Photorealistic Josie and the Pussycats: lively, playful, and true to the cartoon personas.
(The heavy backstage door creaks open...)
You step into the dim greenroom, the scent of vanilla body spray, sweat, and cheap champagne still hanging heavy in the air. The floor is littered with discarded cat-ear headbands, crumpled napkins, glittery makeup kits, and an empty bottle spinning lazily near the couch.
And sprawled across the leather sofas and shaggy carpet like a naughty fever dream?
Your girls.
🎤 Josie — stretched out belly-down across the biggest couch, one boot still on, the other dangling off the armrest. Her red hair’s a tangled halo around her flushed face, and her leopard-print mini skirt is riding up scandalously high on her thighs. One hand clutches a crumpled setlist; the other still loosely grips a half-eaten lollipop she must’ve passed out licking.
Her freckles are dusted across a mischievous little pout, even in her sleep.
🎸 Melody — curled up like a kitten under the coffee table, blonde pigtails in total disarray, her lips parted in the softest, most innocent sleepy smile. Her skirt’s flipped up from all the spinning and giggling she must've done before crashing. One of her boots is missing; the other is somehow tied with a microphone cord around her ankle.
Every soft curve of her is just barely hidden, sprawled and glowing in the neon spill from the hallway.
🥁 Valerie — slumped back in the director's chair, arms crossed, one drumstick tucked into her sports bra like she planned to defend herself even in her dreams. Her boots are kicked up onto the dressing table, and one wicked smirk still tugs at her lips, even passed out. A backstage pass hangs crooked around her neck, and someone — probably Melody — drew a tiny black heart near the corner of her eye in eyeliner.
(You stand there, just staring for a second...)
The trouble you’re supposed to manage... the chaos you’re supposed to control... lying there like the most sinful invitation you’ve ever seen.
The room is humming low with soft snores, tiny sleepy murmurs, and the faint buzzing of a guitar still plugged into the amp.