Disclaimer: Just using the names for a while.
Summary: CRACK. Is the era of KAT-TUN's slutty image over? Make way for the wholesome teenrockers!
Author's Note: A crappy little ficlet I wrote when bored one Sunday . For Woo and Moolf ♥.
ONE OK ROCK outsells KAT-TUN!!*
Is the era of KAT-TUN's slutty image over? Make way for the wholesome teenrockers!
ONE OK HAIR!
"Make sure they understand I'm serious," was the last thing Mary said to the team in charge of KAT-TUN's make-over project. The obvious place to start was in the salon. It wasn't easy. One hairdresser quit after Kame tried his best to claw her eyes out when he realised what they had in store for him. Koki, who had yet to experience any major changes in their transformation, did the manly thing and punched Kame's arm.
"It's not that bad. They let you keep the cut at least."
"Th-they. Th-they." Kame pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes as though that would alleviate the horrors he had seen. "They took my products, Koki. Who would be so cruel?"
"I'm sure you can live without hairspray."
"They stripped out the colour!" Kame said 'the colour' the way a lesser mortal might say 'my soul'. "My hair is lank, dull, and lifeless. It- it's mousey! Why would they do this to us?"
Koki could only pat Kame's shoulder as Kame sobbed into his designer scarf.
ONE OK NAILS!
The stylists were KAT-TUN's best friends no more. They had to be sneaky around the wary unit.
"What are you doing?" Kame snatched away his hand, eyes wide in alarm.
"Painting your fingernails."
"I can see that. Why are you painting that one?"
The manicurist looked up at Kame like had grown a second head.
"Because it's a nail. Attached to your finger."
"You're doing it all wrong - you paint this one and that one. This one," Kame waggled the digit in question, "stays blank."
"... um. Why."
"There's a Reason."
"A Reason," corrected Kame.
"Don't question the Reason!" snapped Kame.
ONE OK PV!
It seemed like something they should know about. The crew hadn't batted an eyelid when they were going through the storyboard. In the end Jin was the one sent to ask, since asking potentially stupid questions was his area of expertise.
"What is this 'extras' thing you keep talking about?" he asked, attempting to wrap his tongue around the unfamiliar word.
"Other people. Extras. In the PV." The director used the same tone as he did when explaining things to his grandchildren.
"B-but. The precious screentime! You can't just-just give that away to outsiders!" spluttered Nakamaru, who was particularly attached to the little screentime he got.
"Mary-san thinks it would be good to have a fresh approach."
Ueda sighed. "I suppose that we should let the leading Juniors have some atten-"
"They won't be leading Juniors."
"Generic Joey Tees?"
"We've got an actress coming in-"
Jin actually perked up after that and was annoyingly bouncy until he saw the actress. He squeaked and hid behind Kame.
"It's your weird friend! Save me!"
"Th-that's not Maki-chan," Kame whimpered as he backed away.
ONE OK DANCING!
"Boys, the idea for the next one is that you stand in one place, lean forwards, and sort of twitch upwards like this."**
The choreographer knew he was going to have a battle on his hands with this particular move when he noticed blank and perplexed stares emanating from the flawless faces.
"3! 2! 1! Music STARTO!"
There were mixed results as years of Jimusho training took of. One thrust his hips. One swayed. One made noises. One kicked. One got stuck half-way. One fell over and cried.
Akanishi stepped forward, self-appointed leader of the unit rebelling against the new style. He threw his head back and attempted to look threatening. The choreographer had barely enough time to observe that Nishikido's glare would have been more effective before his mind blanked when Akanishi did his lip thing then rolled his hips in that obscene way of his.
"We're sticking to our way of doing things.'k?"
* neeeeeever going to happen.
** that OOR PV I saw, 48 seconds in.