali, what the fuck are you doing?" Rosa sighed, calming down now.
"Okay so I saw a letter for you and I saw it was from the Total Drama Corporation and I was like wait! Rosa signed up for that show. So I got a cake!"
Rosa rolled her eyes, although she couldn't be mad. When Kali had an idea in her head, it was nearly impossible to shake it out of her. "Alright, alright. Hand me the letter."
"Too bloody bright," a woman muttered as she walked through the halls of the art gallery she was in. Her blonde hair was tied back into a tight bun, as she wandered looking around at the artwork that was hung up around the museum. There was far too much joy and colour in most of the pieces for her liking, and she questioned why she even decided to check this place out.
A part of her was hoping that there'd be a nice black-and-white section for her to examine, but in fairness, she was more than happy to not be at home. It wasn't exactly her safe space. Athena Jones much preferred being out in a quiet café or reading a morbid book in the confines of her favourite library.
She was glad to be British. She always felt as if the weather usually reflected her mood. Downpours, and bleakness. Her favourite of all weathers. She wasn't always like this but people had stopped caring to bother to ask her why or try to fix it. She didn't mind it though and found that life without annoying human interactions was a life she much preferred over the busy bustling life she had led before.
She stumbled her way into a more secluded part of the gallery, finding a bench to prop herself down on. She was weary, and there were too many people in this museum for her liking. She did find what she was looking for, gazing upon the more twisted works of art. They were far too conceptual for the regular population to understand, but all it took was her mind to understand the true feelings of the artists behind the work.
"Morbid. Just like art should be," Athena muttered out, closing her eyes and picturing the artist at work. The careful strokes and the themes of famine and plague. She was no scholar, but it was clear that there was a brain behind the blank stare she carried.
"Stardom, huh?" She thought to herself. "What a bunch of bullshit."
Athena wasn't exactly to jump up at the chance of being famous. She just wanted to get away from the personal hell that was her home. She thought about the offer more, peering into the masterpieces around her.
"A star…" She softly said to herself, losing herself in a world of her own thoughts.
"Utterly disgraceful!" A Chinese man bellowed out, rushing around the room he was in. It was in an absolute state of affairs and frankly looked like a scene out of a Saw trap. Scraps of paper with half-finished designs were flung around, littering the floors. They contrasted against the sheer amount of fabrics, creating a makeshift rug on the floor. Unlike the bleak museum from the last bit of footage, this room was a whirlwind of colours and textures.
Mannequins were knocked onto the floor, sans one which stood right smack centre in the room. A gown was dressed on top of it, in a shimmering blue. The lamé fabric sparkled in the artificial lights and sheer tufts in a pastel blue wrapped around the shoulders adding even more texture. It was missing fabric, but in an artistic way with an open back and a slit across the right leg, exposing a dangerous amount of skin if a human was to put it on.
A woman walked into the store and raised an eyebrow at the mess in front of her. "Everything okay?" She laughed, placing the two cups of coffee she had in her hands on the nearest surface. She would've aimed for a clear one, but that'd be like playing a game of Where's Wally.
"Cassandra, darling," the man spoke, seeing her walk in. Jun Li Feng was glad to see her walk in, for the most part. "NOT THERE! That fabric can NOT have any stains on it. I need it for that blasphemous Sleeping Beauty costume. My work, for a kid's party? Ridiculous!"
Cassandra, or as most people called her, Cassie, let out another chuckle. It was never a boring day when Jun was in the zone. He was in a flurry, storming through the store and flinging everything behind him and Cassie had to swiftly dodge a pack of needles that went flying past her.
"June Bug," She teased, calling him her favourite nickname she had for her. "What's the rush for? I thought you had a month for that costume and another two weeks for that gown there?"
Jun turned to face her, his fair skin shining off the bright lights. He ran his hand through his side-swept black hair and sighed. He threw off his blazer and unbuttoned his shirt, exposing his tattoo and pierced nipples as he studied himself in the mirror. Picking up a soft blue fabric, he draped it against his slender figure trying to piece together how to make the look high fashion on the severe time crunch.
"If you must know dear, it turns out that I do have the raw talent we all knew I had."
Cassie raised an eyebrow at him but chose not to speak. Jun had a flair for both fashion as well as dramatics, and she knew better than to interrupt him while he was monologuing.
"You see my dear Cassie, I believe I'm about to get a lot more traction to this store of ours. What with Stardom in my reach, and me needing to leave for the journey there where I anticipate I will remain until the bitter end."
"Don't tell me they actually chose you?"
"Don't act so surprised!" Jun said, laughing as he draped the fabric around the bodice of the mannequin. He wiggled his eyebrows at the girl, as he put the finishing touch on the outfit. "And voilá!"
Ollie Warren peered down from the sheer height he was at and gulped. He closed his eyes, looking up at the red and white tent that was very nearly in his grasp, and exhaled the breath of air he had been holding in.
"Just like always," He muttered, as he took a leap of faith. Anyone watching without context would think this boy had a death wish, but this was a typical day in the life of Ollie, the aerobic hero. His curly brown hair gushed in the wind, as he locked his hands around the handlebar of the trapeze set and propelled himself forward.
It was no easy feat, and it had taken him years to build up his resistance to the fear. His strong arms and his well-defined figure were extremely impressive, especially given his short stature, as he kicked his legs with the sway of the bar.
"Kick forward, and bend back," Ollie mumbled to himself, as the warm beige man rocketed along with the bar. He loved the feeling of feeling free, and he truly did come alive in the air.
Blasting off he timed his departure from the bar carefully, taking another leap of faith. Grabbing onto the second trapeze bar that was hovering at the dangerous height he was. With a mighty gusto, he latched onto the second bar like he always had before. He may not have been the brightest, but that didn't mean anything when he was one wrong move away from plummeting to his doom. He flipped himself off of the trapeze bar, landing on the opposite side of the tent in a precise motion, once again letting out a breath he'd been unaware he was holding in. He had all this built-up energy inside his body, and while he was like a child on a sugar rush on the ground, all his co-performers had to admit that he was a completely different person when he was in the air.
Ollie braced himself, preparing to take off again when a deep voice rang out.
"Your form was sloppy."
Ollie yelped, awoken from his trance to find himself falling. He had completely missed the jump because of the mysterious voice. He found himself spiralling towards the floor, as no words came out of his mouth; He was far too shocked!
It was a relief that he had set up the safety net, something their ringmaster had rung into all the performers, especially the aerial ones, after a nasty accident before. Ollie ricocheted, off the net, bouncing back up as his limbs were all sprawled out flying through the air like a chicken. He was not anticipating the bounce and knew that the oncoming impact, while not deadly, would hurt like a bitch.
He closed his eyes, bracing himself for the pain when he felt a lot softer of a touch instead. He opened his eyes to see Rufus, the circus's Strongman holding him tightly and flashing him a toothy grin.
"I thought it was spring, not fall," Rufus teased, letting out a hearty laugh.
Ollie groaned. "You've been spending too much time with the clowns. Rufus, I could've died!"
Rufus continued to laugh. "Please I would've never let you fall."
Deep down, Ollie knew he was right. He always felt safe when Rufus was around and, to be frank, not many people would go head to head with the most macho man in the was a miracle that the two had so much in common, but he had to admit it was strange to see this hunk of a man and his tiny figure walking around in a barrel of laughs together.
"This came for you anyways," Rufus continued, passing Ollie a letter. "Don't know how it managed to catch up to us unless it was you seeing if you could outrun the mailman again."
"Hey, at least it was smarter than the Wonder Twins mailing themselves!" Ollie joked back, tearing open the letter and reading through it as quickly as he could. He hadn't been to school in a while…
"Well? What does it say?"
"I'm going to be shooting like a real star now!"
"You gotta believe me! I didn't do anything wrong this time!" A woman begged as she got dragged into a room by a burly policewoman and her slimmer partner.
"We saw you do it!" The bigger woman replied, sighing. She saw way too much of this girl.
The girl was none other than Molly Alston, or as she was known around the psych ward, Mad Molly. She was no stranger to these parts, but she detested her time here. Most of the time it wasn't her fault, she had an illness that couldn't be controlled.
"What did I do then!" She argued while a voice rang out in her head.
"Well for starters, you crushed that boy's fingers when he rolled a five in snakes and ladders. That's nothing though, I told you to ram the pieces down his throat but noooo, you'd get in trouble for that."
Molly pouted. "Carolyn, you're a bad influence!"
"Look at yourself, princess. You're arguing with yourself."
That much was true. Carolyn was just the devil on her shoulder and the voice in her head. She was born after the fall, and ever since that fateful day, it had all been downhill for Molly.
"Someone call her school counsellor." The slim policewoman spoke into a walkie-talkie. "Carolyn is back."
"Ah phooey," Molly said, crossing her arms and sitting smack bang on the middle of the floor.
"What? You're joking?" The police officer almost yelled down the walkie-talkie, hearing a certain piece of news. Molly was playing with her long messy black hair, her caramel skin shiny from the layer of glitter stuck on her from an intrusive thought during arts and crafts. She was not invested in the outer world at all anymore, humming along to a random tune in her head while she waited for her eventual release.
She wasn't expecting to come almost instantly, however, glancing up when she heard the keys jangle in the door.
"Did Carolyn tell you it was her and not me?" Molly asked excitedly, ready to put herself out in the world again.
"Please, as if I would do something like that!" Carolyn muttered in Molly's head, but the sweet girl was far too excited to even reply. Freedom again at last! Those two minutes had been painful to wait through.
"I wish that's what happened," the police officer said, a shudder running through her spine.
"They want you on that new reality show."
Blaineley and Don looked at each other, very concerned. They weren't expecting these characters to come out of their casting, but at the same time, it seemed perfect.
"Let's recap?" Don asked Blainely, with no response from the female host. "So this is a cast for sure..."
"A cast?" Blaineley added slowly. "They're all wackjobs!"
"We have a drag performer, a fashionista, a circus performer, a guitarist, a sleazebag, an illusionist, a SoCal lover, a cello player, a horror writer, a ballerina, an illegal boxer, an impressionist, a party chick, a K-Pop wannabe, an emotionless girl and Mad Molly?"
"It's perfect," Blaineley whispered. She had done her job and had chosen a cast of stars. She couldn't wait to see
Cast
1. Aerice Bellial by Wolfik128
2. Andrew 'Drew' James Hanson by Skyn1nja123
3. Athena Jones by Livi C
4. Craig Lamar Kendricks by thedragonrooster
5. Francine Bolton by Alexnueshoorn
6. Jessica Quinn by Tech-Star
7. Johan Vialpando by Allureon
8. Jun Li Feng by Skyn1nja123
9. Molly Alston by UltraGenuisTD
10. Ollie Warren by The Feline Overlord
11. Quaker Aquino by Me (Space Zodiac)
12. Robin Hawkins by ZNBT
13. Rosa Gutierrez by Lemonade Lover
14. Séamus Jun by DarkForest66
15. Vanessa 'Van' Laticia Jordan by Mr Ruff
16. Yuki Burizādo by Thunderstrike16
Hiya all and welcome to reworked first chapter of Total Drama Stardom! [Ep 0: Behind The Scenes / Stars]
With reworks happening to the consistency of the Space-Verse, I thought what better way to edit rather than combine these chapters into just to sum up the episode. I'm debating doing this with the next two chapters, since they are much greater in length than these introductory ones, but y'all will see when that comes.
Here, we are introduced to the full cast of Total Drama: Stardom. A big thanks to everyone who even submitted a character, y'all made the casting process really hard but do not fret as there will be other SYOCs for your characters to shine, including another one of my own which will be started a while after my first two fics are completed.
What I iterated in the initial chapters still stands here. A big thanks to Clown Princess Phoebe, as I saw her use this format for introducing characters in her fic Total Drama: Kingdoms, and I had to put my own twist on it.
Unlike my other story, I have every challenge planned for this season, as well as a rough draft of an elimination order. Activeness may play a part in if your character was destined to go home very early but they might make it to the merge and even further. There's a toss-up right now for the finalists but alas that will all come in due time.
I don't have much to say, since this is simply a rework of preexisting chapters rather than new information. For any first-time readers though, or those who are coming back to it, I do have a Discord server which does have some exclusive content as well as a more reliable way of contacting me. My username there is spacezodiac, so please do add me to join our growing community.
The next couple of reworks will be coming soon, but until then...
This is Space signing off ~